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therealdogsinmymind · 6 months

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✩ My Rival (All Mine) ✩

18+ MDNI

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AO3 Link | Word Count: 2,394 | Chapters 1/1

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Synopsis: Sung Jinwoo pisses you off but maybe you've you've finally found a way to ruffle his feathers a little bit.

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Pairing: Sung Jinwoo/Reader, Sung Jinwoo/You

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Tags: Reader POV, Gender Neutral Reader, Virgin Sung Jinwoo, Jealous Jinwoo, Rivals to Lovers, Bickering, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Tenderness, Light Angst, Miscommunication, Conflict Resolution, Happy Ending

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Picture from @oo0mika0oo ‘s icon edits

“You piss me off,” you say under your breath, fully intending for him to hear it. He always fucking does.

You don’t like Jinwoo, you never have. Not before you awakened as an S-Rank hunter and you saw him on TV and certainly not now that you know him personally. He’s got shitty vibes and an even worse personality. He’s closed off, and you can smell his fucking god complex from a mile away.

“Good to know,” Jinwoo says coolly, taking a sip of his water. You don’t know why he needs it, he hasn’t even broken a sweat, despite the fact that he’s been running circles around everyone in the training arena for hours. Just to show off, you suppose. He’s kicked almost everyone’s ass so far, sans for yours. You really don’t feel like going up against him though, you’d like your ass to remain un-kicked, thank you. There’s also some cards you’d rather keep close to your chest; but god you wish you could rub his face in the dirt just once.

As Jinwoo lingers against the wall next to you, head turned just barely so you’re in his line of sight, you grow increasingly agitated. Why the fuck did he come over here? Why is he looking at you? What’s his deal? He’s always doing this, he’ll follow you around just to piss you off. You swear he started going to the only coffee shop you like just to torment you with his extremely pretty, extremely punchable face. As your irritation reaches max cap you decide it’d be better to just take a deep breath and walk away, you don’t need to get into a pissing contest with this guy, you’re better than that. You’ll be taking your leave now.

You spring up, intent on heading for the door when Jinwoo calls after you, ”You don’t want a round?” Yeah, no.

You turn around briefly, still walking backwards towards the door. ”With you? No. I can think of better things to do with my time.” You take a little pleasure in the way Jinwoo looks slightly shocked at your rebuff. You turn around and pick up the pace, hoping to get the hell out of dodge.

Suddenly Jinwoo’s in front of you, blocking the door, having somehow appeared out of the shadows. ”Fuck!” You startle, you didn’t know he could do that, is there anything he can’t do?

“The better things, what are they?” Jinwoo asks, staring at you intently as if your face will reveal the answer.

”What?”

”What are the better things?” He repeats.

”I don’t know, dude? Get laid? Not that you would know anything about that.” It doesn’t even occur to you until his face twists, all sorts of emotions that you’ve never seen on him. They mar his usually such impassive features; he’s jealous. You said it as a joke, really more than anything wanting to call him a virgin, but this is too good. You have to hold in a laugh, it’s almost unthinkable, you have an antagonistic relationship with him at best. It intrigues you though, you wonder if you could push his buttons like this, he’s usually so unconcerned with others.

When Jinwoo doesn’t reply right away you take that as your cue, needling him, “Anyway- I do actually want to get fucked sometime today, so if you’ll excuse me…” You have no such plans but you wave your hand at him dismissively anyway, just to be a bitch.

His face stays twisted but he doesn’t otherwise react so you push harder. Leaning in close to him and speaking low so as to not be overheard, “Unless you want to see to that.” It’s just to throw him off his game, you just want to see him gape like a fish, or maybe sputter, curse you out, anything. You’ve thought about what Jinwoo might be like in bed before of course, who hasn’t, a simple curiosity if you will. That’s neither here nor there, you’re truly just aiming to rile him up at this point; surely any second now he’ll reel back and run away.

Instead Jinwoo grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the training arena. All that comes out of your mouth is a grunt, too worried about making a scene. Although maybe you should, where the hell is he taking you and why? He says nothing, simply dragging you down the hallway until he seems to sense an empty room where he promptly tosses you in; and for all your agility and grace you still land right on your ass. Great.

He shuts the door behind him just as you’re springing up, ready for a fight. That’s the only reason you can think he dragged you out here, to kick your ass away from prying eyes, the room is kind of small though, maybe he’s just that overconfident. You decide you won’t let him throw the first punch but it’s too late, Jinwoo’s fast, faster than you. You’ve barely had any real combat training as a new hunter and he’s the real deal. He’s in your space before you can even blink and you’re sure he’s about to beat you to a pulp. However no pain comes, there’s only a horrible sense of too-quick motion and then you’re seated firmly, feeling a bit dizzy. It takes you all but a moment to realize you’re sitting on Jinwoo’s lap, he seems to have scooped you up and sat down on a couch; you must be in someone’s office.

“I’ll be seeing to that now,” Jinwoo says in a low voice, giving a healthy pause before he moves at all, perhaps to let your brain catch up with his words.

It sure tries its best, running at a million miles a minute. You think about the fact that you hate Jinwoo, he’s fucking annoying, he’s stupid as shit. Your mind screams at you that he’s too powerful, it's dangerous, you shouldn’t get close. He’s too confident even if he can back it up, it’s kind of hot. You ignore that last part, you don’t who said that. However you also have eyes, he’s really fucking good looking and maybe if Jinwoo wants to fuck you so bad you can make him work for it a little.

You slip out of his arms and off of his lap. You don’t even dream of laughing at the poorly concealed heartbroken look on his face; it’s actually kind of sad to see. You click your tongue before sliding back onto his lap but this time straddling him.

“Come now, don’t make that face, I'm just getting comfortable,” you coo at him, stroking your thumb across Jinwoo’s cheek, it’s oddly tender for what the two of you have. He just looked so sad. He leans into it and it makes you want to be nice to him again, disgustingly enough. You lean in and give Jinwoo a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, deciding to kiss him more when he sigh softly, happily. You’ve never heard him make that noise, it’s entirely new to you, you wonder what kinds of other new sounds you can drag from him. More kisses, one on each of his cheeks, and again on the corners of his lips, missing the true mark purposefully. Jinwoo audibly swallows and his arms wrap loosely and hesitantly around your back. It appears all of his earlier confidence has sapped right out of him. You wonder if you were right on the money when you said he doesn’t know anything about getting laid.

You press a kiss to his jaw and linger there. “Jinwoo,” you whisper softly against his skin and he shudders. That’s cute, but you must stay focused, you have to ask, “Have you done this before?”

Jinwoo stiffens, “Define…’this’...”

“Fuck someone, baby.” He whines a little at the pet name and you make mental note of that. “Have you ever fucked someone before? Been with anyone? Made out? Kissed? What are we working with here?”

He clears his throat and turns his head away from you as his cheeks go red. You groan and drop your forehead onto his shoulder. You were just going to mess with him a little, kiss him a bit and leave him wanting more; but there’s no shot in hell you’re going to fuck up his first time. He deserves someone better than you for that, someone he actually likes. You have to ignore the way that thought stabs you in the heart so badly you can barely breathe.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you say, your forehead still resting against his shoulder, “We can’t do this.”

“Oh,” Jinwoo says, voice flat, devoid of any emotion, truly reminiscent of the closed-off man that you so often see. His hands fall away from your back and you wince at the way he shuts down.

“Hey,” you pour as much emotion into your voice as possible, “I promise it’s not you.” You tuck your head into Jinwoo’s neck and squeeze him tightly. You wonder if he can still breathe like this, you feel like you can’t despite nothing restricting you. “When you find someone you like you’ll be glad we didn’t do this.” He says nothing so you pull back to take a hesitant look at his face. Jinwoo looks angrier than you’ve ever personally seen him.

“Already did.”

He grabs you by the face with both hands and before you can figure out if you heard him right, Jinwoo crushes your lips together too hard and too fast. However once your lips are touching he hesitates for a second, unsure of what to do next. Well, apparently you heard him right, and his hasty kiss answers all of your follow up questions about what he said, go figure.

You can’t just leave him hanging, so you kiss him back like your life depends on it. All in all it’s a crappy kiss. Your teeth clack together painfully, he can’t seem to find a rhythm with you, and you bump noses incessantly too. Despite all this you can’t fucking stop kissing him; you don’t think you could even if the world was ending. Jinwoo pulls back after a bit, gasping, apparently no one ever taught him how to breathe.

You grab Jinwoo by his hair, “Breathe through your nose, dipshit.” Using your hold on his hair you pull him back into another kiss, delighting in his shocked moan. This kiss is slightly better, he seems to be learning quickly. Jinwoo wraps his arms around you again and grasps at the back of your shirt, you worry if he pulls any harder he might tear it. That could be hot though, an idea for later.

This time you pull back first and Jinwoo emits an uncharacteristically pathetic whine in response. “Shh.”

You press kisses up his jaw, before sucking a mark directly below his ear. You’ve never known anyone to leave a scratch on Jinwoo, maybe you’ll be the first. The thought fuels something new and feral in you. You begin covering his throat in as many marks as you possibly can, something delightful burning inside of you when you see each new bruise forming. You want him covered, you want everyone to know that this stupid man, this dangerous, closed off man is yours. Nobody else is allowed to see Jinwoo a mess like this, this is for your eyes only. That’s all you’ve ever really wanted, isn’t it?

“Jinwoo…” you whisper, your breath fanning across the spit-slick marks you’ve just made on his throat.

Jinwoo shudders beneath you, “Yeah?”

“We are not fucking in a stranger’s office.” Just on so many levels that is not happening.

He sags into the couch like a puppet that just had all of its strings cut. “I truly hate you sometimes…” he says with absolutely no malice, in fact it sounds kind of whiny and you have to hold in a giggle.

“Until about ten minutes ago, I was under the impression that you hated me all the time.”

Jinwoo scoffs and runs his hand up your side gently, “I don’t hate you ever, you’re just really annoying.”

You rub a thumb over one of his blossoming bruises, admiring your hard work. “Awww thanks, you’re also a real fuckin’ peach.”

“I do try.”

You roll your eyes, patting him on the head now that you know he won’t kill you for doing that, “Come on, you can fuck me in my bed later. I’m dying to know if I can fit your dick in my throat.” The last bit is tacked on with a pointed wiggle of your hips, just so you can feel Jinwoo’s cock straining against his pants. God, he’s such a virgin, it’s painfully cute. You absolutely would give him a quick hand job here just to help him out but it’s so much funnier not to.

Jinwoo’s hips twitch and he groans deeply, the sound reverberating in his chest, “Fuck you-”

“Happy to help!” Being a hindrance is your favorite activity, especially when it’s Jinwoo you’re hindering. You can’t believe you’ve finally found his weak spot.

“Yeah, I’m sure you are…”

“Aww, I’m sorry baby,” you say, voice thick with condescension, “I promise I’ll make it up to you later, just be patient.” You press a quick kiss to his lips before you slip off his lap. He sighs, folding over and dropping his head into his hands.

“You’re a nightmare…”

“Yeah but I think you might like that about me… Just a hunch.” You’re not actually sure if that’s true or not. You’re not sure of anything anymore. Really where the two of you stand now is a total mystery, but the soft laugh Jinwoo warms your chest, and that’s something isn’t it?

With a soft tone Jinwoo says, “Get out of here, menace.”

“Yeah, yeah… Hey- see you later?” Your words come out as a question, quiet and hopeful.

He sits up and looks at you, the corners of his lips quirked up. “See you later,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Of course, you almost forgot, ever since you came here it’s been that way hasn’t it? Where you go he follows and vice versa, he’s your rival after all, what would you do without him?

#solo leveling #sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #only i level up #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung headcanons #jinwoo sung x you #jinwoo x reader #solo leveling fanfic #solo leveling headcanons #solo leveling jinwoo #Zephyrs Stories

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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year

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Dick’s

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

synopsis: the only good part of your job at Dick’s Sporting Goods is how often Peter comes in to buy repairs for his suit

Masterlist

“Back so soon?”

“What?” Peter looked up and pulled his earbud out when he heard you say something. You chuckled when you heard the music coming through his earbuds and continued scanning the spandex shirt he was buying.

“You were here two nights ago.” You reminded him. “And four days before that. You’re here all the time, actually.”

“Yeah, I am. How’d you know that?” Peter blushed as you handed him the bag of his stuff. You looked around for anyone who might be listening before motioning for Peter to come closer. His blush deepened and he leaned across the register.

“I work here.” You whispered in his ear. You cracked a smile as you leaned back and pointed to the Dick’s Sporting Goods logo on your uniform shirt.

“Right.” He laughed shyly. “Sorry.”

“It’s all cool. I’m sorry that I work here too.” You shrugged, making Peter laugh again.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“The name of the store is Dick’s.” You said flatly. “And apparently, that’s the only kind of people they hire here.”

“Yeah. I asked someone for help finding the nuts and bolts and he asked if I looked in my mouth.” Peter admitted. Your jaw dropped in surprise before you burst out laughing.

“Who was it?” You asked him. “Did he have red hair?”

“Yeah. In the hardware section.”

“Fucking Jeremy. I’ll kick his ass for you, okay? I’m pretty sure he’s like 13 or something but I’ll still do it.” You said, and Peter couldn’t tell if you were joking or not.

“That’s really not necessary.” He laughed shyly.

“All right.” You nodded. “Just know that I would. I’ve been looking for a reason to kick his ass anyway.”

“Why?” Peter wondered.

“Didn’t you see his face? It’s so punchable. Plus, he watches videos in the break room at full volume with no earbuds in. And if he thinks the video is funny, he’ll rewatch it multiple times. So then we all have to hear this loud, unfunny video multiple times. It drives me crazy. He deserves to get his ass kicked. I might do it just for fun now.”

“His face was pretty punchable.” Peter admitted.

“Can we hurry this up? This is taking way too long.” A man behind Peter complained, making your smile fall.

“That’s what she said.” You mumbled as you grabbed Peters receipt.

“To him.” Peter replied. You looked up at him and smiled in surprise.

“Because he’s probably bad at sex.” Peter explained in a weak voice.

“No, I got it. And I appreciated it. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Peter laughed shyly.

“One last question for you. Then I have to help Mr. Clean with his very important purchase of golf ball cleaner.” You said as you nodded towards the guy behind Peter.

“Oh, sure. Ask away.”

“Are you listening to Judas by Lady Gaga?” You asked and pointed to Peters earbuds. He turned red in embarrassment and thought about lying, but you clearly already knew.

“It’s her best song.” He said simply.

“Oh, I know that.” You assured him. “I just wanted to make sure that you know that.”

“Oh, I do.” He matched your tone, making you smile.

“Well all right then. Have a good night. See you really soon probably.” You teased him.

“Yeah. See you soon.” Peter smiled at you as he took his receipt.

Peter practically skipped out of Dicks that night. He frequented the store every time his suit needed a repair and had seen you working there a few times, forever looking miserable behind the cash register. He just never thought you’d notice him too.

A few nights later, Peter busted the eye on his mask while on patrol. He dropped his suit off at home and when to Dick’s Sporting Goods to get something to replace it. When he brought it up to the register to buy and smiled when he saw you.

“Hey.” You smirked at him and blew a bubble with your gum.

“Hey.” He smiled softly at you.

“Gum?”

“What?” He asked. You wordlessly held up a pack of Big League Chew and blew another bubble.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m driving.” He replied without thinking. He felt embarrassed for malign a stupid joke but you cracked up over it.

“I use that joke all the time.” You laughed. “Except I usually say “no thanks, I’m trying to quit.” I haven’t heard that one before.”

“I like yours better.” Peter tried to flirt.

“You can steal it. I won’t mind.” You winked at him and blew another big pink bubble. Peter gulped as you handed him his bag.

“Thanks. Have a good night.”

“You too.” You called after him as he left the store.

He returned a few days later, not that he needed anything. He was here for you this time. He came into the store at night with a plan to learn your name. It wasn’t much, but it was a step towards getting to know you better.

“Hey, Judas Boy.” You waved to Peter from behind the register.

“Hey, Dick’s girl.” He waved back and grabbed some spandex before heading to the register.

“Oh, thank God.” You said sarcastically. “You haven’t bough red and blue spandex shirts in almost a week. I was worried you were going to run out.”

“I almost did. This week has not been easy.” Peter humored you. You smiled when he played along and put his stuff into a bag.

“How come you guys don’t wear name tags?” Peter asked you as he put his plan into action.

“We’re supposed to. We’re also supposed to wear hard shoes and khaki pants.” You said behind your hand and pointed your foot out from behind the register to show him your leggings and crocs.

“I see. Not much of a rule follower?”

“I can be. But not for Dicks. Nothing for Dicks.” You said with such passion he couldn’t tell if you were kidding or not.

“But where else can you find a spandex section like this?” Peter joked and held up his bag.

“Models. Target. Walmart. Patagonia.“ You started to list off.

“Okay, sure.” Peter agreed. “But Dicks is the only one that carries red and blue.”

“Oh, I see. And red is blue is the only kind you can buy?” You chuckled.

“Obviously. What am I supposed to wear? Black?” Peter grimaced, making you laugh again.

“Why do you need all this stuff anyway? I’ve always wondered that. Why could you possibly be doing that you need all this red and blue spandex clothing?”

“Cause I’m Spiderman.” Peter said with a simply shrug. He held his breath and hoped you take that as a joke, which of course, you did.

“That’s hot.” You smirked and handed him his receipt.

“Have a good night.” He told you.

“Night.”

Peter was back just a few nights later. He never actually learned your name, so he technically had an excuse to return. He brought a spandex shirt up to the register and you laughed when you saw it.

“I think you’re single handedly funding our red and blue spandex supply.”

“Really? I’m the only one who buys it?”

“Just you.” You nodded. “My boss said he wasn’t gonna order anymore but I told him that would be making one special customer very unhappy.”

“You told him to order more just for me?” Peter smiled shyly and felt his blush go all the way to his ears.

“Duh.” You scoffed. “I gotta earn that sweet, sweet $15 an hour somehow. Pleasing one specific customer is how I choose to do it.”

“$15 an hour to work by yourself every night is insane. But I don’t even get paid for my job, so I’m not one to talk.”

“What is your job?” You wondered.

“I told you. I’m Spiderman.”

“No, but really.” You laughed. Peter looked down at the spandex and tried to think of any other profession that could explain why he was always buying it.

“I’m a male ballerina.” He said finally.

“For real?” Your eyes widened. “That’s way cooler.”

“Cooler than Spiderman?”

“Hell yeah.” You scoffed. “I’ve never seen Spiderman do a pas de deux.”

“I’ve never seen anyone do a pack de- um…”

“Pas de deux.” You chuckled when he couldn’t say the word.

“Yeah. That.” He blushed again.

“Have a good night then, nutcracker.” You said with a wink.

“Night, Dick‘s girls.”

The next time Peter came into the store, he had to stay away from the spandex section. May was getting suspicious about why he was buying so much when his suit didn’t have any visible damage, so he had to think of something else.

“Gummy worms?” You asked as Peter dropped a bag of sour gummy worms on the counter.

“You sell them. So I’m buying them.” He shrugged. You laughed as you scanned it and looked up at him.

“Do you live around here?”

“About 4 blocks away.” He answered. “Why?”

“Because this is New York. Which means you had to have passed, at the very least, 4 corner stores to get here. All of which sell gummy worms. And yet, you chose to walk all the way to a sporting goods store to get them. Why is that?” You asked as you leaned on the counter.

“I didn’t need spandex tonight.” He admitted as a blush painted his cheeks.

“Then why’d you come out here?” You smirked.

“Because I’m a stalker. And I’m learning your schedule so I can smite you and wear your skin.” He replied without thinking. He held his breath again but was sure you would not find a joke about him killing you to be funny. But to his surprise, you smirked in amusement.

“That’s hot.” You said replied. “Can you cover my shifts for me once you start wearing my skin?”

“Sure.” He shrugged.

“Cool. Enjoy your worms.” You chuckled and handed him his candy. Peter was about to leave when he decided to rip open the bag and hand you a worm.

“For your troubles, madam.” He said, then made a dash for the door. He heard you laughing as he walked out into the street, making it all worth while.

Peter returned to the store the next day but felt his heart sink in disappointment when he didn’t see you behind the register. He turned to leave and jumped when you were standing right behind him.

“Have you ever seen Black Swan?” You asked him.

“What? Jesus Christ. You scared me.” He said and put his hand over his pounding heart.

“You’re a male ballerina, right? You must’ve seen Black Swan.”

“No. I’ve never heard of it.” Peter answered as his eyes darted to the side.

“That was the face of a man who has 100% seen lezzy wet dream scene from Black Swan.” You laughed and pointed to him.

“Maybe once or twice.” His whispered.

“Well I’m going on break now and I was gonna go watch it in the storage room.”

“Oh. That sounds fun.”

“You wanna come?” You asked him like it was the most casual suggestion in the world. Peter looked around to see if any customers or employees were watching before following you into the back. He knew he shouldn’t be walking through a door that said “employees only”, but he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to hang out with you.

“Am I allowed back here?” Peter whispered and stayed close behind you.

“Probably not.” You shrugged and led him to the storage room. You shut the door behind the two of you and sat down on one of the shelves.

“Will you get in trouble?” Peter asked as he took a seat beside you.

“Maybe.” You shrugged again and pulled the movie up on your phone.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with your manager. I’d feel horrible.”

“Dude, my manger is 17 and high as a kite right now.” You snorted. “He won’t care as long as we don’t interrupt his vape session.”

“Oh. Okay.” Peter relaxed and leaned against the wall. You shoulders were touching and he realized this was the closest you’d ever been.

“Here. I didn’t want to subject you to using a strangers earbuds so I stole this from the front.” You said as you pulled new earbuds out of your pocket. You tore them out of the plastic casing and plugged them into your phone before offering Peter one.

“They’re your favorite colors, right?” You asked in a soft voice. The earbuds were red and blue, the only colors Peter ever bought. They weren’t actually his favorite colors, just the color of his suit, but he thought it was cute that you specifically got this pair thinking he’d like the colors.

“Yeah. Red and blue are great.” He smiled softly and put his earbud in. You put the other in and started the movie. Peter couldn’t pay attention to a single second because the smell of your perfume was triggering all his senses. He stared at you instead of the screen until his eyes landed on the earbuds connecting you.

“I can’t believe you stole for me.” He said with a smug grin.

“Relax. I don’t do it often. But I did also steal these for you.” You said and pulled a pack of gummy worms out of your other pocket. Peters face lit up and he opened the worms before handing you one. Your fingers touched at one point when you both reached for a word and he gulped.

“When did you take these anyway?” He wondered.

“A couple hours ago when I first clocked in.” You replied. “I made sure to wait until I was on the company’s time before I took them. I don’t do anything here until I’m on the company’s time.”

“So you knew you were going to ask me to watch this with you when you first got here?” He asked as a smile crossed his face. You looked up from the movie and sheepishly turned to face him.

“You always come in at this time. And I’ve always wanted to see this movie. I figured you’d like it because you like ballet. Is that weird?” You asked, sounding nervous for the first time.

“No. It’s not weird.” Peter shook his head to assure you. You smiled in appreciation and nodded before turning back to the movie. Peter was able to focus on it now, but couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you.

“I love getting paid to watch gay movies.” You sighed happily as the movie neared its end.

“You need to make money somehow. God, I need a job. I’m gonna go broke from this store alone.”

“You’ve never looked at your receipt, have you?” You chuckled and looked over at him.

“No. Why?”

“Every time you come in here, I only charge you for tic tacs.” You admitted. “No matter what you buy, I just remove the tag and then scan a pack of wintergreen tic tacs.”

“Wait, seriously? Why?” He smiled curiously and turned to face you.

“Because then I can eat the tic tacs without feeling bad about stealing since you paid for them.” You shrugged. “And so that you don’t give all your money to Dick’s Sporting Goods just to fuel your spandex fetish. You only ever spend a dollar or so when you come here. I can’t believe you never realized that.”

“So you’ve been saving me money this whole time? Those shirts are like $15 each.”

“Isn’t that crazy?” You chuckled. “An hour of my work is worth a single, thin shirt. That makes me feel less guilty about never making you pay.”

“You’re really cool for that. Thanks.” Peter said sincerely.

“Yeah, well. I think you’re cool too.” You shrugged and looked down so he couldn’t see your smile. Peter stared at you with a dreamy smile on his face until he noticed the clock behind you.

“How long is your break?” He wondered.

“15 minutes.” You shrugged.

“15 minutes?! We’ve been back for over an hour.” Peter whispered harshly.

“Jeremys got it.” You waved your hand. “I cover for him all the time. He owes me.”

“Okay, good.” Peter sighed. “As long as you won’t get in trouble.”

“Will you stop worrying about me? I’ll be fine. You need to start breaking a few rules every now and then. Do you always do exactly what you’re expected to?”

“You’d be surprised.” Peter mumbled and debated telling you the reason he was always buying red and blue spandex. You noticed he had a far off look in his eyes and moved his chin to make him look at you.

“You never told me your name, by the way.” You said in a soft voice.

“It’s Peter.” He replied as his eyes dropped to your lips. “What’s yours?”

“Y/N!” Jeremey came barging into the m storage room, making you and Peter jump away from each other.

“Oh, there you are.” Jeremy smiled calmly. “Can you help me ring this guy up? He has a coupon but it’s expired.”

“So then he doesn’t have a coupon.”

“I know but he’s being really annoying about it and told me to get the manger but Kyle is vaping and said not to disturb him.” Jeremy whined.

“Damn, still? How long has this kid been vaping for? Are we even sure he’s alive?” Peter asked.

“Wait, who’s that?” Jeremy frowned and pointed to Peter. You and Peter exchanged a panicked look.

“That’s Peter. He works the night shift.” You said quickly.

“I’m Peter. I work the night shift.” Peter nodded in agreement.

“Oh. Okay. I don’t really care. You could’ve been back here smocking crack and sucking dick with a total stranger and I would not have batted an eye. Lord knows I’ve done it. But I do really need your help with the coupon.”

“Ugh. Fine.” You grumbled and got up to go follow Jeremy. Peter got up as well to let himself out.

“See you later, Peter.” You squeezed his arm before heading back to the register. Peter touched the part of his arm where you’d hand had been and smiled softly.

“See you later.”

Peter walked out of the store with a huge smile on his face. But loud noises coming from dumpster behind the store caught Peters attention. He climbed up the wall and walked along the roof so he could scope out what was going on. When Peter saw two guys trying to pick the lock to the back door, he quickly pulled his suit out of his backpack and put it on. He dropped down behind the two guys and cleared his throat when they didn’t hear him.

“Hey guys. I guess you didn’t see the front door. It’s right around the block under the huge, glowing sign that says Dick’s.” Peter said sarcastically. The guys stopped what they were doing and wiped around.

“Woah. It’s the Spiderman.” One of the guys gasped.

“Why do people always say “the” Spiderman?” Peter wondered. “It’s just Spiderman. I was very clear about that when I first started.”

“Let’s get this freak.” The other guy said and started walking towards Peter.

“Before we fight, I should let you guys know that two against one isn’t really fair when the one has web shooters.” Peter said as he raised his fists. His cocky smile disappeared when three more guys came out of the shadows and closed in on him. The five guys took turns punching and kicking Peter until he laid on the ground in a ball. He struggled to catch his breath and coughed up some blood as one of the guys delivered another kick to his stomach. One of them rolled him over and climbed on top of him with his fist raised in the air. Peter accepted his fate and was about to shut his eyes when a hammer, still in its package, came flying through the air and hit the guy in the head. The man grunted in pain and fell off of Peter. This gave Peter enough time to crawl away as more hammers were thrown in the direction of the men. Peter weakly looked up and saw you standing in the doorway with a bunch of hammers in your arms that you were haphazardly throwing at the men.

“Eat my hammer!” You yelled and threw another hammer at the head of one of the guys. Peter let out a weak laugh and clutched his side in pain.

“Dick’s girl?” He asked groggily.

“It’s Y/n.” You reminded him and threw another hammer. This time, one of the guys caught the hammer and started running towards you. Before Peter could get up to protect you, you pulled a bowling ball out from the floor beneath you and threw it at the guy. He was knocked to the ground as you pulled something else behind your bat. When you stepped under a streetlight, Peter as able to see you had taken a lacrosse stick from the store. You whacked one of the guys across the face so hard that he fell to the ground. You swept the leg of another guy, leaving only one standing. Peter held his aching body as you fearlessly walked up to the final goon.

“Spiderman over here is my friend. He’s one of the much, much friendlier Avengers. But not me. I’m fucking mental. I was trained in kung fu for the moment I could walk. I was raised to be a weapon. You don’t want to mess with me.” You said to the man as your rung the lacrosse stick in your hands.

“Oh please. I’ve taken shits bigger than you.” The man sneered and pointed to you. You smirked and caught his finger between your thumb and index finger while keeping your pinky upright.

“You see this? This is called the Wuxi Finger hold. If I bend my pinky, your chi is gonna be so fucked that all the bones in your body will break and half this block will be decimated.” You told him

“You’re bluffing.” He scoffed. “That’s not possible.”

“You wanna find out?” You asked and tightened your grip on his finger. The man’s eyes flicked between your face and his finger as he debated whether or not he believed you.

“This chick is crazy. Let’s get out of here.” The guys finally decided and took off running. The four others groaned as the got up and ran away as well. You sighed and threw the bloody lacrosse stick into the dumpster before looking down at Peter.

“So you’re not a male ballerina?”

“No. I’m Spiderman.”

“That’s not as cool.” You mumbled and bent down to help him sit up fully.

“Can you really break all his bones with one finger?” Peter asked you.

“Huh? Oh, no.” You chuckled. “I stole that shit from Kung Fu Panda. Those ska-douches clearly don’t have good taste in movies so they didn’t even realize.”

“Oh.” Peter smiled weakly. “Well, thanks for saving me.”

“You’re welcome, Peter. Come on.” You winked at him and carefully helped him stand up. You wrapped his arm around you and helped him limp his way into the break room. You raided the sports injury aisle before helped Peter up onto a table.

“Am I allowed to be back here?” Peter asked as he pulled his mask off.

“No one’s gonna know. Kyles vaping in the baseball aisle and Jeremy went home.” You said and set the supplies you had taken down on the table beside him.

“Are you allowed to take those?”

“You are quite a rule follower for the face of illegal vigilanteism, you know that?” You chuckled and opened a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“I’m actually not a vigilante. I’m on Mr. Starks roster. We have government clearance.”

“Okay. So just tell yourself I have government clearance to steal these supplies.” You told him, making him laugh. You laughed as well and started to clean him up. Peter stared at you fondly as you patched up his wounds.

“I really appreciate you trying to help me, but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’m in charge of filling out the inventory catalogues when we get shipments. I can easily make it look like these supplies never existed. Don’t worry, okay? And even if I do get in trouble, it’ll be worth it.” You said without looking at him.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Peter asked softly. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“Because I like you.” You shrugged. “I think you’re cool.”

“You do?”

“Is that shocking?” You laughed and cleaned a cut above his eyebrow.

“Kinda. I’m kinda a loser.”

“Really? Because I didn’t see any losers out there tonight. You know, other than those five losers trying to break into a Dick’s sporting goods. I’m really glad all the golf pencils and eye paint are safe.” You said sarcastically. Peter laughed and rested his hands on your hips.

“I like you too, by the way.”

“You do?” You asked skeptically.

“A lot, actually. Sometimes, I don’t even need anything. I just come here and hope you’re working.”

“Well I asked my boss to only schedule me at night because you never come in during the day.” You playfully one upped him.

“Really? You did that because of me?” He smiled fondly.

“You coming in here is the only good thing about this place.” You answered honestly.

“You’re the only reason I come.” Peter told you.

“Ayo.” You snickered.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He laughed sheepishly.

“It’s okay. It was funny.”

“No you know why I’m always in here buying spandex and random things. I bust up my suit a lot and the guy who made it for me isn’t around anymore.”

“It’s a pretty cool suit. I can’t even tell where you’ve patched it up. I guess our spandex is just really high quality.”

“You got some pretty cool clothes yourself. Not everyone can pull off Hunter green.”

“Wanna see something?” You asked and unzipped the green Dick’s zip up on had on to reveal a black T- shirt underneath that read “I heart Dick’s” with the stores logo in the heart.

“I heart dicks? No way that’s a real uniform.” Peter laughed and pulled on your shirt to read it better.

“Yep. I couldn’t believe it either. I guess the Boomers that make our uniforms don’t see penis humor in everything like our generation does. I tried to tell my boss that these shirts were ridiculous but he said he’d fire me if I didn’t wear it. Even though I literally hate Dick’s.”

“You do?”

“Not that kind of dick.” You laughed. “I meant the store. If this place burned down, I wouldn’t pee on it to put it out. In fact, I probably started the fire.”

“Then why don’t you quit?”

“I need a job.” You shrugged. “And they’re super understaffed so they give me a lot of hours. Plus, if I left, how would I see you?”

“We could hang out. Preferably not in a Dick’s sporting goods.” Peter suggested.

“That’s my favorite place to hang out.” You smiled. “Can I give you my number?”

“I mean, if you want.” Peter joked as he handed you his phone. You put his number in and handed it back to him.

“There. That’s my number.”

“It’s hot.” He said as he looked at it. He gulped and looked up at you, thinking you’d find that weird.

“You’re such a weirdo.” You chuckled. “You better text me.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.” You said and poked his chest. Peter stared at you for a moment as a smile tugged on his lips.

“Would it be weird if we kissed right now?” He asked you.

“Yes.” You scoffed. “You’re covered in blood and gravel.”

“Oh. Yeah. You’re right.” He blushed in embarrassment and nodded his head. You cracked a smile before wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him. Peter felt love in that Dick’s Sporting Goods that night. It was all around him. The kiss ended sooner than he would’ve liked, but it was still perfect.

“Hey, you did it anyway.” He smiled in surprise.

“Yeah, well. I wanted to.” You laughed shyly and kept your arms around his neck.

“And then she kissed me anyway. And she got Neosporin all over her face. And my blood! It was insane, Ned. I wish you could’ve seen her with the lacrosse stick. She destroyed so much store property. It was incredible.” Peter jumped in excitement as he recanted the story to Ned the next day.

“You had your first kiss in Dicks sporting goods?” Ned whispered in awe.

“Uh huh.” Peter nodded.

“What are you guys talking about?” Flash asked as he stuck his head between Peter and Ned.

“Nothing.” Peter said quickly and gave Ned a look.

“Peter kissed the hot Dicks cashier.” Ned blurted.

“Ned!” Peter whispered harshly. “Why would you tell him that?”

“You kissed Alejandro?” Flash gasped and looked jealous.

“What? No. Who even is that?”

“I know all the Dicks sporting goods employees by name. I’m in there all the time buying golf and tennis and bad mitten shit because I’m rich as fuck. If it wasn’t Alejandro, then who was it?” Flash questioned.

“Her name is Y/n. She works the closing shift.” Peter told him.

“Wait, the one with the rebellious gleam in her eyes? No way you kissed her.” Flash snorted. “I’ve been trying to get her number for months.”

“Really? Because I got it last night.” Peter replied with a shrug.

“And a smooch.” Ned added. “On the mouth.”

“He knows where, Ned.” Peter whispered without taking his eyes off Flash.

“There is no way in hell that Penis Parker was macking on a hot cashier. And at Dick’s sporting goods no less.” Flash laughed loudly, drawing the attention of students passing by.

“It’s true.” Peter insisted. “And I don’t care if you believe me or not. Because I know it’s real.”

“Wow. You hear that, everybody? Penis Parker has a fake girlfriend!” Flash shouted in the hallway. People stopped to laugh and point at Peter, making him turn red.

“What? No I don’t.”

“He’s pretending he had a girlfriend who works at Dicks Sporting Goods to make up for the fact that no one will ever touch his dicks sporting goods.” Flash said even louder.

“Oh my God. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Peter grumbled and Ned followed after him as he left. Once they were out of the crowd, Peter pulled his phone out and looked over your last conversation.

“Do you think it’s weird she hasn’t texted me back in a while?” He asked Ned.

“Well what was the last thing you guys talked about?”

“We were in the middle of a conversation about the best Adam Sandler movie and she ghosted me.” Peter said as he checked the time. Your shift had definitely started by now and he knew you texted on company time.

“Is she working tonight?”

“Yeah. Closing shift.”

“So go visit her.” Ned shrugged.

“What if she doesn’t want to see me?” Peter worried.

“She wouldn’t have kissed you if she didn’t like you.” Ned reminded him.

“I guess so. Okay. I’ll go see her after class.”

Once Peters last class ended, he pulled out his phone to call you as he walked in the direction of your store. You answered the phone but didn’t say anything.

“Hey. I was just thinking of you.” Peter said into the phone.

“Peter.” You whispered in a shaky voice. He could tell you were crying and froze in his tracks.

“I was planning on stopping by. Is everything okay?” He asked and quickened his pace in the direction of the store.

“No. I don’t think you should come in.” You said quietly. Peter stopped walking and felt his heart sink. You must’ve lost feelings after the kiss and didn’t want to hang out anymore.

“Oh. Oh, okay. No problem. I won’t come by.” He said and tried not to sound as disappointed as he felt.

“But maybe your friend can come in?” You asked, making his senses tingle.

“My friend?” He asked and started towards the store again.

“Yeah. The ballerina.” You replied and he knew exactly what you meant. Peter stopped in an alleyway to throw on his suit before running towards the store.

“Are you in danger?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You said with a forced laugh.

“I’ll be right there. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Who are you talking to? Is that a phone? I said all phones in the bag.” Peter heard from your end of the phone. You hung up after that and Peter raced to the store. When he got there, he snuck in through the back and quietly made his way to the front. He found you behind the register with your hands up in the air as a man in a hulk mask stood in front of you.

“Hey, buddy. Let me guess. The last jock strap you bought was too loose you’re back for another one?” Peter said, making the guy whip around. That’s when Peter saw the gun in his hand and froze.

“Oh. My bad. I didn’t see the gun from behind.” Peter said and put his hands in the air. He made eye contact with you from behind the register and you mouthed that you were sorry.

“Why don’t you walk out of here and pretend you didn’t see anything, okay pal?” The man said as he pointed the gun back at you.

“Sorry sir, but I can’t do that. You see, I’m quite taken with the cashier you’re holding at gunpoint here.” Peter said and pointed to you. You let out a short laugh as tears fell down your face.

“Good. Then you can watch me blow her head to bits.” The man said and took a step towards you. You let out a little squeak in fear and shut your eyes.

“Can I convince you to reconsider? She’s got a great head. I’d hate to see it get blown off.” Peter said calmly and slowly made his way towards the man.

“I said you could take the money. Just take it and leave.” You pleaded with the man.

“There was only $36.62 in there. I didn’t rob store for less than 40 bucks.” The man shouted at you.

“No one uses cash anymore.” You whimpered. “It’s all Apple Pay.”

“Then tell me the combination to the safe.” He yelled and tightened his grip on the gun.

“I don’t remember it.” You cried. “I don’t listen when my boss talks to me.”

“You’re lying! I know you know.”

“Why would I lie? You think I’d risk my life to protect this store? I hate this store. It’s so stupid. Why is it called Dick’s? Who is Dick?”

“She’s making some excellent points.” Peter agreed.

“Both of you shut up! Give me the combination to the safe now or I’ll shoot you both.”

“I don’t know it!” You exclaimed. “I don’t even know the address to this place.”

“You think this is funny?” The man asked and took a step closer to you to the gun was pressed against your forehead.

“Not right now but I probably will later.” You answered honestly.

“That’s it. You’re dead.” The man said and cocked his gun.

“No!” Peter exclaimed as he dove towards you. He knocked you safely onto the ground while the man shot him three times in the chest. You screamed as Peter fell to the ground in a thud. You were about to reach for him when he jumped back up on his feet.

“Just kidding! It’s bulletproof.” Peter said cheerfully as he shot a web at the man’s gun. He yanked it out of his hand and threw it to the side before shooting two more webs that stuck the man’s arms to his sides and glued his legs to together. The man fell to the ground and tried to break free, but was unsuccessful. Peter shot one last web at the man’s face before pulling his mask off. He turned around to ask you if you were okay and was immediately met by you throwing your arms around him. He pulled his mask off before hugging you back tightly until your breathing calmed down.

“How did you know you were bullet proof?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I didn’t.” He admitted. “I just knew that you weren’t.”

You pulled away to stare at him in disbelief, almost looking angry with him for risking his life for you. Your angry expression melted into a look of awe.

“Thats hot.” You said and threw your arms around him to kiss him. He smiled into the kiss and held you tighter, only breaking apart when you needed to catch your breath.

“Do you kiss all your local cashiers like that?” You asked him.

“Nope.” He chuckled. “Just you.”

“Good. You better keep it that way.”

Peter smiled and pressed his forehead against yours as you both calmed down from all the excitement when a thought crossed his mind.

“Did you really not know the combination to the safe or were you protecting the store?” Peter asked skeptically.

“Are you accusing me of risking my life to protect Dick’s Sporting Goods from a robbery?” You pretended to be offended and put your hand over your heart.

“No. But I am accusing you not telling that guy the safe combination just to mess with him.” Peter replied. A smirk crossed your face as you went over to the safe and put in the combination.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for a bit.” You said as you pulled the safe open.

“I knew it.” Peter laughed and shook his head.

“I was planning on telling you something tonight. You know, before I got held at gunpoint by a man shorter than I am.” You said as you walked back over to Peter.

“Oh really? What?”

“They’re making me store manager. That means you can get all the free spandex and gummy worms you want.”

“No way.” Peter grinned. “They promoted you?”

“Kinda.” You waved your hand. “The last store manger went to jail for insider trading and I’m the only other employee over 18.”

“But still! I’m so proud of you.” He said and scooped you into a hug.

“You know, when they promoted me, you were the first person I wanted to tell.” You admitted. Peter pulled away to cup your face and smile at you.

“I’m honored. No one in this shamble of a store deserved it more than you.”

“I can make my own hours now because it’s my job to make the schedule. So let me know when you want to go on our first date that isn’t in a Dick’s sporting goods.” You smiled teasingly.

“I will.” He smiled back before getting serious. He blew out a breath and looked you in the eye.

“Dick’s girl, I have so enjoyed our time together. Would you maybe want to be my girlfriend maybe?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

“Maybe I would.” You shrugged. “But only if you never call me “Dick’s girl” again.”

“I can definitely do that.” Peter nodded and kissed you again. The kiss was interrupted by the sound of cops pulling up in front of the store.

“Cops are here. I gotta go.” Peter said apologetically and pulled his mask back on.

“Bye, Spiderman!” You waved at him as he walked towards the front door.

“Bye, Dick’s girl!” He shouted back before swinging off into the night.

“What did Spiderman just call you?” The police officer as he walked into the store.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure

@a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @maryjanee23

@geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow

@thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe

@seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @electraheart-3174

@unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl

@marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke @thestylestour

@officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours @parkerlovebot

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

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choreom4nia · 1 year

Text

◜ 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ◞ : a collection of prompts from the 2023 animated film 𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀 based off the graphic novel by nd stevenson . adjust phrasing as desired ! not spoiler free .

go back to the shadows from whence you came !

if you want a happily ever after , you can never let your guard down .

hey , thinky face . look at me .

it's not what [ ] wanted .

i don't feel safe .

i'm not brooding ! i'm just - i'm thinking .

this is my thinking face .

you were better and worked harder than all of us .

but what if they still hate me ?

they're gonna love you . like i do .

did you think i was going to apologize for how i treated you ? oh my god , that's hilarious . you're so stupid , i love it .

some of us don't get the happily ever after we're looking for .

the garbage and the smell of sadness really pull the whole thing together .

wait , who are you ?

put that down !

okay , how old do you think i am ?

not a lot of kids in your life huh ?

i'm here about the job .

do you like it ?

every villain needs a sidekick .

sweet murder wall !

this guy looks extremely punchable .

you're right , he is extremely punchable .

are you saying you're not a villain ?

are you disappointed that i'm not a murderer ?

it's complicated , okay ?

i am not gonna get arrested !

i trusted you .

give me a chance !

because once everyone sees you as a villain , that's what you are .

they only ever see you one way . no matter how hard you try .

if you see anyone , hide .

that's a hard no .

something , something , something , we win !

did you see the way he looked at me ?

how could i promise you when i don't know what's about to happen ?

this is the part where you run .

you're a monster .

do not call me that !

why are you helping me ?

everybody hates you too .

i think what you mean to say is thanks for saving my life .

can you just be you please ?

i can't be seen with that !

you've been staring .

can you please just be normal for a second ?

easier for who ?

how did you get like this ?

that explains literally nothing .

you need to sit down . you're bleeding !

most people scream at that part .

i'm not people .

does it hurt at all ?

i've been through worse .

what does it feel like ?

i feel worse when i don't do it .

why did you set me up ?

they brainwashed you good .

arm chopping is not a love language !

it's how we were trained .

you should be questioning everything right now !

i've lost my mind . i've lost everything .

i never asked for that .

you lied to me about everything !

then you never knew me at all .

i've got you , kid !

i said i don't want to talk about it !

i don't need your help !

i don't know what's scarier : the fact that everyone wants to kill me ? or that sometimes , i just wanna let ' em .

we have to get you out of here.

we'll go , together .

no matter what we do we can't change the way people see us .

you changed the way you see me .

it's okay . you're safe . we're home .

let's live here forever .

i wouldn't be here if you'd stood up for me .

there is something i need to tell you .

i'm not the villain here !

i know ! i know . i believe you .

i'm sorry for everything .

we've been wrong about everything .

this was a mistake .

why can't you just leave me alone ?

because i love you .

tell me this isn't you .

where did you get that ?

you think that i would do that ? that that's who i am ?

think about everything that we've been through together !

you were using me !

you wanted them to see someone else to hate so you wouldn't be alone !

i want to hear you say it ! say it !

don't you wish you were normal ?

you know what you are !

innocent people will die .

what are we doing ?

what have i done ?

i'm sorry . i'm sorry .

i see you .

i see you . and you're not alone .

what if we're wrong ? what if we've always been wrong ?

be right back . i'm gonna go break some stuff .

it's time to rewrite the story .

come back . please come back .

maybe it's not the end of the story .

holy sh - !

#nimona prompt #rp meme #rp prompt #nimona rp meme #nimona rp prompt #movie rp meme #movie rp prompt #cannot explain the visceral way this movie slaughtered me #rp resource #nimona meme #mine *

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bbunivxrse · 9 months

Note

AHHH I LOVED UR "HATED HIM" GOJO FIC ITS SO CUTEE🥹 I WANNA SEE A PART 2!! im curious will the reader date gojo or js continue to hate him lmao

❥ IMPROVEMENTS - SATORU GOJO

pairing: gojo x f!reader contents: pt 2 to this fic although you dont need to read it to understand this one. no warnings js fluff here !!! word count: 2.5k on the DOT a/n: HII NONNIE IM SSOOO HAPPY U LIKED IT!!! im sorry this took so long ive been busy with work and exams coming up :( hopefully i can post more often soon :((( ANYWAZ ENJOY

so maybe you don’t hate Satoru Gojo. not anymore. since that moment you shared with him, you thought everything would go back to normal, and for the most part it did. well, you think it did, but everyone else saw the changes clear as day.

as time passed, from an outside perspective it seemed like the two of you suddenly had a… “stable” friendship. both “stable” and “friendship” being used very very loosely. although gojo prefered “happy relationship” and “loving marriage”. the yelling matches (you yelling at gojo while he just sits there and smiles like an idiot) that used to occur multiple times daily went down to only once a day, if at all. you didn’t seem to shoo him away as much or rant about how annoying he is. it was almost like you were warming up to him.

if nobody knew what had happened between the two of you it would’ve seemed like a random switch that went off one day, except everyone did know what happened, cuz gojo’s big mouth went and told everyone the next fucking day. to escape being made fun of to no end, you told everyone you only kissed him so he’d shut up and there was no feelings beyond that, which was half true. the other half of you knew that being all bandaged up by him after a mission gone wrong, sitting in his bed while he tells you how much he cares about you, a man who’d usually piss you off and act all goofy. to see him like that was like a breath of really fresh air and kinda changed the way you saw him.

obviously he was still super annoying and pissed you off, but he seemed to finally get the memo and tuned it down so that it was actually manageable. his laugh was suddenly cuter, his face was less punchable and his flirting was almost starting to fluster you. almost. he still made those stupid comments and monologues for waaayy too long but he got a lot sweeter in his teasing and actions. he somehow found out what your favourite foods and places to eat were and bought you food after long days of school, training sessions and missions and took you to places around tokyo on outings “dates”. your friendship with him was finally tolerable.

waking up on a sunday morning, you hear the sound of buzzing from your phone on your bedside table.

incoming call from gojo.

its way too early for him to be bothering you already, but you know very well that if you don’t pick up now he’ll keep calling til you do. you silently curse shoko for giving him your number when he asked her, since he already knew you’d say no to him. “what do you want?” you answer his call, putting the phone to your ear as you sit up in bed. “good morning to you too i guess..” you can hear the pouting in his voice. “what are you up to today??”

“i’m training a bit with nanami and haibara later.” you check the clock on the table, mentally starting to plan when you’re gonna start getting ready to meet the two of them. “nanami!? why would you train with him!? he doesn’t know anything.” he seemed to completely tune out the second name you mentioned

“he knows more than you.” you laugh at his dramatic gasp over the phone, picturing the look on his face. “whateverrrr. you should train with me instead!”

“no.”

“what!? why not?? im soooo much better than him!” you can hear the passion in his voice and you begin to wonder how he can have so much energy so early in the morning, especially on a sunday. “please humble yourself, and i already told nanami i’d train with them anyway.” you glance back at your clock, continuing to consider how long you can stay in bed for. “fiiineee. we can train together next time. what’re you doing after that?”

“after training i’m gonna…” your voice trails off as you think back to earlier this week, trying to recall if you had made any other plans with anyone for today. “not doing anything later. i’m probably gonna go back to my dorm.” you confessed, forgetting exactly who you were on the phone with. “oh so you’re free later? perfect! we sh-“

“no, i’m not free. i’m going back to my dorm gojo. and i’m staying there. all day.” you make sure to give him the details of your plan to stay in your room so he doesn’t have any wiggle room to plan anything. “hmmmm.. okay! ill just come over then!”

“what?? n-“

“cyalaterbye!!” you hear the phone beep as he hangs up, now looking down at your lock screen. 'god he’s sooo annoying.'

getting out of bed after looking down at your clock again, you decide you have more than enough time to watch a bit of the show you’ve been catching up on. maybe about two and a half episodes?

checking the time halfway through the first episode, you decide you’re not in the mood to continue watching and you’ll watch a movie instead after training. you get up and begin getting ready for the scheduled training session you had, lightly fixing up your hair so you looked presentable and throwing on your uniform before heading out.

training with nanami and haibara went well, and you were all surprised gojo didn’t show up to bother you but you figured he was busy with his own thing. coming home you immediately threw your uniform onto the floor and went to take a shower, feeling all gross and sweaty. ‘ill pick it up later.’

you turn the water on, allowing it to get hot before stepping into the shower. you decided to use your favourite body wash that smelled like heaven in a bottle, the scent filling up the entire bathroom and making all the air around you smell like your favourite fragrance. you linger in the shower for a bit, the hot water feeling therapeutic against your skin. once you were done you headed back to your room, throwing on some comfy flared sweats and a random tank top from your wardrobe. looking in the mirror, the outfit was surprisingly cute, and really comfortable.

in a good mood from the nice shower and already feeling pretty after only putting on some random clothes, you decided to have fun and do some light makeup. maybe you’ll run a few errands later? you were a bit low on snacks at the moment.

finishing off your makeup with a pretty lipgloss, you look in your little snack drawer to see what you had left. some gum, a few candies and one bag of your favourite chips you’re planning to save. maybe it was time to restock.

you throw on a light jacket and grab your bag, gathering your essentials and getting your shoes on before leaving your dorm. you decided to go to the little convenience store only a few minutes away since they had all the snacks you like.

within a few minutes you made it to the store, picking out a bunch of snacks and candies you liked. as you were looking at the new flavours of candy they had, the bell by the door jingled as someone entered the store. “y/n!!” you heard a familiar voice behind you. “why are you here?? you said you were staying in your dorm. all day.” gojo mocks the tone you used with him on the phone earlier. “i changed my mind. why are you here?”

“satoru wanted to get some candy on the way home.” suguru appears from behind him, giving you a smile and a polite wave. “hmm.. they have a nice selection here, what do you think i should get?” gojo puts a hand to his chin as he looks through all the candies. “the sour green apple candy from this brand is really good. and the lemon flavour too, they’re my favourites.” you say as you point to the candies. “then they’re my favourites too,” gojo immediately picks up two of each flavour you recommended, before picking a few other candies he knows you like.

“you do not need all that sweetness. think about your health.” suguru grimaces at the amount of sweets in gojos hands. “i’m not gonna eat all of it! do you really think that low of me? i’m sharing with my girlfriend.” he plops his purchase on the counter for the cashier, smiling down at you “and i’m still coming over,”

“i didnt agree to that, nor do you have girlfriend.”

“don’t care,” gojo shrugs as he takes his bag full of your favourite candies, cheerfully skipping out the door followed by you and suguru. the two of you followed as he happily pranced down the street and back to school.

“you’re really not gonna leave me alone?”

“nope!” you and gojo stand outside your dorm as he waits for you to unlock the door. you sign at his persistence, grabbing your keys from your bag and opening the door. he had never actually been in your dorm before so this was like a new world to him. “kinda messy in here. you needa clean up a bit y/n” gojo steps inside as if it were his own house, yet looks around at your space as if he were at a museum. “do you ever shut up? and take your shoes off. don’t step on my nice carpet. if it gets dirty i will kill you.”

“yes ma’am.” he obeyed as if his life was truly in danger. you take off your own shoes, putting your jacket and bag away before plopping yourself on your bed. you watch gojo pace around your small dorm room, picking up random objects to inspect before humming and placing it back down. you know he should be monitored carefully while in proximity of your stuff but you really can’t be bothered to babysit right now and just allow him to stimulate himself.

after a few minutes of replying to missed texts from a few of your friends, you hear gojo sigh, dropping the bag of candy on the floor and placing his glasses alongside the makeup you put on earlier. you realize he hadn’t said a word for those few minutes. “you’re being too silent, what are yo-“ gojo fully drops himself on top of you, his hard head hitting your chest so hard you swear you heard a rib crack. “holy fucking shit you fatass, get off me!! you’re heavy.” you try to push him off you but he doesn’t budge. “but ‘m tired baby,” he whines as he made himself more comfortable on top of you. “i will kill you.”

“m‘kay..” gojo yawns, wrapping his arms around you. now you’re stuck, great. you honestly didn’t think the word ‘tired’ existed in gojo’s vocabulary since he somehow always has energy. you had never seen him sleep before, which sounds somewhat normal until you remember the overnight trips and missions you and your classmates went on frequently, where gojo never slept. or he never let anyone see him sleep. you didn’t really realize it until now, with him on your chest already seeming close to knocking out.

as much as it annoyed you that you couldn’t get up to eat the candy he’d bought for the two of you to have, you figured if you woke him up he’d just bother the shit out of you until you let him sleep again, and you honestly realize how cute he is when he’s quiet. sighing in defeat, you open up your laptop that you had left on your bed earlier and throw on a movie you had already wanted to watch today. “hm..? what’s that?” gojo mumbles as he’s half asleep. “the movie suguru recommended me the other day. the one about the samurai?”

“ohhh.” gojo turns his head away from the screen to rest on the other side of his head “that one sucks. and the main character dies.”

“ugh, spoiler warning next time??” you flick the top of his head as he laughs. you scroll through the selection of movies on the site, humming occasionally while adding interesting movies to your watch later list. eventually you find a random movie that you had never heard of but it looks interesting enough and decide to watch it. the large boy laying on top of you turns his head back to the screen once he hears the new film playing. this time he doesn’t say anything, but you notice his eyes struggling to stay open as he yawns literally every waking minute.

“gojo why don’t you go back to your dorm to sleep? you can barely keep your eyes open,” you giggle at him as he tries to look offended but clearly doesn’t have to energy to. “mn-mm. ‘m watchin… with my wife.” he yawns mid sentence. “well i’m not your wife, soooo…”

“you are my wife… we’re married… you remember.” you know he normally only says stuff like that to get under your skin, but sometimes it sounds like he truly believes it, which is a bit scary. you can’t even pay attention to the movie with how hard you’re contemplating to get him off you and in his own bed, but it seems there’s truly no solution. he’s a freakishly tall and muscular man with 100% of his body weight on top of you, so you obviously can’t push him off. and he clearly wont willingly get up, and you know you can’t convince him to get up, so you begin to accept that you might actually be stuck here.

“ill let you stay if you grab the bag of candy for me,” gojo seems to be too tired to remember that there’s nothing you can do to force him to leave and he easily could’ve refused. he lazily throws the bag onto the bed beside you before plopping himself right back where he was before. “now lemme stay.” you roll your eyes instinctively, grabbing the bag and picking out one of the candies gojo had picked for you. he lets out one last yawn before allowing his tiredness to consume him.

as you open up the sweets and start eating, you look down at gojo. you never really took a moment to actually realize how pretty he really is, and especially how cute he looks while he sleeps. as creepy as that sounds. you think it’s because his mouth is finally shut and he’s not saying the most annoying sentences he can come up with, or constantly blabbering to you about stuff you never asked him about and have no interest in. you honestly didn’t mind this heavy man peacefully asleep on top of you as you eat candy and watch a movie. it was quite nice, actually. maybe you’ll start to allow gojo to do things like this more often.

i really had no idea how to end this :SOB: but it turned out well i hope. pls send requests btw i have ZERO idea what to write neext

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru

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pepsiboyy · 5 months

Text

HEARTSTRINGS. - p2

p1 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p3

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: use of y/n lol, cursing, use of nickname (ma literally once as a joke) a/n: HIIII short update but keeping u guys fed love u always <33

wednesday.

i hummed to myself and smiled as i made my way down the stairs. today was going to be a good day. i decided i should wake up each day with a positive outlook, because if i don't, then days won't be as bright, and-

"mornin, y/n."

my movements stopped as i looked over to the couch in the living room, occupied by nate, and chris.

my eyes met chris' as i stared at him and blinked a few times.

nate turned his head from the game they were playing on the tv and smiled warmly at me. "oh, hey."

i collected myself in my comfy robe and tried to mask my look of disgust, but it was hard. "what's he doing here?"

"no need for hostility, ma, just spending time with my best friend." chris motioned to nate, who smacked the everliving shit out of his arm.

"dude, don't call my sister that, it's weird."

i stared at the two, my cheeks a soft tint of pink as i shook my head. "right. so that means i have to-"

"get used to seein me, yup."

everyone's heads turned to the front door as it opened, and my dad walked in.

"hey guys. oh, hey chris." he said enthusiastically.

i watched in disbelief as they just allowed chris there. like he lived there.

i scoffed before grabbing a banana and making my way back to my room. there goes my positive outlook on today.

my dad was beginning to go to sleep, and nate was in his room. i had been in my room most of the day, not exactly wanting to run into chris, or my brother who would definitely give me a talk about chris. it just didn't interest me, i didn't want to see him.

maybe it was the bad first impression. i don't think there's actually much wrong with chris. maybe he's good at guitar. maybe he's good at whatever game him and nate were playing downstairs this morning.

i quickly shook my head as i slipped out of bed and made my way out of my room. i needed a drink. or something to eat. or fresh air. something to get my mind off of chris.

upon leaving my room, i was met with a larger figure passing by the front of my room. my eyes followed him and i noticed he was approaching nate's room. but he was taller than nate.

"oh, you're still up?"

i swear.

"you're still here?" i fired back, and chris threw his hands up in defense.

"what's your problem with me? did i do something to upset you?"

i stared at him, a look of annoyance on my face. not really, i wanted to say. your face is so punchable, i wanted to say. your hair is so cool, i wanted to say. i just can't stop thinking about you, i wanted to say.

"whatever." i mumbled as i passed him and entered the kitchen.

"come on, y/n. you can't hate me that much." chris whisper-yelled in response, attempting not to be loud as everyone else was beginning to fall asleep. "and to answer your question, i'm here because nate invited me to stay tonight and write lyrics. he was tired though, so he went to bed."

"mmhm." i responded blandly, opening the refrigerator, which lit up my face in the darkness of the kitchen.

"nate told me you sing a bit?"

i turned to chris and narrowed my eyes. "i dabble. but you'd catch me dead before catching me singing for your band." i mumbled, pointing my pointer finger at chris with one hand and a tub of orange juice in my other hand.

chris clutched his chest as he stared at me, a clear look of hurt on his face. "harsh much. no need for the sass, i deal with it enough at home."

i shut the refrigerator and looked at him as i got two cups out, setting them on the counter. "at home?"

"yeah," chris started, as he watched me pour the orange juice into the two cups, "i have two brothers. i'm a triplet actually."

"eugh, there's more of you?"

chris stared at me, dumbfounded. "they're nothing like me, believe it or not." he mumbled, but something about his tone made me realize he was serious, but almost in a way that was sentimental to him. i could tell he looks up to his brothers.

"you three close?" i questioned as i put away the orange juice and began sipping at my cup.

"absolutely. never really done much without them." he smiled softly at the thought of his two brothers. "their names are matt and nick."

i nodded as i listened to him. "i see. before nate, i didn't really have siblings. i just lived with my mom in florida." i chuckled, setting my cup down gently.

chris nodded. "see, i just can't even begin to imagine a life without siblings." he gently picked up the cup i poured for him, and motioned it up as a soft 'cheers' and smiled. "thank you, by the way," he mumbled before he took a sip out of the cup.

i smiled warmly and nodded. "and i can hardly imagine a life with siblings. but nate is so kind, i look forward to getting closer to him."

chris nodded as he leaned against the counter and stared out the kitchen window, humming to himself in response. "nathan is my best friend. truly. i can go to him about anything." he turned to me and smiled. "i think you'll love having him around. he's a reliable friend, i can't imagine how he would be as a brother. he didn't even let me call you a harmless nickname earlier."

"harmless is kind of.." i trailed off and smiled softly at chris. we looked at each other before i sat up and hummed. "anyways. i'm going to go back to my room. you have fun writing lyrics?" i smiled at chris.

chris nodded as he looked at me, finishing his cup and sitting up. "yeah. i'll be in nate's room." he smiled. "i'll come to you if i get lonely?"

"in your dreams." i quickly responded, sitting up as i made my way to the stairs. chris followed behind me and chuckled softly.

"too late for that, y/n."

p1 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p3

comment to be added to taglist!! taglist;; @sturnioloshacker @nickgetsmewetter @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @chrissgirlsstuff @nsjsnshey @sturniolosarethebest

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #nathan doe #nate doe

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atopvisenyashill · 4 months

Note

Worst things GOT did casting wise:

- making Dany too beautiful (+ styling her in a way that she never has a hair out of place, always wears BLUE - which makes her look peaceful and soft and angelic, not making her burn her hair off etc). I just think of that one official art piece that's in the illustrated AGOT book where dany is bald, with the dragons and sparks and frames around her and its so striking instead of the "beautiful angelic blonde women stand empowered with her tits out" scene we got

- casting Iain Glen as Jorah and not like. a random Lannister (like. Come on. He is a burly and ugly man... why are you casting one of the most beautiful men to play him.... this is how we ended up with dany/jorah shippers)

-making Joffrey too unattractive (this is not meant to disparage JG who is a great actor and seems like a really cool dude and i'm not saying he's ugly but I think from his very first scene Joffrey looks very punchable and it would have been so much smarter to make the audience .. relate to Sansa's infatuation with his golden looks. In my head (and in all the official art) Joffrey looks like a male version of cersei/a younger version of Jaime.)

- making Dany, Jon, Robb, Marg, Brienne etc 10+ years older than Sansa and the younger starklings .... It's not "the main characters and arya (who is so cool and can kill people) + the little children" it's ONE AGE group of equally important characters

Like I know people are upset at Ned/Jon etc being too attractive, WHICH I GET, but I feel like those were very vibe based casting decisions and i'm ultimately fine with that (I also think it's easier for the audience to root for someone if they're attractive so like. I guess they had to do it) but these other things resulated in people's perception of the characters being so wildly different from what they're supposed to be. The real reason people get so angry whenever someone says they wish tamzin had stayed is because they don't like the idea of daenerys not being this ethereal beauty (TM is beautiful but not in a conventional way) that they can fully root for without issue.

1. NO YOU ARE SOOOOOO RIGHT ABOUT THEM REFUSING TO LET DANY LOOK UGLY. it’s not to say tamzin isn’t clearly beautiful, but i think she’s beautiful in the same way gwendoline christie is, which is that she’s very striking and she has a strong presence but she’s not exactly what people picture when they say “typical hot lady” (which is Crazy these are all able bodied white women, like the definition of “beauty” is soooooo fuckijg narrow that tamzin merchant is ~atypically beautiful) vs emilia definitely is, and YES like everything from not burning her hair off to emilia being,,,,,fuller in figure than dany as a fourteen year old would be is just very clear that they saw dany different than the way she is On The Page. i mean i know people whack george for saying that she’s like a sexy funny lady or whatever but george never lets go of the fact that she’s incredibly young whereas d&d completely miss that part of her character.

i will say i Get the criticism of tamzin perhaps not picking up on the conlangs easily because one thing you can say for emilia is that she had a decent head for the conlangs, she’s even still partially fluent in dothraki lmaooo. but all the other stuff they said about why they recast dany it’s like. hmmmmmmmmmm.

2. absolutely right about iain especially because he’s similar to idk paddy in that he’s got CHARISMA but unlike viserys, they didn’t intent to portray him as a deeply flawed, antagonistic character they went in portraying him as like an objectively Good Guy dedicated to dany. he’s just so much less creepy and pushy in the show and has several scenes where he shows some moral backbone - that “yet here you stand” “yet here i stand” scene is sooooooo good for example, the fact that he actually apologizes for spying on dany, giving him the greyscale story & not having him fuck a valyrian looking woman in a brothel 💀, etc etc - and you also just lose some of the creepiness here because emilia is clearly a grown if young woman and ian is handsome, so it’s like. welll of Course you want to root for them to be together! and never mind that this is a Massive departure from their book characterizations!! again, they have this idea of jorah in their head that doesn’t match up with what’s on the page even a little.

3. i do get your point re: joffrey and i think this is my problem with aidan as littlefucker too - they’re too obviously villains and it makes ned and sansa look stupid. like, in the books we have that moment where robb almost decks joffrey which does seem to signal something bad but the crown prince being full of himself doesn’t mean he’s going to threaten his betrothed’s sister with a sword then get his ass handed to him by a toddler. in the show we get QUITE a number of scenes where joffrey is shown to be a brat AND as you say, just like aidan, jack has a Certain Look, he looks like a shitty jock who has allegations against him ajsjdj like irl when jack smiles he’s so adorable!! but in the show they REALLY play up his ability to channel a greasy aura ya know aksjd. when the point of asoiaf is often that villains don’t LOOK like villains, but some of our Main Villains clearly resemble typical villains in the show.

4. “it’s ONE age group of characters” NO YOU ARE SO RIGHT. like, there’s several years difference from robert to ned to cat to the twins to tyrion but they’re all the same generation of characters. there’s that exact same age difference from brienne to robb, dany, jon to sansa, arya, bran, with theon kind of similar to characters like jorah, who are old enough to remember The Before Times but aren’t quite in either generation. but because they wanted dany, brienne, jon, robb, and margaery to be more of a Typical archetype rather than an exploration of that archetype, they aged everyone up and essentially invented another generation between the “adult” characters and the “kid” characters. not to be super nerdy here but one of my favorite worked shoots in wrestling is one cody rhodes did where he was ranting about the way young wrestlers get put through the grinder and he has this amazing line where he sums it up as “old men talking, young men dying” and it’s not to say there aren’t a lot of old dudes Also dying lmao but you really see this where young leaders are often unprepared for their responsibilities and used as puppets by older men and you just MISS THAT when that whole generation is so grown!

it’s like they looked at those themes of war being terrible and all consuming and brutal no matter how justified you feel you are and went “wow war is brutal 😍” LIKE PLEASE????

#asks #anti game of thrones #anti d&d #anons #also i know famous wrestler cody rhodes is not the first person to say something akin to that #but bc i am a nerd. he’s always the first person i think of bc his acting was amazing in that scene lmao aksjsjs #i think he was channeling some real frustration and anger there as someone from a wrestling family and as someone frustrated #with his own booking. ntm the run ins with injury and Death he personally had. and all this being passed down by vince’s old ass.#i think that wrestling problem where multiple generations of a family are mistreated by some old man making money.#is actually not dissimilar from the problems in asoiaf we see.#like tyrion even says himself! back and back and back it goes.#and for what? for why? robb is so young. ned is so young.#just something that feels completely missed by the show!#and here cody rhodes is feeling it in real life akskskdjd

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brighttears · 1 year

Note

hi! back again with another request, i hope that’s ok! if not then totally ignore this. For the request: could we get a jealous reader? Im always seeing Fics where Joel is jealous and would like to see that changed up! Maybe she sees Joel hanging around another woman more his age and she gets insecure, idk it’s totally up to you how it happens. if you do take this request then thank you so much, if it’s not something you’re interested in writing then that’s ok too and thank you for your fics!! <3

Joel Miller x reader

No physical description except for having hair, leaning fem but no pronouns or explicit mentions, no use of y/n

Warnings: age-gap, mentions of sex, drinking, Angst (happy ending), pet names (honey), you have a big fight :,(

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: omg love this idea. Thank you for the request you’re so sweet and I’m happy to do them !! helps so much with writer's block plus I get to do cool stuff like this lol. This was challenging so I hope it doesn't disappoint :P

P.s. if any of yall’s name is Emily i apologize just replace it with the name of someone you hate lol

—

Even from all the way across the bar, you’re burning up, watching the way the woman in front of Joel twirls her hair and flashes her teeth when she laughs over enthusiastically at his jokes. Thankfully his back is to you so you can’t be tortured by whatever his expression—or wherever he’s looking—may be.

Ever since you got to Jackson women have been crowding Joel like he’s the only man on the commune and it’s been driving you up the wall. You want to go over and give Joel a big wet kiss and tell her to fuck off, but you and him have never had a discussion about ‘us’, so you have no real right to claim him. Still, it burns, and that woman, Emily, as you’ve come to learn her name, as Joel’s number one fan, has such a punchable face. A matching burn of the whisky from your glass is welcomed down to your stomach.

When she leans forward, showing off the goods, you can’t stand it anymore, down the dregs of your drink and storm out of the Tipsy Bison. The icy breeze cools you down some but you’re in no way calm once you’re back at the house. Stomping up to your room—you and Joel’s room, you strip your jacket and immediately grab your gun to deep clean. Icey pain drips from your heart down into the crater of lava in your chest and it hisses in your ears.

Sitting at the head of the bed, you’re almost done with the fourth cleaning when Joel’s recognizable stomps sound with the creaking and slam of the front door. You continue to clean, not looking up when he comes in.

“Hey,” he says breathily, innocently.

“Hm. I’m surprised you even came home.” you reply, still not looking up. Still aflame, you keep a mostly even tone but Joel easily catches the pointy edges.

He pauses, then finishes kicking off his boots to straighten up and turn to you, “An’ why’s that?”

“I mean I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow morning on your walk of shame from Emily’s house.” you keep your focus on the final wipe down of your gun.

“What?”

“What? Can’t blame me, I saw her eyefucking you. Basically shaking her tits in your face, too. Didn’t stay long though, it was actually kind of fucking gross.”

“Beg your fuckin’ pardon?”

“Oh, don’t act stupid.” you finally meet his gaze, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Go fuck whoever you want. I guess it’s none of my business. Would have been nice to know that that was the deal here before we started sharing an actual bed, though.” you go back to overpolishing the metal, trying to act nonchalant, but your chest is full of mud.

“What makes you think I’m goin’ around fuckin’ other women?”

“Well, now that you’ve got the pick of the litter, why settle for me?” you finally place your gun down loudly on the nightstand.

Joel raises his voice in sternness, “What the fuck r’you talkin’ about?”

You take a deep breath through your nose, refusing to let your anger go, but the icey, tight pain is tearing at your heart and you can’t stop it from piercing through your voice when you say, “I just—I just thought it was me, I thought it was me you wanted.”

“What—’course you’re—where’s all this comin’ from?”

You stand to face him and scoff, “Please, you think I don’t see the way the women here have been looking at you? They drool all over you, and you just let them, you throw ‘em a smile.” you voice is teeming with attitude, “Never saying a word to me about it. What is it, are you ashamed of me? I have to be your little secret? I’m just some young—some young…” you stop yourself before you finish a sentence you know you’ll regret, no matter how much you want to stick him with it, but it’s too late.

Joel steps one foot towards you and shoves his finger out, glowering, “Good call not finishin’ that sentence.” he growls, “I don’t know who the fuck you’re talkin’ to though cause it sure as hell ain’t me.”

You pick your fire right back up, “I thought maybe I’d be good enough but there's things I don’t have, huh? Need a woman more your speed? Well, you’re free to let Emily fuck you better, just please don’t bring her back here, okay?” you end it with your voice drenched in sarcasm.

It’s Joel’s turn to scoff now, “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? I don’t give a shit about Emily! I’m not fuckin’ her! Wh—” Joel narrows his eyes, “You tryin’ to say I’m a cheater? Is that it? That's what you think a me?”

“N–no,” you stutter, suddenly realizing that that is what you’re accusing him of.

Near shouting, he continues, “You don’t trust me. That's what this is about.”

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you move towards him but he steps back.

“How the hell else am I supposed’t take that?”

“I’m just scared.” the confession jumps out of you.

“Scared of what?” he shouts.

“Of you leaving me!” your voice breaks and you choke back the onset of a sob, but Joel loses no venom.

“You’re scared of me leaving? After all this time—after everything, you think I’m—I’d—I don’t want to leave you! Talkin’ to Emily, I was just tryin’ t’be fuckin’ polite, be,” he takes another step towards you, “social, that’s all! You think I can’t talk to women without tryna get in their pants? Is that really the kinda man you think I am? Should I stop talkin’ to Maria, too? Cause I’m such a piece a shit cheater I’m probably tryna get at her, too, huh? My own brother's wife? That’s what you think a me?”

“No,” you nearly scream, hitting your hands to your head to grab at your hair, “that’s not what I mean, that’s not what I’m trying to say!”

“Then what are you trying to say?” He yells back.

Your chest is starting to heave, beginning to be overwhelmed with emotion, but you try to keep it under control, not wanting to break down in the middle of an argument. “I just hate seeing it! I hate seeing the women here fucking crawling all over you like cats in heat and you just fucking take it, like you want it, you want them, not me, now that I’m not the only option, you’ve got all these pretty women just waiting for you to knock on their fucking door, and I was just—just—”

“What, just some young pussy?” Joel snarls.

“No one that mattered! No one special! And all of it was empty, all the words, the sex, the time we shared, I was just a placeholder for a proper woman, cause I’m not good enough, was never good enough for you…” your voice shatters as the whirling in your head and heart overcomes you and you step back until the back of your knees hit the bed, then flump down and put your head in your hands, trying not to sob.

Instinctually, Joel comes to kneel before you, his anger beginning to melt away when his attention shifts to you in pain. He takes your wrists to uncover your face, saying nothing, only focusing your eyes and his, now gentle, as you continue to try to control your jumping breaths. After a few moments of you unsuccessfully calming yourself, Joel moves his hand to stroke your cheek, over the side of your face, into your hair. When your breathing has calmed some, he looks over your face and wipes away the few escaped tears. “I hate it when you cry but you look so pretty when you do.” he tells you, soft and quiet, pulling a small laugh out of you. Once your inhales and exhales are at an even pace, he speaks up again, with a soothing tone, “Okay. Now I’ve calmed down, n’ you’ve calmed down.” he takes a deep breath and you do with him, like you’ve learned to, before he continues, “I know all a that was just outta anger. N’ we’re just not at an understandin’ here… Honey I’m in love with you.”

His words make you take a deep, post-cry shuddering breath. Remembering you have to say something back, you whisper, “I’m in love with you, too.”

After a few silent but full moments with Joel stealing glances at your lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod your head as you’re already leaning in as a response. Your lips essentially smash together, want igniting in both of you. You lean forward until he’s on the floor and you’re sitting on top of him, both hands holding his face while one of his clutches your hip and the other slides over your jaw and into your hair. Then Joel pushes you up and onto the bed, nosing into your neck from above you, sticking wet kisses all up and down it while your hands tangle in his hair. He slows and drags kisses back up to your mouth. Sounding drunk, Joel finds time between your mouths to say “Don’ want no one else.”

Between kisses you continue to converse, “So can I punch Emily in the face?”

“Mmm, I don't think Maria would like that very much. Why don’tcha just give me a big sloppy kiss next time she won't leave me th' fuck alone?”

“I can do that. Can we hold hands?”

“Yeah we can do that. Can I squeeze yer ass?”

“Only when someone’s looking. You can do it when they're not either but I would prefer if you did it while you know one of those alley cat’s watchin’.”

“Mhm. Every time. Let em’ all know.”

“You know, you’re gonna have a lot less friends once I scare all of them away.”

“Fuckin’ fine by me. I got everyone I need already.”

#the last of us #joel miller #tlou #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller angst

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mrsarcherofinfamy · 11 months

Text

• Austin Theory x Reader

Summary: Being Austin and Grayson's manager and telling them not to get in Kevin Owens' face, but they don't listen.

_________________________________________

Walking backstage with Austin and Grayson, they are talking about how Kevin said they have punchable faces.

"What does he mean by my face is punchable? Not this gorgeous face."

I roll my eyes at Austin. Grayson smacks his arm and they stop walking. I am standing behind them looking up at them.

"Maybe we should go find him and confront him about this!"

Austin smiles big and shakes his head yes.

"Let's go do it! This is a great idea."

"Boys this is a terrible idea."

I walk in between them and put my hand on Austin's chest looking up at him. He looks down at me.

"Y/N. Baby. It's a good idea. I don't know what you are talking about. We are so doing this."

They continue walking around looking for Kevin. I roll my eyes and follow behind them. They see him standing against the wall as Logan Paul says something to him and walks off.

"Boys don't do this."

They walk up to Kevin not listening to me. I stand next to Grayson, arms crossed, looking at them and Kevin than at the camera guy.

"SO what is this about us having punchable faces?"

"I don't think we have punchable faces! Do you?"

"I don't think we do!"

Kevin starts laughing at them.

"Yeah you guys do have punchable faces. That's a fact. Ya know what? I bet I could punch both of you at the same time!"

They start arguing louder and louder. I move out of the way towards the wall. Soon, security comes and starts breaking them apart. Kevin starts talking to Jamie Noble about how he can punch them at the same time. The boys turn towards me kinda lined up next to each other talking about how he can't do it. Kevin walks back over and punches both of them across the face.

Grayson and Austin fall to the ground holding their faces while I'm standing there, arms crossed, watching them lay on the ground.

"I told you! I told you I could punch them both!"

Kevin turns towards me, puts his hand on my shoulder and shakes it a little out of excitement. I look at Kevin and shrug my shoulders.

"I told them not to come over here. But they never listen to me."

"Maybe they will start listening to you now. You're welcome."

Kevin pats my shoulder than leaves talking to Jamie about what just happened. I look down at the boys and shake my head.

"Get up. Let's go get some ice for your faces."

They get up and follow me to their locker room. I get some ice packs from the little freezer and some towels. I walk over to the boys and hand them their ice packs.

"Put them on your faces. Hopefully you will feel better."

Austin stands up and kisses my cheek. I look up at him.

"I.... We will start listening to you more often. We promise."

"We promise Y/N!"

I look back at Grayson than at Austin. I put my hand on Austin's chest and kinda grab his white tank top. He looks down at me with a little smirk on his face. I pull his shirt a little pulling him down to my face.

"You don't listen to me one time, from now on, you will be punished. And you ain't gonna like the consequences."

I whisper in his ear so Grayson can't hear me. Austin smirks a little looking down at me as I let go of his shirt.

"Oh I promise babe. I will always listen to you."

He sits back down on the couch and I sit on the chair next to Austin looking over at them.....

God these idiots.

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wrestling imagine #imagines #writing #grayson waller #grayson waller imagine #austin theory x reader #austin theory imagine #austin theory #wwe fics #wwe x reader #kevin owens #charley's fics

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sinningforrory · 1 year

Text

stupid // stan uris smut

a/n: hey everyone! it's been so long since i've posted and a lot of people have been sending me requests but since my first and only fic i've uploaded on here has gained 1,000 notes i thought i'd gift you guys this fic as a thank you. i'm gonna try and upload a lot more now because i appreciate so much the love my writing gets fr thank you guys so much. hope you enjoy and as always, reblogging really helps me out so if u enjoy, pls don't hesitate!

WARNINGS: dom!stan, submissive!bratty!reader, slight choking, mention of drugs (if you squint) SMUT, majorly NSFW minors please dni, thank you!

WORD COUNT: OVER 6K

SUMMARY: Your parents best friends' son. The picture perfect grade A student of the perfect suburban family. And a cocky douchebag. You hated him. But, since you both got into the same college, Stan has been making it clear that he definitely does not hate you...

Stanley. Even his name irked you. I mean, who in their right mind births a beautiful baby boy and names him Stanley. What a stupid name. It fits him though, that’s for sure. Stupid Stan with his stupid family and his stupid friends and his stupid studying. He was just so stupid that you wanted to bash his brains in any time he so much as breathed around your presence.

Of course, he hadn’t necessarily done anything to warrant your intense hatred towards him. He just irritated you. You were Jewish too so you’d always see each other at the Synagogue and your parents were enamoured by Stan’s stupidness. They saw it as ‘perfection’ instead though. They were always bothering you about how you should ‘aim to be more like Stan’ or ‘Stan’s parents told me he got an A in this class. So why are you getting a D?’ He drove you insane. You weren’t Stan, you weren’t stupid like Stan so why couldn’t your parents just love you for you instead of comparing you to that stupid, stupid boy.

Due to your parents being very good friends with Stan’s family, you saw each other a lot more than you’d like. And every time you were there you took every opportunity to be nasty to Stan just to wear off some steam. But that made it even worse. It wouldn’t matter if he was a dick to you too. But no. He’s NICE to you. And you know he’s doing it on purpose to get on your nerves because every time he compliments your hair and sees you glaring knives into his eyes, he does a subtle smirk to himself as if he’s fucking won this silly little game you play. He knows he’s driving you insane and he’s proud of himself for it. What a fucking douche.

It had always been this way. Stan irritates you, you’re a bitch to Stan, Stan eats it up, Stan irritates you, blah, blah, blah. It was an endless cycle of hate.

However, something had flipped in Stan the summer before you both left for college. Luckily enough, you’d both managed to get into the exact same ivy league as each other so you would be stuck with Stan for the next four years. When you found out you immediately wanted to bash your head into a wall repeatedly until you woke up from this absolute nightmare that was Stanley Uris.

The news that you had both gotten into an ivy league warranted a celebratory party for the both of you. The idea from your lovely mother, of course, and at said party, Stan was acting a lot stranger than normal. So strange to the point where you were currently hiding in the bathroom with your back against the door breathing heavily as if he was chasing after you and about to knock the door down with an axe.

It started in the garden. You wore a white summer dress with tiny yellow flowers scattered among it. Stan was looking very punchable in cream khakis and a navy polo. Unbuttoned, of course, because he could never look TOO tidy. You stood by the refreshments, sipping a virgin pina colada when Stan strutted his way over with a teasing grin on his face, ready to ruin your relaxed mood.

‘So, I guess we’re going to college together. It seems you really can’t escape me, can you, y/n?’ He leaned against the table next to you, taking a sip from his beer. You glared up at him, already infuriated by the fact that he was leaning down with you stood up straight next to him and he was still taller than you.

‘Oh please, Stanley, don’t pretend to be so happy about this when we both know you are just as excited about this as me.’

He gasped in mock surprise before laughing softly at the frown on your face, ‘Oh, come on, princess, you know you love me. I guarantee that you would miss this adorable face as soon as you knew you couldn’t see me anymore.’

He smiled at you gently before moving his sunglasses up to rest on his curls and taking a sip of beer.

You moved to stand in front of him, making a move to leave the refreshments and flee to your room (or anywhere away from Stan). ‘Bite me, Uris.’

‘If you insist, princess.’ He smirked at you and folded his arms over his chest, his muscles straining under his polo.

Your eyes widened slightly, shock evident on your face at his words. He had always been overly saccharine with you but he had never flirted with you so boldly. Shaking yourself out of your daze, you scoffed before walking off with your pina colada into your kitchen for some snacks.

5 minutes later, you were still stood in front of your fridge, supposedly searching for food but instead, you found yourself staring off into space. You could not scratch that smug image of Stan out of your brain, his words engraving themselves into your memory, messing with your mind.

Worst of all, you found yourself repeatedly wondering why you liked what he had said to you. Pulling yourself together, you closed the fridge door but immediately jumped as you saw Stan standing right where the fridge door had been resting.

‘You look a little lost, princess, is everything okay?’ He was stood so close to you that your chests were half an inch away from touching. You gazed into his eyes for half a second before realising what you were doing and coughed before putting some distance between the two of you.

‘Uh-uhm, I’m fine thank you, Stanley. Just couldn’t find what I was craving.’

He nodded his head understandingly before taking a step forward so you were nearly chest to chest once again. ‘What exactly are you craving, y/n?’

He hadn’t meant to sound so enticing, or maybe he had, but the way he said that with his gravelly voice and his tiny smirk made your thighs involuntarily clench together.

‘E-erm, just some guacamole dip. My mom always hides it from me though because she knows I’ll eat it all before the other guests can have any.’ You fiddled with the hem of your dress, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front of you. What had gotten into you, why was he making your confidence dissipate so easily and why were you suddenly acting like a nervous school-girl?

Stan’s eyebrows furrowed before an evil look took over his features. He was planning something, you could tell. And you didn’t like it.

‘Oh, you mean.. this guacamole? The one on top of the fridge? That I can reach? But you can’t?’

Your eyes trailed along his veiny, muscular forearm before they met his slender, mocking hand where you found it gesturing towards... of course: the dip.

Frustration filled you head to toe as you realised that Stan, once again, had the upper hand. Your jaw ticked as your eyes finally met Stan’s cocky, patronising eyes and you had to resist the urge to make those smug, brown orbs black and blue.

‘It seems that you have something you need to ask me, darling. Because, let’s face it, we’re not gonna have a stare-off all day in front of this fridge. So, let’s hear it: “Oh, please, Stanley. I need you to get me that dip off the top of the fridge because I was born with incompetent height and I can’t do it without you, Stanley.”’

You crossed your arms over your chest as you listened, painfully, to Stan mock you with such arrogance you found it hard to resist whacking him with a frying pan. However, to Stan’s surprise, before he had the chance to continue making fun of you, there was no one standing in front of him anymore.

Where had you gone? he thought. That’s unlike you, to admit defeat so easily. Where was your usual snarky bite back, attacking him on his ‘unusually long legs’?

But before he could get too worried, there you were. Returning into the kitchen to fight back to Stan.... with a chair.

Wordless and emotionless, you put the chair down in front of the fridge, stood on its seat and grabbed the dip, finally retreating from the kitchen, not before throwing Stan a victorious wink before you disappeared around the corner.

Truth be told, you had no idea how to respond to Stan’s unusual behaviour so instead of arguing back like you would normally do, your mind blanked of insults completely and you did the next best thing that you could think of: beat him at his own game.

It was obvious that something about Stan had changed since the last time you had spoken and Stan seemed to think he was one step ahead of you. What stupid Stan didn’t know was that you were nowhere near as Stupid as him and knew that the only way to irritate him like you used to was to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Sure, you weren’t exactly completely against the idea of flirting with Stan for fun. He was obviously a good-looking guy; you knew because he would never let you forget it. And you would never pass up the opportunity to get a hot guy flustered.

This was how Stan wanted to play? Fine. He’d better prepare to lose.

It had been two weeks since this little game you and Stan were playing had begun and you couldn’t hold out much longer. The tension between the two of you had sky-rocketed and even the slightest twitch of a smirk in the corner of Stan’s mouth had your panties pooling with desire.

You had an inkling that Stan was in the same boat as you were as your lingering caresses on his arm or leg when laughing with him and his family seemed to make him blush much easier than before.

The point of why you were doing all of this was still vaguely swimming around in the back of your mind: do not be the first to give into your temptations. Don’t sleep with Stan.

However, with Stan so perfectly positioned behind you so your butt met his bulge as he leaned over your petite frame to reach for a glass, you had to take deep breaths to remind yourself once again: don’t sleep with Stan.

You gulped and took a deep breath of relief once he removed himself from his position behind you to lean on the counter next to you. His gaze burned into the side of your face and you met his eyes briefly just to find him with a cocky smirk plastered on him.

Your blood boiled (with rage or desire, you didn’t know) but you looked away without giving even the slightest of a reaction. You could never let him know how much his actions affected you.

It was that dreaded time of the week when you go over to the Uris family’s house for dinner and after eating a delicious meal cooked by Mrs Uris you did the routine of standing in the kitchen and drinking an iced tea with Stan whilst the adults got drunk in the living room.

Usually, you and Stan would bicker pointlessly during this time of the evening, but tonight it was completely silent between the two of you with only lingering gazes and glares thrown from one to the other. The tension could be cut with a butter knife.

However, your torment was put on pause as, suddenly, Mrs Uris appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Hello sweeties,’ she hiccoughed slightly, clearly tipsy. ‘I know that the kitchen is very beautiful but you are welcome to go up to Stan’s room if you want. Stan certainly won’t mind a beautiful girl like you to be up in his room, y/n.’ She winked as you blushed and Stan coughed out an embarrassed ‘Mom!’.

She then made her departure, giggling to herself softly as she went. Stan then coughed to get your attention and gestured with a jerk of his head to the direction of his room, indirectly asking if you wanted to take up his mother on her offer. You shrugged before making your way up the stairs to Stan’s room.

Stan’s room. What a place to behold. You hadn’t been up there since you were about 12 and had to work with Stan on a class project. It had changed a lot since then. Posters of bands that Stan listened to were plastered all over the walls and clothes were scattered all over the floor, and let’s not forget to mention the faint aroma of marijuana.

Stan manoeuvred you out of the doorway, his fingers gracing your waist ever so slightly with his bulge pressed against your lower back as he shimmied past you.

He jumped on his bed, his arms and legs in a starfish position on either side of him, and closed his eyes with a big sigh.

You carefully sat yourself down next to him on the bed, feeling too hesitant to lie yourself down next to him. He leaned up against the bed frame with his hands behind his head as he studied your appearance precariously as ever.

‘Why do you hate me?’.

The question took you by surprise. It was so out of the blue and even more so out of character for Stan to be so straight-forward. You blinked delicately before shrugging your shoulders at him.

‘Do you want the honest answer or the answer that you want to hear from me?’ You pressed, speaking so quiet that it was almost a whisper.

He glanced swiftly over you for a second before responding, ‘Honest.’

It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting Stan to want that answer but the fact that you had to admit it to yourself now, let alone to Stan, was enough to make you faint from nerves.

You looked away from Stan and fiddled with your fingers as you spoke in hushed tones. ‘I envy you. You have better grades, better looks, better charisma, better music taste, better style... a better life. You are better than me in every way. And I despise you for it.’

A masked look of shock ghosted over Stan’s face before it was replaced once again with a stony expression. He sat up straight so that your knees were touching and he placed a hand on the centre of your thigh.

You looked up at him and connected with his gorgeous hazel eyes. He ran his tongue quickly over his lips before his eyes locked onto yours. ‘Now, we both know that’s not true.’

It was as if your body was moving with a mind of its own. Slowly, you were leaning in towards Stan as if you were magnetised to him and to be too far would hurt you in unimaginable ways. ‘How do you mean?’ You breathily responded, your heart pulsing rapidly.

He was so close to you now that you felt his breath against your lips. ‘Because I envy you ten times more.’ And with that closing sentence you felt his lips crash immediately into yours.

All the tension from the last few days swarmed around you both like a storm of arousal and need. His kiss was passionate and rough as he pressed his lips into yours with so much want but his hand on your leg was gentle and sweet as he caressed your inner thigh gently with his thumb.

The constant nagging of your brain screaming at you ‘Don’t sleep with Stan’ was shoved into the back of your mind falling to deaf ears as Stan moved his hand ever so slightly higher up your leg, falling to play with the hem of your dress as he detached his lips from yours to suck on your collarbone with the obvious attempt of planting a hickey.

Stan skillfully moved you both up to the headboard so that he could deepen the passion of your kiss and you quickly maneuvered yourself so that you were now straddling his lap.

His growing erection pressed into your centre as he trailed his smooth hands down to the flesh of your hips, his lips dragging down your jaw to find solace in the crook of your neck.

You felt like you were on fire, Stan’s touch was magnetic and no matter how you’d been trying to resist him, it was impossible. You were addicted to how he made you feel.

Neediness began to bubble through your tummy and you could tell Stan was feeling the same way as his hands were digging into your hips harder than before. Then, his hands began to carefully drag your hips across his hardness, slowly at first.

You could feel every bump of his length through his thin sweatpants and your hands moved down his toned body to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt.

His hands began to move faster, dragging your thin panties over his hard, clothed dick. He detatched his lips from your neck when you began to let out tiny, little moans of pleasure, thankful for the little bits of stimulation Stan was feeding you.

His eyes trailed down your body, admiring every single bump and curve: the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder, your soaking panties rubbing against him as his hands moulded perfectly with the fat of your hips. They then fell on your face, growing darker at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows, messy hair and plump, red lips from you biting down too hard on them.

Likewise, you were admiring Stan, his sharp jawline clenching and unclenching every time you dragged yourself over his most sensitive spots, his hair uncharacteristically messy from your hands tugging on his curls. He noticed your movements speeding up and he flashed you a dangerous grin; a grin that would make even the biggest prude on the planet drop her panties to her knees.

Acknowledging your shaky hands still fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, he slowed the movement of your hips with his strong hands and dragged you painfully slow now, refusing to let you continue with the rapid pace you’d set before.

“You want this off, baby?” referring to his t-shirt. You nodded shyly, hands still fiddling with the hem.

“Want me to take it off for you? Are you too dumb to do it yourself?” He stared up at you with a patronising look on his face. You groaned annoyedly, but deep down your cunt throbbed with anticipation.

“Just take it off Stan, don’t be a dick.” You glared down at him but your glare immediately switched to a look of shock as Stan’s hands had stopped your hips moving completely now, denying you any release that you were desperately craving.

Narrowing his eyes playfully, he tutted at your lack of control. “Now, that’s no way to ask for what we want is it, sweetheart?” The corner of his lips tugged up satisfactorily as he took in your menacing glare, but also your glossed over eyes indicating your desperation for his cock.

‘Oh, how cute,’ Stan thought pityingly. ‘The poor, little slut’s already gone dumb and I haven’t even fucked her yet.’

You breathed through your nostrils fiercely before succumbing to the begging of your aching clit and gave Stan your best doe eyes before tugging pathetically at the hem of Stan’s crumpled shirt. ‘Please take it off Stan, I’ll do anything, please..’ You pressed down on his length for extra measure just to make sure he would give you what you needed.

A low hum of appreciation mixed with a strangled groan of pleasure escaped Stan’s throat and he mulled it over for a few seconds with that irritating smirk plastered on his face before nodding, clearly satisfied with your begging before he lifted his slender fingers to his collar and removed his shirt - finally.

You took a moment to appreciate the art that was Stanley Uris' abs and sighed contentedly. It seemed your hands had a mind of their own as you wasted no time in rubbing your hands up and down his beautiful torso, gliding over the valleys and hills of his defined muscles.

"Enjoying yourself there, princess?" Stan chimed, clearly cocky that you'd spent about 30 seconds just groping him absentmindedly.

Tearing your eyes away, you glanced up at Stanley's face, adorned with a shit-eating smirk, one of his hands resting behind his head, the other still gripping the fat of your hip, rubbing gentle circles into your flesh.

Slightly embarrassed but, nevertheless, growing quite needy now, you rolled your eyes.

Eyes narrowing at the evil spawn, you thought 'The ego of this man is absolutely atrocious. How dare he try and make fun of me for admiring his physique when if I decided to strip naked right now, his reaction would probably beat mine.'

And then it clicked.

Focusing back on Stanley's disgustingly smug face, you did something you'd never done for Stanley Uris in your entire life.

You gave him a real genuine smile.

The apples of your cheeks beamed down at him and your eyes sparkled lovingly at the boy who was now slightly confused and, albeit, a little bit scared.

Slowly, you leaned down over Stan so your breath tickled his nose and your lips brushed gently against his, just in time to see his cheeks tinge red and his eyes flutter closed, like a naïve teenage girl who was experiencing her first kiss.

Aw, how cute.

Finally, you pressed your lips to Stanley's, so softly Stan thought he might've been kissing a cloud, and just left them there, in a gentle peck, before sitting up again to admire the look of bliss on Stan's face.

His eyes were fluttering open again and his breathing was shallow but fast.

This was the real face of Stan; he had finally taken off his mask for you.

He was so pretty, obviously you knew that already, but you couldn't get lost in his beauty again or your plan wouldn't work.

Then, when he dazedly smiled up at you and made to pull your head down so he could kiss you again, you teasingly began to lift up the hem of your dress until it had been lifted over your head and discarded somewhere on Stan's bedroom floor.

There you sat, on Stanley's clothed, throbbing cock, in just your white silk panties, the little bow just oh so enticing, and your bare, perky breasts on display for Stanley's greedy eyes.

His lips parted ever so slightly as he not-so-discreetly took in a sharp intake of breath. His eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed chest, and you knew you had him when his needy little hands reached up to thumb your erect nipples.

Arrogantly, you smirked down at him, your sweet, loving smile erased. However, Stan failed to notice, too enamoured by your naked body, like a toddler in a candy store.

"Aw, you're like a needy, little puppy, aren't you Stanny?" Your heart beat fast as you finally dropped the sentence you'd been waiting to release since Stan's cocky demeanour had surfaced.

Stan froze as he realised what you had done and his jaw clenched automatically, clearly embarrassed that he had let you entice him just how he had you not even a few minutes ago.

Narrowed eyes were glaring into yours and your confident façade faltered slightly as you realised how deep in shit you were now.

He was gonna ruin you.

However, Stan didn't flip you over dominantly so he was on top of you, or rip your panties off in anger like you had expected him to.

Gradually, he eased himself up his headboard so his back was resting comfortably against it and so the two of you were eye-level, 'innocent' doe-eyes levelled with furious, narrowed eyes.

His hands gently gripped you hips and moved you a little further up his chest, so he could remove his sweatpants, so slow and so patient you were so confused.

He looked deadly, that's for sure. But you'd expected him to be rough with you, teach you a lesson for being so naughty. All in all, other than being clearly vexed, he was treating you like you were a china doll.

As soon as his sweatpants and boxers were discarded, he moved you back to your old spot on his lap and carefully caressed your hips, his thumbs hooking under the straps of your thong and pulling at the sides, fiddling with them gently while intently drilling into your eyes with his own.

"You wanna be in control, huh, sweetheart?" He muttered so quiet you could barely hear but so full of malice your heart immediately sped up.

You had no idea what to say. No, you didn't wanna be in control. You wanted Stan to bend and contort you into any position he wanted, you wanted him to fuck your cunt until you couldn't even form a coherent word, you wanted him to paint the canvas of your body purple, pink and black, in the form of hickeys, bruises and mascara stains.

And you knew he knew that.

You knew by the look on his face, the restraint in his jaw, the rage in his eyes that he definitely did not want that either.

So why was he doing this?

Just as your brows started to furrow in confusion, Stan's thumb had started to rub harsh but deliberate circles over your clothed clit and you let out a gasp.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, furrowing his brows in faux confusion. "Is that... not what you want, baby? You see, I'm just a needy little puppy, right?" He spat at you, evidently fuming but clearly enjoying seeing you in such a state.

You shook your head and dropped your it onto Stan's shoulder, moaning softly as he used one hand to hook your panties to the side while the other found your soaking wet hole and gently inserted two very long fingers.

But, immediately he removed them.

Your head shot up in irritation but you relaxed and hummed contentedly as you realised that Stan was finally lining himself up with your entrance.

You lifted yourself up slightly to make room for his 'oh my god that's scarily big why am i only just noticing this' cock, fluttered your eyelashes closed, and waited for the stretch of him pushing up into you... but it never came.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Stan's eyes, still level with yours, looking bored and his hands, once again, behind his head, biceps flexed and causing a big distraction for you.

He looked at you pointedly, but, realising you still didn't get it, rolled his eyes and motioned for you to sit on his cock.

At this point, you would've jumped off a cliff if Stan asked you to if it meant he would grant you some form of release, so you carefully began to lower yourself down onto his tree-trunk of a dick, the stretch of it stinging slightly but the depth of it stimulating you in all the right ways.

You let out a guttural moan as you sat on the base, his cock bottomed out inside of you. You gripped Stan's toned shoulders with force and wiggled about slightly, trying to adjust to this new, amazing feeling and, as you wiggled, you noticed a slight tremor in his mask as his jaw clenched and his eyebrows briefly furrowed in pleasure.

But, as quickly as it faltered, it reappeared and Stan's stoic, unimpressed gaze fell on you once again.

"Well?" He rasped, as if what he wanted was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're in control, right, babe? I'm not moving a muscle."

You knew immediately that he was not kidding, so you bottled up the impatience you had for this stupid, stubborn man and put your game face on.

You could get off without help from Stan, of course you could. You didn't need his touch when you could do a perfectly good job with your hips and your hands.

'Fine.' You thought, glaring at Stan with pure hatred in your eyes. 'Suit yourself.'

So you began to move up and down on Stanley's cock, feeling every vein and twitch as you dragged your walls all over his length, coating it in your slick.

You gripped Stan's flexed biceps, his arms unmoving from behind his head as his eyes flickered between watching your face slowly morph into a dreamy, fucked-out expression, soft, pretty moans escaping from your parted lips every time the tip of his cock would prod at your g-spot, and watching your glistening, stretched out cunt swallow up his length, each time producing more and more slick so every time you slammed back down on his base, you could hear a squelching noise.

The only sign Stan was giving away of him holding any emotion was the twitch of his jaw and brow growing more frequent as the speed of your bounces grew quicker and harsher.

Soon, your bounces grew erratic as you craved your release, the only noises in his room being your desperate whimpers of pleasure, the sound of your wetness, and skin slapping on skin, along with the occasional grunt of approval from Stan.

However, you started to grow tired and out of breath as it had been nearly 5 minutes of you bouncing up and down on Stan's length, with no help from him and your determination to beat Stan at his own game was overwhelmed by your desperation to cum, and you knew you had to admit defeat because you were never gonna cum if you carried on like this.

Reluctantly, you sank down onto Stan and stilled with him deep inside you as you breathed heavily and whimpered with the desperation to cum deep in your tummy, your clit throbbing, begging for release.

Stan's furrowed face quickly changed to that of faux sympathy as he moved his hands to rest on your waist, rubbing gentle circles into the skin. "Oh baby, are you tired? Do you need my help?" He asked, patronising you just a little bit further by stretching out 'need' just to annoy you.

You had no time to be annoyed, however, because you could feel your release creeping just that little bit further away from the loss of stimulation, so you nodded your head frantically, practically begging Stanley to help you with your pathetic little doe eyes, glossy and desperate.

"Please, Stanny, please I need it, I need you, just please make me cum." You whined, your lips ghosting his ear, and gently kissing his cheek just for good measure.

That was all Stan needed to hear as he grabbed your neck, squeezing gently as he brought your face back to his and kissed you harshly, bruising your lips with his teeth as he dragged your lip with him, pulling away, and then releasing it.

"See, that wasn't so hard was it!" He smiled gently at you, pecking your plump, red lips and squeezing your neck in approval, before he moved his hands back to your waist, his grip turning nasty and he lifted you up right to his tip, then plunging his hips upwards into yours.

You choked on your moan from the sheer force of his thrust but soon gained your voice back as he continued his rough, rapid thrusting up into your eager pussy, practically dripping, begging for a long overdue orgasm.

You collapsed your tired aching body on top of Stan, your head buried in his neck, muffling your high-pitched moans from the ears of your drunk parents downstairs.

Stan moved his hands down to your ass and gripped the flesh harshly and his thrusts were slamming repeatedly into a spot that made you clench fiercely down on him and shriek with overwhelming pleasure.

Stan groaned into your ear as you continually clenched around him, whispering filthy praises into your ear making your legs tremble and your stomach flip as your impending orgasm was getting closer and closer.

"Can you hear yourself, princess? Can you hear the noises your pretty pussy is making?" The squelching of your wetness was embarrassing to say the least and you could feel Stan smirking without even having to look at him.

As he kept hitting that same spot, you could feel yourself so close to the edge as your legs trembled and your moans grew louder and higher.

"I'm gonna- I'm gonna come, Stanny." You managed to babble out through your whimpers as you felt that overwhelming rush of pleasure build up deep inside you.

Stan lifted your head up and grabbed it with both of his hands whilst still thrusting repeatedly in and out of your sopping cunt, forcing you to look into his eyes.

He had a look of pure concentration adorning his face, brows furrowed, jaw clenched and hair messy, letting out little breathy moans of his own every now and then.

"That's it princess, I wanna see that pretty face when you come all over my cock." And the coil snapped.

You let out a scream of pleasure as your entire body jolted, your orgasm washing over you, your toes clenching and your pussy spasming around Stan's length.

You collapsed onto Stan once again, letting out tiny moans, clearly exhausted from the intensity of the orgasm Stanley had given you, and the spasming of your cunt had clearly not been lost on him as his relentless thrusting had begun to grow sloppy.

Stan was moaning quite loudly in your ear now, a death-grip on your ass cheeks as he fucked up into you, chasing his own high.

You knew he needed a little push so you sat up slightly so you could whisper in his ear breathy and raspy like someone who was recovering from one of the best orgasms they'd ever had in their life, "I want you to come inside me."

The words that make every man orgasm on the spot did not lose their effect on Stan as he let out a loud groan of ecstasy and his thrusts slowed until they came to a stop, clearly having done what you asked.

He dropped his forehead to yours and grabbed your hands, fiddling with them as you both caught your breath.

Holy shit.

You didn't know what to do as you both just lay there gathering your thoughts, attempting to comprehend what just happened.

However, you knew you couldn't stay in this post-orgasmic bubble forever so you gently lifted yourself off of Stan's softening dick and got up to look for your dress.

You were halted, however by a hand closing around your wrist.

Turning around, Stan was lazily grinning up at you with a look of victory on his face as he was dragging you to lie back down on the bed with him and you couldn't help but smile back at him, full of a mysterious feeling for the boy who was just so beautiful.

How could you say no?

Climbing back into bed with him, you both turned to face each other, him still grinning at you, and you studying each and every freckle and blemish on his skin, realising that you loved each and every one of them.

You loved them.

Oh my god.

You loved Stan.

Suddenly, you burst out laughing and Stan jumped slightly before a grin erupted back onto his face as he asked what was so funny.

You managed to get through your laughter, barely, the words that you never thought you'd say in your life. "I- I'm in love - with - with you." Before you immediately started giggling again uncontrollably.

Stan joined in on your laughter, his shoulders moving up and down from the force of his laughs as he breathed out "I'm in love with you too."

You both laid there giggling uncontrollably like a pair of middle schoolers, laughing at your own stupidity.

Once the laughter died down you smiled up at Stan and nuzzled yourself into his chest, planting a few soft kisses there as he pulled you in closer and buried his nose into your hair.

You were drawing shapes on his arms, daydreaming in the comfortable silence when you heard Stan mutter into your hair something inaudible.

You sat up gently looking at him quizzically for a second until you noticed the look of pure adoration on his face that was directed to you before he said gravelly and clearly exhausted, "I hate you so much." before he buries his face into your neck and peppered you with kisses.

You giggled and whispered, "I love you too, stupid."

#it fandom #it fanfiction #stanley uris #stanley uris smut #stanley uris x reader #stan uris #stan uris smut #stan uris x reader #it smut #stan it #stan uris it #stanley uris it

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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

Text

Charisma Boss Employee

wc: 3.5k (oh no guys, i'm only getting worse) pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: some angst; some fluff! this is a powerful one. some swears, mention of an ill mother, ricky's dad is mean :( but it's just a story! i'm sure ricky's real dad is very nice lol summary: when richboy!ricky crashes his car, his dad takes away his credit card and forces him to get a part time job at the diner-- and reader is the unlucky employee tasked with training him ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ CELEBRATORY FIC FOR RICKY TOP 9! This is an epic you guys. I think you'll really love it! For some reason, Ricky inspires some great plot lines for me. And I just love richboy!Ricky he's such a doll.

Ricky was not having a good day. In fact, Ricky was having a no good, very bad day and he was not about to be pleasant to the worker training him to make a vanilla milkshake.

“So you’ll pour the milk in with the ice, screw the lid on and shake the container,” you explain, handing the tall blonde boy next to you the carton of milk.

He takes it reluctantly, measuring the 10 oz. without much care and screwing the lid on.

“Make sure that it’s—,” you start to warn, but he’s already shaking the container…

And it’s contents has already flown out from the loose lid and drenched the both of you.

He winces, an exhale of an embarrassed laugh escaping his lips.

“Maybe if you took the sunglasses off, you would’ve been able to see that you hadn’t tightened the lid all the way,” you say annoyedly.

He shakes his head quickly. “I can’t take them off.”

But being covered in a mess that this stupid rich kid made has not positively impacted your level of patience for his ridiculousness, so you reach up and snatch the sunglasses off of his face.

“Hey! Give them back!” He protests as you run around to the other side of the counter with them, quickly closing the bar top on the counter so he can’t follow you. You watch as he attempts to open the passageway in the counter, but lucky for you he wasn't paying attention when you had shown him where the latch is.

"Please," he begs now, looking around frantically as he places his large hand above his eyes to seemingly block the view of his face. "Please, I don't want anyone to see me here."

You snort. "People see me here every day and I have yet to die of embarrassment."

"Yeah, well, I'm not like you," Ricky remarks snidely, sinking down below the counter to hide from customers.

How had this happened to you? You clocked in this afternoon with a pretty good attitude: this was the eighth-to-last shift you'd have to work before finally having saved enough money to buy the little red Kia Rio from the used car dealership down the road.

But that good attitude was suddenly shattered when you saw your boss standing in the kitchen with an older, professional-looking man in a suit and a tall, blonde boy wearing Prada sunglasses indoors. You weren't quite sure what was happening yet, but you felt a sinking feeling in your gut nevertheless.

"(Y/N), you're late," your boss said as you walked towards the little gathering in the kitchen.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "What? No, I'm not; my shift doesn't start until--."

"This is the building owner, Mr. Shen," your boss introduced, cutting you off. "And this is his son, Ricky."

Your eyes widened, nodding out of respect and smiling politely at Mr. Shen. "It's nice to meet you."

"Sure," Mr. Shen replied flippantly. "Quanrui, say hello."

"Hello," Ricky greeted reluctantly, looking back down at his phone screen. You studied him for a moment, taking note of the dyed blonde hair, the Rolex on his lithe wrist, and the thin, delicate tattoo running down his neck behind one ear. The best way you could think to describe him was... punchable.

"You're going to be training Mr. Shen's son for the next few days," your boss announced. "Like I told you about last week."

"What!? You didn't tell me that--."

Mr. Shen cut you off abruptly. "As Tom here probably told you--."

"It's Tim," your boss corrected quietly.

"My son crashed his car last week on a midnight joyride around the city," Mr. Shen continued, glaring at Ricky, whose eyes were still glued to his phone. "So, as punishment, I've taken away all his credit cards and I've asked Tom if he could give him a little job here for a bit until he's learned his lesson."

"It's actually...," your boss laughed much too cheerily before he continued, "It's actually Tim, sir, but whatever you prefer is fine. Our shift manager, (Y/N) here, is so grateful to get the opportunity to train your very capable, and might I add handsome, son. Isn't that right, (Y/N)?"

"Well--."

"Exactly! Go grab an apron and a pair of ears for Ricky," Tim ordered you, as you ran to the corner of the room to grab the supplies.

"Ears?" Ricky asked suddenly, finally looking up from his phone.

"Oh... Yes, ears! The Hungry Dog Diner-- all of the waitstaff wear dog-eared headbands," Tim explained enthusiastically as you walked back over and handed Ricky the uniform pieces.

"Why did I invest in this business again?" Mr. Shen asked in an alarmingly genuine tone.

You watched as Ricky flipped the ears over in his hands, horrified. "Dad, do I really have to wear this?"

"Son... You are a terrible student, you can't take direction, and you have no work ethic. I'm not sure if you possess any skills at all," Mr. Shen announced harshly. "No other business is going to hire you except the ones that I own, so just make it easy on us all and put the ears on, Quanrui."

You had to work quite hard to keep your eyes from widening at Mr. Shen's rather stiff criticism of his son, especially in front of strangers. You couldn't help but wonder what he said when no one else was present. Ricky solemnly placed the dog ears over his perfectly-coiffed blonde hair, the loop of the apron finding its way around his neck.

In that moment, if he wasn't so positively punchable-looking, you might've almost felt sorry for him.

"Excellent!" Tim exclaimed, clapping his hands together in the midst of the looming awkward silence. "(Y/N), why don't you show Ricky the milkshake machine? That would be a great spot for that handsome face to be seen by customers!"

Ricky audibly groaned as you led him out of the kitchen to the front countertop area.

And now, here you are. Covered in ice and milk, holding Ricky's sunglasses and allowing the implications of the sentence, "Well, I'm not like you," to sink in.

"Bastard," you say.

Ricky's wide eyes appear from behind the counter as he sits up on his knees to peak out at you. "What did you just say?"

"You rat bastard," you repeat, staring him directly in the eye. "You're not like me? Then why are we both wearing this stupid apron and these ridiculous dog ears, huh? Why are we both working this annoying ass part-time job? Why are we both covered in milkshake ingredients?"

You're surprised when Ricky doesn't retaliate, just stares back at you in shock.

"I actually think we have a lot in common right now. The only difference being that, for the next six hours, I'm in charge. So you're gonna take off these sunglasses and make every flavor of milkshake absolutely perfectly, or I am going to fire you!"

Ricky blinks, tilting his head to one side curiously. "Would you really fire me?"

You stare back at him wordlessly, confused by his lack of anger.

"Even though my dad would probably sue you or frame you for some petty crime or something?"

Ricky stands up from behind the counter, nodding appreciatively. "That's kind of badass."

He takes your apparent inability to speak or move as an opportunity to grab his sunglasses from your hand. "I'm gonna get all of this milk off of me. I'll be right back-- and I'll put these away in my bag."

After another moment of temporary paralysis, you run to the customers' bathrooms and clean yourself up. When you make your way back to the counter, you watch as Ricky very diligently measures 10 oz. of milk into the shaker cup.

"Okay! Time to head out, Ricky," you call from the kitchen, panicking slightly when you're met with silence. "Ricky?"

You run from the kitchen to the countertop area quickly, just in time to see Ricky holding all of the quarters from the cash register in his hand and counting them with his fingers (and then recounting them when he loses track of the total).

You have to admit... He looks pretty cute like this.

Ricky had been a pretty decent employee for the rest of the day. He mastered a few milkshake flavors, he seated customers in booths, and you'd even let him close the register after proper demonstration. Quite honestly, he was nowhere near as incompetent as his father had made him out to be.

Not only that, but you'd found he was fairly easy to get along with when he wasn't being a spoiled brat.

Tip-toeing your way over to him, you lightly smack his upper arm. "Boo!"

"NO!" He shouts in defeat. "I ALMOST HAD IT THAT TIME!"

You can't help but laugh, holding out your hand for him to pour the quarters into. You count them in less than ten seconds and drop them back in the drawer.

"Whoah," Ricky says, shaking his head as you finish counting the rest of the coins. "I really don't have any skills, do I?"

"Stop that," you say, entering the final totals into the register and closing it down. "It's not easy. You'll get better with practice. Besides, I watched you do a bunch of things today that I would say required skills."

"Oh," he replies, clearly not expecting your kindness. "Thanks."

You smile. "Same time tomorrow?"

"TOMORROW!?" He exclaims, hanging his head sadly. "But we were just here today."

You chuckle. "Welcome to the working world, Ricky."

"Here you go, one strawberry and one cookie dough milkshake for the two runway models on lunch break," Ricky says, placing the drinks on the counter. The two girls giggle, cheersing and placing the paper straws in their mouths.

This week had gone quite differently than you'd expected. It seemed as if word had gotten out that a rich, handsome young man had started working the counter at Hungry Dog's and groups of girls had flocked to the diner the past few days to get a milkshake from Ricky.

Though very wary of being seen on his first day, Ricky was now eating up the positive attention. He didn't even seem to mind wearing the dog ears. He conversed easily with the customers, tastefully flirting even with the regular group of elderly women that came in for lunch every Thursday. He was a natural.

And you hate to admit it, but... it's irking you a bit. You'd been Ricky's go-to pal the first few days and you enjoyed joking back and forth with him. He'd shared a lot about his life with you, in the way that coworkers often do. He'd talked about school, his friends, and even his dad and you liked having these conversations with him. Everyone else that worked here before him had been so boring. But now every girl in the city was coming to the diner for a milkshake and vying for his attention.

Maybe you should have let him keep his sunglasses on after all...

"(Y/N)!" He calls, grinning. You put your rag down on the table you're cleaning and make your way over to the counter. "I'm sorry, I don't remember the recipe for the peanut butter chocolate milkshake."

"That's okay," you say, grabbing a glass and opening the cooler. You point to the peanut butter sauce, chocolate chips, and the peanut butter cups. "Three tablespoons of this, a quarter cup of these, and a good handful of these, too."

"He has such big hands though," the girl at the counter admires.

"Uh..." You look down at Ricky's hands by his sides. "Yeah, I guess. I hope you really like peanut butter cups."

He frowns when you meet his gaze. You start to walk back to the table you were cleaning when you hear Ricky again. "(Y/N)?"

You turn to face him, noticing he still looks kind of upset.

"Chocolate ice cream?" He asks quietly.

"Chocolate ice cream," you confirm, giving him a half-hearted smile as you resume your buswork.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Your eyes dart to find the origin of the sound, spotting Mr. Shen standing angrily in the doorway with your boss on his heels. "Quanrui, what on Earth is going on?"

Ricky blinks back anxiously at his father. "I'm--... I'm working?"

"No you're not! You're surrounded by girls," Mr. Shen replies, walking towards his son.

"Well, they are paying customers," Tim responds softly, scurrying behind Mr. Shen as the girls on the barstools at the counter get up and leave hurriedly. You walk over to the countertop area cautiously.

"This is supposed to be a punishment. Where is that worker who trained you?" Ricky's father demands.

You clear your throat and step out from behind him. "I'm here."

"What exactly have you been doing? He's supposed to be miserable! I mean, for god's sake, he's making a milkshake and he's smiling. Smiling!" Mr. Shen exclaims, a stern finger pointing at you. "That's not right."

You swallow, maintaining an even temper. "Is a frown more suited for milkshake-making?"

From the corner of your eye, you see Ricky's eyes widen a concerned amount.

"On Sunday, you said Ricky had no skills. You basically called him useless in front of people he'd never met before. And I thought, at first, that maybe you were right; an irresponsible rich kid cruising through life and he'd be a pain in my ass. But, honestly... He's been great. He can take direction, follow a recipe, clean a table-- hell, he can almost count change!"

"Well, I can count change, I just--."

"And his most notable skill: charisma. I mean, we haven't made money like this in years! There's been people flying in and out of here all week just to look at Ricky. I've overheard him talking to customers for the past few days and he's just really great with people," you say, not backing down.

"That doesn't make any sense! He barely says two words to me," Mr. Shen rebuts.

You want to hold your tongue, but, with everything going on in your life... you just can't. "Maybe you should think about why that is."

If people could explode from anger, Mr. Shen would be in pieces by now. "Is this true, Ricky?"

You look up at Ricky, hoping that maybe he could find it in him to stand up for himself-- especially after you'd just done the heavy-lifting for him.

But he's not looking at you. He's not looking at anyone. He's just staring at the floor.

Mr. Shen is frightening now as his voice comes out so coolly, "Tom, fire this worker at once."

Tim looks at you uncertainly. You're his best employee. But you know the chances of Tim sticking up for you are slim to none. You've fought this battle alone-- and for what?

"Just go," Tim says, mouthing an I'm sorry after.

So you go. You're running back into the kitchen, taking off your apron and throwing your stupid dog ears onto the floor. You're so upset that you don't hear footsteps approaching behind you as you walk towards the back door.

"(Y/N)!" Ricky calls, hand finding your shoulder. You turn around on your heels to face him.

"What?" You spit. "What could you possibly want? Huh?"

"I--... I wanted to see if you're okay."

"Okay? I just lost my job... for defending you, of all people! I must be crazy," you say, shaking your head in disbelief at your own actions.

Ricky's brows furrow in defense, his eyes a bit sad like they had been earlier. "Well, it's not like I made you do that."

"No, you didn't," you say, nodding as you understand the error in judgment you've made. "So, I guess I'll just get going."

"Oh, come on!" Ricky exclaims, not letting go of your shoulder. "You're telling me you liked working here all this time? You're way smarter than me-- shouldn't you be trying to go back to school?"

"My mom is sick." The words escape your mouth before you can swallow them back down as you watch the shock contort Ricky's face. "I was working here to save up money for a car so I could stay at the hospital even after the buses stop running."

He stares back at you; the silence, deafening.

"Good luck, Ricky," you say finally, pushing the back door open and stepping out into the warm, afternoon air.

Come to the diner, I need you to calculate our expenses for the month

You fired me.

I knowwwwww. I said I was sorry! But I really need your help. And I know you'd hate for this diner you've spent so many pathetic years of your life working at to close down :(

You are not helping your case.

I'm sorry, please just come as soon as you can

Fine.

So, here you are again thanks to Tim's text. Walking through the back door of Hungry Dog's Diner like you do every day. But something's off when you step inside. When you realize you can't hear any noise, you look around concernedly for a body-- any body would do to ease your anxiety.

Just then, Ricky walks into the kitchen. He smiles timidly.

"Hi," he greets, a little awkward wave accompanying the word.

"Hi," you return, unamusedly.

"Tim's out here," he says, walking out of the kitchen as you reluctantly follow. You walk past the counter and out towards the booths, Tim waving at you from one in the back.

But as you walk past the glass doors, you see something in the parking lot that has you frozen in your tracks.

There, in the parking lot of Hungry Dog's Diner, is the little red Kia Rio from the used car dealership down the road.

"Go look at it," Ricky says behind you, gently pushing you forward.

You run out through the doors and stare at it in awe before remembering who brought you out here to see it in the first place.

Turning around slowly, your eyes meet Ricky's. His bottom lip is between his teeth as he chews it in nervous anticipation. You step up to him, silent before smacking his chest with your hand, hard.

"Ow!" He yelps, rubbing the spot that you hit.

"What's wrong with you?"

"You hit me," he complains with a pout.

"Your dad gave you your credit card back, huh? You think you can just buy something for me and your dad can pay it off and all will be forgiven?" You accuse, tears quickly welling up in your eyes from frustration.

“No! No, no, it’s—… it’s not like that! I swear,” he claims, sincere eyes boring into yours. “I bought it with my own savings. It was... It was almost everything I had.”

You stare back at him wide-eyed for a few moments and then hit him again. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?”

“OW!” He yelps louder, rubbing his chest once more.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you say, a mixture of emotions now flooding your senses. “That’s—… It’s—… You didn’t have to do that.”

It hits you now— a wave of immense, conflicting gratitude and embarrassment. You’re suddenly wailing quite cartoonishly, tears running out of you so quickly you’re afraid you might form a puddle.

"I'm just really sorry. I should have defended you... and I should've stood up for myself, too. You've been really nice to me this whole week and I can't imagine I was always particularly easy to deal with," Ricky apologizes, swallowing hard before continuing. "You really need this and it's my fault you weren't able to get it on your own. I was actually gonna by myself a new car with the money, but... what would I have been using it for?"

"How did you know this is the one I wanted?"

He laughs. "Tim said you showed everyone that walked through the doors a picture of it at least once."

You smile sheepishly, before uncertainty causes you to sigh. "Still, Ricky, this--."

"Maybe you can just drive me to work from now on," he suggests, a shy smile now gracing his lips. "And we'll call it even."

"To work?" You ask, tilting your head.

He smiles. "Yeah. You're rehired. Duh. I, uh... I finally talked to my dad about everything. And I told him I would be really lost at Hungry Dog's Diner without you."

You smile, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. "I'll repay you for this. I promise."

"Go ahead, get in!" Ricky says with a laugh, reaching in his back pocket and tossing you the key. You run to the driver's side and fling open the door, hopping inside and turning on the car. Ricky gets in the passenger side and looks around appreciatively.

"Not a McLaren, but it's got charm," he says, nodding.

"I love it," you reply, grinning at him. "I really love it. Thank you."

"You know, I might need a ride other places once in a while, too, like... out to dinner?"

"Why would I drive you to go out to dinner?" You ask, obliviously.

He blinks back at you, waiting for you to comprehend.

"Oh!" You gasp, ears burning as you bask in the heat of his gaze. "Oh, um... I guess, yeah. Yeah, I could probably... I could probably drive you to dinner. And then eat dinner with you."

"Good," he says happily, grinning at you as he leans back in the car seat, flipping his sunglasses down over his eyes. "But since I'm actually broke now, you're paying."

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 year

Text

Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 6)

Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader

4.9k words

Warnings: Language, mean & jealous Roy (in a good way), evil ex-boyfriend, rough sex, Roy feeling angsty, fingering, some cum play, hickies, Roy being kind of a dom

@agentstarkid brain rot, brain rot, brain rot

A/N: Y'all this has to be THE horniest writing I have ever done 😭

Series Masterlist

“Hey Roy, you going to Belgium?”

Roy furrowed his brows at Isaac as the captain, Jamie, and Sam all looked at him expectantly “Belgium?” he repeated.

Sam nodded. “For the race,” he added, as if Roy should know exactly what he was talking about.

The manager’s deepening frown told the boys that he did not.

Jamie sighed impatiently. “Your girlfriend, Grandad. We’re going to go watch her. She was telling us all about it in Leeds, and then when she was in Richmond, she gave Keeley the tickets and stuff to give Isaac. You’re going, aren’t ya?”

Belgium. Roy’s stomach sank a little as the guys began chattering about their plans, how excited they were to watch the race, the parties they’d been promised. He knew you had another race coming up, but you hadn’t mentioned a word of it to him. Of course, if you’d asked, he’d have gone. The Greyhounds had a bye that weekend, meaning he was completely free to go, to root for you, to share another bottle of scotch in some extravagant hotel suite. It would make sense for you to ask him to go; after all, he was clearly interested in racing, and, more importantly, he was clearly more interested in you. He’d tried not to read too much into the lack of invitation; but fuck, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for a simple hey, come meet me in Belgium during one of the many texts you’d sent him.

And now, hearing that you’d explicitly excited his team… well fuck.

“Come with us, Roy,” Isaac insisted.

He cleared his throat, desperately trying to play it off. “Dunno. Probably got Phoebe, need to catch up on shit at home-”

Another sigh from Jamie. “Come on, Coach. Just admit you want to see your girlfriend and fuckin’ come with us!”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Roy hadn’t meant for it to come off as a harsh growl, but that’s definitely what came out of his mouth. “Once again, we barely fucking know each other.”

The smirk on Jamie’s face was nothing short of punchable. “Then why d’you text her all the damn time?”

“Do not,” Roy lied.

Of all the players, Sam was one of the last Roy would’ve expected to tease him. “You’re blushing, Roy.”

He rolled his eyes, dying to get out of this conversation. “If I agree to come,” he mumbled. “Will you all shut the fuck up?

The three players looked at each other before breaking into a trio of mischievous grins.

Finally, Isaac opened his mouth. “No promises.”

Roy Kent looked good.

Who were you kidding? Roy Kent always looked good. Your mouth was practically watering as you watched him chat with the Greyhounds he stood with in the garage, rolling his eyes at something one of them said.

So, you hadn’t actually invited Roy to come to your race, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping he’d be there. After all, when you’d sent Keeley the tickets for the boys, you’d included an extra one, encouraging Isaac to invite “whoever”. Knowing Jamie had been teasing Roy about you, you knew exactly who they’d be bringing.

Watching his eyes dart around, obviously looking for you, you couldn’t resist the urge to go over and say hi. The two of you had fallen asleep on the phone a couple more times since that phone call, there’d been lots of texts sent back and forth, and Roy was even figuring out how to send selfies. And now he was here, in Belgium, surprising you. Tearing down that wall you’d built around your heart, brick by brick.

Feeling a bit like a teenage girl approaching the most popular boy in school, you turned around, so Roy wouldn’t see the way you tightened the knot of your half-down racing suit and lifted your shirt a smidge to give that little peek of skin. After giving your hair a quick touch, you turned around, ready to put on that confident smirk and go say-

“Hey there.”

Your face completely fell at the sight of that horribly gorgeous smile. “Ian,” you murmured, taking a step back, away from your ex-boyfriend, who you were sure hadn’t been in a paddock in about a year, let alone less than a foot away from you like he was now. “What’re you doing here?”

His smile widened, planting a knot in your stomach. “Here to see you, of course.”

“Oh.” Your eyes flickered over his shoulder, where you could see Roy beginning to turn his head a bit more obviously, growing anxious to see you already. “Well, thanks.”

Thankfully, one of your engineers, familiar with the panicked look that Ian Novak’s beautiful face often inspired, hustled over with some excuse to get you away from the model. As you let yourself be led away, you turned your gaze, finally locking eyes with Roy Kent. The corner of his perfect mouth ticked upwards as he offered a small nod in greeting, eyebrows raised playfully. Normally, the sight would have you pressing your thighs together and thinking of all the sinful things you wanted to do with him. Instead, you looked away from those brown eyes as quickly as you could.

Fuck. Roy Kent could hurt you, couldn’t he? If Ian Novak, devilish man he was, could manage to make you feel adored and comfortable enough that the heartbreak he gifted you was the most devastating pain you could imagine, what was Roy Kent, with his soft brown eyes and half smiles and hands that both excited and cherished you, capable of? How shattered would you be if he decided he was done with you?

Maybe you didn’t want to find out.

For the millionth time that weekend, Roy wondered what he’d done wrong. All he’d received from you was a quick hello when the guys insisted on going to say hey to you. No flirting. No bedroom eyes. No electric touches. And definitely no teasing implications about ending up in bed together.

Not exactly what he’d expected.

He kept trying to catch your eye when the two of you were in the same room, but you kept looking away every time he succeeded. This wasn’t the behavior of someone excited to see him, and especially not the behavior of someone looking forward to sleeping with him.

As he lost track of his beers and contemplated leaving the party being held to celebrate your win, he saw Jamie perk up, his eyes flickering between Roy and somewhere behind him. Before Jamie could give him a warning, Roy turned around.

It was like someone’d punched him and knocked the fucking wind out of him. There you were, stunning in a Ferrari-red dress and matching lipstick, looking up at some disgustingly pretty man, who gazed at you like, well, like how Roy looked at you. He turned back to Jamie, immediately hating the pitiful look on the striker’s face.

“That’s her ex-boyfriend,” Jamie murmured, taking a sip of his own beer. “Model.”

“The one that fucking cheated on her?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “For ‘barely know each other’ you sure know a good bit about her, Roy. Maybe-”

Roy scowled. “Keeley talks too much,” he mumbled before taking a long swig of his beer. He looked over his shoulder again; that man’s hand was on your lower back, where Roy’s hand should have been. “Looks like a prick,” he huffed.

“Oh, he definitely is,” Jamie agreed. “And that’s me saying that. Not sure why she’d give him the time of day.” He punched Roy’s arm playfully. “Especially with Roy Kent in the room.”

After rolling his eyes at Jamie’s compliment, Roy nodded towards the door that led to the hallway connecting the venue to the rest of the hotel. “Going to get some air,” he muttered, ignoring the protests of his players.

Because he was so busy skulking off, Roy missed watching you with your ex.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, shoving Ian’s hand off of your waist. “In case you’ve forgotten, we broke up, remember?”

His lopsided smile was too familiar. “Just congratulating you on a job well done. You were great today, babe.”

Babe. When Roy Kent called you that, it’d made your heart- and something else- flutter. But when Ian Novak called you that, it made your blood run cold. You reached out and pushed him further away.

“I’m not your babe.”

Slipping away from the embrace he tried, you briskly left the party venue, eyes stinging as you made your way to the deserted hallway. Who cared if you’d won and were the guest of honor? All you wanted was to get up to your room, get out of this dress, put on-

Roy’s eyes locked onto yours. He was in that same hallway, leaning against a wall and looking like the dictionary definition of melancholy. His stupid old heart nearly stopped at the sight of you, then twisted when he saw all the hurt your eyes carried. He pushed himself up off the wall as you got closer, your hands fidgeting; he wasn’t used to seeing you so… gloomy.

“’s wrong with you?” he muttered once you were standing in front of him. “Boyfriend problems?”

Your frown deepened. “Boyfriend…?” It dawned on you. “Oh, fuck. Ian.”

Roy nodded, his eyes practically made of steel. “Yeah. Ian,” he spat. “What, you get sick of him already?” He knew he sounded jealous and resentful, two things he wasn’t sure he had the right to be. But he didn’t care; not when he’d come all this way just to see you with some other prick.

“Listen,” you sighed. “Roy-”

He shook his head, not caring if you saw the hurt and anger in his eyes. “No. It’s fine. I fucking get it.” He gulped. “He’s a model. His knees probably fucking work. Probably even knows how to smile.” He cleared his throat. “Stupid, coming to fucking Belgium,” he mumbled. “You didn’t even fucking want me here.”

“I did,” you yelped, probably quicker and louder than you should have. “I mean, I do. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Funny way of showing it,” he grunted, not letting you see the way your words had his heart hammering. No, Roy was still pissed. “Ignoring me all fucking weekend.”

You nodded, face aflame. “Yeah. No, that’s true.” You took a tentative step towards Roy. “But I’m glad you’re here. Really glad,” you insisted as you pressed your body to his, eyebrows raised meaningfully.

“Yeah. Well.” He averted his gaze, knowing that the familiar look in your eye would have him dropping this little resentment.

“Roy,” you cooed, letting your hands wander up his chest, not caring if someone walked by and saw you embracing the brooding manager. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

Oof. Apparently that was not the thing to say based on the fiery look in his eye. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you, especially when he reached up to grab your jaw.

“Jealous?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You think I’m jealous?”

You gulped. Actually fucking gulped. And that little movement had Roy’s scowl replaced with the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen. His grip was firm; not painful, but definitely strong. For the number of times you’d hooked up, you’d never seen his eyes so dark, filled with a mixture of irritation and lust. It had you rubbing your thighs together, not caring if Roy noticed.

And Roy definitely noticed.

His eyes flickered over your shoulder for a brief moment before settling on your parted lips.

“Let’s go.”

Keeping his grip on your jaw, he pushed you backwards, opening a door behind you and guiding you into a deserted women’s bathroom. He quickly locked the door and moved a vanity chair under the handle, clearly planning on being in here for a while. Once privacy was secured, his eyes were on you again.

“Jealous,” he repeated, a scoff now. “Fucking jealous.”

He walked you back until your ass hit the row of sinks, the cold stone penetrating through your tight dress. His hands found the spot on your upper thigh where dress met bare skin, his fingers dipping just under the soft material to grip your flesh roughly, tugging the hem of your dress up around your hips.

Instinctively, you threw your head back at his touch, feeling electricity follow his fingertips as they brushed over your skin. Roy’s hand immediately was on your jaw again, tugging you to face him.

“Watch,” he demanded in a low voice.

With a whimper that was more from arousal than anything else, you obeyed. You watched as he brought his hands over your hips and slowly rolled down your panties, letting them drop in a little pool of lace around your ankles. He placed one hand on your hip with a bruising grip as the other hand came to your already drenched pussy. When one finger traced your slit, you had to use all your concentration to keep yourself from throwing your head back in pleasure.

“So fucking wet,” Roy groaned, adding another finger as he slowly caressed your soaking lips. “Who’s that for? Your pretty boy ex?”

Not caring about looking desperate, you frantically shook your head. “You, Roy,” you murmured, your voice breathy. “All for you.” You leaned forward to capture his lips in a kiss, to assure him with your mouth that he was all you wanted, but he shook his head.

“Thought I told you to watch.”

No man had ever spoken to you this way. Most guys tried so hard to be smooth, or romantic, or cool. No one had ever been so possessive, so jealous. No one had ever stared at you with such an intensity. And no man had ever turned you on so fucking much.

Obediently, you tilted your head back down to watch as Roy slipped those two fingers inside you, setting a rough, mean pace that already had you gripping the sinks so hard your knuckles turned white. His thumb began stroking harsh circles on your clit, adding to the overwhelming pleasure.

“You better keep fucking watching,” he grumbled before his mouth attached to your neck, kissing with more tongue than lip, leaving a slobbery path over your skin.

Even with his eyes off of your face, you did as you were told. You watched those two firm fingers pump in and out of you, curling upwards in that way Roy did that had you squirming in your now wobbling high heels. The only thing keeping you upright was this sink and Roy’s harsh grip.

Roy grunted when he hit a particularly deep spot and felt you clench around his fingers. “You really hurt my fucking feelings,” he growled against your neck, giving a soft bite to the sensitive skin. “Ignoring me while you paraded around in that little fucking racing suit. Looking like a fucking goddess.” His thumb pressed down on your clit, provoking a sharp whine from you. “Like my fucking Empress.”

“Yours, Roy,” you groaned as your hips stuttered against his hand, your climax rapidly approaching. “All fucking yours.”

And you meant it. You really fucking meant it.

“Damn right you’re mine,” he grunted, adding a third finger to your sopping cunt. “And I want to feel you come just for me.”

Apparently, his wish was your command.

Something deep within you snapped, and you felt yourself tighten around his fingers, so tight that his third finger slipped out. But he kept fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, finally moving his mouth to yours to swallow your lewd moans as you soaked his fingers with your release.

“Good fucking girl,” he mumbled against your mouth as your vision went blurry; the only thing you could focus on was the trembling pleasure Roy gave you. “His fingers ever make you come like this?”

Your orgasm rendered your speechless, so all you could do was give a little shake of your head, desperate not to lose the feeling of Roy’s lips against yours. His pumps slowed as you came down from your high; you let go of the sink and gripped his arms, needing some help with standing.

But Roy didn’t want you to stand.

“Turn around,” he growled, pulling his soaked fingers out of you. “Unless you’re fucking done with me? Hmm? Got what you wanted from me, yeah? Ready to go back to your little party and ignore me some more?”

You bit your lip as your eyes travelled down to the extremely noticeable bulge in his pants. When you looked back at his face, it was dark with desire.

“Need you,” you managed to croak out.

That was good enough for him. Not caring if he got your juices on your dress, he grabbed your hips and spun you around, pushing you down over the sink. Instinctively, you spread your legs, listening for the delicious sound of his zipper coming undone. Your entire body vibrated with pleasure as you felt his tip, already dripping with precum, press against your soaked core.

Roy brought his hand- the one soaked from your orgasm- to your face. “Open,” he demanded. When you opened your mouth, he stuck his two drenched fingers inside. “Don’t want anyone else hearing your pretty fucking sounds. Those are just for me, aren’t they?”

You nodded, moaning around his gorgeous fingers as you tasted your pleasure on him. Fuck, no wonder he was addicted to making you come, some dirty part of you thought. You were delicious.

Satisfied with the view before him, Roy slowly buried himself inside your soaked cunt with ease, his eyes staring into yours through the mirror with that same mix of lust and possessiveness.

“There she is,” he sighed as he set a harsh pace, his free hand on your back to keep you bent over for him. “My fucking Empress. Feel so fucking good. Just for me.”

A muffled “Mmm hmm” around his fingers was all you could manage as you bucked your hips back against him, drooling at the feeling of his hot skin against your bare ass. His cock felt perfect inside you, twitching and throbbing against your already spasming walls.

Eyes still on yours in the mirror, he lowered his mouth to your bare upper back and began leaving rough kisses all over your skin, sloppy and reckless, until those kisses became bites. Roy started sucking at the soft skin as he thrust into your slowly bruising sex over and over again, moaning against your back. When you clenched around him particularly tight, his tongue left a slow, deliberate trail across your skin, sending shivers down the spine he still had his hand on.

He groaned and gave a particularly stuttering jerk into you. “Should I mark you up?” he teased. “Show everyone who you belong to?” Using the fingers in your mouth as leverage, he made you nod slowly, as though you were his little toy. “Well, if you insist.” Rolling his hips harder, deeper, Roy returned to your back, sucking hard enough to make you whimper against the pads of his fingers. But the way you rocked into him assured him you liked it.

“Fucking look at you,” he moaned, giving you a bit of that hip action that had you seeing stars. “You ever been fucked like this, gorgeous girl? Bent over in a fucking bathroom, fingers in your mouth?” He brought his lips to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Bet no pretty boy’s ever done this.” He started sucking on the spot behind your ear, that perfect little spot that had you mewling as you spasmed against him.

He slowly inched his fingers further into your mouth, prompting you to suck them with the same enthusiasm you would his cock. The sensation had him twitching inside you, desperate to paint your walls.

“You look so fucking perfect,” he muttered as he returned his mouth to your slowly purpling back, adding more beautiful little dark spots wherever he could reach. “My dirty Empress.” He licked over a bite mark he’d left, one he hoped you’d have for days. “You want to come for me, gorgeous?”

Your desperate nod had him groaning. He’d never seen anyone look so fucking desperate, needy, hungry for him. After being ignored by you all weekend, to have you bent over in a public bathroom, panties on the floor, mouth full of his fingers, all of it was driving him mad. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, but he knew he needed to let you come first.

He needed to remind you about how he could make you feel.

He removed his fingers from your mouth, drooling a bit when he heard the little whine that escaped your now empty mouth. The hand on your hip came up to your beautiful neck, urging you to stand up with your back to his heaving chest.

When you wobbled, he tightened his grip, just enough to hold you steady. “I’ve got you,” he promised, planting a tender kiss to your neck. “’ve always got you.”

Roy brought those fingers- now sodden from both your cunt and mouth- to your pulsing clit, rubbing firm circles over the bundle of nerves.

“Roy,” you whimpered, gripping his arms with your trembling hands. “Please.”

He smiled, a real smile for the first time all weekend, as his cock continued to bruise your cunt. “Would you look at that,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “My Empress remembered her manners.” He pumped his cock as deep as he could, over and over, desperate to hit that one perfect little spot that would- “Oh, there she is.”

He watched with lewd pride as you fell apart in front of him, mouth open in a silent scream. Your whole body was drenched in sweat as you trembled, your knees buckling beneath you; the only thing keeping you upright was Roy. As your body quivered with pleasure, you slouched back over the sink, wondering vaguely how you were going to walk in the morning, let alone in the next few minutes.

“Such a good girl,” Roy cooed, his voice thick with a beautiful mix of mocking and adoration. “Now tell me what else you want.”

“Your cum,” was your automatic answer as your fingers traced over the cool faucet. “Please,” you begged, probably for the first time in your life. “Please fucking come for me.”

Roy’s devilish smile widened, setting your whole body on fire. “If my Empress insists.”

Whit his hands back on your hips, his thrusts became sloppy, no longer about making you feel good- although, the overstimulation did have your eyes rolling back. He gave a few harsh, bruising drives before you felt him fill you up with that delicious release; fuck, how you wished you could taste it. Pump after pump until you could feel it begin to leak down your thighs. You shivered when you felt Roy glide a single finger over your sticky thigh and bring a cum-covered finger to your lips.

“Taste.”

He didn’t need to order you; you would have automatically stuck out your tongue to get a taste of that tangy stickiness that now coated your throbbing pussy.

The room was filled with ragged breathing as he finally pulled out of you, still keeping a firm grip on you to keep you from falling.

Finally, you smirked at him through the mirror- or at least, as much of a smirk as you could manage.

“Fuck,” you gasped, brushing your wild hair out of your face. “I’m really supposed to go back to the party like this?”

Roy’s dark chuckle had your heart racing. “Party?” he scoffed. “Oh no, baby. I’m not fucking done with you.”

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mcdonaldsplayground · 2 years

Text

| actually the worst | part 2

ao’nung x f!reader

summary: lessons with the metkayina have started and the only bad thing about them is ao'nung. hating him is easy, but understanding how you truly feel is more complex. why can't he just leave you alone?

includes: enemies to lovers, swearing, teasing, ao'nung being a cocky mf😌

word count: 2k

a/n: the timeline in this is probably wildly inaccurate😅 also, this is very short but i am working on more parts:)

“Come on!” Your brothers whooped as they jumped from the walkway into the ocean. Their splash soaked you and your sisters who were still standing cautiously over the water. However, the fearlessness of Neteyam and Lo’ak seemed to inspire Kiri and Tuk because they grinned at each other and jumped after the boys, splashing you again. You weren’t so keen to get in.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like swimming or were afraid of the ocean. It was more of a symbolic thing. To get in the water and start learning the Metkayina way was like giving up on the idea of ever returning home. You knew you were here to stay, but you didn’t have to like it.

“[Y/N]! Join us! We will start the lesson soon—when Ao’nung arrives.” Tsireya called out from beside your siblings, the five of them treading water. Her smile was reassuring, but the mention of her brother dampened your mood even more. Instead of jumping in, you sat down at the edge of the walkway, sticking your feet in the water.

“I’ll just wait until then, I guess.” You replied, hoping you didn’t sound rude. You actually really liked Tsireya and didn’t want her to think badly of you.

“Wait’s over, forest girl.” Ao’nung’s voice made you jump, whipping around to find him smirking behind you. Apparently he had a thing for sneaking up on you. “Time to get in.” His face was so punchable it made your fingers twitch.

When you didn’t move, Ao’nung huffed and dropped his stupid smirk, stepping closer. “Don’t be a baby. Get in the water, freak.”

“Oh, so now I’m a freak for not wanting to swim?” You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back to the water where everyone else waited and watched. You felt a little embarrassed, but you weren’t about to back down now.

“You were always a freak, actually. But now you’re a freak who’s scared of water.” Your blood boiled and you stood up quickly, narrowing your eyes.

“Did it ever occur to you that I just don’t want to take lessons with the world’s biggest douchebag?” You spat, not leaving him any time to reply before you jumped in angrily, hoping you splashed him. When you resurfaced, you found that he had jumped after you. You scoffed, swimming over to Kiri with a scowl. She just shook her head at you, holding in a laugh.

“It’s not funny, Ki.”

“Yes it is.”

You actually found yourself enjoying the ocean much more than you thought you would. Everything about the reef was breathtaking. The only problem you and your siblings were having was keeping up with the Metkayina. They seemed to be forgetting that your underwater experience was limited.

Despite having only been holding your breath for a minute or two, your lungs were burning and you desperately looked around at your siblings to see if they needed air too. Looking down, you noticed the confusion in the faces of Tsireya, Rotxo, and Ao’nung. You felt bad slowing them down, but you physically couldn’t stay underwater. Your siblings were quick to follow you to the surface.

“They keep trying to talk to us with their hands…” Neteyam panted, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the sun. You nodded.

“Another thing to learn, I guess.” You sighed, watching Lo’ak quickly duck his head back under water. “Are they coming up?” You asked, and he nodded.

When they resurfaced, you took some comfort in the fact that Tsireya seemed understanding, patient enough to wait. Her brother, however, did not seem to have the same virtue.

“You are not good divers. Maybe good at swinging through trees, but-” He was cut off by Tsireya swatting him gently, causing him to scowl. You wondered how much an underwater punch would hurt.

“We don’t speak this… finger-talk, you guys. We don’t know what you’re saying.” Neteyam cut in, ignoring Ao’nung’s dig.

“It’s all right. I will teach you.” Tsireya smiled. “Come, we will swim some more and I can show you.” She disappeared under the water, beckoning for the rest of you to follow. Everyone took a huge breath before diving back under too. You were about to do the same when something tugged at your ankle, pulling you down. You let out a scream, but it was muffled by the water and only resulted in you swallowing some of it. Sputtering, you managed to kick up to the surface again and tried not to choke for a second time when Ao’nung popped up beside you, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my eywa, the look on your face-” The boy could barely get the sentence out before erupting back into a fit of laughter.

“Jesus christ! Are you a psychopath or what?” You glared, heart racing from the scare but also because of how close he was swimming to you. The spot where he had grabbed your ankle felt electric, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“What?” He had managed to stop laughing and now looked genuinely confused. “I do not know what a jesus christ or a psychopath is.” He admitted, and it dawned on you that he wouldn’t know the terms as you had learned them from your father. It almost made you laugh, but instead you contorted your features into smug surprise.

“You mean King Ao’nung doesn’t know everything?” You feigned shock as he narrowed his eyes.

“Whatever, skxawng. At least I know how to swim.”

“Wow, you’re on par with the fish, that’s great.”

“Tell me what a psychopath is.” He pressed, the word coming out halted and mangled as he tried to imitate english. This time, you did laugh.

“It’s you. Unstable, aggressive, unfeeling… Do I need to go on?” You smirked as his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “Want to know what a jesus christ is?” You asked, knowing you were getting to him.

“No.” With that, he swam away, clearly fed up. For you, that was a triumph. Now the trick was going to be making him stay away.

A few days later, you found yourself standing waist-deep in the water, listening as Ao’nung made noises to supposedly call the ilu creatures over. As much as his voice usually made you want to rip your ears off, you had to admit that the sounds were impressive, especially when a group of ilu swam up to him.

“If you want to live here,” He gestured to the open sea, turning back to face everyone while his eyes locked on yours. You shivered. “You have to ride.” He reached out to pat one of the ilu and Tsireya jumped in.

“Who wants to try first?” Neteyam pushed Lo’ak forward, grinning, and you felt some relief at getting to hang back. Lo’ak looked nervous, but you could tell he was trying to impress Tsireya and the others as he shrugged and started getting ready. Everyone watched as he made the bond and mounted the creature, Tsireya helping him.

“Want to bet on how long he lasts?” Neteyam nudged you and Kiri, raising his eyebrows with a smile. Just as you opened your mouth to reply, Lo’ak shot forward on his ilu and went plunging under the water. Shocked at the abruptness, you stepped forward and ducked your head under to see if you could see him. You felt your heart racing for him, hoping he was alright. When you spotted him, he was barely holding on to the speeding ilu, slipping off as soon as it turned slightly. Beside you, Ao’nung laughed loudly. When the two of you stood up straight you found yourself punching him in the shoulder, irritated.

“Hey! What was that for?” He turned to you, looking incredulous.

“Don’t laugh at my brother, dickhead.” You huffed. “You’re being a psychopath again.”

At the mention of that word, Ao’nung grimaced, looking briefly annoyed before cracking a grin to cover it up.

“Come, try for yourself so I can laugh at you this time.” He beckoned one of the other ilu over, holding it steady for you. Heat rushed to your face as you tried to think of how to get out of it. When you could think of nothing, you resigned yourself to the task, looking back briefly at your staring siblings for some comfort. Ao’nung chuckled. “Scared, forest girl?”

“Of what? Your face?” You retorted. “Yeah, a little actually.” At this he scoffed while everyone else laughed. That only briefly made you feel better until you actually started to mount the ilu. You tried to approach it like the ikran, but it was much more slippery and your legs felt too close to your body. Ao’nung’s presence right beside you only made things all the more awkward.

“That’s not how you do it, freak.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fine, but you’re going to fall off.”

“Fine.” You weren’t about to admit how terrified you felt to him. He just rolled his eyes, stepping close enough that you could feel his body heat.

“Ugh, don’t be so stubborn. Here,” He put his hand on your knee, pushing it down and adjusting the rest of your leg into a more natural and comfortable position. You wanted to slap him away, but his touch left a trail of fire along your leg despite the cooling waves lapping over you, and your brain momentarily stopped functioning.

“Okay, you look slightly less ridiculous now.” Ao’nung smirked, stepping away. You didn’t miss how his fingers trailed along your thigh slightly longer than necessary. Kiri snapped you out of your strange stupor.

“We’re waiting, [Y/N]!” She laughed, and you were convinced she knew what had just happened. You made a mental note to threaten your twin later in case she decided to bring it up. Without acknowledging Ao’nung, you mentally guided your ilu forward, willing it to go slow. Surprisingly, it listened, and you found yourself gracefully learning the nuances of riding underwater. You hated to admit it even to yourself, but Ao’nung was right about your legs. If he hadn’t fixed them you would have slipped right off like Lo’ak.

Eventually, you guided your ilu back to the group, most of whom were grinning and cheering. You smiled, proud of yourself. As Tsireya came forward to congratulate you, you noticed Ao’nung staring intensely, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set. When it was Neteyam’s turn to ride, you made your way over the Metkayina boy.

“Don’t look too happy for me.” You said and he scoffed at your words, crossing his arms.

“Just thank me and get over yourself.”

You snorted and began dramatically, “Thank you Ao’nung, King of the Ocean, Lord of the Sea, Master Ilu Tamer! How could I have ever done it without you?”

He whipped his head toward you, somehow glaring even more than before. There was a long silence before he seemed to think of something and a smirk twisted onto his face.

“You’re really cocky for someone who can’t handle being touched.” He said, looking around before stepping closer to you. Again, you could practically feel his body heat and you froze at his words, your heart rapidly speeding up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said as steadily as you could manage, steeling yourself enough to meet his eyes. He chuckled. The two of you stood like that for what felt like an eternity until you heard your siblings cheering for Neteyam who had probably come back from riding his ilu.

You finally moved, starting to push past Ao’nung to get back to the group. As you went by him, you felt that familiar fire blaze across your leg as he once again trailed his fingers along your skin. It was so brief that you thought maybe you had imagined it until you heard him whisper,

“Liar.”

#ao'nung #aonung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #aonung x you #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #ao'nung x y/n #avatar #avatar 2 #aonung fanfiction #ao'nung fanfiction #aonung fluff #ao'nung fluff #the way of water #avatar movie #avatar imagine #atwow #atwow ao'nung

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allzelemonz · 1 year

Text

Whipping Boy: Dutch Van der Linde X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’, ‘son’, and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: O’Driscoll Reader, Reader is the biggest virgin in the West, loss of virginity, grinding, thigh riding, masturbation, dom/sub-ish, overuse of ‘sir’, mentions of beatings, actively learning what sex is and why it’s hype Summary: When you finally get the chance to run away from the O’Driscolls after only ever being their punching bag, you end up in the hands of Colm’s rival and have to earn the protection you need.

The fire in front of you is a risk. Really everything is a risk now. You know Colm isn’t kind to traitors and he would certainly know that his favorite man to punish is missing. You’re not entirely sure why the man always blames you, why he enjoys beating you. It’s in the past now and you hope it stays that way, that’s what matters. The fire will go for another hour, just long enough to warm your hands because you can’t feel them, then you move on.

A stick breaks behind you and it takes all of your self control not to move. You need to wait and draw your gun when the time is right. But the time never comes, a rope catches your chest first. You try to reach the holster but your attacker beats you to it, throwing the gun aside and hogtying you with tight knots. From the footsteps, there are two of them, all you can hope is that they’re not Colm’s boys.

“What’d ya catch?” A twangy voice asks.

“Don’t know.” The one that tied you says with a bit of an accent. “Let’s see.”

The man pats you down, looking for pockets. He flips you over to do the same and finds nothing. You ran on a whim, no time to grab anything. The man that tied you is darker skinned than his friend, much better dressed too.

“He’s got nothing.” He sighs.

The other man comes closer, his eyes narrowing at you. He’s heavier set with a beard and half pinned up hat. “Hold on… he’s an O’Driscoll.”

You shake your head quickly. “N-No, sir. I’m not, I’m not, I swear I’m not.”

The bigger man laughs. “Squirrly too.”

“Should we take him back to Dutch?” The other asks. “He might have some information.”

That’s worse. That’s much worse than Colm’s boys, they’re Dutch’s.

“Sure.” The bigger one says. “Maybe he’ll be entertainin’.”

You struggle against your bindings. “L-Look, fellas, I’m not with Colm-”

“Horseshit!” The bigger one yells.

The other chuckles. “You all dress the same, cabrón. Hard to hide like that.”

He pulls you to your feet and shoves you towards the bigger man. You’re dragged to their horses, hidden in the trees, and hoisted onto the back of a large brown beast of a horse. The larger man isn’t gentle, he throws you in a way that makes your stomach feel the impact as you land.

“Sit still, fer yer own good, boy.” He says as he mounts.

You don’t argue. There’s no way you could. After all your time being at Colm’s mercy you’ve learned that fighting it gets you nowhere. The man still hits you along the ride, just for fun you assume. Perhaps you just have a punchable face.

When the horses stop you have a second of relief from the taunts and the violence, just a second before you’re roughly pulled from the horse and thrown on the ground. Your legs collapse from the extra pressure of the large man’s hand on your shoulder and you nearly swallow dust that’s kicked up from your landing. There’s shouting and footsteps before you’re pulled up to your knees and the familiar large hand grips roughly at your hair to make you look up at who you can only presume to be Dutch Van der Linde.

“What have we here?” He muses, hands on his gunbelt in a strikingly similar way to Colm. “Bill?”

The large man, Bill, answers in a smug voice. “Found ‘em out by the river, some O’Driscoll dog.”

“I can see that.” Dutch sighs, his eyes looking over the green vest you should’ve thrown away. “Let's see what he has to say. Bring him.”

Bill pulls you to your feet and drags you after Dutch to a large white tent. Inside it’s well kept, nicely decorated, very different from anything O’Driscoll. Dutch sits in a chair and picks up a cup to drink from.

“I will handle the boy, Bill.” Dutch says. “Cut him loose.”

“Ya sure, Dutch?”

“Go on.”

Bill grumbles to himself but cuts you free and disappears from the tent a second later. You move your eyes to Dutch, not quite meeting his.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t kill you, son?”

You watch as he calmly stirs the liquid in his cup as if the question he asked were a normal one. He looks up at you and catches your eyes for a moment before you get the chance to look away. The last time you looked Colm in the eye without permission he tied you up to the horse’s hitching post and left you out for the night in nothing but a union suit.

“Sir, I… I’m not with Colm.” You take a shaky breath. “I don’t want to be, anyway.”

“Why is that, son?”

You stare at his feet as you speak, unconsciously wringing your hands. “I just couldn’t stay there, sir.”

He chuckles. “You act like a frightened dog, son. Is there a reason for that?”

“Just don’t let him find me, sir.” You glance up at him for a second, just long enough to see an interested expression on his face. “You could let me go… or I could be useful to you, j-just don’t send me back to him or anything. I can’t be there.”

“Useful?” He muses. “How so?”

“Whatever you need, sir.” You say all too quickly, looking up enough to see a bit of a smirk on his face. “If you can protect me from Colm, I’ll do anything.”

He leans back in his chair, setting his cup down. “Come here, son.”

You step closer, just a foot away.

“Here, boy.” He points to the ground just in front of him.

You shiver as you lower yourself to your knees in the space he pointed to, right between his legs.

“You said anything, boy.” He leans forward, his hand slowly reaching out and tracing along your jaw. He holds your chin to make you look at him. “Did you mean it?”

“I-I suppose so, sir.”

“You suppose?”

“I… T-There are just some things I’ve never done before and I don’t know exactly what I-”

He shushes you and you go quiet. His hand is gentle as it travels up to cup your cheek. You look up at him and find only more gentleness in his expression.

“It’s alright, son.” He sighs as his thumb strokes your cheek. “Colm never used you?”

You blink a little rapidly at the question. Colm beat you, sure, but he never touched you. A couple of the boys might’ve gotten handsy when they were drunk, but no one had ever forced you or propositioned you beyond dirty comments in passing. It just never happened.

“No, sir.”

He’s quiet for a moment as he looks over your face. “It’s real simple, son. Just do as you’re told.” His thumb trails over to your lips, running along the bottom one and dragging it down a bit before letting it bounce back into place. “Ya seem good at that.”

Your breath catches for a moment from the touch. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Stand up n’ strip for me, boy.”

You hesitate, your nerves getting the better of your tendency to obey. When you don’t move, Dutch’s hand grabs at your cheek harshly and you gasp.

“What’s the matter, boy?”

“S-Sorry, sir… Just that I’ve never…” You relax a bit as Dutch softens again, listening. “I’ve never been bare in front of somebody before.”

He smiles and you can’t quite place the expression but you know it isn’t an innocent one. “Never?”

“No, sir.”

“My, my…” He leans back in his seat. “Allright, son. Ya can earn your protection piece by piece.”

You nod, hoping for nothing more than to not be returned to Colm.

“Stand.” He orders.

You do, your knees aching in the process. He spreads his legs and pats one of his thighs. You timidly settle onto it, your own legs spreading apart to rest on top of him.

“That’s it, son.” Dutch smiles as he takes your hand and slowly places it over a hard bulge in his pants. “Now move yer hips n’ yer hand, just let it happen, son.”

You’ve never felt another man’s dick before and Dutch’s feels much bigger than you imagined most men should be. Given what he said, you’ll have to deal with it more later. Dutch’s hand squeezes yours, making it wrap around him. You take his hint, moving your hand against him and trying to think of what could feel good.

“Hips, son.” Dutch mutters, his head lulling back and his hand resting on your waist.

He grips your side tightly, urging you to move and you follow him. You buck your hips slightly, the unfamiliar motion feeling weird while perched on Dutch’s leg. But you feel it, what you assume Dutch is wanting you to feel. It’s barely there, but it gets better when you do it again and again. It feels good.

You try to keep your hand moving against Dutch in whatever way you can manage and he seems content, so your primary focus is on the movement of your hips. From the way he chuckles when you feel spasms overcome you, you assume it’s premature. Nonetheless, it rocks through you and Dutch moves his leg for you as you ride it out.

“Never came before, have you?” Dutch asks, his hands suddenly both on your waist and his lips close to your ear as if time had skipped.

“N-Never…” You say with heavy breath, the feeling still shooting pins through your body.

“Enjoy yourself?”

You nod, your head spinning a bit when you do.

“Next part could not be easier, son.” Dutch whispers, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “Sit there and look pretty.”

He leans back in his chair, away from you. The lack of support makes you have to rest your hands on him to catch yourself. You watch as Dutch unfastens his pants and, for the first time aside from the occasional accident, you see another man’s dick. It’s not so different from yours, but it stands on its own, something you’ve never dared to remove your pants to see on yourself. Your lips part at the sight and you suddenly understand why some folks talk about using their mouth down there.

Dutch puts his hand on your cheek again, bringing your eyes back to his. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a man’s cock, boy.”

“I-I-I have… just never so… close and…”

“You like it, son?”

You try to avoid them but Dutch’s eyes are so nice to look at that you can’t help but hold their gaze when you catch it. “Yes, sir.”

“Then you watch real close.” Dutch says, holding his hand out in front of your mouth. “Spit for me.”

You gather saliva in your mouth and spit it into his hand as he asked.

“Good boy.”

Something about the phrase sends a shiver through you. Dutch brings his hand down to his dick, the one on your cheek tilting your head to ensure you watch as he spreads your spit over himself. You can’t think of anywhere else you want to look. His hand grips and begins to move up and down in slow pumps. You unconsciously wiggle against his leg, now feeling the stiffness of your own dick.

“Don’t look away, son.” Dutch orders as his hand moves faster. “But you can move.”

You keep your eyes fixed on Dutch’s hand, watching as he gives himself an occasional squeeze and rubs his thumb along his tip every once and a while, but you also move your hips like you did before. Now you know what you’re chasing and with Dutch’s demonstration, you cum within a minute. Dutch moves his leg against you again, helping you through the high, but he doesn’t falter on himself. When he releases, his cum lands on the floor behind you but some spurts onto your pants. You watch, transfixed, as Dutch strokes himself through it and wanting nothing more than his hand on you now that you know what it can do.

His other hand brings your head up, making you meet his eyes again. “More tomorrow, son. Alright?”

You nod slightly. “Y-Yes, sir.”

He pushes at your shoulder slightly and you retreat, standing and stepping back from him. You watch as he puts himself away and turns his focus back to you. His eyes look over you before he stands. He takes a rag from the table and dips it in a bucket of water, ringing it before bringing it over and wiping the bit of his cum from your pants, your own release hidden by the dark shade of the fabric.

“Come with me, son.” He says, tossing the rag aside and putting an arm around your shoulders. He leads you out of his tent and gestures to an older woman in a red dress. “Miss Grimshaw will take care of you ‘til I need you again.”

You nod. “Okay, sir.”

“Behave yourself, do as you’re told.” Dutch drops his arm from you and turns back to his tent. “Colm won’t find you here, you have my word.”

With that he disappears back into his tent and you’re left standing there with ruined pants and a newfound set of knowledge and feelings. You take a deep breath and step out onto the grass, already anticipating what Dutch will want tomorrow.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x male reader

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wambsgansshoelaces · 10 months

Text

Turmoil; Chapter 7

Roman Roy x Reader

a/n: catch the easter egg hehe

Word Count: 2.60k

Just one day, you tell yourself. One day to forget about all the bullshit in your life and just enjoy yourself. It is a party in your name, after all.

After some moaning and groaning from Roman, you manage to drag him out of bed and get him ready. You stand, hips touching, as he messes with his cologne and you put in your earrings.

“You know some shit is going to happen today,” he mutters.

“Why would you say that?” you chide. “We should be relaxed. It’s our last night here.”

“Murphy’s Law, Y/N.”

“I didn’t know you were smart enough to know what that is.” He smacks your shoulder lightly. “What? I’m being honest,” you tease, smoothing out the wrinkles in the dress you’d picked out a few days before.

“I’m extremely intelligent, just so you know.”

“Sure, Roman.” You laugh.

“I’m the one who got Connor’s watch. And…,” he says conspiratorially, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “I got someone’s personal bank records.”

“I love it when a man commits federal crimes for me,” you say faux-dreamily, smiling at him.

“Y/N, it’s not illegal, if I, er, found them.”

“We’ll talk about it later. I want a stress-free night.”

“Murphy’s Law,” he repeats. “What can go wrong will go wrong.”

“Is it too much to ask of your father to keep his opinions to himself for one night?” you ask, sighing. You perfect your look in the mirror before stepping away form Roman.

He follows you out the door, his fingers subtly intertwined with yours. He’s warmed up to your touch- not that he’s ever not liked it. Kissing, apparently, is still out of the question. You’d realized when you tried giving him a peck good night before bed the other day.

You can’t even begin to count all the people in attendance tonight. You don’t know most of them, as you’d expected, which makes your job more difficult. You have to make yourself look good- and Logan.

You mill about, doing what Roman refers to as ‘standing there and looking so damn pretty’, watching the crowd. He’d scuttled off in the name of finding desserts, leaving you to yourself and your thoughts. Logan had spared no expense for his son- chandeliers were lit, servers were flitting here and there, tables upon tables of food were laid out.

While your situation is less than ideal, you’re able to appreciate nice things when they come.

You idly sip from your glass, letting your gaze rake over the crowd. Logan is sitting by himself off to a corner, seemingly trying to gather his strength to even get up. You wonder where Marcia is, and you briefly feel a pang of sympathy. Only briefly.

Shiv is more than likely flirting with some random guy, you tell yourself, Kendall probably asleep in a separate room. Connor is entertaining his own circle of guests, in his element. He makes weird flapping motions with his arms, and you’re thankful you weren’t pulled into that conversation. Greg is happily munching on an assortment of treats. You’re delighted he’s gotten a break. He’s a good man; he deserves it.

Your gaze snags on a strangely already-balding young man. Before you’d left for this party, Roman had shown you a headshot of the accountant Connor was working with. He seemed freshly out of college, but both his face and certain records you’re sure you’ll be able to dig up say otherwise. If anything, he was suspicious.

To your dismay, he makes his way over to you. You hope this won’t be a repeat of the charity gala- you don’t think you’ll be able to control yourself this time. This guy has a punchable face, anyway.

“The future Mrs. Roy,” he says heartily. You lazily raise your glass to him. “I’ve been keen to meet you.” He talks like an old man, too. “I’m the one who directed my client to you when his things got stolen at the hotel.”

You straighten slightly. “Were you, now? I thought it just came with our… familial ties.” You flash your engagement ring at him.

“I mean, of course that’d be the natural course of thought. Regardless, I had to make sure he went with the best, and you’re the best.”

You’re certain he’s trying to kiss your ass. The question is why. You fold one of your arms over your torso and regard him. “Who are you, again?”

He straightens his blazer and extends his hand out to the one you currently have holding your glass. Jerkily, he puts it back down by his side and says, “Peirce Thompson. Thompson & Thompson Accounting and Banking.”

“What a firm name,” you say blandly.

“My brother and I started the thing up from our bedroom way back when, and the name’s just stuck.”

“So you’ve been around a while, then?”

“Oh, ages, absolute ages.” He dusts off an imaginary bit of lint from his shoulder. You press your lips together.

“Why haven’t I heard of you, then?” you ask carefully.

“Psh, your type of law and my finance rarely collide,” he says condescendingly. “We’re in two different worlds, sweetheart.”

Trying not to recede into yourself, you give him a strange look. What he’s saying is bullshit- you know your way around economics, and you run your own firm. Clearly, you have a handle on finance. “If you say so.”

As if Connor’s shenanigans couldn’t get more confusing. This accountant banker bitch reeks of fish- both figuratively and literally, unfortunately.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you ever personally taken care of many fraud cases?”

“Depends on the kind of fraud we’re talking about.” You manage to catch Kendall’s eyes over Peirce’s shoulder. You subtly widen and release your eyelids, trying to get him to come over.

“Er, tax fraud.”

”Sure I have. Why do you ask?” You turn your gaze back to his.

“Only wondering. Some issues are arising with… clients.”

“Clients, huh?”

Thankfully, before he can say anything, Kendall claps his hand over Peirce’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d be here today,” Kendall says stiffly. “Funny you’d show your face after raking up the interest for my dad by ‘forgetting’ to pay his taxes.” You have to keep yourself from laughing. Kendall continues. “You’ve met my sister? Trying to weasel your way into her finances, too?” He shifts to stand shoulder to shoulder with you. Your heart warms when he refers to you as family.

Peirce grits his teeth. “Lies don’t look good on you, Mr. Roy.”

Kendall snorts before pressing a hand to your back and guiding you away. “Thanks,” you murmur to him as you both slip away.

“He makes me want to rip my hair out. I’ve got you.”

You both make your way to a table, taking seats. You’d been standing for so long your feet were aching. Roman finds you and pulls a chair up right next to yours, and when he sits, he makes sure his leg is touching yours.

Kendall takes note, his eyes flickering from you to Roman. “What happened to ‘I’m going to kill her before I let her near me?’”

You laugh. “You said that?”

“I say lots of things I don’t remember.” Roman pushes a plate piled high with sweets towards you. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got you everything.”

You give his knee a pat. “I appreciate you trying, Roman, but that’s way too much.”

“We’ll all share,” he insists. Kendall smiles, taking the miniature slice of German chocolate cake and setting it on his place.

“My wife catered,” he says simply. “She owns that bakery you like, Y/N. The one always open on the holidays.”

You smile softly at him. You’re happy that he’s happy. You and Roman pig out on the sweets, chattering comfortably until his eyes catch someone as they cross the room.

He somehow manages to smack Kendall’s chest from across the table and stares back into the crowd.

You and Kendall both follow Roman’s gaze. You just barely catch Marcia as she slips out of the main atrium, a man in tow.

Kendall must see something you don’t. “Give me your fucking phone,” he says quickly. Without thinking, you hand it to him and he power walks after her. You and Roman follow, albeit much slower because Kendall already looks crazy.

Kendall’s leagues ahead of you at this point, but he’s slow enough that you and Roman can tail him. You wind through the corridors until the three of you have stopped in an eerily empty hallway. Kendall is peeping into the sitting area that dead-ends the hall, and almost immediately doubles back, seemingly sick. He steels himself, then takes your phone and sticks it through the doorway and starts filming.

Peeking over his shoulder, you wince.

Marcia has a fuck buddy, and it isn’t Logan Roy.

As desperately as you want to get rid of the image of Marcia having sex from your brain, you can’t. It simultaneously makes you want to puke but also, disgustingly, elated that you now have something over her- and by proxy, Logan.

After an excruciating five minutes, the three of you had gone back to the party. You and Roman had danced a bit, and he’d admittedly embarrassed you with his extremely out-of-date moves. Despite it all, you’d found yourself laughing and having more fun than you’d had in ages.

Now, you’re struggling to unzip the back of your dress. Roman’s stooped over the sink, aggressively washing his face.

“Rome, you’re going to rip it off. Calm down,” you manage, tongue between your teeth as you continue to attempt to pull down the zipper.

He pats his face dry with a towel. “I’m being thorough.” Without being asked,he comes over to you and tugs the zipper open. “You should wear that more often.”

“I literally just got it.”

“Yeah. Keep wearing it.” His hands go to sit on your hips, gently rubbing.

“What’s with the affection all of the sudden?” He settles his face into your shoulder as you move to put your hair up. “Not that I’m complaining.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Getting more comfortable,” he says into your skin. “I don’t… I’ve never had a relationship like this. Where we genuinely liked each other.” You stay silent, letting him gather his thoughts. “I’m just scared. But we’ve been over that before.”

”You can always tell me how you’re feeling,” you say softly.

“I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t think I’ll physically be able to handle it.” Roman pulls away from you, padding into the bedroom. You quickly change into your pajamas before following him, slipping under the covers by his side. “I also don’t want to hurt you,” he says quietly.

“What makes you think you’ll hurt me?”

“I don’t exactly have the greatest track record with relationships, do I? Behind all that hoity toity lawyer stuff, you’re so horribly kind. It makes me sick, honestly.” He’s facing you, pain flickering across his face. “People have never really liked me for me, you know? It’s always just for my money, or my brother, or Dad. It’s like… it’s like I’m not even here.”

You take a moment before responding. “I see you. You work hard, Roman. I should express my appreciation more.”

You’re right. Despite your consistent bickering in the beginning, Roman was dedicated to what you were trying to do together. Like clockwork, he’d have paperwork on your desk or news articles sent or even a mug of coffee. Recently, too- he’d helped you confirm Connor was lying, and now he apparently has dirt on his finances- and financier.

“Even though you’re honestly a jerk, I think deep down under all of that clownery you’re a good guy,” you murmur.

“You’re so backhanded,” he complains, reaching across you to pull you into him. His arm wraps around your back, the other sitting on the back of your thigh as he shifts you on top of him. You set your cheek on his chest.

“Really, Roman. I think you’re too hard on yourself.” His fingers trace circles into your skin.

“I don’t even know what I’m talking about.” You catch your eyes drooping as he speaks. “I want to try this. Seriously. Actually.”

“You can,” you murmur back. “We can.”

“I want to start acting like a real couple. I want you to trust me, to feel safe with me.”

You sigh happily as his fingers continue their ministrations. “I already do.”

“That makes you kind of stupid, really.” Roman presses a hesitant kiss to your head. “Like you said, I’m a jerk, and on top of that, I’m vain, self absorbed, wickedly good looking…”

“Oh, shut up.” You laugh lightly into his chest.

He does, for a few moments. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

He gently takes your chin, tilting it up enough so he can look at you. You can tell he’s fighting with himself in his mind. Shakily, he presses his lips to yours.

It’s a stiff, awkward kiss, and he pulls away quickly.

“Good night, Y/N.”

☾𖤓

The next morning, you’re leaning against the wall, fighting off sleep. Your flight is bright and early, and therefore so are you. Roman insisted to carry all of your luggage out to the car, so you stand in the foyer, avoiding the outside chill of the morning. You and Greg talk about nothing while Kendall stares into his empty coffee cup, Shiv on his other side, teeth chattering.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you- I’ve gotten a few bank statements I want you to take a look at. Don’t worry about them now, though. I don’t want you stressing until we get back. I mean, I don’t want you stressing at all, and I’m just trying to preserve the peace until we get back to the States. I mean- I don’t know what I mean.”

You give his arm an affectionate squeeze, and he rubs the grogginess from his eyes.

Roman shuffles back in, his breath clouding out in front of him before he steps back into the heat. “Santa took a fat shit outside.”

“How poetic,” you mutter in response. “You have such a way with words.”

He waits for the other three to file out of the foyer before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Just for you.”

The flight back is lethargic. Nobody wants to get back to work, least of all you. Roman’s sprawled across your lap, and you idly scratch at his scalp. Kendall sits on your other side, slumped against you with his blanket pulled over his head. Shiv once again sits across from you, her legs once again propped up on the side of your lap Roman isn’t occupying. Greg has a sofa all to himself, his legs sticking off the end as he snores lightly.

Logan, again, had elected to take a different flight. It’s for the better, anyway.

“You think I can hire a hit man without getting arrested?” Shiv asks you nonchalantly.

“I want to see you try.” You give her ankle a pat. “You’ll do great,” you tell her sarcastically. “I’ll be so excited to come see you during prison visiting hours. If you get any.”

“Oh, be quiet. I’d execute it perfectly.”

“I really do hope you’re joking. Do you know how stupid people who hire ‘hit men’ are?” you ask, making air quotes with your free hand.

“What? It’d be fun, I think.”

“Stop thinking, then, Shiv.”

The rest of the long flight goes by slowly. When you step off the stairway and onto the asphalt, you take a breath of the smoke-infused air. It’s disgusting compared to the crisp, Norwegian air. Your nose scrunches.

“Fuckin’ gross…,” Kendall mutters as he gently pushes past you, his face mirroring yours. After everyone goes their separate ways, you and Roman are left to each other in the backseat of the car taking you back to your apartment.

The rest of the day is lazy. You spend it curled together on the couch.

#succession #succession fic #succession hbo #roman roy #wambsgansshoelaces #succession x reader #turmoil #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy slowburn #I’m back pookies

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dantakeyoman · 1 year

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𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 | 𝐣. 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞

♡ 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡ *𝒐𝒉, (𝒚/𝒏)? 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒕, 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏, 𝒕𝒐𝒐. 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒆𝒓. …𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. *

♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

♡ * 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚 - 𝒑𝒐𝒗: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 *

𝐓𝐖𝐎

"Look who's graced me with his presence," you sighed, a small smirk playing on your lips as Dally hopped the hand-rail to the Nightly Double, obviously not paying.

"How ya doin', Nails?" He smiled, sitting down in the empty aisle seat next to you.

"Peachy...'til you got here," you teased, "Slide me a cancer stick."

He sighed, rummaging in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a single one, handing it to you, "You better smoke it good, that's my last one."

"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on," you rolled your eyes, kicking up your feet and whipping out your bright, red lighter.

A gift Johnny gave you for your thirteenth birthday.

You placed the cigarette in your mouth, checking out the scar on your lip through the reflection of the trigger.

It had been two months since you got jumped by the Socs, your encounter leaving you with a faint scar on the right side of your lip, stretching from right under your nose to right under the curve of your bottom lip.

And, unsurprisingly, things between the Socs and the Greasers had gone tremendously bad.

There was a fight nearly every other day, and despite the No Jazz rule you and Darry had tried to put into effect, the Socs were just making it too hard to keep a cool head.

Fightin' words, slashing tires, jumping.

It really made you wonder who were the real hoods.

"Hey, (y/n/n)," Johnny greeted, walking up to the rail and hopping over it just like Dally did a minute ago.

You quietly gasped and dropped your lighter, nearly inhaling your cig and setting yourself on fire in the process.

You squeaked and scrambled to pick it up, Dal letting out an obnoxious laugh as Johnny quickly rushed over to you, patting you on the back to clear up your coughing fit.

"You alright?! What happened?" He asked, concerned as he took his seat next to you.

You sat up, turning to Dally and shooting him a sharp glare, him returning it with his very punchable smirk.

"Sorry, Johnnycake. You just startled me is all," you cleared your throat, rummaging in your pocket and grabbing some change.

"S'all right if you could go to the stand and get me some water?"

"Sure," he nodded, taking the money and standing up, walking over to the concession stand to wait in line.

Once you were sure he was out of earshot, you let Dally have it.

"Bastard! What the hell?! You didn't tell me Johnny was coming!" You whisper-yelled, smacking the man in the arm.

"Cool it, would ya. You two need this," he scoffed, your attacks not even phasing him.

"I'm sick of all the puppy dog eyes and the blushin' and shit. Everyone and their mother knows that you two like each other."

You flushed with embarrassment, slightly taken aback.

'That couldn't be true, right?'

You and Johnny went back to the sandbox, and for as long as you can remember you've felt some type of way about him.

The way his hair fell in his face, the way certain things would bring a small sparkle to his brown eyes, the way you could catch hints of his true smile if you were paying attention.

The way the two of you could talk about nothing and yet everything when you where alone.

Of course, you firmly believed that all of these feelings were one sided.

"The stupid excuses like I gotta go to the DX or I was gonna meet up wit' Pony is not gonna get you two outta this, so here's how it's gonna go."

He quickly turned around to make sure Johnny was anywhere near, but the poor boy was still at the very back of the large line.

"When Johnny comes back with your water, I'm gonna go get some popcorn and never come back, leavin' you two alone to start to get to business. You guys'll talk, do all the little sappy shit, and then right in the middle of his sentence, you're gonna grab 'im by his collar and kiss 'im. Boom. Match made."

You were gagged

'This guy's got jokes.'

"What happened? You turn into a comedian since the last time I saw you?" You asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes and turning around to face the movie.

"I'm not doin' that shit."

"Aw, c'mon, Nails. Johnny's too chicken shit for this, it's gotta be you," he whined, throwing his head back in annoyance.

"Besides...me and Soda made a bet with Two that says we get two packs each if you break first."

"Ah hah! That's what this is all about. You don't want me and Johnny to get together, you just want a couple free cigs," you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.

'Unbelievable.'

"Not entirely. I am tired of seein' you two make goo goo eyes at each other and not doin' nothin' about it. So if I get you two to cut it and a couple of free packs, o' course I'm gonna take advantage of the situation," he corrected, pausing his smoking to take a quick swig of beer.

"(y/n/n) and Johnny are gettin' together?!" Ponyboy exclaimed out of nowhere, hopping the rail and sitting down next to you.

"Will you shut up?!" You hissed, nervous that Johnny might've heard.

"Aw, what the hell are you doin' here?! You're messin' up the plan, Pone," Dally groaned, shooing away the boy with his hand.

"The plan? What plan?" Pony cocked a brow, confused.

"The one I discussed with the boys. I thought you were there, too?" Dal answered, scratching his head.

"Everyone else is in on this shit?!" You whipped your head around to Dally.

"Well, s'not my fault. Johnny was the one who asked me to come with 'im," Pony shrugged, turning to look at the movie.

"You'd think you two were attached at the hip," Dally sighed, turning around to get an update on Johnny's whereabouts.

"Doesn't matter now. The kid's walkin' back over,"

'Thank God.'

"Gotchu your water, (y/n/n)," Johnny stated, handing you the cup and your money back.

Dally stretched his arm over your shoulder and flicked Pony in the ear, getting him to move a seat over and allow Johnny to sit next to you again.

"Thanks, Johnnycake," you smiled, taking a sip and counting your change as the boy looked up at the screen to take away from the buzzing feeling in his stomach.

When you finished counting, you realized it was the exact amount of money you gave him.

"Wait, didya-." "I paid for it," he answered, already knowing your question, keeping his eyes trained on the screen.

"You ain't hafta do that, Johnny," you turned to him.

You were the one with the job. It was your responsibility to pay for your things.

"I know," he turned to you.

Your eyes met, and you looked at him through those thick lashes with those (e/c) eyes that sparkled in the projector light.

He swallowed thickly.

"S-S'least I could do. Wanted you to be all right."

You smiled, his heartbeat picking up twice as fast.

"I-." "What movie is this?" Pony asked, oblivious to the scene unfolding next to him.

Dally cursed under his breath, grumbling about how that boy was thicker than a brick.

That is, until a couple of Socs girls took the seats in front of you, and took his attention elsewhere.

"What's he grumblin' about?" Johnny asked in a low voice, turning to face the movie.

"I dunno. He's been weird tonight," you sighed, watching the movie as well. He nodded, his face turning confused when he saw someone get hit in the back with a baseball bat.

"Pone was onto somethin'. What is this movie?" He asked, nosed scrunched.

You chuckled, "Who knows. I think it's somethin' beachy."

He smiled, "Be nice to go to a beach one day...see the ocean."

"No kiddin'," you agreed, "I'd settle for anywhere outta Oklahoma."

"Forget Oklahoma. I'd settle for anywhere outta the neighborhood," he scoffed.

You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder, not noticing that the poor boy went stiff as a board at your touch.

"I could never do it, though. Don't got the guts," you dismissed.

Johnny was taken aback.

No guts? You had more guts than half the gang combined.

You'd toughed out situations that grown men'd never dream of.

No guts? "Whatchu talkin' about?" He asked, turning to look at you, confused. "You got a ton of guts, and you're plenty smart, too. If any of us is makin' it outta Oklahoma, it's you." "I'm not makin' it outta anywhere," you scoffed, looking up at him seriously. "I could never leave (b/n/n). I could never leave the gang."

You paused.

"I could never leave you, Johnnycake."

Johnny's stomach flipped so much, he nearly thought he'd flip, too.

It was as if you knew every little thing that could set him off, every little thing that had him at your beck and call like a lovesick puppy.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and he knew this, and had no problem with it.

"You guys are my family. No place'd be worth going without y'all."

He smiled, approvingly, turning to face the movie, "Thanks."

The two of you focused back on the screen, staying in comfortable silence as you watched the movie, Dally and the two Soc girls started to get a little loud.

You were about to say something, until you felt your entire body let out one violent shiver, remind you that you were outside with nothing but a tank top and jeans.

Your breath hitched, and you hoped Johnny didn't notice, slowly looking up to face him.

Only to see that he was already looking at you, disapprovingly.

"Why ain't chu wearin' a coat, (y/n/n)? S'freezin' out here," he asked, concerned, as he began shimmying off his jean jacket, trying not disturb your head.

"I'm fine, Johnny. I just came from the DX so I didn't have time to grab a coat for nothin'," you sighed, pushing his jacket back on.

"I'm not cold, promise."

"Warm people don't shiver," he cocked a brow.

"Maybe that'll cool you off, Greaser! When you learn to talk and act decent, I might cool off, too!" The redheaded Soc girl suddenly shouted, splashing a drink all over Dally's face.

He had moved his seat from your row to hers, and had seemed to have been harassing her the entire time.

'Probably why those two were getting loud earlier. Fuckin' Dallas.'

"Fiery, huh? Just the way I like 'em," Dally smirked, grabbing her and pulling her close, much to her protest.

"Get off me!"

"Dally, leave 'er alone," you ordered firmly, sitting up off Johnny's shoulder.

But he ignored you, continuing touch and shove her around, a smile on his face.

"C'mon, Dal, you heard 'er. Leave 'er alone," Johnny chimed in, sitting up straight, too.

You were quietly shocked.

Johnny would never so much as stick a toe out in front of Dallas, let alone raise his voice at him.

He practically worshiped the ground he walked on.

"What'd you say?" Dally's smile fell, almost instantly, and he stopped his advances, turning to glare at Johnny.

"What'd you say to me, you little shit? What'd you say to me?"

"C'mon," Johnny sighed, his eyes pleading Dal to cool it.

And Dally picked up on this, sucking his teeth before roughly stuffing his hands in his pockets, standing up out the chair.

"Wise ass," he grumbled, walking up the ramp and out of the Nightly Double.

You, Johnny, and Pone, let out a sigh of relief you didn't even know you were holding, the three of you knowing good and well that you dodged a bullet.

"Now you blew it," Pony grumbled to the two of you, knowing that all you did was postpone Dally's blow out for later.

"Thank you. He had me scared to death," the redhead turned around, releasing her own sigh of relief.

"Sure didn't show it," Johnny shrugged, "Ain't nobody talk to Dal like that."

"Well, I saw you do. And her, too," she smiled.

That's when it hit you, "Hey, ain't you that cheerleader from school? Cherry?"

"My real name's Sherri, but my friends call me Cherry 'cause of my hair."

Yeah, you knew Cherry.

Cherry, the cheerleader. Cherry, the Soc girl.

Cherry, Bob's girlfriend. Cherry, girlfriend of the guy that nearly knocked your lights out.

Yeah, you knew Cherry.

Call it childish but two months ain't a long time, and it's hard to forget with a permanent reminder plastered on your lip.

"Why don't y'all sit with us, so you can protect us?" Cherry's friend suggested with a smile.

The boys turned to each other, Pony giving Johnny a nod.

But Johnny turned to you, realizing that you were back to watching the movie, disengaging from the conversation before you said something you'd regret.

He noticed this, and knew he wanted to stay with you through it.

Not that he was gonna get up and move, anyway.

"Imma stay back here," he stated, sitting back into his seat, your head reclaiming its spot on his shoulder.

Pony shrugged, moving to sit next to Cherry and starting up some conversation with her.

"You think Dal's gonna be mad?" Johnny asked, tiredly resting his head on top of yours.

You waved it off, "Dally's drunk. Give 'im some time to cool off and he'll be alright."

Feeling another shiver coming, you nuzzled closer to the boy, kicking up your legs on his as you relished the warmth that his jacket provided.

He let out an easy sigh, before allowing his body to ease itself into you, both of you molding together as if you were puzzle pieces.

It was so comfy, you nearly fell asleep right there.

𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆

"God, I'm so dog-tired I could drop," you groaned, trying to rub the exhaustion off your face as the five of you walked home.

The boys agreed to walk the Soc girls back to theirs, and at first you were completely against it, opting to walk yourself home rather than help them.

But all Johnny had to do was flash you a quick smile and ask a sincere, "Please," and you were putty in his hand.

"Did you work another double again?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

You winced, "...Maybe, but that's only because they offered some extra cash if I stayed longer."

"You just did a double yesterday. And did a triple a day or so ago. I told you about takin' breaks, (y/n/n)," he scolded, though not really.

He could never be mad at you.

"I know, I know, but I jus-." "Now I remember," Cherry realized, turning away from her talk with Pony to face you.

"You're the greaser girl that works at the DX, right? That's where I know you from."

You cocked a brow at her description of you, the boys quietly wincing at the reminder.

No matter how long they talked, or how deep the conversation, you were still Grease, and they were still Soc.

Noticing the quiet, she caught herself, slightly embarrassed "Sorry.....force of habit."

Just then, the sound of moving gravel snapped you all out of conversation, and you turned around to see two mustangs pull up behind you.

'Damn. ...Them's some tuff cars.'

"Oh, they're coming! What're we gonna do?" The other girl, who you learned to be Marcia, nervously whispered to Cherry.

"Just act normal," she whispered back.

"Who're these clowns?" A familiar voice asked, stepping out of the car.

'You've gotta be kidding me.'

It was that Soc bastard, Bob.

"Johnny..." you whispered, uneasy

"I know," he sighed, resting his hand in his right pocket, the pocket where he always kept his blade.

"Cherry! What's goin' on?!" Bob exclaimed, storming over with another Soc boy.

"Just because we got a little drunk, doesn't mean-!" "A little?!" Cherry interrupted.

"You call reeling and passing out in the street a little?! Bob, I've told you before, I'm never going out with you when you're drinking, and I mean it!"

"That's no reason to go walking the streets with these bums," the other boy chimed.

'Bums?!'

"Who you callin' bums, pal!" You glared, pointing harshly at the boy.

"You!" He spat back.

"Randy!"

"(y/n/n)," Johnny warned lowly, getting more anxious by the second.

Your fire might've been what drew him to you at first, but one of these days it was going to get you killed.

"Listen, we got two more of us in the backseat," Randy whispered, getting up close and personal.

You quickly picked up a beer bottle, smashing it against the fence and then tossing it to Pony, whipping out your own blade as well.

"Fuck the backseat!" You spat, pointing the tip of it at his throat.

"If you're lookin' for a fight-." "Hell, yeah, I'm lookin' for a fight!" You didn't back down.

"Let's go! Put the knife down!"

"Let's go, then! C'mon!"

"Put the knife down!"

"You got your guys, I got my knife, pal!"

"Stop it! Just stop it!" Cherry shouted, stepping in between you two.

"We'll go with you. Just give us a minute."

"Why? We ain't scared of these bastards," you looked the two boys up and down, disgusted.

"I hate fights, all right. I hate 'em," she sighed, raking a nervous hand through her hair.

She walked over to Ponyboy, wishing him a quick goodbye, before her and Marcia hopped in the Socs car, driving off.

"Greaseball!" Bob shouted out the window, drunkenly.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back, roughly flipping off the car as Johnny threw an arm over your shoulder.

Quite literally being the only thing keeping you from chasing after them.

"C'mon, (y/n/n), let's go," Pony sighed, the three of you turning around to walk back home.

𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆

"I hate those damn Socs. Who do they think they are thinkin' they can talk to us like that?" You grumbled, curled into yourself as you lay down on a disposed couch.

Pony had gone back to the Curtis' house, no doubt getting chewed out for coming home so late.

And you and Johnny had decided to sleepover in the lot for the night, since neither of you wished to be home at the moment.

"And who are they to say that Cherry girl couldn't hang out with Pony."

Sure, you didn't exactly like her, but you could tell Pony did. And all you wanted for that boy was for him to be happy.

Lord knows he's been through enough already.

"S'cause we're greasers, (y/n/n)," Johnny sighed, finishing up the fire before standing up and dusting off his pants.

"He might've hurt her reputation or something, that's all. Don't worry about it."

He walked over to the couch, plopping himself down next to you and smiling at how quick you were to snuggle up under him.

Despite his jean jacket, you were still cooler than an ice cube, and he was still, surprisingly, very warm.

"I guess," you sighed, resting your head on his chest.

He paused for a moment, trying to come up with a way to bring your spirits up.

"Man, that was a tuff car, huh," he started, remembering how you were eyeing Bob's car just as much as he was.

"Mustangs...they're tuff."

You let out a tired exhale, appreciative of the gesture, but just not in the mood.

That is, until the sound of Johnny's parents started to ring in the lot.

They were arguing, way louder than usual.

To the point where most of the curses could be heard crystal clear, as if you were in the house with them.

You could feel Johnny's breath become heavy, and you looked up at him, his expression dropping by the second.

"I don't think I can take much more of this, (y/n/n)," he caved, raking a frantic hand through his hair.

"I'll...I'll kill myself or something. I don't know."

The second those words came out his mouth, you nearly went catatonic.

Johnny? Kill himself?

There was no way.

You couldn't even fathom what your life would be like without your best friend, your favorite guy.

Your one true love, and the subject of all your affection.

...

Or something Shakespearean like that.

"Johnny Cade, you will do no such thing, you hear me?" You ordered firmly, placing both your hands on his face and turning him to face you.

"No such thing."

"I gotta do somethin'," he cried, his face easing into your hands.

With a sigh, you laid back in the chair, bringing him with you, and letting him rest his head on your chest.

"It seems like there's gotta be a place without Greasers and Socs," he sniffled, nuzzling closer "Must be someplace...with just plain, ordinary people."

You nodded, gliding your hand through his hair carefully, "S'like that out in the country. Away from all the big towns."

Feeling him begin to relax already, you decided to continue.

"The people are friendly and the houses are few and far between. There's room to stretch your legs and night are quiet...real quiet. Not to mention the animals."

And you continued on just like that, until eventually, the two of you were lulled asleep, welcoming dreams of the paradise you described.

"I love you, (y/n/n)," Johnny muttered, half asleep and barely above a whisper.

But you were already out like a light, no memory of the boy's words at all.

𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆

#johnny cade x reader #johnny cade #the outsiders #outsiders #the outsiders x reader #cade x reader #johnnycake

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