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imaginaryf1shots · 7 months ago

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Age | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 3.6K

Warning: Age Gap, cursing? kissing

Summery:(REQUESTED) When you fall for your boss who is much older than you.

Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

Getting with Lewis wasn't what you sat out to do, you started working for his LH team, managing their social media and content. They felt like a younger person would best suit the job, Lewis wasn't involved in hiring you. In fact you hadn't seen him until a few weeks after you were hired. When you were sent to film him for content to post on Instagram. Lewis is a very nice man, it's a well known fact. Everyone that has ever

worked with him would tell you this(just don't ask Nico).

You haven't always been drawn to older men; you don't think about age that much. As long as you're both legal and mature, why not? But it wasn't like a kink or a plus in your books. Lewis just drew you in. Maybe it was his confidence, his maturity, or something completely different that captivated you. What you know for sure is that Lewis had your attention the moment you met and talked; there was no denying it. The pull you had, how easy it was for you to talk and have a laugh, was undeniable. Your relationship started professionally, but the more you met, the more you talked, and the more you got to know each other, the closer you got. And when you exchanged personal phone numbers, it was game over. You were calling each other all the time, texting, and FaceTiming. You hadn't reached the point of meeting when there was no reason to. But then Lewis had you travel with him under the guise of needing content, even though Mercedes had its own media managers.

You were denying your feelings. Lewis is an older, more experienced man, and he could have any woman he wants, why would he care or be interested in you, you found no reason for it. All the calls and texting you just convinced yourself is him being nice. Maybe he sees you as a mentee and nothing else.

You were at a hotel room in New York, Lewis had a shoot for one sponsor or the other plus a fashion event to attend. The sponsor stuff was already filmed and done the day before, so that was that. Meaning you'd only photograph Lewis with his outfit to the event and your day of work would be done. Your room was booked in the same hotel as Lewis, definitelydefiantly not as lush as his but it was a five star hotel, your room was amazing. You were lounging a bit in your room until you receive a call that Lewis was

done changing. You hear a knock on the door, you haven't ordered room service, so it came as a surprise.

Getting up from your comfy position on the bed, you open the door to see one of the hotel staff standing in front of you with a clothes bag in hand.

"Hi? How can I help you?" You ask the man, who had a polite smile on his face.

"I was asked to bring this to you." The man tries to hand you the bag but you step back.

"Are you sure you got the right room?" You're certain there must be a mistake why would you be sent a clothes bag

"You're Ms. y/n y/n, right?" You nod with a small yes. The man then smiled bigger and handedhands you the bag again. "Then this is for you."

You hesitate before taking the bag, thanking the man and then closing the door. You open the bag and a dress that is more expensive than anything you own is there waiting for you. Your mouth drops, the dress is stunning, you don't know the brand but it lookslooked amazing. After the shock of seeing the dress wore off you lay it on the bed and find your phone, pressing Lewis's name in the recently calls and press the phone to your ear

"Hello"

"Don't hello me." You say looking at the dress as if it just called you cheap in every language on earth, your tone is not happy and Lewis picks up on it instantly

"What's wrong, love? What did I do?" Lewis has an inkling why you're not happy with him and he's trying not to smile, but he's failing miserably

"You just sent me a dress, for some unknown reason, and I bet it cost an arm and a leg!" You exclaim and Lewis could imagine you pouting as you talk, he lets out a small giggle.

"Look it's from one of my favourite up and coming designers and I saw the design and I instantly thought of you." Lewis defends himself, it's the same designer that designed his clothes for the day.

"So you bought it for me?" You ask in disbelief.

"Yeah." Lewis replied as if it's the most normal thing ever

"Lewis!"

"Yes, baby girl." You instantly stop when you hear the new pet name, Lewis calls you love a lot but that's just because he's British. But this, this new, it got you blushing and struggling to say anything, you're feeling shy and speechless. Damn that man, he knew what he was doing "Seeing as you're not saying anything, I expect to see you in that dress when you come up, also I'll be done in 15 minutes or so."

Lewis hangs up and you're left there staring at the dress, before you sigh. Thankfully you showered this morning, so you just started on your make-up a simple look that will complement the dress nicely, and do your hair. It's more than 15 minutes, but you haven't gotten a call from Lewis or anyone else in the team. Once you're finished and with small heels on you're making your way up to Lewis's suite.

It doesn't take long before the door opens by the designer, she gasps looking at you and grins

"You look stunning" You blush at the praise and walk in

"It's all thanks to you." You wave her compliment off.

"Thanks, but it's the person in the clothes that brings out the beauty of the designs." She tells you and you can't fight the redness in your cheeks. "Lewis is in there."

You go to the room she's pointing at, you're holding your camera equipment bag in your hand. You walk in and see Lewis standing in front of the mirror, inspecting everything about his look. He doesn't look up when you walk in, so you take the moment to take him in, the see-through shirt allows you to see the faint outline of his abs and muscles, his tattoos on show.

Lewis feels your presence, he looks at you and you don't realise it so caught up in checking him out. Happy with himself he takes a moment to look at you, and you're stunning, the dress fits you like a glove, tight in the right places and loose in the right places. He's never seen you so dressed up. Lewis is out of his trace before you are. He clears his throat and your eyes snap to his

All you see in his eyes is amusement, the blush comes back to your cheeks but you ignore it and him and take out your camera.

"You're done right?" You ask him busying yourself. You already know where you want to take the photos, where the best lighting is for everything

"You look stunning, love." Lewis's words once more stun you, and you pause in your actions before you look up at him once more, meeting his coffee coloured eyes.

"It's not practical." You say and stand straight your free hand runs over the dress to smooth out any wrinkles, suddenly feeling insecure. Lewis is always having women thrown at him, models and beauty queens, all stunning, and here you are, just him social media manager/photographer

"It's not meant to be practical, besides after the photos, you're off for the night, and you're coming as my plus one." Lewis states and your eyes go wide

"W-What? No, Lewis I can't go as your plus one." You tell him with a shake to your head.

"Why not?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Because... I just can't, H-I don't want to." You mumble, looking at the floor not meeting his eyes.

"You don't have to walk the carpet with me, just go inside and join me there." Lewis doesn't want to take it personally, he knows being seen with him comes with a lot of packages and you're not even dating yet.

"Okay, yeah, I can do that." You say and look at him and swallow, Lewis had a smile on his face, as his eyes held you in. You cough and wave your camera. "Let's take some photos now.”

Lewis knows how to pose and it doesn't take long before you have the shots you're both happy with, before Lewis leads you to the mirror with his phone in hand.

"Come on, one of us together." Lewis's smile makes it hard for you to refuse, his arm wraps around you pulling you close to his side, you gasp and his quick movement your hand falls onto his chest to stabilise yourself. You look up, and his face is so close to yours, he's facing the mirror, and clicks his phone to capture the look on your face as you look up at him, Licking your lips slightly you face the mirror and

smile, ignoring your fast beating heart, it's so fast Lewis must feel it. You both pose for a few more, all with Lewis's hand one you one way or the other.

The car ride is filled with small talk, as Lewis and the designer talk, they'll walk the red carpet and you'll be dropped at another entrance. You're sitting between Lewis and the designer. You pull at your cuticles an anxious tic you have when you're anxious. Lewis doesn't look at you, before he takes your hand in his. Your heart skips a beat. Lewis only lets go when you arrive, both their doors are open, and before he lets go of your hand he gives it a squeeze and he gets out

Your seat is next to the designer close to where Lewis is sitting, they have all the A-listers sitting next to each other. But Lewis does come to talk to you before the show begins, and makes sure you're okay. But you only get talking after the show. Where the music is playing, people are dancing and the drinks are flowing at the open bar

"Your first show, what do you think?" Lewis asks you, you're both deciding not to drink since you have flights tomorrow.

"It was great." You reply with a smile. "It was so much fun... thank you."

"No worries, did you take any pictures?" Lewis asked and you shook your head no. "We can't have that, come on, I know a spot upstairs"

Lewis doesn't wait or hesitate, he takes your hand in his and leads you through the crowds, he helps you up the stairs like the gentleman he is. The place he takes you to is empty, the lighting is good and the music is faint. Lewis lets go of your hand and takes out his phone.

"Okay, Mr. photographer, where do you want me?" You tease him and move your arms shyly.

"Right here." Lewis moves you to where he wants and you pose, Lewis hypes you up. "You look great love, a little to the right, yes, now move your shoulder to the front, right there, wow, this one looks amazing, look at you posing."

For the next 15 minutes Lewis takes all sorts of photos, the last ones being a close up of your upper body and face. You don't look at the lens for those you look at him, and maybe that's why they're his favourite. You stand even closer to the older man as you look at the photos he took.

"Look at you go, if you even want to switch careers, photography will do you good." You smile and then look up at him, he's already looking at you and for the hundredth time today, your heart starts beating faster. He's so close to you, you can smell his cologne. Is he? Is he moving closer? Or is it just your mind playing tricks on you? You lick your lips and his eyes move from yours down to follow the movement.

You're already wearing heels, so you couldn't tip toe to close the distance, but you didn't have to, because Lewis leans down and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, as a shiver went down your spine. Lewis's lips moved against yours once, twice, thrice before he pulled back all too suddenly. The warmths that overwhelmed you is suddenly gone. Lewis’s hands are gone and he takes a step back, your eyes flutter open and all you see is regret. The insecurity is hitting you hard.

”W-w…”

”I’m so sorry love, I didn’t mean to- I just- I’m sorry.” Lewis found himself unable to find the words, he has liked you for a long time, but here he is after kissing you suddenly doubting himself.

”No, no it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise.” You say and look to the side, your hands wrapped around your middle, you swallow.

”No, I have to, I didn’t ask and I don’t know if you wanted me to kiss you and I just did.” Lewis says and you realise why he stopped, why he looked so regretful. He thought you didn’t like it, that he forced you, he thought you didn't like it. “I’m your boss, and I may have pressured you into it and I never wanted to do something like this, I completely understand if- why? Why are you smiling?”

”Oh Lewis Hamilton, the man you are.” Lewis is now left confused, you step closer to him, and Lewis stands still with his hands down by his sides, as you place your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles under your fingertips. “If you only knew how much you affect me, I just thought it was one-sided, that you see me as a child or something.”

”Believe me baby girl, I see you as the woman you are.” Lewis’s voice drops a few octaves that have you shivering. His hand makes the small of your back home, he pulls you closer so you’re flush against him, a gasp leaves your lips, and his hand moves down to the top of your butt.

”Lewis.” You breathe out, your eyes fluttering.

”Sweetheart.” Those fucking pet names will be the death of you, this time you pull him by the back of his neck down to meet your lips. The soft moanes leaving your lips leave him wanting for more.

You don't know how long you stood there for but by the time you were done with the little make out session you both had to fix your lipstick. The lavish bathroom you both stand in front of the mirror, trying to wipe the lipstick. Exchanging smiles and giggles through the mirror, pumping hips and kisses.

”Lewis stop, we can’t kiss, I have lipstick on.” You say giggling halfheartedly pushing him away.

”Once I got a taste I couldn’t resist.” You blush and tell him to stop once more, before you both leave the bathroom. Going back to the event downstairs you both act as if nothing appended, and somehow you sell it.

Safe to say, you’re stuck to each other’s side. Lewis flies you everywhere and your relationship turns from professional to romantic slowly in front of the others, but to you two, after that night in New York you were dating.

You dreaded the time the media will find out, you know there’s two ways it will go, either they will go after Lewis or they will go after you. And you think they’ll go after you. Your appearance in the paddock was nothing new, but your appearance at dinners with other drivers and wags was new. No one said anything or commented, you got on super well with the wags. You did share your fears with Kika and Alex, they gave you as much advice as they could and told you what to expect. It’s always hard when a driver hard launches or even is just rumoured to be with someone.

You and Lewis didn’t get the chance to hard launch or soft launch, or do any of that sorts. A paparazzi somehow found you while you were on vacation and snapped a lot of pictures of the two of you in intimate positions. Kissing, cuddling, hands all over each other, there was no way of getting out of that one.

So during the next race Lewis walked into the paddock with your hand in his, the fans weren’t 100% who you were when the photos were leaked, but the moment you walked in all your social media was out for everyone to see. The things you were both scared of the most, happened. The fans weren’t happy with the age gap, you were both adults but it seemed like everyone knew why you were dating but you too. And that Lewis is just too nice to know that you’re with him for money. The almost 40 year old didn’t know any better. Like a lot of wags you received a lot of hate, and Lewis hadn’t confirmed a relationship in years, so you were an awaited wag.

You both expected all of this, what you didn’t expect is for every driver that interacted with Lewis to have their social media flooded with messages and comments of people telling them to tell Lewis that you were using him, and that the age gap is disgusting.

Lando was streaming once and he was talking about Mercedes or something when the chat took that turn.

”Come on chat, don’t be mean.” Lando said after he noticed all those comments. “You don’t know y/n and Lewis, they’re perfectly happy and there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s all just care about ourselves.”

Lily and Alex were live on Instagram for one reason or the other and they also got a ton of comments, especially since Lilly was seen hanging out with you a Friday of a race weekend.

“Believe me guys, y/n, is the nicest person ever, she’s so understanding and sweet.” Lilly said to the viewers, after seeing where the comments turned to.

”We’ve actually gone out with them a few times, and they look happy and in love.” Alex added.

”I haven’t been around LEwis much, but I feel like he looks… happier and more content?” Lily said and looked at her boyfriend.

”Yeah, I think George said as well, he looks happy and that this relationship is doing them both a lot of good.” Alex said and Lily nodded with him. “It’s good when you get into a relationship and you become better and happier.”

”Yeah.”

Things like that kept happening, and there were some videos of you and Lewis posted online just being lost in each other while dancing, having dinner or even just walking. The way you’d give each other all the attention when you’re talking is something admirable.

All those things online, affected you, you hated how negative your space online became, how much it became on Lewis’s accounts, and on the other drivers’ accounts as well. What it didn’t affect is your relationship with Lewis.

Lewis wasn’t happy, of course he wasn’t. You’re his girlfriend and his ‘fans’ are attacking you online, he can see how your smile never reached your eyes when you said you were okay. It affected you to some degree.

So he just hugged you tighter, told you he loved you more, and tried everything to keep you away from all that talk.

“What are you doing?” You mumble as you wake up from your slumber, you went back to the hotel after FP2, feeling tired, and Lewis having to stay back for a long meeting. It was almost midnight when he made it back to the room and found you sleeping in the middle of the bed. Lewis stripped to his boxers and slipped beside you. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, this roused you from your sleep.

”Just want to hold you.” He said softly and kissed your cheek, you smiled and cracked your eyes open just a little, you turned around so you’re facing him. You cuddle more into him, nuzzling your face in his neck, as he laid on his back.

”How was the meeting?” You asked barely coherent, and Lewis knows you’ll ask again in the morning, that everything that will come out of your mouth right now is just your subconscious and that you will remember nothing.

”It was good, there’s going to be a few changes to the car tomorrow.” Lewis told you rubbing your back.

”Do we like it?” You ask, knowing that your stance on things is his stance on things, when it comes to driving and cars.

”Yeah, but we’ll see tomorrow.”

”Hmm, that’s good.” You fall silent and Lewis thinks you fell asleep before you say a barely audible. “I love you.”

”I love you too, baby girl.”

It took time, but the public came to accept the fact you’re here to stay and you’re not just using him for a week or two, for clout or anything of that sort. IT got better. But it never went away, and you don’t think it will. You don’t plan on breaking up with Lewis any time soon and you don’t think he will. And that’s all that mattered, you’re both happy and content with what you have.

Maintaglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog

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yuvany · 1 month ago

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好爱 ─── LOVESICK

First time speaking with 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 after only seeing them from afar. . .

OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader CONTENT / WARNING(S) fluff + awkward + non!idol AU + rushed + not proofread WORD COUNT 2.2k CHECK MARK.ᐟ

reblogs + feedback always appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You had always admired Heseung from afar. The second you heard he'd be performing at the music evening, you had told your friends that you'd attend the festival. You always kept this to yourselef, not having the courage to speak to him face to face like many other girls. You shared a class with him, he sits on the other side of the classroom, but his popularity manages to attract many people over, and that helps you listen in on their conversations. You start getting annoyed when the only thing you hear is the sound of forced high pitched voices asking him for his number, but thankfully the bell comes in rescue. "We soo look forward to the show later!" They coo before finally leaving. You heave a sigh that had weighed your chest down for far too long. ─── ( more under the cut )

"Why are they so annoying!" You complain to your friend who hums alongs your rant. "Bla bla bla and bla...Get lost!" you mock, you know it's wrong, but your blood just boils as you recall that moment. How could Heeseung even bear with this every single day? "Well, I might know something you don't." You beg for her to spill the beans, and it comes to the point you're practically on your knees begging for the information. "Heeseung apparently needs a duet singer for the show tonight, and do you know who I think is perfect for it?" You shake your head in an instant, realising she meant you. "No!" "If he asked, you'd say yes instantly." She sighs. Your friend pulls up her phone, and you're curious what she's doing, but as you attempt to peek over the table, she hides her screen. The sound of your own phone distracts you, and as you pick it up, you see a message; "Heard you're a singer, wanna help out.// HL" You look up and see that your friend is grinning from ear to ear.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Jay was a gentleman who had earned his title as the Sweetheart of Hybe Academy. People didn't necessarily drool at him every chance they got when they saw him in the classrooms or in the corridors, but everyone knew that he was handsome and that many people whispered behind his back about their small crush on him. They rarely made their confessions because Jay was also known as the 'coldhearted', because he had made it clear to everyone that he did not want to engage in any romantic relationships.

One Saturday morning, you were out with your cat in the backyard because the weather was nice; a mix of the sweet sundrops of summer and a mix of the chilly winters thet were soon to come while your attention was on the cat running around the yard, trying to catch the toy that you were running around with. Unbeknownst to you, and unluckily, a dog was taking a walk with its owner right outside your door step. The dog barked, and your cat got scared for its life, and it got even worse when the dog had acknowledged your pet's presence becaue it continuously barked causing your cat to run up a tree nearby. The dog owner quickly apologised before running away from the scene. You tried to desperately get your cat down, but she was too scared. You were close to calling the fire brigade, but Jay walked by and asked, "What had happened here?" You tell him what happened and he says, "Let me help you, y/n." Jay steadily climed up the tree and called for your cat to return, which it did after not much persuasion. "You're better at this than me." You chuckled.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

The guy who was captain of the football team. The student who was always with his friends and never with anyone else. Sim Jaeyun, or what he likes to call himself; Jake. Your friends hated his guts for only focusing on sports, but you didn't mind, and neither did the rest of the school. Lately, he had been practicing for longer after school, and even come early before school to practice, and he still had energy for the team practices. You admired him for his presistance.

"Do you know why Jake is practicing so much?" You asked your friends in the hallways. "How would I know?" one friend snarled. "I heard there's a competition soon." Another one replied. You thought about it, and then you remembered, your teacher had asked some people from your year group to help the team, including you, and you had totally forgotten. Hours turned into days, and now the game had begun. You were forced to be there and help hand out water bottles and towels with other classmates, but your eyes were occupied by Jake running around the court. His hard work and long practice hours really paid off, this looked so easy for him. During half-time, he returned to the booth, and was closest to you, so, you naturally handed him a clean towel to wipe the sweat that dripped down his face, and a water bottle for refreshment. "How do you enjoy the game?" he asked, and you couldn't be honest with him, because that would offend him, so you said, "It's cool." he nodded and then grouped with the rest of the team. The second half was complete resulting in the game ending and the results were that your school had won. Jake approached you again and asked you, "You seem nice, I was wondering if I could get your number. Freinds... so we could be friends."

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

It was obvious that Sunghoon was popular and good looking. Girls would have heart eyes when they saw him, their eyes glued to his face whenever he walked by in the corridors. Sunghoon acted as if this was normal for him, like he grew up in this environment. Whatever he did, never surprised anyone, but there was always one thing everyone wondered; Why did he not have a girlfriend yet? When asked this question, he'd say that it was becaus he was waiting for the right timing, but when asked another time, he said that he already had his eyes on someone. This caused everyone to go ballistic.

You had one secret you hated to admit, and that was that you might be slightly infatuated with Sunghoon. In the lunch hall, you hoped to see him, but he was never there, you always thought that he went out of campus during that period to eat at a restaurant or something. That thought was erased one day when you decided to not be in the lunch hall, and went up to the school roof for a change. And because it was too packed. When you opened the heavy door, you saw that familiar black hair and lean figure. It was Sunghoon, and it was too late to turn back around because he had already turned to face you. "I'll go...if you want." You said awkwardly. "No need, company would be nice." His smile was bright and wide. It was silent as you sat opposite from him, and you decided to ask "hey, let's go secret for secret. or question for question" Sunghoon nodded and motioned for you to start. "Why are you up here and not with you friends?" "because this view is able to show me someone I'm interested in." He looks down at the yard, and that specific place that you always go to with your friends, which now was empty, but as you look up, you see his eyes connected with yours.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

The guy who helped whenever he could and whatever. During breaks, he'd help the nurse because he felt bad for the lady. Sunoo was a kind student, students and teachers adored him. His smile was something that could light up a room, and that's something you wished you could do, because if you smiled the way he did, you'd never ever frown. There was only one opportunity for you to see him because your schedules were too different. When he had break, you had a lesson, and vice versa. This was unfortunate, and yet you found yourself attached to him.

PE was your least favourite subject, you hated both the theoretical and practical parts of it. Today though, you feared for your life. It was football. Last time, someone kicked your shin by accident and the area was bruised an awful purple and yellow the next day. Since that day, you tried staying away from the ball which only made the teacher yell at you to get closer to it. When this happened today, your focus was elsewhere and the ball came flying at your face and hit you hard. Everyone gathered around you, and the teacher told you to meet the nurse with a sigh. You slowly made your way there, and when you walked inside, the nurse was nowhere to be seen, so you laid on the couch and closed your eyes. "hello, what happened to you." It was Sunoo, it was his voice. "Got this football flown at me." You say, trying to sound sad even though you felt estatic on the inside. " I hate sports. The nurse isn't here, so let me grab an ice pack." he says, and rushes out. He returns and hands you the cold pack, you sit up and when the cold hits, you're ready to go. "Shouldn't you like...rest for a while...here?" He asks, holding you down by the wrist. "uhm...sure, why not." You awkwardly giggle.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

Smart, polite, and handsome were words regularly used to describe Yang Jungwon, the student president. There was no jealousy and there was no competition amongst him and other students, only friendship. During Valentines you'd see how many love letters were shoved inside his unfortunate locker, each paper looking crumbled at the force and desperation to push it inside. You felt bad for them because you knew how Jungwon didn't care about them, he'd put them in a plastic bag and then take them home to most probably thow out without anyone knowing.

One day though, Jungwon doesn't appear in the first lesson and even the teachers are confused. This was unlike him in many ways. Today, the teacher had even asked if he would be kind enough to help him after class with sorting and going through all student documents, and it was visible that he was hoping for Jungwon to just be slightly late, becuase rather late than never. The clock ticked and tacked, each second feeling longer than the last. Eventually, the bell rang and the lesson had ended. You felt bad for the teacher and offeredd your help. He smiled, and told you what to do before he rushed out to get a coffee. Not long after, you hear footsteps outside the door again, maybe you were wrong. "Hello?" You hear a boy pant out as he shoves the door open. Jungwon is just as surprised as you when he walks in. "y/n, what are you doing here?" He asks confused. You tell him your tale and he chuckles. You ask him as well, becuase you missed him, and he tells his tale. "Let me help you with this." He says, as he picks up the stack of papers, his fingers brushing against yours.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Riki was known for his hard looking exterior but soft interior. People feared him, his seat mates feeling the chill run down their spines, but not because he was scary, but because there was something special about him, he was beautiful. You only knew him from rumours talking about a dance prodigy who dances smoother than waves, the boy that doesn't speak with anyone other than his friends. You had thought nothing of it at first sight, but the more you saw him, the more you were attracted to him. You don't know why, and that was a dilemma. If he refused to talk with anyone except his friends, how would you manage to get close to him.

It all seemed like a dream to you, to befriend him, or maybe more, and you tried your best to conceal your feelings. It all went according to plan until one evening during your walk. You heard the drum of footsteps nearby, and decided to check it out. You sneaked closer to the sound and eventually found youself hidden in a bush, tangled up in the branches. It was Riki. At firt sight, he was unrecognisable, then you slowly noticed how similiar he moved to the one in your school. His moves caught you like a fish to a hook, and your eyes gleamed with admiration as you watched him dance. As time passed, you forgot it was time to go, and that if you stayed any longer, you'd be found. Unfortunately for you, you had already stayed for too long. When you looked down at your phone, Riki turned around and found you, his eyes wondering who you may be, but then he recognises you from campus. A smirk spreads over his face as he waits for you to look up. "Hello, y/n." He waves your way, and you are dumbfounded. "You know my name?" You say, shocked, more worried about that than being exposed.

network tag ! @k-films

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amoeganism · 2 months ago

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REASONS WHY SAE ITOSHI THINKS YOU'RE A MURDERER

you're kinda fucked up but not a criminal! but don't worry, sae kinda likes it

happy late birthday sae itoshi ur a cunt i love u

THE APARTMENT

The first time Sae meets you is at Aiku’s birthday party. He hadn’t intended on going, but it was either going to the function or have Oliver and the rest of the U-20 team get on his ass for being a no-show. Both options sucked, but Sae ultimately decided on wearing some plain, black button-up and one of the five identical black slacks he owns (they were bought at the same time, Sae doesn’t know why he did that but he had an urge and he had the money). When Aiku opened the door to apartment 408, the first thing Sae noticed was you, still dressed in creased and suspiciously stained pajamas, dragging a black garbage bag across the floor. He made the wrong decision, Sae concluded.

It was at the party where he got formally introduced and learned your name. He expected to forget it but that night, he found himself searching it on Google, making sure you weren’t a criminal just to sleep without worries. Before drifting off, he swore he saw a search recommendation as “...’s victims” but he’d rather not go to practice the next morning with the heebie jeebies.

THE DEPARTMENT STORE

A shelf of pots stood in front of Sae, each one lined perfectly with each other as a row of pans hung from above. Sae ran his fingers across the handle of a black stainless steel pan, feeling the cold metal glide across the rough calluses of his fingertips. Ever since he landed in Japan and moved out of his parents’ place, his diet was lacking and blasphemous for an athlete of his caliber. The culinary skills he had acquired in Spain were put to waste in his apartment that looked more like a rent listing.

“Oh, Itoshi? Good morning!” At the sound of his name, Sae shut his eyes and inwardly groaned. The last thing he needed to deal with was a fan approaching him in public but the recognition of an oddly familiar voice urged him to take a slight glance at whom it may be. In the corner of his eye, there stood you, holding the largest butcher’s knife he had ever seen in his eighteen years of living.

The blade was the size of your head, reflecting the beaming smile on your face, one too bright for your menacing stance. Your eyes glimmered underneath the department store’s white lights as you grabbed the handle of the weapon with both hands after rapidly waving. Sae’s heartbeat intensified and he placed the reason for the imminent threat before him—there could be no other definitely more rational reason.

Sae grumbled back a “good morning” before walking off with a sturdy saute pan. He could not answer if it was out of fear, to be polite, or maybe a secret (and evil) third option.

THE ATTEMPT

Hot steam had fogged the mirrors of Sae’s bathroom when he stepped out of the shower. As he dried his hair, the screen of his phone lit up with a new notification. Recently, the only phone alerts he had been getting were from his manager and occasionally his parents. It wasn’t that Sae Itoshi was a loser—he just hated almost everyone in his contacts. But when he opened his phone to an unknown number, his brows furrowed in confusion.

YOU: hi its y/n!!! oliver gave me ur number hope u dont mind ^_^

SAE: <thumbs up>

YOU: thumbs are my fav finger by far they look so chewy

SAE: Wtf

YOU: do u wanna get lunch together tmrw :D

SAE: Ok

SAE: Why tomorrow

YOU: I know what your entire schedule is.

YOU: Meet me at my apartment at 12:00 PM

YOU: Do not be late.

SAE: <thumbs up>

Sae looked out of his window and made sure all his doors were locked before going to bed (but he also stood in front of the full-body mirror in his room, holding different shirts and pants up to himself, wondering what you would like to see).

THE ATTACK

Apartment 408 smelled strongly of herbs and spices when you opened the door for Sae. The cologne he had put on that morning would be overpowered by your cooking and he’d drive home reeking of a hearty lunch rather than designer fragrance. On the kitchen island, a pot of stew rested on a large coaster as a rice cooker was set to “Keep Warm” on the counter. The strong aroma was delightful to his senses and the slight rumbling of his stomach led him to sit and quietly thank you for cooking.

“What do you want to drink? I got all kinds of tea and beer ‘cause Oliver is kinda an alcoholic,” you ask, holding the refrigerator door open waiting for him.

“Water is fine, thanks.”

You grab a pitcher and glass for him then move back to the dishwater for plates and utensils. Before sitting, you untie your light blue apron and fold it next to the kitchen sink. If Sae were any other person, he would almost miss the suspicious red stain in the inside of the pocket but considering the two of you were in an environment with several potential weapons in the vicinity, Sae decided keeping quiet was the smartest choice.

“I hope you like beef stew, Oliver says it’s the least potent thing I make and would have the best impression on you,” you confess. “Help yourself, I don’t think I put anything lethal in it.”

“Don’t think?” Sae questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Who knows with all the chemistry shit that happens, maybe I made mustard gas without knowing…”

“You invited me over, shouldn’t you care more about the guest’s safety?”

“Not really, it’s more exciting this way. Aren’t you feeling a thrill right now?”

“I’m only feeling concern for myself.”

“Isn’t that so fun?” you inquire with too much glee for the predicament. Sae thinks you’re 100% fucked up in the head and thinks he has around a 80% of making it out alive. “It’s like Russian Roulette!”

"Haven’t you considered that the average person doesn’t want to die from poisoning?”

“Who said you would die?”

“You?”

“Oh. Whoops. Still exciting though! Let’s see who wins!”

It didn’t take long for Sae to finish the last of his meal—it was unfortunately tasty. Sae wiped his mouth clean with a napkin you gave him and brought his dishes to the sink.

“Guess you didn’t kill me,” Sae nudges you with a smug grin. “You should try harder next time.”

“Wait—next time?”

“Yeah. Try again text week, I’ll text you my schedule.”

“Thank you so much for that, you don’t know how much I had to spend to get this week’s schedule from a stalker fan,” you confess in relief, blissfully unaware of Sae rapidly turning his head to stare at you.

“You what?”

“You’re literally the best; rent’s coming up so I really need that.”

Sae concludes you’re a danger to society but to keep himself and the public safe, he has to see you again. Sitting in his car, he quickly pulls out his phone and sends his manager a text to keep Tuesday of next week free—that’s when you have the most time (to spend with him). He puts the date in his calendar and this time, turns the notification on.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #bllk itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock itoshi sae #blue lock sae #bllk sae #blue lock fluff #sae itoshi fluff

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steviesummer · 1 year ago

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inspired by and as a direct follow up to this post by @strangersteddierthings:

Eddie is horrified. He remembers the day Steve is referring to, though clearly not as well as Steve does. He calls out as Steve raced up the stairs and hears his door slam.

“Fuck.” He stares blankly at the wall in front of him. He can’t believe things went so bad so quickly. He’s been trying to get to know Steve better, get closer and damn if he didn’t just blow the hole thing. He’d shown up early, told Steve he needed to prepare as an excuse to spend some time with him. Despite everything that happened over spring break, Steve had remained guarded, standoffish no matter what Eddie tried. At least now he knew why. He’d fucked things up before he’d known there was something to fuck up.

He feels even worse about calling him a bully. Sure, Steve had looked the other way and even laughed at some of the mean jokes others had made, but he was far from the worst. That dubious award went to Billy Hargrove, but even without him, there was plenty of people who did far worse than Steve did. Especially because Steve is right. He did hit first, metaphorically at least. He can justify it all he wants as trying to protect himself, but that doesn’t make it right. Steve all but admitted that as he said the same thing. He feels nauseous at the realization that maybe he was just as bad as those he decried. That for all his talk about accepting outcasts and defying convention, he was just as prejudiced. Swallowing hard, he heads back to the dining room and looks at the clock. There is no way he is going to be able to run the campaign today. He’s not going to be able to focus or even play without thinking about how things might have been if he hadn’t driven Steve off all those years ago. He grabs the phone and dials Gareth’s number. “Emerson house, Sheryl speaking.” “Hi Mrs. Emerson, it’s Eddie.” Eddie is proud that he manages to keep his voice even. “Is Gareth there?” “Oh, yes! Let me go get him for you.” “Thanks Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie focuses on breathing while he waits. “Eddie? Hey man, what’s up?” Eddie breathes out. “Hey Gareth. Look, I know its last minute, but we’re gonna have to postpone Hellfire. Something came up.” He could hear Gareth’s frown through the phone. “Postpone? What happened, did Harrington do something?” As if he couldn’t feel worse. “Nah. I’ll explain later, but can you call Jeff and Frank, let them know? I gotta call the freshman, too.” “Alright, but I’m going to hold you to that.” “Fair enough. Talk to you tomorrow.” Eddie promises before hanging up. He weighs his options for how to tell the Party. Eventually, he decides on calling Mike, know that the younger teen won’t push too much. He’s dialing the Wheeler home before he can second guess his decision. “This is Mike.” Eddie feels a rush of gratitude that Mike is the one who answered, rather than Nancy or one of their parents. “Hey Mike, it’s Eddie. Listen, Steve’s not feeling great and having Hellfire here isn’t going to help. Can you call the rest of the Party, let them know we’re gonna move it to another day? I’ll keep an eye on Steve.” Eddie knows Mike is a confused, given how adamant he’s been in the past about not canceling or moving Hellfire, but as he expected, Mike accepts what he says at face value. “Sure. Need us to bring anything?” “Nah, I’ve got it. Pretty sure he just needs some peace and quiet so he can rest. But thanks.” They say their goodbyes and Eddie puts the phone back on the hook. With that done, he checks that the door is locked and faces the stairs. Now for the hard part. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, if there is anything he can say that will fix this, but he has to try. Even if doesn’t change things between him and Steve, Steve deserves at least that much. Every step feels like it takes effort, chest heavy with guilt, but it only takes him a few moments to get to Steve’s door. It’s closed, which doesn’t surprise him. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before knocking. Nothing. “Steve?” If it wasn’t for the quiet sound of Steve’s breathing he could hear through the door, Eddie would think he had left. He glad that he at least didn’t drive Steve out of his own home. He rests his forehead on the door. “I’m sorry.” Eddie hopes Steve can hear how much he means it. “You’re right, I fucked up. I made an assumption and took out my anger at other people on you. And that wasn’t fair and it’s not okay. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. Even if it wasn’t you, I shouldn’t have done that.” He lets out a hysterical laugh as he realizes - “And despite that, you still humor the kids when they talk about D&D and agreed to let us play here and didn’t punch me in the face, which makes you a better man than I.” He falls silent, listens as Steve’s breathing slows. He isn’t sure how long he stands there. He wonders how many other people he hurt this way, without even realizing. Knows he wants to do better, be better. He sighs, feeling his shoulders slump. “Anyway, I canceled Hellfire for today. I told everyone something came up, don’t worry about that. I’ll make up some story, make sure they know its not your fault. And uh, let me know if you want to hang out again or something. I know I’ve been around a lot; didn’t realize that I was making you so uncomfortable, which is probably another thing I should apologize for. Anyway. Yeah. I’ll see you around, okay?” He waits a moment for an answer, but when none comes, he backs away from the door and walks downstairs to gather his stuff. It hurts, but he knows Steve deserves space and to be the one to initiate contact. He has some thinking to do, anyway.

#steddie #my writing #fic #legit read that fic like 6 times in a row and had to write a follow up #have a handful of extra pieces as well #or thoughts anyway #like steve telling eddie about christopher #and eddie helping steve make a character and play in the future #after lots of talking and eventually getting together #his character is a dwarf paladin named after christopher #i haven't written in forever this felt so good #barely proofread so apologies for any mistakes

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vixensp1ce · 8 months ago

Text

fem!reader, uni au

There's a stranger in your bed, and he's fucking you better than any of your boyfriends have before.

Veritas Ratio pistons into your abused cunt, puffy and raw from his tongue, fingers, and cock. It's slender but long, almost elegant in shape, reaching so deep into you that you're nearly satisfied by him bottoming out alone.

But you're not so easily filled. And it's part of the reason why you're out on town, having finally freed yourself of your previous boyfriend, looking for a good dick to get fucked by.

But no one told you a stranger's dick would be this insane.

"Giving up already?" Everything Veritas says manages to sound judgemental and disappointed. You squeeze tighter around him, whimpering as your pussy protests, but he doesn't even crack an inch. "Slut."

He has you crumpled, exhausted, every muscle twitching from your past orgasms, and still he shows no sign of stopping.

"Can't even cum for me." Those long, deft fingers release their grip on your hair. You lurch forward with a whine of relief - at least until his hand creeps down to your cunt.

"Don't- please- ah, ah, ah~"

He rubs harsh circles into your clit. Sparks rush up into your belly, slamming you shut on his hard, hard dick, the knot ready to snap.

He groans, one of a limited range of sounds you've heard from him this night, and if it was even possible, his strokes get even faster. "Don't, my ass. Make me cum, you little bi- hrrrrrrph."

The knot unravels. "Veri, Veri, please, ah, please-"

A syrupy warmth spills out over your back, and his scent fills your nose again. You whimper, legs trembling, flashing hot and cold as your pussy spasms emptily from your orgasm.

Finally, he lets go. You collapse shakily, turning over.

He's hunched over you, purple strands concealing his expression as he ducks his head to catch his breath. There's a full moon high in the sky, and even the streets have gone quiet on this Friday evening. Or Saturday morning.

Veritas lowers himself slowly onto the mattress next to you, the only indication that he'd ever exerted himself the sheen of perspiration on his forehead. His amber eyes pass impersonally over you, roving over your room as if it were his.

That was how he typically was, you'd learnt. Veritas Ratio was indifferent, coldly analytical towards the softer parts of humanity. Even in the club, he hadn't had much to say about anything except "It's too loud in here."

He was an architecture major something-or-other, handsome in the same way his blueprints were - all flat planes and sharp angles. Veritas had been eyed by a number of girls all over campus (and professors too, so it was rumoured), but his chilling attitude toward each and every one of them had spoken its own message.

Then you'd gone out with some course friends to a club. His liquid amber eyes flashed blue, green, pink under the club lights, digging into the flesh visible just above your thigh-high boots, and you'd decided, hey, why not?

His phone buzzes insistently somewhere in the room. Veritas sighs impatiently, climbing over you to rummage for his possessions. You're too sore to move much and the sudden loss of warmth stirs up an unwelcome hint of disappointment.

You listen to him move around your room for a moment. Warm breath on your ear gives you reason to turn over.

"I have to go now," he says, face inches from yours. You jump in surprise, clutching your blankets to your chest.

"Already?" Maybe you should have expected it. "Do you need a shower first?"

He hesitates. "...That would be nice, thank you."

You wave a hand lazily in the direction of the bathroom, watching him go. "And raise the door up before you latch it!" you call after him.

You hear the brief sounds of struggle, then Veritas manages. The sound of running water starts shortly after.

You let yourself lie for a moment longer, then groan and get up. The sheets and laundry would need to be washed, the house cleaned, and your work for school still needed to be tackled.

You're in the kitchen, doing the dishes, when you hear the front door open and shut.

#hsr x reader smut #hsr x reader #x reader smut #honkai star rail #star rail #ratio smut #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio smut #hsr dr ratio #veritas ratio #dr ratio #hsr ratio

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graysturns · 7 months ago

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𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕕? | 𝕔.𝕤.

1.5k+ words

note: hey guys :) this should be short and sweet but i hope you like it anyways. i love soft chris! also last pic is me on my period and that’s why i wrote this + i hate rachel

warnings: none i think just me hating my coworker

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

long as you dreaming bout me ain’t no problem,

i don’t got nobody, just with you right now,

11:47 pm

my phone buzzes twice, causing it to brightly light up in its spot right by my face.

“ughh, leave me alone!” i groan, tossing it to chris’ side of the bed.

“what is it baby?” chris walks into our room, shutting the door quietly and placing a water bottle on my nightstand. he sits beside me and rubs my back slowly.

“rachel from work wants me to cover her shift tomorrow. something about ACT testing.”

he raises an eyebrow at me. “isn’t that something you would request the day off for? y’know like, in advance?”

“that’s what i said.” i roll my eyes before proceeding.

“i already told her no, but she keeps insisting because i’m the only person off tomorrow.”

chris leans over to grab my phone, unlocking it and putting it on do not disturb.

“it’s about time you have a day off. they’ve been putting you on the schedule every day now.” he sighs, combing his fingers through my hair.

“i know. and today was shit.” i huff out.

“do you wanna talk about it?” chris watches me intently.

“i just don’t wanna complain too much.”

“baby, i looove hearing you complain. it’s like, my favorite part of every day.” he taunts.

“only if you insist,” i sit up and smile cheekily at him.

he repositions himself so he sits across from me, pulling his knees up under his chin.

“talk to me sweetheart,” he grabs my hand, kissing my knuckles.

“so i clock in, and right away i’m being told to get on the espresso machine. my manager was supposed to work alongside me but she kept getting pulled away for manager things so i was doing both positions at our station, which is fine, but during a rush it can be a lot.” i start to ramble.

“and the second she gets back, i get the feeling that i started my period! and i completely forgot about it because i’ve been so busy, so i didn’t have any tampons on me,” i continue.

chris drops my hand and reaches into his hoodie pocket, revealing a bottle of pamprin.

“i actually got the notification earlier from your period app, so i brought these upstairs.” he smiles to himself, opening the bottle and shaking a couple tablets out on my palm.

“chris, thank you!” i exclaim, popping them in my mouth and taking a sip of the water.

“of course babe, i got you.” he pokes my stomach.

“so what else happened?” he asks me.

“well after that it slowed down a little. but the whole coffee shop was a mess after the rush and since we were closing, we had to deep clean everything. i’m just so sore and i want to die,”

“i get it, babe. did you shower yet?”

“the second i got home. fucking rachel spilled a pitcher of cold brew on my thigh and i was so sticky.”

he nods with a slight smile, moving his body up against the headboard.

he laid back in his spot and motioned me over to lay on his chest.

“fucking rachel.” he tsks while rubbing my back.

“why do you hate her so much anyways?” he drops his head to look at me.

“well, do you remember that one day you came through the drive through right before my shift ended? you were picking me up and decided to get a drink.”

he thinks for a moment, “mhm?”

“well she was working the window, and she came to tell us all there was a hot guy outside. basically telling the girls to come look,”

“yeah i remember a few girls came by, pretending to stock cups or something. that’s rachel?”

my lips drew a tight line.

“remember how she had you pull into a parking spot, saying they’d bring the drink out to you?”

“mhm?” he asks again.

“well, she decided to write her number down on a slip of paper and hoped to give it to you on her way out, along with your coffee. i left before her, so while i was getting settled in the car, she was walking up to you trying to rizz you up.”

his mouth forms an ‘o’.

“what a sneaky bitch!” he chuckles.

i roll my eyes at him.

“chris it’s not funny. my coworker wants to fuck you.”

“well it’s never gonna happen, sweetheart. she’s insane if she thinks that.”

i mess with the drawstring on his hoodie, picking at the plastic end.

“it’s just frustrating. she’s been doing little things to mess with me, since the moment she saw us together in your car. like today with the cold brew, that was fully on purpose.”

he sighs, patting the back of my head. “why don’t you just quit? you don’t need to work.”

“chris, you can’t pay for everything,” i sigh, dropping the thin rope.

“i actually can. besides, i’d much rather have you here at home, happy and free to do what you want with all that extra time.”

i smile up at him, lightly running my nails across his stubble.

“you’re too sweet to me, but i can’t let you financially support me chris. we aren’t even married.”

this time, he rolls his eyes at me.

“so what? we already live together. you’re my shawty or whatever the kids say,” he laughs, picking up a strand of my hair, tickling my nose with the end.

“the kids in 2009, and don’t say that ever again, chris.” i snort.

“no but seriously. i know how much you hate this job. and fucking rachel.” he smirks.

“i’ll apply to a few different places in the morning. and we’ll go from there.”

“no, y/n.” he grabs my hand, holding it between us.

“it’s making you miserable, you can quit now and i’ll hold things down until you find something else.”

“chris, i already told you, it’s not fair to you. you’re not my husband, and you don’t need to provide for me.”

he looks to the ceiling for a moment, pondering.

chris faces me again, grabbing hold of my cheeks. “wanna get married?”

“married? chris i-i’d marry you in an instant but not for this reason. you can’t be-“

he pulls away from me and leans over his side of the bed, digging through his nightstand.

turning to face me, he opens his fist to reveal a ring.

what the hell? i sit up quickly.

“y/n.” he holds the ring up.

“i’ve been wanting to do this for a while. i know my timing may not be ideal, but i hate the fact that i’m not your husband, and i hate the fact that you won’t let me take care of you. married or not, i’m always going to be here to take care of you, to help you, to love on you, especially when you’re having a day like today.” chris takes my hands in his, holding the ring on his fingertip.

“..but i’d really rather be married to you and do all those things.”

“chris, you don’t mean..” i begin.

“don’t act all surprised now.” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“you know i love you, we’ve talked about getting married someday. i think we should just do it sooner than later.”

“chris, i don’t know what to say. i want to marry you, i just don’t think it should be because i hate my job.”

“it’s not because of that. i’ve been planning this, if i wasn’t then there wouldn’t be a ring here. what do you think?”

“holy fuck, chris.” i take his hand and open it, placing my left one in his palm.

“let’s get married.” i smile up at him.

he slides the ring on and tackles me into a hug, causing us both to fall backwards on the bed.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you!” he chants while peppering kisses all over my face.

short, sweet kisses turn into a long, heated make out that gets interrupted by three dings from my phone.

“did you not see me turn your phone on do not disturb?” chris huffs out.

“i swear to god if it’s rachel..” i pause, leaning over to pick up my phone.

“she did that ‘notify anyway’ thing. she’s insisting i cover for her tomorrow.”

my phone starts to buzz in my hand, causing chris’s head to snap in its direction.

“absolutely not!” he grabs the phone and clicks it off, throwing it on the other side of the bed.

“fucking rachel. someone needs to punch her in her throat.” he says jokingly.

“h-hello?” a small voice escapes my phone.

“shit, chris i thought you declined the call!” i lunge for the device, end the call and turn the phone off.

“do you think she heard me?” he asks, wide eyed, with a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

“i don’t care, i’m quitting that job anyways. i have a husband now.’ i beam at him, waving my hand in his face.

“hell yeah you do!” he places his hands on my waist and brings me back down to him.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

hope u liked it 🤍 also this is dedicated to rachel i hate u please quit so i don’t have to! just kidding that’s mean! (i’m not)

comment if u hate rachel too

tags!

@imwetforyourmom @anonymouslyachrisgirl @junnniiieee07 @imtalkinnonsense @wh0resstuff

if you wanna be added comment here!

#Spotify #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo fanfic #fanfic #soft chris

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lunarmoves · 21 days ago

Text

who i see, looking back at me (ch3)

pairing: sebastian solace x reader

mentions: post-urbanshade fic, no use of y/n or pronouns, u are his partner <3, hallucinations, non-sexual intimacy, yearning the yearning!!, touch aversion, hurt/comfort, tentative reconnecting, mild dissociating :)

a/n: i lied btw, there are now 5 chapters instead of 4. if u guys see the number increase again, know it was against my will. the characters do whatever tf they want, apparently. anyways, this chapter simultaneously feels like so much happens and also nothing at all. have fun!

word count: 12.3k+

masterlist | part two

ao3 link

You dreamt of a face, looming over your own as you laid supine on something soft.

Everything felt muddled—like you were sunk deeply underwater and still continued onward in your neverending descent. Details eluded you. Any sharp edges or angles were softened into nebulous clouds of seafoam green and teal, with light that gently painted the planes of your face in a tender touch. A quiet pressed along the sides of your head, stifling in its presence. You could not move. You were weighed down by something you could not define, your vision hazy and unfocused.

When you closed your eyes, the backs of your eyelids felt like they were awash in blue. Blue, blue, blue. Infinite, it seemed. Just like the ocean, a distant part of you thought.

You breathed in and out. Calm. Quiet. Then, you opened your eyes. Properly, this time.

The ceiling of your room was coated in shadows broken apart only by a fragile light coming from your slightly parted curtains. You stared, gaze half-lidded, up at it. Not really seeing it. Not really processing. Distantly, you could feel the pull of sleep once more. But you could not bring yourself to return to it. Could not manage to fall back into a slumber even if you tried.

So you dragged yourself up until you were sitting in bed, blanket sprawled across your legs. Your upper body slumped like you were a puppet cut from its strings. And you just stared forwards.

Sebastian—fake Sebastian, not real Sebastian—stared back.

You didn’t move a muscle. You only watched him—unblinking, eyelids heavy like they were weighed. There was something rooting you to your bed, a heavy pit in your gut that made it difficult to do anything other than stare.

It was quiet. So, very, quiet.

“Why are you still here?” you murmured after what felt like hours and hours of sitting there. Dawn had long passed, the bright light of the sun poking its way into your room to splay across the floor. You blinked slowly at him—nonchalant as he was where he stood across from the foot of your bed all this time.

His gaze lowered as his smile widened to show off each and every one of his teeth. It was not a kind look. A chill ran its fingers down your spine.

“You know why,” was all he said. He continued to stare at you, his hands tucked inside his pockets. Waiting, almost. Maybe even expectantly.

Your jaw tensed and when you swallowed, you could feel the dryness of your throat. Your gaze flicked over to your closed bedroom door, then back at him again. You did not like this.

“I’m working on it,” you whispered, momentarily closing your eyes so you could grip at the unsteady pieces of yourself and pull them together. Even now, you could still see all that blue, etched into your eyelids. Blue and gray and gray and blue. Soft and unfamiliar.

You sighed—long and deep and vaguely unsteady. Then you turned away.

Scrubbing a hand down your face, you rolled your shoulders and leaned over to grab your phone from the nearby nightstand. Clicking it on, you squinted down at the time. Shit. If you didn’t get a move on, you’d be late for work. You slipped out of bed, bare feet coming into contact with the cool floor. There was a certain grogginess that still lingered in your body and mind. You yawned and rubbed at your eye as you shuffled over to your door. But before you could open it, you hesitated and took a moment to listen beyond it.

There was nothing. Not a peep or a shift. Looking down at the crack between the door and the floor, you saw only darkness. No faint light seeping through it—like there wasn’t anyone there. Doubt was beginning to sink its unrelenting tendrils into your body. It was so easy to imagine that the room just past your bedroom door was vacant. That there was only your couch and your television and your coffee table. Still and lifeless. A breath being held before the inevitable chaos of morning.

But no, you told yourself again and again and again. This was real. If you closed your eyes, you could still feel the cool, hard texture of Sebastian’s hand in yours. The smooth metal of his ring as you ran your thumb over it. This was real, and you would keep repeating it to yourself for as long as it took to properly settle in.

You sighed, long and silent. Well, the day wasn’t going to wait for you to start.

Gripping at the doorknob, you quietly cracked the door open and squinted into the dim light of your living room. It was darker than usual—an explanation made imminent when you glanced at your windows to see their curtains had all been tightly closed. You could still see sunlight fighting to make its way through the thin material, so it wasn’t like it was completely dark. You just had not expected it, really.

Turning your gaze back towards the contents of the room, you noticed Sebastian had moved some things around. Not by much. The couch was pushed back a little and the coffee table was off to the side of the television instead of in front of it. All to make space for Sebastian’s large body—tightly coiled as it was in the spot between the couch and television.

You lingered curiously for a moment over the way his tail looped around like a snake to form a makeshift bed for him. And when you finally glanced over to his face, you saw that he was already watching you. Something in your gut jumped slightly when you made eye contact with him. Over his head like some sort of shawl was the blanket you’d gotten him last night—a defense against the yawning sunlight, most likely.

“Good morning,” you greeted to break the silence, though soft enough to not disturb the sleepy morning atmosphere.

“G’mornin’,” he murmured back at you, lifting himself up from his tail to squint blearily at you through the dim. His voice was raspy and deep with the edge of sleep. Fatigue. It made something in your stomach twinge.

He raised himself up, dropping the pillow he’d been hugging to stretch out his arms—strange to look at, honestly, with three of them attached to his torso—and tugged at the lure on his head to turn it on. You shuffled over to the bathroom to brush your teeth in the meantime and found yourself wondering if you should offer him a toothbrush. Not that it would do much, you thought to yourself as you ran the small bristles along your teeth. His teeth were large and sharp—jutting in his mouth like the jagged edge of a mountain. The teeth of a predator.

And wasn’t that strange to think about? You suppressed a shiver.

You supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give him one, even though you were sure he’d probably have a difficult time holding the tiny thing in his hand. Might even accidentally break it, honestly.

After you finished refreshing up in the bathroom, you exited it and caught his eye almost immediately. He watched you in a nearly lazy manner, head propped atop a hand from where he was using his tail as a rest of sorts.

You jutted your thumb behind you at the bathroom. “There should be spare toothbrushes in the cabinet if you want to use one.”

Sebastian blinked at you slowly, then opened his mouth to purposely run a light blue tongue over the front of his teeth. He smacked his lips together and gave you a look.

“Don’t think you got anything that can deal with these nasty things,” he said dryly. You rolled your eyes at his response.

“It’s better than nothing,” you replied with a shrug and turned to shuffle back over to your bedroom to grab your work clothes. “You can at least use some mouthwash.” He only hummed after you, not moving an inch even as you could feel him continuing to follow you with his gaze.

Your clothes were thrown on in record time and you grabbed your work bag from the back of your bedroom door to head over to the kitchen. Rubbing at your chin, you opened the refrigerator and took a moment to peer at its contents. You had enough leftovers for another day, but that wasn’t accounting for Sebastian and his… larger form. You glanced over at your sink and saw that there were no dirty dishes in there from last night. It didn’t seem like he had eaten anything. You frowned. Maybe you should go grocery shopping.

“I think I’m gonna go to the store after work,” you called out at him as you grabbed ingredients for a quick sandwich to make for your lunch. “Anything you want in particular?”

There was a thoughtful hum—so low and close that you jumped slightly and looked over your shoulder to find that he had followed you into the kitchen. He loomed almost directly behind you, his hair slightly mussed from the blanket he’d had over his head. How you hadn’t heard him slip into the tiny space, you would never know.

He seemed to hesitate as you watched him, your arms full of bread and condiments. Then, “Actually, can you grab me a burger and a pack of Marlboros?”

You paused, processing his request in your mind. “Sure,” you eventually said, nudging the refrigerator’s door closed with your hip. Grocery shopping could wait for another day. “We can do takeout for dinner, I suppose. But…” It was your turn to hesitate, and as you took in the way he clasped two of his hands together—not quite able to meet your gaze—you felt your eyebrows crease. “You… still smoke?” You didn’t think he’d have access to cigarettes in a, well, underwater facility. It’d certainly force him to quit cold turkey.

He shrugged idly as you headed over to the tiny kitchen table to dump all your ingredients on it and start slapping together a simple sandwich. “Yeah, sometimes I was able to get a pack when they upgraded my living arrangements,” he said vaguely, his eyes focused on your hands. He turned to look out at the living room. “Helps take the edge off, y’know?”

Your head bobbed in some semblance of understanding, even as your lips pulled down in a frown. “Well, okay,” you told him warily, briefly glancing up at him. “Just… try not to make it a habit, alright?” Again, you mentally added.

He snorted and suddenly seemed very interested in toying with his lure. “Right.”

Your sandwich was made and packed neatly away into your bag. The ingredients were put back in their proper locations. You did a final pat down to make sure you had everything, then slipped out of the kitchen with a banana clutched in your hand as a meager breakfast. You had to scoot around the thick curls of Sebastian’s tail, the muscles just under his scales shifting as he moved to accommodate for your path. You didn’t want to step over him. Everything seemed so cramped, all of a sudden, and you weren’t sure how that made you feel exactly.

No use deliberating it now. You were running late.

“Again, help yourself to anything,” you told him as you tugged on a light jacket by the front door and bent down to make quick work of your shoes. “I’ve got some books laying around if you’re bored and the T.V. remote should be somewhere if you wanna watch something.”

“I think I’ll manage,” you heard him reply, his voice low and amused.

You exhaled through your nose. Straightening up, you fixed your clothing—doing a final check of your reflection in a mirror you had hanging on the wall near the door—then finally looked towards him.

Him, Sebastian. As he curled in front of you a short distance away after following behind you like an ever present shadow. Hands clasped together with his half-lidded gaze and golden lure gently illuminating the space around you.

(“I’m out for work!” Sebastian called, his voice echoing through your apartment to reach where you were in the bedroom.

“Okay!” you called back, preoccupied with picking out what you were going to wear for the day. Hmm, beige or burgundy? “Be safe!”

There was a beat of silence. Then:

“Um, excuse me,” Sebastian’s disembodied voice said dryly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

You snorted and rolled your eyes as you set your clothes down on the bed. Exiting the room, you met his expectant look with your own amused one while you walked over to him waiting by the door.

He bent down closer towards you once you stopped in front of him, raven hair framing the sides of his face. Your hands found the collar of his jacket, where you fixed it properly so that one of the flaps wasn’t raised. Honestly, how did he not notice it before? There was a mirror on the wall right next to the door.

“Bye,” you told him purposely, tilting your head back so you could press a kiss to his waiting lips. He tasted faintly of nicotine and frozen waffles—a rather… interesting combo, you supposed. You could feel the way he smiled smugly against your mouth. He hummed into the kiss, and you broke away to give him a small grin. “That better?”

“Much, thank you,” he replied, a certain twinkle to his gaze as he stared adoringly down at you. His cheek dimpled on his right. “And don’t you ever forget again. There’ll be a price to pay and I’m afraid you won’t like it.” He paused, then shrugged. “Or maybe you will.”

“Oh shut up.” You slapped lightly at his chest and shoved him towards the door with a laugh.)

You took a deep breath. In, then out. Silent. It felt like an infinity resided in the few seconds you both stood there. Waiting.

Your lips pressed together, and you eventually gave him a small, unsure smile.

“…Bye,” you said, opening the door to let in a small stream of sunlight. His eyes squinted slightly at it, but you found you couldn’t quite look at him. How the tables have turned. “Be back later.”

The light of his lure dimmed slightly. “Have a good day,” he murmured with a gentle wave of his third arm, something indescribable to his gaze that you couldn’t quite make out before the door had already been shut in his face.

Your stomach churned, upset and tight.

As you drove to work, you just couldn’t get that image out of your head. Sebastian, in the middle of your tiny living room. Too large. Too much. His body held in a way where he seemed to be pulled towards you, yet also…. not. Subtle enough that any less observant person would not have noticed.

You sighed, a deep and long thing that did nothing to ease the tension lining your shoulders.

Work was busy, not allowing you to sink too deeply into your thoughts as you darted around the clinic. A reprieve, almost, from the events of the last couple of days. You were grateful, but by the end of your shift, you were back at square one. Always, your mind drifted back to him. Him, him, him. You knew nothing else.

Standing on line at the nearest fast food joint, you stared unfocused at the menu displayed on a small flat screen television behind the counter. How much did he even need to eat now anyways? You weren’t entirely sure, but even the size of his torso was so much more that you were certain it was nowhere near the amount you ate on a daily basis. Were there things he couldn’t eat anymore? Were there things he was partial to? There was a conversation to be had, especially if you were to go grocery shopping sometime in the not-so-distant future. You didn’t want to poison him by accident or something.

When it was your turn to order, you got a sandwich and fries for yourself. For Sebastian, you bought a triple decker burger, then—after pondering it with furrowed brows—you ordered another. And two extra large fries. And a couple bottled drinks. Hopefully it would be enough for now. If not then, well, he could raid your kitchen.

After a quick run into a convenience store for the rest of his requested items, you started on your way home. The drive was quick, the golden glow of the sun dipping to kiss the horizon casting itself gently through the windshield of your car. You pulled into the gravelly driveway of your cottage and grabbed your bags from the passenger seat. Then, you locked up your car and bustled over to your front door. The curtains you could see just behind the front-facing windows were still tightly drawn.

As you unlocked the door, you called out an “I’m home!” and shuffled properly inside. Silence greeted you. Closing the door was like pinching the flame of a candle to douse it, a fragile darkness taking over. You looked around, blinking in an attempt to get your eyes to adjust faster.

You could just make out Sebastian’s form coiled in front of the couch. He was staring down at something in his hands, but you couldn’t quite make out what, exactly. Toeing off your shoes, you gently placed your work bag on the ground next to them and picked your way over to him.

“Sebastian?” you murmured, your hands gripping at the fast food bag as you came to a stop somewhere to his right. Faintly, there was the smell of fish. It felt like you were standing in a bubble that resided outside of time—if you even exhaled too loudly it would pop and the moment would be lost forever.

His ear fin twitched slightly, and his head jerked like he was glancing at you from the corner of his eye before looking back down at his hands. You waited for him to speak, your gaze trained on the side of his face—unreadable as it was.

“What’d you keep this old thing for?” he eventually rasped out. You peered down at his hands to see he was holding onto the flannel you usually kept hanging on the back of your bedroom door. You hadn’t touched it in… a while. But it still hung there, unwilling as you were to pack it away out of sight. His thumbs smoothed over the checkered fabric. “Hardly seems worth saving.”

“It was your favorite,” you replied simply as you continued to observe him. He only grunted. The faint glow from his eyes looked airbrushed along his hands and arms. It made you feel as though you were underwater. You found yourself adding, “I kept some other things, too.”

“Did you, now?” He hummed and shot you a sharp grin. “Couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried, huh?” It was a weak attempt at a joke, you knew.

“No,” you told him, gaze softening. “Never could.”

Sebastian exhaled, long and faint and vaguely unsteady. You held your hand out, and after one long, contemplative moment, he gently dropped the flannel onto your palm—his grip nearly mechanical as he released it. Your fingers curled into the soft clothing.

“Here,” you said as you offered him your other hand holding onto the fast food bag. “Go set the table. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He cleared his throat and carefully took the bag from your grip. With an unoccupied hand, he gave you a salute. “Yoooouuu got it, boss!” There was a cheer to his voice that you knew was forced, but you didn’t point it out.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and slowly made your way to your room, a soothing light flickering on behind you from Sebastian tugging on his lure. Well, at least you wouldn’t have to worry about your light bill now, you thought wryly to yourself. Shaking your head slightly, you hung the flannel back in its designated spot. Then, you beelined straight for your closet and spent a bit digging around until you located that box of Sebastian’s things. Unsealed and unassuming. You shifted it around in your hold, drumming your fingers along the cardboard thoughtfully.

When you arrived at the kitchen, you saw that Sebastian had neatly laid out everything from the bag onto the wooden table. Wrapped sandwiches, cartons of fries, bottles of drinks. In one of his hands resided the pack of cigarettes that you had tucked into the bag after purchasing them from the store. The accompanying lighter you got for them was in his other hand, and he rotated it around idly for a moment before pocketing it and the Marlboros in his jacket.

You noticed he had moved one of the chairs away from the table to take its spot, his tail coiled underneath him. You guessed it was just easier for him to avoid any furniture at all, given his size. Especially a small table chair like that. You walked over and set the box down on an unoccupied surface of the table.

“It’s not much,” you said as you pushed it slightly towards him. His gaze flicked down to eye the partially open flaps. “But well… I just couldn’t give them away.”

“What’d you end up doing with all my stuff anyways?” he asked curiously as you wandered over to the sink to wash your hands—stepping carefully around his tail occupying the space of your kitchen. There was a light shifting sound as he poked around in the box that stopped almost as soon as it had started. The light illuminating the kitchen dimmed ever so slightly. His tail twitched behind him.

“Sold them,” you replied as casually as you could, drying off your hands and making your way back to the table. “Or donated. Gave your mom some things too.”

As you sat down, Sebastian lowered himself so that he wouldn’t tower over you from where he was positioned across the table. It didn’t do much. You still felt like you were sitting before a minor giant, forced to lean back in your seat lest you strained your neck looking up at him. You had to suppress a frown. He tapped his fingers atop the table’s surface. You noticed the box was no longer sitting where you’d originally placed it. In fact, he had set it on the ground—out of sight, out of mind. You did not acknowledge it.

“Did you give her my guitar?” he asked, maybe a little hopefully, but you shook your head. He frowned. “My Xbox?” Another shake of your head. “Damn. Lucas didn’t want them?”

“Nope.”

“My most prized possessions,” he complained, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gone, just like that.”

“My bad,” you said dryly, reaching out to grab your sandwich and unwrap it. “I should’ve known to keep them for when you would obviously return.”

He clicked his tongue. “Shame on you for not having the foresight to do so, honestly.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh shut up and eat your food.”

He smirked and grabbed one of his sandwiches. Even a triple decker seemed so small in his hold. How was that supposed to satisfy him? You frowned into your sandwich as you took a bite, trying not to make it obvious you were watching him as he carefully tore off the wrapping with the tips of his fingers.

He held the burger close to his face, peering at it with half-lidded eyes. “I don’t even remember the last time I had a burger,” he murmured and turned it this way and that. Inspecting it thoughtfully. Some of the mayonnaise slapped into it seeped out of the sides as his grip tightened.

The glow of his lure was like a spotlight as it illuminated everything beneath it. You and him, crowded around your little table in your little kitchen. Nothing else existed outside of it. How strange, you mulled to yourself. You could feel something stir in the pit of your stomach—following the haze of a distant memory that felt just a tad too out of reach.

You hummed, eyeing his upper body as he finally took a bite that was large enough to demolish half of his burger at once. A lithe torso with lithe limbs attached to it. A looseness to his clothing. Even a gauntness to his face if you paid close enough attention to it past his scarf. The implications of it all settled around your neck like a noose.

“What did they even feed you?” you wondered, gesturing at him slightly with your partially eaten sandwich. He did not tell you much, in hindsight, about his time trapped underwater. What he did on a day-by-day basis. It was purposeful, but still, you were morbidly curious.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re assuming they fed me at all,” he said as he grinned that shark-toothed grin of his.

You paused to take in his words, then felt yourself give him a concerned look. Worry creased your eyebrows together. His grin faltered minutely—so minute, in fact, that you almost thought it hadn’t at all.

“Kidding!” he exclaimed suddenly, his eyes crinkling and smile stretching in a way that did not reassure you one bit. “I’m kidding! It was mostly fish.” You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. It only made your frown deepen. You were doing that a lot tonight, it seemed.

“…Right,” you said, unconvinced. You nibbled on a fry, the salt deliciously coating your tongue. “I’m guessing you’re pretty sick of it, then.” Mentally, you crossed fish off your list of foods to buy at the grocery store.

“You have no idea,” he muttered sullenly, polishing off the rest of his burger and reaching for the second. There was a glob of mayonnaise on his cheek. Your gaze softened.

(“Baby,” you said amusedly, watching him shovel the last bits of dinner into his mouth. There was marinara sauce all over his mouth. “You’re a mess.”

“Well that’s just rude,” he huffed, eyeing you haughtily, “you don’t see me attacking you outta nowhere like that.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You picked up a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table and gestured at him. “Come here.”

He tilted his head at you but complied, leaning in closer across the table. You carefully wiped at his mouth, running the napkin tenderly over his lips and chin. You made sure not to tug too harshly on his lip ring; he’d told you before that it still bled pretty easily. He watched you with all the focus in the world, his gaze trained on your face. And when you deemed him clean enough, you gave him a little smile and tapped at the tip of his nose with your finger. His eyes crossed to look at the motion.

“There,” you said, satisfied, as you leaned back in your seat. “All clean.”

He mirrored your movement, then set his chin on top of his fist as his eyes crinkled warmly at you. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” He grinned sharply.

You only grinned back. “Not really, no.”)

“You’ve got a little—” You gestured to your face. When all he did was blink at you rather obliviously, you huffed out a little laugh and grabbed a napkin. For a moment—a short, inconsequential moment—you hesitated. Then, you offered it to him. “Here.”

He looked down at your hand. And after another short, inconsequential moment, he reached out so he could take it, extra cautious to ensure his claws didn’t catch on your fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled and wiped at his face. You only offered him a smile.

“So!” You snagged another couple of fries, ready to push all of… that behind you. “Anything you can or cannot eat? I’m thinking of doing groceries tomorrow.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his third hand’s fingers tapping at the table while his other two focused on unwrapping his other burger. “Not really, no. Surprisingly I kept most of my ah, digestive abilities, you could say,” he told you dryly. “Although, I seem to crave more of a, mmmm, meat heavy diet.” He smiled strangely and took a bite of his sandwich.

“Meat heavy, got it.” You took a mental note of that. “Got any food requests, then?”

“Completos,” he said immediately, looking at you rather intently. “God, fuck, I’ve never craved anything so badly. Barros Lucos, too.”

You nodded, adding all the ingredients you would need to your list. Hot dogs, avocados, tomatoes… “Anything else?”

The two of you spent a while coming up with meals to make over the next few weeks—which essentially amounted to Sebastian listing things he had missed or wanted with the faintest of rasps to his voice. Spaghetti, butter chicken, quesadillas. You had to grab your phone so you could make a proper list or you’d forget it all. With each one, you could feel your heart sinking deeper and deeper into your chest. An ache you were all too familiar with reared its ugly head. And you didn’t know how to deal with it.

At one point, though—while telling you the ingredients so he could make Charquicán—something seemed to shift within him. You weren’t sure what happened. Only that he quieted down and took on a more… ruminative air. You didn’t press him when it occurred. You just offered a few other options for meals, then let a silence settle between you both as you finished up your meals.

Eventually, though, you decided to gently prod him. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Sebastian slowly blinked down at the table. Then, his eyes seemed to flick up towards you and off to the side. He snorted out a laugh, but you could tell it was half-hearted. “Gonna take a lot more than a penny for them,” he tried humorlessly. When you only patiently waited for him to continue, he sighed and his third arm wrapped itself around his abdomen.

He avoided your gaze, raven hair partially covering his face. “Do you… still talk to my mom?”

Ah. That explained it. Your tongue suddenly felt dry in your mouth. “I do. Your siblings, too.”

His head snapped towards you, and for one split second—he looked hopeful. His mouth opened, then closed. And he hesitated, expression scrunching slightly as his hands fidgeted with each other.

You took the chance to gently ask, “Do you… want to see them?”

“I— of course I do. Is that even a question?” he blurted, then seemed to reel himself back in. He looked apprehensive, his lips pressing together. “It’s just… I…” he trailed off. Unwilling to voice the thoughts that swirled around in his head. It didn’t take a genius to guess what they revolved around.

“It doesn’t have to be right away,” you told him in a soothing manner. “Lucas won’t be free until next month anyways. I can invite them over around then. We have time.”

“Right,” he forced out. He twisted the ring around his finger. “Right. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you echoed back at him. And after taking in his closed off demeanor—his reluctance to fully face you—you decided a distraction was in order. “Alright, how about we watch a movie?”

He agreed—lost in thought as he was—and you shooed him off to the living room while you cleaned up in the kitchen. You set the chairs back in place at the table and noticed the box was gone from where Sebastian had placed it on the ground. And when you walked over to join him by the couch, you saw that he was holding that panda plushie in one of his hands. The box sat innocently on your coffee table, flaps wide open. His thumb ran repeatedly over the plushie’s short fuzz, a distant look on his face.

You grabbed the remote and plopped yourself down on the side of the couch he wasn’t sitting in front of. His tail curved out to the side so that it wouldn’t be in the way—a hulking mass that reached towards the front door with how he positioned it. You took a moment to compare his upper body’s presumed weight with the sturdiness of the couch.

You cleared your throat, and he tore himself away from the plushie to look at you. “Y’know, you could probably sit on the couch if you wanted. I think it can hold your weight.” Or some of it, anyways. Definitely not with the rest of his lengthy tail.

He made a face, disbelieving. “Are you sure about that?”

Your head swayed side to side as you considered. “Mmh, yeah. Like ninety-seven percent sure.”

“And the other three percent?” he asked flatly.

You shrugged and had to suppress a smile. “Well, in the event that you did break the couch… it would be pretty fucking funny.” You grinned at him when he gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on, have trust in my couch. She hasn’t failed me yet.” You gave the cushion next to you a little pat.

He eyed you and the cushion dubiously, then seemed to cave when you only patted it a little harder. “Alright, fine. But I sure as shit am not paying for it if it does.”

You watched as he lifted himself up—the muscles of his tail tensing underneath his scales—and carefully eased his weight onto the couch. Not too close, not too far. Just enough for there to be a foot’s worth of space between you and him.

The moment he stopped holding himself up completely, his form sinking into the couch cushion, you felt your body inadvertently tilt towards him—off balance with the additional weight. You made a surprised sound as you caught yourself before you could fall onto him, your hands grasping at the armrest of the couch you were closest to. You scooted yourself closer to it, heart beating wildly in your ears. A low warmth crawled up into your cheeks that you willed away.

The couch creaked as Sebastian finally settled in. And after a second of you both holding your breath and waiting, you exhaled and shot him a smug look. “Told you so.”

“I don’t remember you being this annoying,” he said, though the lightness to his voice told you he was messing with you. “Were you always this annoying?”

You scoffed and had to resist the urge to reach over to shove him. Not that it would do anything. “Shut up. What do you wanna watch?”

He shrugged. “I’ve got years of movies to catch up on, I don’t really care.” After saying that, though, he seemed to mull it over in his head. And then quietly—so, so quietly you had to hold your breath to hear it—he mumbled, “D’you… got any new favorite movies?”

You turned his question over in your head. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Let’s watch those, then.”

“Hmm.” Your gaze softened while you watched him, a warmth settling deeply in your stomach. He didn’t turn to look at you, instead electing to stare down at the plushie still in his hold. “Okay.”

You managed to stay focused on the movie you pulled up for about a quarter of its length. And then you got distracted with stealing glances at Sebastian. He paid attention to the film for the most part—the glow of his eyes stark with him having turned his lure off—but every so often you caught him staring distractedly either at the box sitting on your coffee table or the plushie in his hand. Quiet. Contemplative in a way that was haunting.

You debated saying something. Part of you wanted to just pretend you hadn’t picked up on anything—for his sake or your own, you weren’t sure. But eventually you gave in when he seemed too deeply lost in thought, vacant look to his eyes.

You cleared your throat and made a show of warily eyeing the plushie in his hand. Memories from a time long passed flowed through your mind. “I hope you’re not planning to do anything with that.”

Sebastian blinked back to the present. “Huh?”

You nodded at the panda plushie. He looked back and forth between you and the plushie for a bit until he realized what you were implying.

“Well I can’t do it right now,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s gotta be when you least expect it.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “When I least expe—”

Bap!

Stunned, you blinked at Sebastian as the plushie fell to your lap. There was the leftover feeling of fuzz in your mouth. He immediately started to wheeze, one of his hands slapping over his eyes while he shook with laughter strong enough to mildly shake the couch. In hindsight, you should have expected that.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s the second time so far. I need to keep a tally,” he cackled, breathless and delighted. Well, at least he wasn’t in his prior funk anymore. That was all you could ask for, really.

“Some things never change, huh?” you said dryly. You picked up the plushie and tossed it at him. He chortled some more when it harmlessly bounced off his shoulder.

Letting out a gentle sigh, you glanced over to the television to see the movie was almost at its end. Fatigue from the day’s events was starting to press against your eyes. Ahh, you should brush your teeth and shower. Standing up, you stretched out your arms over your head. The muscles in your shoulders and back moved with the motion, your shirt riding up ever so slightly. You tugged it down and turned to look at Sebastian, his teal eyes already trained on your form—faint smile still lingering on his face from his previous laughter.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” you told him and grabbed the remote to toss in his direction. “You can put something else on if you want.”

“Aw, already?” He pouted, not bothering to pick up the remote just yet. “It’s not that late.”

You snorted. “It’s not, but I have to get up early tomorrow. Again. Y’know, like people with jobs tend to do.”

“Right, right, my bad. How could I forget?” Sarcasm oozed from his words. “Well, don’t let me hold you up.” He made a shoo-ing motion with one of his hands.

You snorted again and turned on your heel to head over to your bedroom. And once you were inside, you paused once you grabbed your towel from its place behind your door. Usually, you would change your clothes in your room after showering, but… Did you really want to walk around in only your towel right now? You glanced out the door at Sebastian—who looked like he was painstakingly trying to browse other movie options using the tiny remote. You looked back down at your towel, squeezing the soft material.

…This was stupid. You were overthinking the smallest things, it seemed. You pinched at the bridge of your nose. And after standing there feeling like your innards were knotting themselves together over and over, you forced yourself to gather up your necessary nightwear. Then, you made your way to your bathroom for the quickest shower and redress of your life.

As you went to brush your teeth, you noticed another toothbrush sitting in the cup you used to hold your own. The bristles were, well, not destroyed exactly, but they stuck out all over the place instead of in their neat lines. A peek into the tiny trash can you kept in the bathroom revealed the remains of a toothbrush snapped in half—the bristles on that one utterly destroyed. Your bottle of mouthwash was also significantly emptier than it had been this morning. You had to suppress a smile. Mentally, you added more to your list of groceries, as well as a better toothbrush for Sebastian to use.

Upon exiting the bathroom, your towel slung over your shoulder and dirty clothes in hand, your eyes landed on Sebastian. With his lure still off, the light from the television painted the living room in shades of navy and purple. He wasn’t paying attention to the movie he’d put on, still running his thumbs repeatedly over that plushie. You cleared your throat, and his head snapped towards you.

“Well,” you said lightly as you walked over to your room, “I’m heading to bed. Ni—”

“Wait—!” he cut across you, his eyes widening as he lurched slightly in your direction. One of his arms raised halfheartedly. One beat. Two beats. And then he hesitated, lowering his arm as he slouched down into the couch. He sighed—quiet, weary—and turned back around so he could stare absently at his box of things once more. “...Never mind.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You lingered outside your bedroom for a moment, waiting to see if he would say anything else. But when he didn’t, you gave him one more look, your lips pressing together.

“Good night,” you whispered, one of your hands resting on the edge of the door frame.

“G’night,” he murmured back. He didn’t look at you. This felt infinitely worse than last night.

When you finally slipped into your room for the night—heart weighed by something you could not define—you made sure to leave the door slightly ajar.

The following morning passed similarly to the previous one, with you shuffling out of your bedroom to find Sebastian already awake. He gave you a sleepy “Morning,” and took to watching you sleepily as you scurried around getting ready for work.

“I’ll probably be back a little later than usual,” you told him hastily as you tugged on your shoes and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t wait up if you get hungry.”

“Mmmkay.” He gave you a lazy wave from his coiled lounging in front of the couch. The pillow you’d given him was pressed to his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around it. “Have a good day.” You offered him a quick smile, lingering for only the most minuscule of moments before you slipped out the door.

You were hoping for an easy shift at work, especially with all the shopping you’d need to do afterwards, but it was not kind to you. Fatigue weighed heavily upon your shoulders as you left the clinic. There was an itch behind your eyes that you knew would only worsen over time. You huffed and buckled yourself into your car. The quicker you could get this done, the better.

You’d intended to visit your regular grocery store, but upon deliberating it while driving down one of the main roads, you decided to go to your town’s warehouse store. Buying items in bulk would probably be better for you and Sebastian. And your wallet.

With one hand holding onto your phone and the other pushing around a cart, you went hunting for all the things you’d need. Plus some more items that your eyes caught onto and you figured wouldn’t hurt to bring home. A giant box of granola bars, for one. A couple rotisserie chickens. A container of honey crisp apples. Honestly, you could probably buy anything and he would be happy with it. He never was much of a picky eater.

You spent some time in the cleaning supplies aisle, looking at various brushes used to scrub sinks or pans. You picked one up, weighing it in your hand and peering at the thick bristles attached to the rectangular head. A traditional toothbrush was clearly out of the question. This would have to do for him. You’d probably need way more tubes of toothpaste as well.

At one point, you passed by a clothing aisle and took a moment to stare at various shirts and sweaters. You picked out a particularly large, black shirt and tried to imagine if it could fit over Sebastian’s long torso. Probably not, especially with his extra arm. You frowned as you hung it back up. You might have to look online for larger sizes. It was something to discuss with him later.

After making your way through the store, ensuring you got everything on your list, you headed towards self-checkout. And as you scanned each item and placed it on the large scale attached to the monitor, you were hit with just how much you bought. It was… a lot. Almost triple the amount of groceries you typically got biweekly. You nervously eyed the receipt once it was printed, then decided you shouldn’t worry too much about it. You had your savings, and if anything, you could always pick up extra shifts at the clinic.

Once everything was packed away neatly into the trunk and backseat of your car, you drove back to your cottage. By now it was dark outside, the roads lit up by street lamps that glowed with sleepy cream-colored light. There was the smallest scattering of stars overhead, most of the sky overtaken by cool gray clouds passing lazily by.

Eventually, you pulled into your driveway and killed the engine. Grabbing some of the items you could carry from the backseat with one hand, you rummaged around in your bag for your keys and made your way over to the door.

“I’m home!” you called out once you opened it, letting the dim moonlight seep into the darkness of your living room. As you dropped your work bag onto the floor and gently set down the items in your hand next to it, a golden light flickered on.

“Welcome back,” Sebastian greeted smoothly. A quick glance upwards showed him steadily making his way over from the kitchen. “Was wondering when you’d return.”

“Admittedly, that took me longer than I’d expected,” you said with a sigh. You gestured down to the groceries on the floor. “Do me a favor and pack these into the kitchen? I’ll bring everything else in. Just shout if you don’t know where something goes.”

“Alrighty,” he agreed easily, and you turned on your heel to make your way back over to your car to bring in everything else. The quicker this was done, the quicker you’d be able to finally relax.

It didn’t take too long with the both of you working together, but it was a lot of groceries. Sebastian was able to carry quite a few items to the kitchen on his own—something that would have taken ages on your lonesome. It meant he had to move back and forth between the front door and kitchen, though, and you could see his tail curved all over your cottage. Over the couch, around the coffee table, looping about the kitchen. It really put into perspective just how long he was. And well, it was certainly something to ruminate on.

He didn’t seem to have any issues with putting things in their proper places, thankfully. It wasn’t like it was all too different from how you both organized things way back when. Bread in the fridge, fruits in the little basket on the counter, cereal on top of the refrigerator, potatoes in the cabinet under the sink. It was a major help to not have to pack everything up by yourself, you had to admit.

Finally, you grabbed the last few items from your car’s trunk. The large box of granola bars and a few other frozen boxed items that you stacked on top of it to make the trip easier. Holding it all precariously in one hand, you locked up your car and carefully made your way over to the front door.

“This is the last of it,” you said as you stepped into your cottage and used your foot to close the door behind you. It was difficult to see where you were going with all the boxes in the way. You toed off your shoes and headed towards the kitchen. “Did you finish packing ev—”

Your foot caught on something.

You let out a yelp, lurching forward as you lost balance. The topmost boxes slipped down to the floor, landing with nearly consecutive thuds. Your heart leapt in your chest, but before you could really brace yourself for impact, something snatched you by the back of your jacket and tugged you slightly into the air.

“Shit! Watch where you’re going!” Sebastian chastised you as you dangled above the floor for a bit before being set gently down. You blinked rapidly, still not quite processing what had happened. “Coulda busted your head right open.”

“Sorry,” you said automatically, then glanced down to see you’d tripped right over a part of his tail—that was already shifting out of your way to make your path to the kitchen clear. You swallowed. “I— Sorry.”

“Jeez,” he grumbled, bending down to swipe up the boxes you’d dropped. “And to answer your question: Yes, I did finish. Though I dunno where you want this to go.”

With his third arm he brandished the sink brush at you, already having removed it from its plastic container. You blinked at it once, then gave yourself a mental kick to the behind to snap yourself out of it. Focus. Here and now.

“Ah. That’s your new toothbrush,” you told him as you forced yourself to continue on to the kitchen.

There was a tiny pause. “You’re joking,” he said incredulously as he followed behind you—the low shifting sound of his body your only indication.

“Nope. You’re welcome.”

“You expect me to brush my teeth with this?”

“Ordinary toothbrushes weren’t gonna cut it for you,” you told him amusedly as you slipped the box of granola bars atop the refrigerator and opened the freezer. You gestured at him to hand you the boxes he was holding and he complied, though he was still frowning at you like you’d just suggested the most absurd thing in the world. You rolled your eyes. “It’s better than nothing.”

“That’s what you said about the regular toothbrushes,” he said in exasperation, then sighed. “I should have expected this,” he muttered to himself, eyeing the brush some more as he rotated it about in his hands.

You closed the freezer door and turned to look up at him. “Did you put away the toothpaste and mouthwash, too?”

He jabbed a finger over to the bathroom, still scrutinizing the brush. “I put them on the counter.”

“Okay, I’ll put them away. Give me your toothbrush, I’ll put it in the cabinet.” You extended your hand, waiting for him to stop being so dramatic. He ran a hand down his face and huffed, but eventually dropped the brush onto your palm. You had to suppress a smile. Looked like you won.

You made your way to the bathroom and exactly what you’d said you’d do. Sebastian’s brush went into the cabinet behind the mirror. The extra toothbrush sitting in your cup—with its destroyed bristles—went into the garbage can. The mouthwash and extra toothpaste were both tucked neatly away into the cabinet under the sink. You washed your hands and rolled your shoulders with a silent sigh.

After exiting the bathroom, you tossed your jacket into your room and wandered back to the kitchen. That same fatigue from earlier was starting to make a reappearance. It laid heavy hands along your shoulders and the back of your neck. You chewed at the inside of your lip as you glanced at Sebastian—who was sweeping his own gaze across the kitchen—then at the clock on your stove.

“I am way too tired and it is way too late to make something,” you admitted as you rubbed your hand over your abdomen when your stomach gave a little rumble. “Did you eat the rest of the leftovers?”

“For lunch, yeah,” he replied as he flicked his head to the dish rack. The associated containers and utensils sat there drying.

You hummed and slipped carefully around his tail to reopen the refrigerator. Might as well use some of the things you bought today. “How do you feel about cereal for dinner?”

“Don’t care, either way.” He shrugged and glanced up at the top of the refrigerator, where the boxes of cereal stood. “I saw those Reese’s Puffs you bought today. Feels almost targeted, honestly.” He sniffed.

You grinned as you walked over to the cabinets. “That’s because it was.”

After you grabbed a bowl and spoon for yourself, you turned around to compare it to Sebastian’s hand size while he moved one of the kitchen table’s chairs to the side again. There was no way he’d be able to comfortably use such tiny things. The bowl alone was more like a cup for him. You rubbed your chin and bent down to grab a basin and a pot spoon, the metal of each reflecting the light coming from Sebastian’s lure. This would have to do.

You set everything down on the table, then grabbed the Reese’s Puffs, your own preferred cereal, and a gallon of milk—juggling them all in your hold carefully until you could drop them on the table. Sebastian snorted when he saw the basin and pot spoon, but didn’t say anything else. You sat down with a sigh, suddenly acutely aware of your own aching feet and pressing itch to your eyes.

And so there you both were again. Sitting across from each other in your little kitchen.

Still strange. Still unfamiliar.

You wondered when you would grow accustomed to it all.

Sebastian cleared his throat as he reached for the Reese’s Puffs to begin pouring it into his bowl. “So! How was your day?”

You shrugged at him, copying his actions with your own cereal. “Tiring, I suppose. How was yours?”

“Boring when you’re not here,” he said immediately. He poured milk into his bowl, then gestured at your own so he could fill yours as well. You pushed it closer to him and watched the stream of milk as it splashed against your cereal. “But this isn’t about me. This is about you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It is?”

He nodded and recapped the milk jug. “I told you all about me,” he said simply, “now I want you to tell me all about you. What have you been up to all this time?”

There was a warmth settling itself in your stomach—like you’d just swallowed a spoonful of hot soup. You tried not to let it affect you so much. “I’m… not sure if there’s really much to say,” you said, a small frown splayed on your lips as you picked up your spoon.

Sebastian flapped a hand at you. “Pssht, bullshit! There’s always a tale to tell. Come on, don’t hold out on me.” He grinned at you suddenly, sharp. “Unless you’ve got something to hide?”

You gave him a look. “Right,” you said flatly, “like my secret job I do after working all day at the clinic.”

He snapped his fingers. “Now we’re talking!”

You snorted, then hummed thoughtfully as you swirled your spoon through your bowl. “Honestly, there really isn’t much to say,” you told him quietly, thinking back to the years and years of grief and solitude. “I work. I come home. I read or watch T.V. or play shitty songs on my ukulele.” You chuckled. “Occasionally I text some friends still living in the city. Or call your siblings or mom. Maybe I hang out with coworkers very seldomly. But mostly I just…” you trailed off, thinking about the evenings spent lost in thought at the dock or within the cove. Thinking about him, mostly. Mourning him. You shrugged. “I dunno. Daydream, I guess.”

The gaze he pierced you with made you feel like you were being picked apart and analyzed, piece by piece. “Hmm, I see.” You were certain he knew you were not telling him everything.

Well, you thought to yourself wryly, that makes two of us.

It was okay, though. There were some things that were just better off left unsaid.

“How about any work stories?” he asked after shoveling his spoon into his mouth to crunch noisily down on his cereal. “You said you work at a clinic, right? You gotta have something from your time there.”

You mulled it over in your head. “Well, there was this one time…”

For the rest of dinner, you recounted what tales you could remember from your job. Dramatic coworkers, strict bosses, strange patient interactions. You didn’t think some of them were all too interesting—maybe just a way for you to rant or express your incredulity at dealing with people—but Sebastian listened raptly either way, his ear fins flicking every so often. He offered his own little sardonic quips from time to time (“No way,” he drawled when you told him a patient stopped taking all their medications then was surprised when they felt awful afterwards), and it made you realize later on just how… normal things were between you both. Right then and there.

Sitting at a too little table, in a too little kitchen. You and him, like it had always been before everything happened.

It made you crave more. Sunk its talons into your body and filled you up with a want want want.

Addicting.

You watched Sebastian scrape up the last of his second helping of cereal onto his spoon, sleepily blinking at him in the quiet, comfortable aftermath of your last story. Your gaze caught onto the long sleeves of his jacket, then traced upwards to the scarf still wrapped loosely around his neck. Faintly, you recalled wandering past the clothes section at the warehouse store you went to earlier. Right.

“What size are you?” you found yourself asking, eyeing up his jacket and trying to estimate how long it was.

Sebastian let out an offended gasp, dropping his spoon into his bowl while his third hand raised up to his chest in shock. “Why I never! Babe, you can’t just ask someone that!”

You snorted. “I was talking about your clothes and you know it. So?”

“Why are you asking?” he asked warily, shooting you a narrow-eyed look.

“I was thinking we should order you some new things to wear,” you told him and leaned back into your chair. “You’ve gotta be tired of wearing the same fit every day, right?”

He shrugged, his head flicking to the side slightly like he was staring out at something other than you. “I got used to it.”

Your gaze softened. “Well, I think you deserve at least a new shirt. Maybe a sweater.” Then, to lighten the atmosphere and give him an easy out, you said, “Besides, what if I’m tired of seeing you in the same clothes, huh? What if I wanted to see you in something nicer? Ever think about that?”

Sebastian looked back at you, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he processed your words. His lips tensed together when you only smiled knowingly at him, and his cheeks darkened minutely. He opened his mouth, paused, then after appearing to consider what to do next, his lips twisted into a feigned grimace. The edges of his lips twitched. You had to hold back a laugh.

“Eugh, are you flirting with me?” he asked, one of his hands reaching up to tuck his hair vainly over his ear fin. His face scrunched up like he was wrinkling his nonexistent nose, though his lure got a smidge brighter. “You should know, I’m a married man.” He wiggled his third arm’s fingers at you, his ring glinting in the light from his lure.

You rolled your eyes. You did that a lot with him, you noticed. You opened your mouth to respond, then found yourself darting your gaze past his torso when something blurry moved in your periphery.

Fake Sebastian leaned against the door of your refrigerator, hands tucked neatly into his pockets as he smiled widely at you. Uncanny, almost. His eyes crinkled into crescents that still seemed to pierce right through your body like an arrow. A reminder. And for one short, inconsequential moment, you froze.

(Teal eyes. Fingers like knives. Body covered in scales. Pungent smell of fish.)

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You forced yourself to look back at actual Sebastian, who watched you with slightly furrowed brows. Appraising you, almost. Evaluating. You smiled at him, willing your stomach to stop twisting itself into heavy knots. You were working on it. “So? Size?”

If he found your lack of a retort suspicious, he did not make it known. Instead, he sighed and leaned back away from you. When had he gotten closer?

He picked at the material of his jacket sleeve. “I dunno. This shit was all custom made probably.” He moved his third arm around, bringing your attention to the sleeves it had both from his jacket and undershirt.

You frowned, tapping your finger against your chin. “Guess we’ll have to take some measurements. Gimme a sec.” You stood up, your chair making a little scraping sound as you pushed it back and beelined for your bedroom.

Rummaging around in your closet, you let out a little “aha!” when your fingers found purchase on the cool metal of a small measuring tape. You pulled it out and scurried back over to Sebastian, your fingers already pulling at the little metal tab at the end to stretch out the flimsy tape.

“Okay,” you said as you stood next to your chair and pulled the tape out until it was a few feet long. “This shouldn’t take too long. Let’s—”

But you found yourself hesitating as you looked up at him.

You’d… fully intended on helping him measure his waist, chest, and torso length but… As you peered at his face with his glowing eyes trained on your hands, you were suddenly struck with the startling memory of his snarl—snapping at you as he lurched backwards from your touch. The sinking pit in your stomach it caused, and the way he turned away from you like he just could not bring himself to look at you.

“Not yet,” he’d said, strangling out the words like they were suffocating him. “Not yet.”

Your grip tightened on the measuring tape. He continued to watch you, his mouth deepening into a frown when you didn’t say anything else. It shook you from your thoughts. You cleared your throat and abruptly loosened your hold on the tool.

Not yet, you told yourself. Time, you just needed time.

For him and for you.

“Actually,” you said in as thoughtful a manner as you could, hoping against all that your expression was schooled into something similar. You let the tape retract into the metal body of its container and set it on the table to slide it over to him. “Take your measurements. I’m gonna clear the table and grab my laptop in the meantime.”

When you grabbed at your bowl and his own larger basin, it looked—for one, terse moment—like he wanted to say something. It was in the way his gaze seemed to dart down to the tape, then back up at you. The way his jaw tensed, then relaxed just as quick.

He sighed, long and quiet.

“I don’t think you’re gonna find anything that fits… this,” he grumbled as he picked up the tiny measuring tape with thick, careful fingers. One errant flex of his hand and he could crush it rather easily. It was as unnerving as it was captivating.

You made a noncommittal sound as you placed the dishes into the sink and grabbed the sponge to scrub them down with soap. “Eh, who knows. There might be sizes large enough on certain websites. And if anything, we can probably custom order something for you.”

He only grumbled something indecipherable, the sound of the measuring tape being stretched out filling the air. You busied yourself with rinsing the dishes, quietly ruminating on the strange proportions of Sebastian’s body.

His torso was quite long—almost as long as your entire body, honestly. Any shirt you got him might be… a bit short on him, but that was fine. Your one concern was how lithe he was, in addition to his length. It might cause him to get utterly swamped in whatever you would purchase. Not to mention you’d most certainly have to cut a hole in the material to allow his third arm freedom. You’d probably also have to buy shirts made of stretchable material, particularly so he could get his big head through the neck hole in the first place.

Ahh, this was more complicated than you’d originally thought.

It was fine, though. Anything to make him more comfortable.

Drying your hands off on a nearby towel, you glanced over to see Sebastian still measuring his chest’s circumference—his eyes squinted in focus as he carefully pinched the tape around his body. You let him be so you could scavenge around for your laptop. You couldn’t remember where you last left it.

Once you found it—tucked underneath the couch, of all places—you went back to the kitchen to plop yourself back down in your chair at the table. The measuring tape was already set on its surface, and Sebastian watched you silently with his arms crossed over his chest as you powered on your laptop. You placed it in the middle of the table, so that you both could see its screen properly.

“Alright,” you said once it booted up and you opened the notepad application, “what’s the verdict, chief?”

He told you his measurements, and you typed them up for reference. Then, the search began. It wasn’t all that hard to find a website that sold clothes for individuals on the taller side, honestly. What sucked was finding one that had a size chart that matched his own measurements well enough. Either his chest measurement was way too small, or his torso length was too long—it was just as you’d predicted. You’d have to compromise.

Sebastian was… well… quiet, as he watched you scroll through numerous sites. Not melancholy, really, but… resigned, almost. Maybe even tense. You weren’t sure how to define it. His gaze just seemed distant whenever you glanced up at him to get a read on what he was thinking. It was not an expression you wanted to see on him—that you liked seeing on him. You cleared your throat.

“I hear baggy, almost-crop tops are the new look,” you joked as you gestured to the size chart on one website that seemed like the best option out of the others. “What do you think?”

“Hmm?” He blinked as he seemed to come back to himself and glanced briefly down at you. With your expectant gaze on him, his own darted to your laptop and he focused in on it with a squint. “Oh yeah, they’re right up there with skinny jeans and fedoras.”

You huffed out a laugh. “It’s the best we’ve got that’ll kinda fit you. We can buy a couple to test them out. I can return them if anything.”

“Whatever you say,” he said vaguely. It made your lips twitch slightly into a frown.

“Are you… okay?” you hesitantly asked him, turning your body in your seat so you could face him properly. You hadn’t noticed until now but his lure had dimmed. Not too much to be stark, but enough that you glanced briefly up to it in concern. “It’s just… you seem out of it.”

He didn’t reply. He only stared down at you. A quiet permeated the air, broken only by your soft breaths. The hum of your laptop’s fans. His mouth opened slightly, just enough for you to hear the small inhale he took. Then— he seemed to snap back to himself, his body going from stock still to sudden motion.

“Just peachy~” he crooned, his eyes crinkling into upturned crescents as he shifted closer to your side of the table. “What options do they have? I’d kill for a turtle neck.” He peered at your laptop with a curious hum, lowering himself down so he’d have a better view. One of his hands braced gently along the edge of the table.

This close—mere inches of space between you and him as he hovered just over your shoulder—you could smell that poignant, fishy odor. Stronger than it had ever been before. That sank itself into your senses and reminded you of just what you were dealing with.

Inhuman inhuman inhuman inhuman.

Your breath got caught in your lungs for a second before you forced yourself to breathe normally. You willed yourself to focus on something else, anything else. Anything other than the blatant lack of cinnamon or gentle musk you were accustomed to. Had been accustomed to.

Deep breath in.

Faintly—your brain inadvertently registered—beyond that piscine scent, was the smell of your detergent. The gentle, clear scent was so different that it was almost jarring. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, latching onto the sleeve of his jacket. It looked… clean. Soft.

Not the point, focus!

Deep breath out.

“Here, see for yourself,” you said as casually as you could as you shifted your laptop better towards him. He was deflecting, but so were you. It was as clear as a sunny sky after days of rain. There was nothing you could do about it. Or rather, nothing you wanted to do about it at this time.

Eventually, though, you would have to.

But not yet.

“I can’t—” Sebastian cut himself off with a clear of his throat. You craned your head to the side to look properly at him, the way he purposely stared at your tiny laptop and not at you. “I can’t use a touchpad, I fear. My hands are, ah, too cold. And hard.”

“Oh,” was your response, dropping from your mouth like a rock. You… hadn’t even considered that, actually. You frowned and looked at the tiny arrow keys. His fingers were too big to even properly use those, as well. It didn’t help to eradicate the coolness that was starting to spread throughout your body. You pulled your laptop a smidge closer towards you. “That’s okay. We’ll look together.” It was the only reassurance you could think of to say.

You thought he’d be pickier with what shirts he wanted, but he didn’t seem to mind the ones you pointed out. There was still that… aloofness to his voice, but he seemed to get better when you found some AC/DC and KISS shirts to add to the cart. You didn’t want to buy too much in case they ended up not fitting him at all. In any case, it was a good start.

You also ended up looking around for a website that did custom sizes after ordering from the first one. You did find one—a tailor that said they would use the customer’s measurements to adjust the clothes they had to fit their size—but you were unsure how it would work with someone like Sebastian. In any case, the two of you agreed to test it out with one of the displayed flannels on the tailor’s website, hoping no one would say anything as you punched in Sebastian’s frankly eyebrow-raising measurements and submitted the order. Maybe it would be chalked up as someone wanting a robe, or something.

When that was all said and done, you leaned back in your chair while your laptop powered off and scrubbed at your face. You were tired. You could feel it in the heaviness of your eyelids and shoulders. You were so ready to hit the—

“So!” Sebastian clasped his hands together and slithered away from you to give you some space to stretch your arms. He looked at you expectantly. “Movie?”

Ahhh. How could you say no to him after all that?

You suppressed a tired sigh. At least you didn’t have work tomorrow. “Go pick something. I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

“Yippee!” He gave you a thumbs up and snaked his way into the living room. You took a moment to rub at your eyes, then scooped up your laptop to head to your bedroom for your nightly routine.

Once your teeth were brushed and your nightwear was slipped on, you trudged over to the couch and flopped down next to Sebastian. Not too close, not too far—just like yesterday. Your eyes caught onto the box of his things, still sitting innocuously on your coffee table. Its flaps were sealed shut. You didn’t linger on it.

Sebastian already had a movie queued up on the television, and as soon as you gave him the go ahead, he carefully pressed play on the remote with the tip of his finger.

“What movie is this?” you asked as you let yourself slump into the cushions. Your legs stretched out in front of you, your heels resting on the carpet you had on the floor.

“Pacific Rim,” he replied, reaching up to tug his lure off. “I remember wanting to watch it in theaters, but then… Well.” His voice lowered into a grumble. “Never got the chance.”

You hummed. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

He let out an “mmhm” in agreement.

You didn’t even make it past the introduction.

You could already feel yourself nodding off even as an action scene played out on the screen. The darkness of the living room paired with the comfort of your relaxed body was a deadly combination. You vaguely registered movement somewhere behind your head and shoulders, but you were too far gone to really process what it was.

There was a cool sensation on your cheek that prevented your head from slipping to the side any further.

And when you woke up, hours later in the middle of the night, you found yourself tucked neatly into bed. Blanket wrapped comfortably around your body and gentle moonlight drifting its ghostly hand across your sheets. You blinked hazily up at your ceiling, then looked over at your open bedroom door.

The quiet drone of the television just outside followed you back into your dreams.

part four

#still not over the whole lactose intolerant thing LMAOOO so i made him eat cereal. he deserves it <3 #sebastian solace x reader #shay scribbles daydreams #sebastian solace x you #pressure x reader #roblox pressure x reader #who i see au

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dragonbarbie · 1 year ago

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𝐖𝐇𝐘'𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇?

modern!aegon ii targaryen x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: reader thinks aegon can never be more than a one night stand, and aegon is intent on getting her to give him a chance.

word count: 2.5k

tags: modern!au, smut, drunk!aegon having sex with sober!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, tity sucking, pussy eating, p in v sex, unprotected sex

note: i very much write fanon!aegon, not the canon, show!version.

sidenote: is this lowkey inspired by my irl situationship who wont quit calling me every time he gets drunk?? maybe

it was a regular friday night for aegon. his frat was throwing a big party, and he had organised everything down to the last detail. he had a reputation to maintain after all, known affectionately as the king of parties of dragonstone university. he had already drunk his own weight in alcohol, flirted (and then proceeded to get handsy) with a couple of girls but he’d been too distracted to follow through with any of them.

his mind instead wandered back to a couple of weeks ago, at another party, where he’d met y/n. she’d been chatting to cregan stark, wearing a little black dress that hugged her in the best way imaginable. he knew, looking at her enchanting laugh at stark’s dumb joke, he had to have her. putting on his most charming smile, he’d approached her.

she’d been wary of him because of his reputation around campus (who wouldn’t be) but after a few disarming jokes as his fingertips grazed the side of her thighs, he’d managed to convince her to give him a chance.

drunken steps were then taken back to her dorm room, and they’d had what aegon could only call amazing sex.

now hold on, you have to believe him when he says amazing, alright? he’d slept with too many women to count, after a while the nights blended to the point that he couldn’t much differentiate between what having sex with each of them had felt like. so, when one such night stood out for him? it meant it had met a very high bar indeed. after all, he thought, he didn’t go around spending the night at every girl’s place.

he'd thus expected a little warmer treatment come morning and was rudely shocked at her attempting to throw him out. still, wearing his jeans in such a hurry that its button and fly was undone, unlaced shoes, bare-chested as he held his rumpled shirt in his hand, he’d had the audacity to offer her a lazy grin and promise “i’ll call you.”

“please” she’d snorted with an amused look, “everyone knows aegon targaryen is not the type to call.” taking no note of his offended expression, she’d shut the door in his face.

he’d been wondering about those words ever since. sure, she hadn’t been wrong but, hey, he’d meant the lie this time! with tits that great, ass that perfect, why wouldn’t he want a repeat of last night? he’d thought to himself.

determined to prove her wrong, he’d asked around the frat house and found out her number. but as his hand had hovered over the call button, something had stopped him. she’d caught him spot on, he realised. he wasn’t a relationship guy, and she wasn’t expecting the relationship-thing with him. perhaps it was best he left her alone.

he’d done just that, at least while sober. drunk aegon on the other hand, found it much easier to pick up the phone and dial her number.

“who is this?” there was panic and sleep in her voice, having picked up an unknown number at 2 in the morning “sweetheart! you picked up” he’d grinned, words slurring. he could practically hear the eyeroll on the other end. “aegon… to what do i owe the pleasure?” “i was just missing you.” he sighed. “sure.” nothing in her voice indicated that she believed him.

“i’m actually not far from your dorm. how about i come up with a bottle of tequila and we can… catch up?” he suggestively added. “it’s 2:14 am…. on a tuesday.” she pointed out, but her words didn’t seem to mean much to him as he replied, “so?” an exasperated sigh could be heard over the phone, “good night, aegon.” click. he stared down on the iphone in his hand in disbelief, she’d hung up on him.

he decided maybe he’d come out too strong, so the next time he texted first. he’d stared at the text for a couple of minutes, and when he saw that she was online but hadn’t bothered to text him back, he’d walked over to the nearest girl and proceeded to make out with her in the bathroom. until he was interrupted with a buzzing in his pocket, “just a minute” he’d mumbled against her lips, unbothered by her disappointed expression as he fished for the phone in his pocket hurriedly.

he saw that y/n had finally replied to his ‘u up?’ with a ‘depends.’ his brow furrowed at her response in confusion, he typed back ‘on what’.

the notification arrived with a ping. her response read ‘are u drunk?’. something told him instinctively to lie. he typed out a no, but once the message sent, he realised it had autocorrected to ‘yo’. he corrected it to a no and sent again, only to find the same mistake committed again. it was only after a string of typos had been sent, did he blink and realise autocorrect wasn’t to blame at all, his damn fingers just refused to cooperate with his inebriated brain.

ping. after receiving the string of nonsense, she finally replied ‘i got my answer.’ “aegon?” the girl in front of him looked at him impatiently, only to have him grab the handle of the bathroom door, leaving with a quick “gotta go”. he immediately called up y/n as he walked out of the party, but the call went straight to voicemail. all four times.

thus, every night aegon had gotten drunk since, he found himself being distracted by thoughts of y/n, frustrated at her refusing to engage with him.

that night too, once the clock on the wall started to look to him as if it were melting off and his feet seemed to stumble wherever he walked, his brain suddenly thought showing up to her dorm was the best idea ever.

reaching her door, he ran a hand through his hair before knocking. no response. impatient, he loudly whined “y/n! c’mon, open up!” met with more silence. he whipped his phone out, blinking at the bright screen as he concentrated to make sure it was without typos, he sent her a text, ‘m 0utsidee’. he pounded with his fist on the door one more time, before a door opened, but not the one he was standing in front of.

three doors down, y/n stood against her doorframe in her small black shorts, red tank top riding up slightly to reveal skin just above them. “wrong fucking door, idiot.” aegon grinned as he walked towards her. “you’re lucky baela’s out of town for the weekend, otherwise she would have kicked your ass for banging on her door like that.”

ignoring her, he pouted as he leaned his head against her door frame, looking too much like a wounded puppy. y/n felt a tug at her stomach at how undeniably cute he looked. “why don’t you ever pick up my calls?”

“why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she asked instead of answering. “what?” he mumbled, confused. “high….why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she slowly repeated, as if talking to a two-year-old. “i’m not interested in someone who needs to be drunk to call me. i don’t want to be your booty call.” she shrugged. his lower lip jutted out further at her response, crease appearing between his brow. oh, gods, y/n found herself thinking, how could someone manage to look this pathetic and this cute at the same time.

“you’re not a booty call.” he groaned in protest. after all, there were enough girls at that party willingly throwing themselves at him, he could have been with anyone, and yet… it was her door his drunken steps had taken the path of.

“go home, aegon. it was a one-time thing. it’s not happening again.” she insisted. her words seemed to have no effect on him, as he placed a hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. he bent down to her ear and whispered, his words slurring, “let me show you all the reasons that this should be more than just a ‘one-time-thing’.”

he pressed his lips to hers, softly at first. she didn’t immediately kiss him back, but the feeling of his lips on hers felt more intoxicating than whatever it was that she could smell off his breath, and she found her lips moving against his within seconds. he bit her lower lip playfully, at her response. she parted her lips to allow him to slide his tongue past them. his hand, meanwhile, slid under the material of her tank and travelled upwards, thumb pressing against her nipple as he squeezed her breast. breaking from the kiss for a second, he smirked at her, “didn’t bother wearing a bra to greet me?”. “i was preparing for bed!” she hissed in response. “excuses” he shook his head at her, teasing.

with his hand he lifted her tank to reveal her bare breasts. “aegon!” she attempted to keep her voice low, lest her neighbours wake up to the scene, “we’re in the middle of the hallway, anyone can walk in!” the idea of someone catching them only made it all the more exciting for aegon, “relax.” he told her with a laidback smile.

before she could protest, his head dipped and he captured her nipple in his mouth. a moan escaped her lips at the feeling, and she stumbled back, her back hitting her doorframe. aegon continued his tongue’s assault on her sensitive nipple, one hand gripping her waist to keep her in place, the other reaching behind her to squeeze her ass. her hand held the nape of his neck, as her head was thrown back in pleasure at his actions. she whined when he abruptly stopped.

he kneeled down and his fingers reached up, pulling her shorts and panties down her legs, causing a shiver to go up her spine. chewing on her lower lip in nervousness she weakly said, “we should go inside” but she couldn’t deny that the thought of getting caught made her even more wet. there was a hint of recklessness and danger in his eyes, “where’s your sense of adventure?”. he threw the clothes inside her ajar door, then lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. she audibly gasped as she felt his tongue upon her already soaking pussy.

“aegon…ah!” her hand gripped his hair as his tongue played tricks on her core, her eyes rolling back till she could see stars. his grip on her thigh remained firm, and she was certain she would be waking up with a bruise. “close… so…close…” she had begun to say after a few minutes, feeling her muscles tense, when he stopped.

he stood up and started to undo his pants, freeing his length. he grabbed her by the waist, letting the tip of his cock tease her folds. she was already moaning for him, “want me to take you right here? make you scream my name, till your neighbours come checking?” she swallowed at the thought, lust overtaking her eyes.

“let’s do one thing.” he smiled as if he’d struck upon the most perfect idea, but the gleam in his eyes told y/n it couldn’t be anything good. he turned her around by her waist, hand coming to her front to rub her clit as he whispered in her ear, “you see that door?”. she knew he could only mean the door to the elevator which was the way to enter her dormitory floor. she managed a nod in response, unable to form words as his fingers pressed down on her so ruthlessly. “keep looking at it.” he commanded as he grabbed her hips back to push his cock inside her. “aegon!” she gasped at the feeling.

he entered her completely in one go, pulling out punishingly slow before pushing back in. he continued speaking as he impaled her, “someone’s gonna walk in any moment now…” he teased, “…and see you in this mess… see you bent over, taking me from behind…like a whore” the thought embarrassed her, yes, but what embarrassed her more was that she found herself almost wanting it to come true.

“even when they walk in, i won’t stop.” he threatned, his thrusts becoming faster. “you’ll be on display for everyone to see… to see how well you take my cock.” he gathered her hair in his fist in one hand, and she felt him pulling it lightly. “yes, oh, yes!” she found herself moaning, eyes intently trained on the door. “you’d like that? of course, you would, little slut.” she only whimpered in response, his words bringing her closer and closer to her edge. “you’d love to have everyone see just how well you receive a ‘booty call’” he chuckled. she could feel herself going weak at the knees at his pace and dirty talk.

“aegon… i—ah!” pleasure spread over every inch of her body, as she came all over his cock. he continued to thrust into her, chasing his own orgasm, until he emptied inside of her with a grunt.

her legs felt wobbly as he pulled out of her, turning her back around to face him. “next time i call—” he panted as he spoke, exerted from their activities, “—pick up.” she smirked, in contrast to his dominating actions mere moments ago, his words now sounded more like a pleading request; one she felt gracious enough to grant him as his juice and her own dripped down her legs. “i will. promise.”

his pearly white teeth showed as he grinned at her response, pleased. “oh, but i’m not nearly done with you for the night, just yet.” he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he shut the door behind them as he walked back inside her dorm.

the next morning, she didn’t kick him out like the last time. she let him linger around her bed, aegon placing a trail of kisses down her body as a manner of greeting her good morning. he was needy and showed it by being as tactile with her as could be. yet she felt comfortable with his touches, allowing herself to lie with him for hours, their legs tangled. even as she bid him goodbye from her door, she had to practically tear her lips off his, neither able to get enough of the other.

she felt content as she’d shut her door behind her, leaning against it as she thought back to the night that had passed, when her phone started to ring. she picked it and smiled as she saw the name being displayed, ‘aegon (don’t pick up)’.

“see i am the type who calls. a lot” she laughed at his words through the phone, able to hear him standing right outside the door. “and also the type who does breakfast. what do you say, brunch in an hour?”

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loves0phelia · 4 months ago

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Country Girl

Summery: Eddie’s music career is getting to much, what happens when he takes a vacation to a small countryside town?

Words: 4,1k

Warnings: spelling mistakes, characters gets in underwear, mention of drinking alcohol.

A/N: this sucks but I haven’t written in 2 months sooo I hope you enjoy xx

“Are you kidding me?”

“No Eds, you're going to Spring Lake.” Gareth stood with his hands on his hips with a fatherlike glare fixated on his friend whom he almost didn't recognize nowadays.

“Why would I be going in this shit hole? I am fine right where I am” He said the last bit of his sentence with a long tired sigh as he planted himself down on the beat-up couch in the trailer where all the costumes and concert essentials were stored. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was greasy and sweaty sticking to his forehead.

“You're not okay Eddie. We can't recognize you anymore. You need some time off, we all do. and it would be better if you got out of the city for the summer ” Eddie scoffed at this and rubbed his hand over his face.

“Ok. Who's we? And who put “we” in charge of me?” He laughed humorlessly and stood up from his seat with an accusatory finger pointed at Gareth's face.

“Julie, but we all agreed with her, Eddie. You can barely stand during our shows because you drank too much beforehand, even the press is talking about it! You're making it hard for all of us-”

“Shut up! Shut up!” His voice bounced on the metal walls and rang in Gareth's ears making him visibly cringe before he stormed out.

As soon as he stepped out, the cameras started flashing and blinding him, capturing his angry features and red eyes. He couldn't wait to see the newspaper with the various headlines about him and his addictions.

He yanked open the limousine door that was initially the band's way of transport but he couldn't care less about how they would get to the hotel. He slides in, slamming it shut behind him. His eyes flashed with irritation as he leaned forward.

"To the hotel, and step on it, will you? I’ve already had enough shit today. No detours, no shortcuts—just get me there as fast as you can." He barked at the chauffeur.

Without caring for a response he slumped back against the seat, glaring out the window,

The drive was short, as requested. He was back at the hotel before anyone else. Still fuming with rage and decided to dial a number he only called for emergencies.

ring

“Hello?” The man's voice was soothing in Eddie's ears.

“Hey, Wayne.” An angry tear fell out of Eddie's eye.

“Eddie, boy do you know how late it is?” Eddie turned his head slightly to look at the clock that lay on the modern-looking bedside table.

“Sorry, I just- I need to talk to you” his throat contracted another tear threatening to fall from his brown doe eyes.

“What's wrong son?” Despite Wayne's strong and deep voice, the concern was clear.

“Julie and the band wants-” Once again his hand made its way into his hair, this time gripping angrily. “They want me to go to Spring Lake for the summer as if they can just send me away! Like- Like to get rid of me” he groaned into the receiver.

“Eddie listen to me” Wayne signed sadly for Eddie.

“What?”

“I requested it to your manager, okay? I've seen you on TV and I can't even count on my fingers the number of times you've called me in the middle of the night while being drunk. You need a break, son”

“No, no! I'm fine Wayne” Both of his knees started trembling as he couldn't help the tears from cascading down his cheeks. He felt lost and he couldn't find a way to return.

“You're not Eds. You need to find a way to get better, please listen to Julie when she comes to talk to you, goodnight, son. I love you” The phone pressed against Eddie's ear went flat as the line disconnected.

He sat there, staring blankly ahead, his face drained of colour. He barely notices the tear that escapes now.

He was used to getting comments from Gareth and Jeff or the rest of the band but never from his uncle.

His chest felt heavy, making it hard to breathe. He wanted to scream, to do something, but nothing came. Instead, he remained still, unable to process everything the night unfolded.

He felt disconnected as if the world was moving on without him, until a knock came to the door. His eyes which looked blankly at the carpet floor snapped to the hotel room door. He didn't bother to stand figuring out the person on the other side would get the message and leave him alone.

Unfortunately, the door opened and Julie entered the room.

“Did you talk to Wayne?” She asked, her voice sharp like a thorn.

“I did”

“I should've told Gareth to keep his mouth shut about this, it wasn't his place to tell you. I'm your manager, I should be the one taking care of this mess” Her black leather boots stumped on the floor as she approached the bed he was sitting on.

“Wayne said you loved going to Spring Lake as a kid, that's why we thought it would be a great idea.” She added.

“Yeah trailer park, poor, didn't have a life Eddie loved going there, it was the only place where I wasn't freak because everything is disconnected there.” Julie’s eyes soften, her heart feeling sad at the mention of Ed's childhood.

“I have a life now, I'm a rockstar, and I'm important to people”

“But you're losing yourself in the process. You need to go back to your roots, and learn what's really important” Eddie sighed in defeat there was no denying it.

“Go to Spring Lake for a couple of weeks and if you hate it, come back. My niece has a cottage she can welcome you”

…

His fingers drummed impatiently on the armrest as the car slowed down to avoid a group of cyclists taking up the road.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath, glancing out the window at two horses casually munching on herbs.

The car finally pulled up to a small cottage-looking house, it was small, probably only big enough for two bedrooms and one bathroom. It had a porch swing and a bunch of potted flowers. It was far from what he was used to now.

The driver opened the door for him, his black combat boots crunched against the gravel. Eddie's expression was clearly stating that he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Let’s just get this over with," he sighed, and he walked towards the entrance of the house. As Marcus “driver” started unloading his luggage.

He raised his fist to connect it to do wooden door frame around the screen door but at the same time the door on the other side swung open as fast as a rush of wind

He wrinkled his nose slightly, the faint smell of fresh baked goods interfered with his overpriced cologne.

“Hi!” you said in a welcoming tone. Eddie was mesmerized by your sun-kissed skin glowing so naturally. Your beautiful hair, loosely tied back with a ribbon, cascaded down your shoulders. your overalls are dirty but charming with a simple floral pattern embroidered into the pockets.

Your face broke into a wide, genuine smile, your eyes crinkled at the corners with the kind of happiness that he wasn't used to seeing.

“It's so nice to see you, Eddie!,” You walked forward pushing the screen door that was separating you both to greet him, making Eddie step back a few feet almost tripping down the small stairs leading up to the porch.,

“I’m y/n. It’s so nice to have you here, I made some blueberry muffins and cinnamon rolls I didn't know which one you preferred… oh! I also have some lemon pie. come in!.”

He barely managed to suppress a groan. Of course, you would be cheerful and kind. Everyone in these small towns always was. Still, there was something about you that made him pause. Maybe it was the way your smile didn’t get flatter even as you faced his cold demeanour or the way your eyes sparkled as you spoke about the dessert you had made for him specifically. He shook off the thought, reminding himself that he was here out of obligation, not to make friends.

“Thanks,” he replied shortly, his tone cold as he glanced around the room, doing his best to avoid looking directly at you.

you didn’t seem bothered by his lack of enthusiasm. Instead, you clasped her hands together, your smile never fading.

“I’ve got your room all ready. there's a dresser and a fantastic view of the lake behind the house. I hope you’ll like it.”

He sighed, already regretting the trip, but nodded. “Sure. Lead the way.”

As you walked ahead of him, he couldn't help but notice the way your hips swayed gracefully. He quickly looked away, feeling annoyed at himself. He wasn’t here to admire the locals, least of all a girl who looked like she belonged in a summer daydream.

You led him up the narrow hallway, talking about various details about the house and the people in town, the kind of small talk that would usually make him roll his eyes. But today, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he found himself listening, even if he didn’t respond.

“Here, this is your room and mine is right there” You pointed to the door right next to ‘his’

He grunted a thanks, stepping inside and without saying a word he closed the door shut. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. You were beautiful, he admitted to himself, but in a way that was different from the women he was used to. Something was refreshing about you, something real.

But then he shook his head, pushing the thought away. It didn’t matter how beautiful you were. He was here for a few days at most, just to make his manager happy and then he’d be back to his world, far away from this little town and its infuriatingly sunny inhabitants. Still, as he threw himself onto the bed, he couldn’t quite get your smile out of his mind.

….

Eddie stirred beneath the soft blankets, blinking against the unwelcome brightness. He wasn’t used to waking up to the sound of birds chirping outside the window or the scent of fresh coffee wafting through the air. For a moment, he forgot where he was, his mind still groggy from sleep. The sheets were softer, crumb-free and smelled flowery.

Then it hit him—he was in your house in Spring Lake. The day of his arrival felt like a dream, a bad dream. He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face as he sat up, his hair wild and eyes heavy with remaining sleep. This wasn’t how he usually started his day, and the unfamiliarity of it all only added to his irritation.

Just as he was about to pull himself out of bed, there was a soft knock on the door, followed by it creaking open. You peeked your head in and smiled as bright as ever. Who was this happy at… 8 am?

“Good morning! I hope you slept well,” You said, stepping into the room with a steaming mug of coffee in hand.

He mumbled a response “Morning.”

you handed him the mug, your fingers brushing against his as you did. “I made you some coffee. I thought you might need it. the trip was probably long, you forgot your suitcases outside, but don't worry I rolled them in for you last night” you reassured.

“Thanks,” he muttered, his voice rougher than usual. He took a sip. It was good coffee, surprisingly so. He gave you a nod of approval, which you seemed to appreciate before leaving the room and allowing him to get civil.

After a moment he joined you in the kitchen still looking grumpy “So,” you began “ You don’t exactly strike me as the countryside type so what are you doing here?.”

He raised an eyebrow at your directness.

“Julie didn't tell you?” he replied simply, taking another sip of coffee.

“She only said you already knew your way around town so I didn't need to play guide with you but you don't seem to be from here and I don't think I've seen you before,” you shrugged.

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “I used to come here every summer as a kid”

You tilted her head, studying him. “Well, I hope you enjoy it as much as you did before.”

He frowned at that. “Enjoy it? What’s there to enjoy? I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere when I could be… I don't know. having fun?.”

“Maybe you can have fun here?” your voice was a little teasing as if in your head you had come up with a sudden plan.

“How?”

…

“This is Carrot,” You said, patting the horse’s neck affectionately. “He's perfect for beginners”

Eddie arched an eyebrow, “I’m not a beginner,” he said gruffly, though the truth was, he had never been this close to a horse before, let alone ridden one. But he wasn’t about to let that show.

“Alright then, Mr. Experienced. Ready to get on?”

He took the reins with a nod, his grip a little tighter than necessary. He’d seen people ride horses in movies and on TV—how hard could it be? With a deep breath, he approached Carrot.

“First, put your left foot in the stirrup,” you instructed, watching him closely. “Then swing your right leg over.”

“I know," he cut you off, determined to appear unbothered. For a moment, he hesitated, but he quickly shook it off and pushed himself up. His right leg swung over the saddle, and before he knew it, he was sitting on the horse. He landed with more force than he intended, and Carrot shifted beneath him, causing him to tense up.

“See? Easy,” But he forced himself to stay calm, straightening his posture and gripping the reins as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

“right… So you can race me then?” The corner of your lips lifted in a malicious smirk.

“Race you?” he tensed up again, shifting in the saddle as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“mhm,” you said, smoothly mounting your horse.

The horses began to move. Eddie's eyes widened slightly “Wait wait wait, can we take it slow… it's been a while, I just gotta warm up a little” he lied through his teeth.

“I thought you were experienced” You turned your head over your shoulder looking back at him as your horse galloped forward. “Just relax and let him guide you. There’s no rush.”

Relax? Easier said than done. But he wasn’t about to let you see him falter. So he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath

After a few minutes of you both going slowly around the field, Eddie had finally gotten the hang of it. Or so he thought.

“How about we pick up the pace now? A little friendly race, maybe?” He said, his voice still trembling, clearly not being as confident as he wished to be.

“Alright, you’re on,” you replied.

You flashed him another grin, then gently nudged your mare forward. Belle (your horse), sensing the challenge, picked up her pace too, and before you knew it, You and Eddie were both moving faster across the field.

“Come on, Carrot!” he urged with a small proud smile, impressed at his skills, trying to keep up with you, who had already raced slightly ahead of him.

For a moment, Eddie forgot all about his earlier discomfort. It was just him, the horse, and the open field ahead and for the first time in a while, he felt free.

But then, as he rounded a bend in the open field, Carrot suddenly swerved to avoid a rock hidden in the tall grass. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and before he could react, he felt himself slipping sideways in the saddle.

The next thing he knew, his legs swinging over the horse’s back as he tumbled off in an awkward arc.

He hit the ground with a heavy thud, right in the middle of a large, muddy puddle. The cold, thick mud splattered everywhere, coating his clothes, face, and hair in a messy, sticky layer. For a second, he just lay there, stunned, staring up at the sky as the reality of what had just happened sank in.

“Oh my gosh Eddie, are you okay?” You jumped down your horse and rushed to his aid, slipping on your knees in the puddle to check for any injuries.

He sat up slowly, wiping mud from his face with a grimace. His once-pristine jacket was now a muddy mess, and his hair stuck out in odd angles, but as he looked up at you, concerned in your eyes, on your knees in the puddle, next to him, he couldn’t help it. A chuckle escaped him, followed by another, until he was laughing.

Your frown quickly turned upside down when you heard the laughter coming out of his mouth. Giggles quickly started bubbling in your throat as well.

“I warned you it wasn’t as easy as it looked,” you teased, grinning as you tried brushing some of the mud off his shoulder.

He let out a mock groan, half-grumpy, half-amused with the situation.

Despite the mud, the fall, and the bruised ego, he felt lighter than he had in days. There was something liberating about letting go, about laughing at himself and the situation, instead of trying to maintain the stoic facade he usually wore.

”Let's get you cleaned up. I think you’ve had enough mud for one day.” You smiled and grabbed both his hands to help him up from the muddy water.

As you both walked back toward the cottage-like house, side by side, he realized something. For the first time since he’d arrived, he was having fun. And it was all thanks to you.

…

Ever since that day, you and Eddie have been enjoying each other's company.

Today the sun was glowing despite the dark clouds looming in the sky but knowing rain was to come you both decided to stay in the cottage instead of going out to the horse barn. and that's how you ended up standing on your tiptoes, trying to reach a bag of flour on the top shelf.

Eddie watched you from the doorway with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Why don’t you just use a stool like a normal person?” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a determined look, your lips curving into a playful smile.

“I’ve got it, don’t worry. I do this all the time.”

Eddie sighed, watching you struggle with the shelf that was clearly too high for you. You were nothing if not stubborn. Just as he was about to walk over and get the flour himself, you made a final, determined stretch—and knocked the bag off the shelf. It tumbled through the air, heading straight for your face.

“Oh, for crying out loud…” Eddie muttered, stepping forward with reflexes quicker than he cared to acknowledge. He caught the bag just before it hit you but not without consequence.

The bag burst open on impact, sending a thick cloud of flour exploding into the air.

You blinked, momentarily stunned as the white powder rained down on the both of you. When the cloud settled, you were covered head to toe in flour, your long hair now dusted with white. Eddie wasn't much better, his dark hair and clothes now sprinkled with flour.

“Well… at least you caught it,” you murmured as you and Eddie stood unmoving

Eddie gave you a long, unimpressed look.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, reaching up to wipe the flour off his face with a sigh. “You’re welcome.”

“Sorry, guess we're just bound to get dirty all the time” Your giggles broke free, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but there was a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t push it,” he replied, though his tone lacked the usual bite.

“At least you look cute” Your hands brushed his cheek to remove some of the remaining flour from his face, even though only water would be able to remove the cloudy ingredient from your face.

“I'm going to take a dip in the lake to clean up a bit before going in the shower, I don't want the flour to clog the drain, you coming?” Your boldness surprised you.

“uhh- ye- yes” You laughed under your breath at Eddie's flushed face before walking to the glass door leading to the wooden dock in the backyard of your house.

You reached the edge of the dock and kicked off your shoes. Eddie followed, his hands stuffed into his pockets but watching you intensely. But his gaze quickly left you when you started pulling away your dress leaving you in only your underwear.

“uhh,” Eddie scratched his head awkwardly, not sure where to look anymore.

“It's okay Eddie, you can look, it's just like a swimsuit” You brushed your hair over your shoulder and saw Eddie gulp. Once again a giggle escaped you but without further explanation, you jumped in the water.

You emerged with a splash, your laughter bubbling up as you pushed your wet hair out of your face. you looked up at Eddie, who was still standing at the edge of the dock, staring down at you.

“Come on, rockstar, that flour isn't gonna fly away!” you called back, your voice echoing across the lake. You floated on your back, arms outstretched.

For a moment, Eddie hesitated. But then, as he looked at you, carefree and glowing in the golden light, something in him shifted. Maybe it was the way you seemed to belong to this place or the way you had pulled him into your world without even trying. Or maybe it was just that he wanted to hold onto this feeling a little longer, to be a part of it.

With a resigned sigh, Eddie kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside as well as his pants leaving him in only boxers. You watched, your heart skipping a beat as he moved closer to the edge. He paused for just a second, meeting your gaze.

Then, without another word, he jumped.

The water erupted around him as he plunged in, disappearing beneath the surface for a few seconds before he came back to the surface.

You swam closer, the distance between you closing.

Eddie chuckled, his laughter rich and warm as he reached out to gently brush a strand of wet hair from your face. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

You grinned, your eyes locking onto his as she splashed him playfully. “You’re welcome,” you teased, before leaning in and pressing a quick, playful kiss to his cheek.

“y/n…” Eddie whispered, not even sure what he was going to say.

But before he could finish, you leaned in, your gaze dropping to his lips. For a split second, the world stood still. Then, in one fluid motion, you both closed the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative as if you were afraid he might pull away. But when Eddie responded, his lips moving against yours with equal softness, you deepened the kiss, and his hand came up to cup your cheek.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as your legs wrapped around his waist in the water, you melted into him, your arms wrapped around his neck for added support. The world around you seemed to disappear.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Eddie's heart was pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it.

Eddie opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours. “I didn’t expect that,” he admitted, his voice low and rough.

you smiled, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “I’m glad I did it,” you whispered back, your heart swelling.

“Me too,” he said softly, pressing another light kiss to your forehead before pulling you further into his arms, holding you close.

“I think we should get out before we get all wrinkly” You laughed and he splashed more water onto your face before you started to swim away.

…

“Hey Julie, please tell the band I won't be back for a while…” He whispered into the phone as you slept beside him your hair all sprawled on the silk pillow where your head layed as he kissed you endlessly a couple of hours before.

“How long are you thinking?” she asked.

“Actually… I don't think I will come back at all”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you

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doctorbitchcrxft · 5 months ago

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Nightshifter | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, hostage situation

Word Count: 5149

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You eyed Dean angrily as he flirted with the attractive woman in front of him dressed as an FBI agent. You knew he was teasing you, and it was pissing you off. You had long since finished your interrogation of the store’s manager. Helena had apparently been a patron of the store for years. Then, one day, she went crazy; the police caught her clearing out the jewelry store’s cases and the safe before shooting someone in the face and killing herself in her bathtub after the crime. You had a sneaking suspicion you were dealing with a shapeshifter; a monster that you were quite over dealing with.

Dean approached you, triumphantly waving the piece of paper with the phone number he’d gotten from the woman he was interviewing.

You snatched it out of his hands.

“Aw, you jealous?” he teased, leaning into you.

You deadpanned, “Keep it professional, Agent Hetfield, wouldn’t want the bureau to hear about this, right?” You ripped the paper up and shoved its tatters into your blazer pocket.

He deflated slightly, but still smirked at you. “I’m gonna make you crack, sweetheart, just wait.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, turning away from him and heading out to the Impala. Admittedly, you were strutting a little bit to tease him.

Sam met you at the car, and the three of you drove to the home of the man whose police statement had been a mix of sci-fi nerd gibberish and the only eye-witness account of the incident.

As you approached the small house, Sam began talking about another piece of the case. “Uh, Milwaukee National Trust. It was hit about a month ago.”

Dean raised a brow. “Same M.O. as the jewelry store?”

“Yep, inside job, longtime employee, the never-in-a-million-years type. Dude robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide.”

“The guy, Resnick, he was the security guard on duty?” Dean questioned.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. He was actually beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place.”

“Jesus,” you grimaced.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. He knocked on the screen door. “Mr. Resnick?” A bright flood light turned on, momentarily blinding you.

You raised a hand in front of your eyes. “Holy—”

Sam was apparently unfazed. “FBI, Mr. Resnick.”

Through the screen door, a chubby, nerdy-looking man in his late twenties approached. “Let me see the badge.”

You slapped your badge against the screen next to Sam’s and Dean’s.

Mr. Resnick, whose first name was Ronald, squinted at them carefully. “I already gave my statement to the police.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, listen, Ronald, um… just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on.”

“You read it?” He seemed surprised. “You come to listen to what I've got to say?”

“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Dean said.

“Well, come on in.” He opened the door and led you through a narrow hallway to a room cluttered with conspiracy theory paraphernalia.

“None of the cops ever called me back. Not after I told them what was really going on. Uh, they all thought I was crazy,” he rushed out. You were beginning to think the same. “First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That, I guarantee. See, me and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts, and we'd play cards.”

“So you let him into the bank that night, after hours,” Sam noted.

“The thing I let into the bank…” Ronald trailed off, “wasn't Juan. I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face. Uh, every detail was perfect, but too perfect, you know, like if a dollmaker made it, like I was talking to a big Juan-doll.”

You nearly choked on a laugh. “A Juan-doll?”

“Look, this wasn't the only time this happened, okay?” He scrambled through papers on his messy desk and handed you a folder. “There was this jewelry store, too. And the cops, a-and you guys, you just won't see it!” You flipped through the folder; it almost looked like a hunter’s profile of the case. You were half impressed. “Both crimes were pulled by the same thing,” Ronald finished.

Sam pressed, saying, “What's that, Mr. Resnick?”

He picked up a copy of a magazine labeled “Fortean Times” and held it out to you. The headline read, “Birth of the Cybermen.”

‘Jesus Christ,’ you thought, suppressing a grimace.

“Chinese 've been working on 'em for years,” the man explained. “And the Russians before that. Part men, part machine. Like the Terminator. But the kind that can change itself, make itself look like other people.”

Dean smirked. “Like the one from T2.”

“Exactly! See, so not just a robot, more of a- a- a- a— Mandroid," he said finally, a bizarre twinkle in his eye.

“A Mandroid,” you deadpanned. “And what makes you so sure about this, Ronald?”

He held up a finger at you, smiling a little wildly. Your eyes flicked to Dean’s in concern, and he just wiggled his eyebrows at you.

The man returned a moment later holding a VHS tape labeled “M.N.T. Camera 4— Juan.” He inserted it into a player, saying, “See, I made copies of all the security tapes. I knew once the cops got them they'd be buried. Here.” He fast-forwarded a bit in the tape. “Now watch. Watch. Watch him, watch, watch! See, look! Th- th- there it is!” He paused it on a clip of the man with a silver in his eyes. “You see? He's got the laser eyes.”

You gave Sam a knowing look that he returned.

“Cops said it was some kind of reflected light. Some kind of ‘camera flare’. Okay? Ain't no damn camera flare. They say I'm a post-trauma case. So what? Bank goes and fires me, it don't matter!” You eyed Ronald uncomfortably as he continued to pace around and rant. “The Mandroid is— is still out there. The law won't hunt this thing down— I'll do it myself.

"You see, this thing, it- it- it kills the real person, makes it look like a suicide, then it sorta, like, morphs into that person. Cases the job for a while until it knows the take is fat, and then it finds its opening. Now, these robberies, they're, they're grouped together.” He pointed at the map on the wall. “So I figure the Mandroid is holed up somewhere in the middle, underground, maybe. I dunno, maybe that's where it recharges its, uh, Mandroid batteries.”

Dean nodded, seeming impressed. You just looked between Ronald and Dean in confusion.

“Okay. I want you to listen very carefully. Because I'm about to tell you the god's honest truth about all of this,” Sam began.

Your head whipped to him, confused as to where he was going with this.

“There's no such thing as Mandroids. There's nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. Just people. Nothing else, you understand?”

You kept a straight face, but were startled.

“The laser eyes,” Ronald tried desperately.

“Just a camera flare, Mr. Resnick. See, I know you don't want to believe this. But your friend Juan robbed the bank, and that's it,” Sam mollified.

Ronald immediately became angry. “Get out of my house! Now!”

***

You and the brothers found another tacky, cheap motel to stay in for the time being. You lounged on Dean’s bed in a pair of comfortable sweatpants and an oversized band t-shirt.

Dean paced around the room, chuckling. “Man, that has got to be the kicker, straight up. I mean, you tell that poor son of a bitch that— what did you say, remand the tapes that he copied? Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation?” He laughed harder. “That's messed up.”

Sam sat on the foot of the bed and inserted the tape into the television’s player. “What are you, pissed at me or something?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I just think it's a little creepy how good of a Fed you are. I mean, come on, we could have at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good legwork here.”

“Mandroid?” you deadpanned.

“Except for the Mandroid part,” Dean added. “I liked him. He's not that different from you or me. People think we're crazy.”

“He’s not a hunter, though, Dean,” you challenged. “He ran into something real and let his conspiracy-theory-brain-rot get the best of him.”

“Better to stay in the dark, and stay alive,” Sam finished.

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.” He put a paper down on the map on the table and began marking it with a red pen.

You shuffled forward to Sam and hit the pause button on the remote just as the man’s eyes flashed at the camera.

“Shapeshifter. Just like back in St. Louis. Same retinal reaction to video,” Sam informed.

“Eyes flare at the camera. I hate those fuckin’ things,” Dean grunted.

“You think we don’t?” you scoffed.

“Yeah, well, one didn't turn into you and frame you for murder.”

You shrugged. “Well, look, if this shifter's anything like the one we killed in Missouri—”

“Then Ronald was right. Alright, they like to layer up underground, preferably the sewer. And all the robberies have been connected so far, right?”

Sam nodded.

“With the, uh, sewer main layout. There's one more bank lined up on that same sewer main,” Dean continued.

“Awesome,” you grumbled.

***

Later that evening, you and the brothers headed to the bank Dean referenced, the City Bank of Milwaukee, to see if the shapeshifter would be hitting that one next. You posed as Sam and Dean’s boss, and the two boys wore security camera technician outfits.

The guard of the bank informed you as you walked along, “Well, we haven't had any flags go up on our system yet.”

You shook your head. “No, sir, this is a glitch in the overall grid. I just need to cover all my bases and make sure the branch monitors are okay.”

“Well, better to be safe than sorry, I guess,” the guard shrugged.

“That’s the plan,” you nodded.

He opened the door to an observation room flooded with monitors for you, saying, “Alrighty. You guys need anything else?”

“Nope,” you replied. “We’ll be in and out before you know it. Just a routine check.”

“Okie-dokie,” he said, leaving the room.

Dean chuckled. “I like him. He says ‘Okie-dokie.’ “

“What if he's the shifter?” worried Sam.

“Well, then we follow him home, put a silver bullet through his chestplate,” the older brother replied simply.

You sat down in one of the desk chairs to watch the screens. You kicked your high-heeled feet up on the desk in front of you, leaning back in your seat. “Anybody got popcorn?” you yawned, preparing for the hours of work ahead of you.

***

You and the Winchester boys were beginning to go cross-eyed after searching for the monster for so long.

“Well, it looks like Mr. Okie-Dokie is… okie-dokie,” Dean commented upon seeing his eyes appear normal in the camera screens.

“Maybe we jumped the gun on this, guys,” sighed Sam. “I mean, we don't even know it's here.”

Something caught your eye. “Wait a minute.” A middle-aged man turned toward the camera, and his eyes flared. “Got him.”

“Hello, freak,” Dean growled.

Sam immediately jumped up, as did you, but Dean lingered behind. “Guys, wait!”

“What?” you and Sam spun around.

You then saw Ronald scurrying up to the door of the bank with a chain and a padlock, chaining it shut.

Dean scoffed. “Hello, Ronald.”

You immediately began running down the hall, ignoring the protesting of the soles of your feet as your heels clacked against the floor. As you approached the main lobby of the bank, you heard Ronald screaming for everyone to get on the ground. And then, gunshots.

“Fuck!” you cursed.

“And you said we shouldn't bring guns,” Dean scolded Sam, nearly bumping into someone fleeing past him.

“I didn't know this was gonna happen, Dean,” Sam replied.

“Just let me do the talking,” the older brother commanded. “I don't think he likes you very much, Agent Johnson.”

You saw Ronald standing in front of a group of people huddled together on the floor. “Now, there's only one way in or out of here, and I chained it up. So nobody's leaving, do you understand?”

Your eyes flicked to Dean concernedly as he stepped forward. “Hey, buddy. Calm down. Just calm down—”

Ronald wheeled around. “What the— You! Get on the floor, now.”

Dean began to crouch to the floor, as did you and Sam. “Okay, we're doing that. Just don't shoot anybody, especially us.”

“I knew it. As soon as you two left. You ain't FBI. Who are you? Who are you working for, huh? The men in black? You working for the Mandroid?”

“We’re not working for the Mandroid!” Sam exclaimed.

Ronald shakily aimed his gun at Sam. “You, shut up! I ain't talking to you. I don't like you.”

“Fair enough,” the brunet mumbled.

“Get on 'em. Frisk them down, make sure they got no weapons on them. Go!” Ronald commanded one of the hostages.

“Oh, hell, no, you’re not fucking touching me,” you struggled against the man as he tried to feel you up.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), stop, stop,” Sam pleaded.

You shoved the man off yourself. Your struggle was strategic, though, as it kept him from finding the knives you had planted on yourself; one in your sleeve and one alongside your thigh.

The man moved over to Dean and found a knife stashed in his boot.

“Now what have we here?” Ronald’s question was meant to sound intimidating, but his wavering voice gave him away.

Sam shot Dean a look.

“I'm not just gonna walk in here naked!” Dean hissed back.

“Get back there,” Ronald ordered. You did so, following his pointing of the gun to the group of people behind him. He dropped Dean’s knife in the deposit box, and Dean winced.

“We know you don't want to hurt anybody,” he said. “That's exactly what's gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around, and why don't you let these people go?”

“No!” Ronald shrieked. “I already told you. If nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've got to do it myself.”

“Hey, we believe you! That's why we're here,” Dean replied.

“You don't believe me. Nobody believes me! How could they?” he cried.

“Come here,” Dean said.

Ronald scoffed. “What? No.”

“You're holding the gun, boss; you're calling the shots. I just want to tell you something. Come here.”

Ronald approached cautiously and leaned into Dean. You assumed he was telling him who the shifter was.

“Why do you think we've got these getups, huh? We've been monitoring the cameras in the back. We saw the bank manager. We saw his eyes,” Dean whispered.

The shorter man’s eyes widened. “His laser eyes?”

“Yes.” Dean seemed to realize what he’d said. “No. No! No, look, we're running out of time, okay? We've got to find him before he changes into someone else.”

“Like I'm gonna listen to you. You're a damn liar,” Ronald grumbled.

Dean stood cautiously, hands out.

“Dean, no!” you said.

“I'll shoot you! Get down!” Ronald ordered, pointing his rifle at Dean.

“Take me. Okay? Take me with you; take me as a hostage. But we've gotta act fast , because the longer we just sit here, the more time he has to change.” Dean paused. “Look at me, man. I believe you. You're not crazy. There really is something inside this bank.”

Ronald finally nodded. “Alright, you come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault!”

You stood on shaky legs as the people around you gasped and cried. You helped Sam herd everyone into the vault, and Dean tried to calm everyone down when Ronald ordered him to shut the door.

“It's okay, everyone. Just stay cool.” He threw a lingering glance to you before locking the vault completely.

A young redhead stared after Dean. “Who is that man?” she asked breathlessly.

“He's my brother,” Sam replied; you could hear the worry in his voice.

“He is so brave,” she practically moaned.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

The redhead went silent for a few minutes, and you took some time to thoroughly think your situation over. ‘Cops are gonna be all over this place by now. Dean’s been accused of murder, and the three of us have already been arrested once. Dean’s on the FBI’s radar. Surely, after our escape on the danashulps case, the feds are on us again. Now, we’re smack dab in the middle of a full-on hostage situation. And who are they likely to blame? Us!’ Your anxiety was beginning to get away with you as your thoughts began to swirl in your head. You were then acutely aware of how hot the room was, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt to keep some circulation moving.

The woman next to you who seemed infatuated with Dean introduced herself to you.

“ ‘Scuse me, sorry. Uh, hi, I’m Sherry,” she said. “You’re, uh, with those guys, too, right?”

You nodded.

“You known them a while?”

You nodded again.

She grinned. “Oh, gosh. What’s it like being around him?”

You snorted. “ ‘Him’ who?”

“That guy! The one who saved our lives!” she beamed. “What’s he like?”

“To tell you the truth, he’s a pain in my ass most of the time,” you giggled, arms crossed over your chest.

“Oh, really?” She deflated a bit before her floaty, trancelike inflection in her voice came back. “He just… He seems so wonderful to be around. I mean, staring down that gun. And, you know, the way— he played right into that psycho's crazy head, telling him what he wanted to hear, I mean—” She trailed off, turning her attention back to you. “He's like, a real hero or, or something.” She tucked a hair behind her ear as she continued to gush.

You nodded again, feeling weirded out.

“Sorry, I just,” she sing-songed, “I’ve never met anyone like him.” She paused, seeming to consider her next question carefully. “You ever… done anything with him?”

You nearly choked at her statement, uncomfortable with the objectification of Dean. “What?”

“Y’know,” she drawled, “How good is he in the—”

You were grateful to hear the vault door unlocking, revealing Dean holding a handgun.

“Oh my god, you saved us! You saved us!” Sherry cheered.

“Actually, I just found a few more. Come on, everybody, let's go. Let's go.” Dean ushered the guard from earlier and a few other people inside the vault.

“What are you doing?” Sherry questioned.

“Sam, (Y/N), look, uh, Ronald and I need to talk to you,” Dean said.

You shot Sam a confused look, and Dean shut the vault door behind him, shrugging apologetically.

“It's shed its skin again,” Dean explained. “We don't know when— it could be in the halls, it could be in the vault.”

“Great,” you sighed. “Y’know, Dean, you are wanted by the police.”

He nodded.

Sam seemed to catch onto where you were headed with this. “So even if we do find this damn thing, how the hell are we gonna get out of here?”

“Well, one problem at a time,” the older brother replied. “Alright, I'm gonna do a sweep of the whole place; see if we can find any stragglers. Once we get everyone together we've got to play a little game of find-the-freak, so… here.” He handed Sam a silver letter opener. “Found another one of these for you. (Y/N), I know you have weapons on you. Best use ‘em.”

You grinned at how well he knew you. You slipped your silver-bladed knife out of your sleeve.

Dean turned to Sam. “Now, stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody, okay? Help him manage the situation.” He turned to you. “C’mon.”

Sam’s voice began rising in outrage. “Help him manage? Are you insane?”

You turned your head to Ronald who seemed shaken, attention caught by Sam’s voice.

“Look, I know this isn't going the way we wanted—”

Dean was cut off by his brother nearly shouting, “Understatement!”

“But if we invite the cops in right now, Ronald gets arrested, we get arrested, the shifter gets away, probably never find it again, okay?” Dean finished.

Ronald peered out of the window in plain view of whoever was down below. You snapped, “Ronald! Out of the light!”

Sam scoffed at his brother, “Seriously?!”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, Ron's game plan was a bad plan, I mean, it was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now, crazy's the only game in town, okay?”

Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder and grabbed your hand, bringing you along with him. ‘If only Sherry could see us now,’ you thought bitterly.

Dean looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s that face about?” he questioned.

“Nothin’,” you replied, still grinning in self-satisfaction, scanning the hallway ahead for anyone or anything.

He just hummed at you, turning his head forward again.

“I hate this case,” you whispered after a few minutes of tense walking.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, still scanning the ceiling. He seemed to notice something, and you followed his gaze upward. A panel in the ceiling had been left askew. You eyed Dean curiously and took the gun from him, pointing it at the panel while Dean dislodged it with a coat rack from nearby. Suddenly, a naked body fell to the floor. Dean turned the body over with the end of the rack.

“Wait, Dean, wasn’t that?—”

“Yeah, I just let that guy in the vault.”

***

You and Dean hurried as inconspicuously as possible to inform Sam of what had just happened. Sam told you that man had been trying to get the front door unlocked and helping Mr. Okie-Dokie who may have been going into cardiac arrest when you and Dean found the body.

You turned to Ronald and his cocked rifle. “You know what, Ronald? He's right, we've got to get this man outside. Come on. I've got you.”

The shifter tried to help, too. “Yeah, yeah, let me help you.”

“Oh, we got him, it's, it's cool. Thanks,” you replied. You helped the guard out of the way, and Sam took the man’s other side.

“Thank you. Thank you,” the guard told you between labored breaths.

“Sure,” you smiled politely.

You could hear Dean talking to the shifter and a sudden crash behind you. You turned with the guard still on your shoulders at Ronald yelling, “Stop! Come back here!” You noticed a red laser pointed on his back, and your breath caught.

“Get down! Now!” you screamed, but you were too late.

The bullet from the sniper rifle hit Ronald squarely in the chest. You watched in horror as he fell to his knees before hitting the floor dead.

You took in a sharp breath at the sight, forcing yourself to keep your composure for the sake of everyone else in the room with you.

It was bedlam at that minute. All of the hostages began running out of the vault toward the door. You put Mr. Okie-Dokie on the ground next to you and just kept him talking until something could be done to help him. You weren’t quite sure what Sam or Dean were doing, but you made it your priority to keep this man from going into cardiac arrest.

Dean suddenly came over to you, holding a rifle.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you questioned.

“(Y/N), trust me on this—” he pleaded before helping the guard stand.

“Dean! I can help him, don’t bring him outside—”

“I’m not taking that chance, (Y/N). C’mon,” he told the guard. “I gotcha.” He held the man out in front of him and pushed him out the front door with the rifle at the guard’s back. You stayed out of the light, back pressed against the pillar next to the heavy door.

“No, don't shoot! Don't shoot! Please!” you heard the guard yell.

Dean commanded, “Don't even think about it! I said get back! Now!” He paused a moment before you heard his voice again. “Okay, go, go!” The older Winchester slipped back inside, shutting the door and latching it.

“We are so fucked,” he mumbled to you, helping you up from the floor.

“Fuck, why?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s about, I don’t know, eight thousand cops out there. Helicopters and search lights and everything. We are fucked, (Y/N).”

You dropped your head back, groaning, “Great.”

Dean’s phone rang, and you assumed it was Sam. “Yeah?” he answered. “What?... God, it's like playing the shell game. It could be anybody. Again… Alright, you search every inch of this place, we’re gonna go round everybody up.” He hung up the phone.

“I think this is the most stressed I’ve been on a job,” you said as you and Dean began searching for the hostages.

“Yeah? Even more so than the demons in New York?”

“Oh, definitely. That was just a sad one; not super stressful,” you replied. You noticed a herd of people toward the end of the hall. You gripped the handle of your knife, knowing the shifter would likely be in the mix of all the hostages.

You and Dean rounded them up; Dean pointing the rifle he picked up from Ronald at the group. You guided them back to the vault.

“And I thought you were one of the good guys,” Sherry, who held up the back of the group, told Dean, who was trailing behind her.

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Why would you care?” she scoffed.

“My name's Dean,” he said. Your heart melted a bit at his gentleness with her.

She hesitated but still answered. “I'm Sherry.”

“Hi, Sherry. Everything's gonna be alright. This will all be over soon, okay?” He assured her, shutting the vault door and spinning the lock shut. The landline of the bank rang and you picked it up. You didn’t say anything when you answered the phone.

“This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen,” a commanding voice stated through the phone. “Is this Dean? Sam?”

You didn’t respond once more.

Dean mouthed to you, “Who is that?”

You shook your head, holding up a finger to gesture for him to wait.

“Oh, or is it that pretty girl? Our very own criminal Jane Doe. Some people have been calling her Ghost since no one can seem to find any record of her existence.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you still didn’t say anything.

“Well, whether you’ve got the Bonnie to your Clydes with you or not, it’s my job to bring you boys in. Alive's a bonus, but not necessary. I want you Winchesters out here, unarmed, or we come in.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“I know you’re still there,” he said, almost taunting. “I know everything about you two. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murder in St. Louis; I know about the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecrations and the thefts. I know about your dad.”

Dean was trying to get close to the phone, but you kept pushing him away because you knew he’d explode at the mention of his father.

“Ex-marine, raised his kids on the road,” the agent continued, “cheap motels, backwood cabins. Real paramilitary survivalist type. I just can't get a handle on what type of whacko he was. White supremacist, Timmy McVeigh, to-may-to, to-mah-to. You have one hour to make a decision, or we come through those doors fully automatic.” With that, he hung up the phone.

You slammed the phone down, cursing in frustration.

“What? Who was that?” Dean asked.

“The fucking FBI agent who’s been tailing us since Missouri,” you replied, beginning to pace anxiously. “He knows everything about you guys, man. Even about your dad. That’s why I didn’t let you talk to him; I knew you would’ve ripped his head off.”

“Damn right,” the man growled. “They have a positive ID on you yet?”

“No, actually,” you said. “Ironically, some of the feds labeled me ‘Ghost’ cause they can’t find anything on me. Which makes me even more nervous. Anyway, we’ve got an hour till they come in here and pump us full of lead,” you informed him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Moments later, Sam appeared at the entrance of the vault room.

“Hey. We've got a bit of a problem outside,” Dean said.

Sam snorted. “We got a problem in here.”

“What?” you questioned.

Sam hushed his voice. “The girl that was gushing over Dean in the vault? It’s her,” he told you.

“Who, Sherry?” you questioned.

He nodded. “Just found her body.”

Barely needing to flick a glance at the boys, you unlocked the vault.

“Sherry? We're gonna let you go,” Dean called as the door swung open.

“What? Why me?” she questioned.

“Uh, as a show of good faith to the feds, come on,” he replied.

The woman hesitated. “Uh... I think I'd— I'd rather stay here, with the others.”

Dean approached her intimidatingly. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist.”

You clutched your blade at your side. After a tense moment, she approached you. Sam and Dean pushed her back to the hallway.

“I thought you were letting me go,” the woman you thought was the shifter said.

Dean shoved her forward, holding her head and forcing her to look at the body of Sherry Sam had brought back with him. She began screaming hysterically.

“Is that community theater, or are you just naturally that good?” Dean gruffly questioned.

“This is the last time you become anybody. Ever,” Sam added.

“No! Oh god!” she cried. She fainted almost immediately.

You stared at the two Sherrys in disbelief. One of the bodies was dressed, the other, half-naked. ‘Poor lady,’ you thought. You took off your blazer and laid it over the woman’s body, trying to spare her dignity.

“Wait, why did it do that?” you questioned. You leaned over the undressed body of Sherry covered only by your blazer and put your finger on her neck, trying to find a pulse. The body immediately jolted up, grabbing you by the throat. You struggled, stabbing at it frantically. You got a lick in at its upper arm with the knife before it kneed you in the chin and bolted.

You coughed when it released your throat, clutching at your neck and coughing.

“(Y/N)!” Dean cried.

“Dean, no, I’m fine! Follow it!”

He nodded, taking your knife from your outstretched hand and running after it. You kicked off your heels and took another moment before standing and going to follow Dean. Sam had taken off somewhere with the real Sherry.

You didn’t know what else to do besides stay with the vault and Dean’s discarded handgun, prowling in front of it with the gun at the ready.

***

You had no idea how long it had been. You just continued to pace in front of the vault, tension overtaking your body and anxiety keeping your eyes flickering across the room rapidly. You suddenly heard approaching footsteps and dove on the ground behind a desk— unsure if it was Dean, Sam, the shifter, a cop— and were panicked at the sight of S.W.A.T. sniper rifle lasers and flashlights on the wall in front of you. Your breath quickened as the footsteps continued approaching you. Then, a masked man ducked under the desk in front of you.

You shrieked.

“Here’s Johnny!” he yelped.

“Dean! Fuck you!” You shoved his shoulder harshly when you recognized his face. He and Sam were donned in S.W.A.T. outfits that they had definitely taken off some poor bastards hidden in a broom closet somewhere.

“C’mon, we gotta get outta here, now,” Dean told you. You grabbed your heels and followed the boys out of the building and to the Impala. Dean and Sam had their stolen guns at the ready as you sprinted up to the third floor of the parking garage.

The three of you sat in the Impala, completely breathless, as you grappled with the reality of your situation.

“We are so fucked,” Dean murmured.

You and Sam nodded minutely.

You looked out of the window at the rising morning sun. Exhausted, you let the rumble of the Impala soothe you into a restless sleep as Dean drove you away from the bank.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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osamusriceballs · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 27 <3

Ushijima x dirtytalk

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 2,3 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"Here, Wakatoshi-kun! Look at this!"

A phone gets shoved into his face, the brightness level way too high for comfort, but he squints to take a look at the screen. A small grunt leaves his lips at the lack of greeting from his red-haired friend, but he chooses to focus on the screen instead.

It's an Instagram post with a picture of him, one taken during the Olympics. He looks at the picture, confused, but then Tendou starts scrolling through the comments

"I'd combust if he called me 'baby' with that deep voice."

"Do you think he's vocal in bed?" Reply: "He doesn't talk much in interviews, so I doubt it." Reply: "What a waste. His voice is so hot."

"LOOK AT HIS ABS *drools*"

"The world is going crazy ever since you said 'baby' in that one interview!" Tendou wildly gestures with his phone still in his hand, his grin almost smug when he elbows Ushijima. A frown appears on the spiker's face as he tries to recall the interview. It was one that he wasn't too fond of, due to the number of personal questions that had been asked. Way too personal questions for his liking.

"Ushijima-san, do you have any plans to start a family soon? When can we expect a baby, a little Ushijima junior?" "Baby?" he had echoed, clearly taken aback by this question, something that the interviewer probably failed to notice, but to the people close to him, it was fairly obvious. The silence after this question lead to speculation on the internet about his relationship status, something that he has kept private so far.

"It wasn't in a sexual way." Ushijima states after skimming through more comments, raising his eyebrows when the messages get more explicit and vulgar. "I was surprised when he asked the question."

"Doesn't matter! The world is going feral now, everybody wants to be Wakatoshi's baby! And even I have to admit that I got butterflies when I heard you say that. Y/n is really lucky~" Tendou hums, mischief clear in his eyes, but Ushijima fails to follow his train of thoughts with this.

"Why is she lucky?"

"Because she gets you to say sweet and dirty things to her all day long. You can't fool me, Wakatoshi-kun; I'm not only your best but also your oldest friend." Tendou winks and strolls ahead, oblivious to the way Wakatoshi is left standing there with a frown on his face, still.

xxxxx

"Y/n?"

You rub your arms dry with a fluffy towel when his voice comes from the other side of the door.

"Hmm?" you hum, smiling excitedly because he is finally back home. "I'll be out in a second."

"Yes, please. We need to talk." You hear him lean against the door frame, clearly waiting for you to come out.

You freeze at his words, eyes growing wide when realization settles in and you fully comprehend his words. "Talk? Talk about what?" you know that you sound shrill and loud, but you can't help yourself but to feel nervous at his serious tone- even more serious than normally.

"About us." Your jaw drops, and you quickly reach for your bathrobe, hastily unfolding the fabric to its full length.

"What do you mean about us? Is there a problem with us?" You finally manage to pull your arms through the fabric, quickly wrapping the fabric along your body before you open the door. You're met with Ushijima's broad chest as he quickly straightens to his full posture. His olive eyes roam over your body, lingering for a short moment on your exposed cleavage before they return back to your face. He looks nervous, there is no other way to put it. "I'm not sure. I think there could might be a problem."

"And what would that be?" You cross your arms in front of your chest, your eyes boring into his face as if you could find answers for his unusual behavior there. You've never seen him like this before. His usual warm eyes are clouded with worry, his hands fidgeting with his phone in his hands. "Toshi? What is it? Please, talk to me." You're tempted to take the phone out of his hands, but you refrain from touching him, not when you don't know what's going on.

"Are you happy with our sex life?" His eyes don't leave your face, not for even the slightest second to see your reaction, and your jaw drops at the sudden question- you expected a lot, but definitely not this.

"I'm- I mean, yes I am? Shouldn't I be? Are you unhappy?" You take a slight step back, creating distance between the two of you, baffled by the sudden implication that he thinks that you're not satisfied. Or that he might not be. Sex with Wakatoshi is great- hard, rough, and passionate. He knows how to fuck you, that is for sure, but he also knows how to be gentle and sweet, how to take care of you and spoil you, especially during aftercare. You lack nothing in your sex life with him- and you hope that he feels the same.

"I am happy. Very. I enjoy sex with you very much much," he states firmly, but that only confuses you more.

"Why are you asking me then? What made you think that I could be unhappy?" You move closer to him, worry etched in your features when you finally take his phone and put it aside to grab his hands.

"Do you want me to talk more? To be more vocal? I saw a video and people kept on commenting how they want me to call them 'baby' and some more things. Would you like that too?" The way he asks nonchalantly like he was just talking about dinner made this even more embarrassing somehow.

"For you to call me 'baby' during sex?"

"Hmm." He nods and looks expectantly at you, his hands squeezing yours while his gaze seems somewhat calmer now that he is convinced that you're satisfied.

"You... you can call me whatever you want. I'm fine with it." You try to sound unbothered and calm, but the slightly shaking note shows how the thought of him calling you "baby" or "his pretty girl" while he thrusts into you does something to you. He nods, hesitating for a second, but then his hands suddenly drop yours to pull you in by the waist, his other hand coming to your chin while he leans down until his lips are close to your ear.

"My baby. Or would you rather be my babygirl?" His honey-like voice almost puts a spell on you, and you find yourself shivering in his arms, thighs involuntarily clenching together. "S-sounds good, Toshi." You bring your hands up to his chest, feeling the hard muscles under his shirt and his slow and steady heartbeat.

"And what would my babygirl like me to do? Does my babygirl want to be touched?" He lowly mumbles against the shell of your ear, your heart now beating faster when his hands start to roam over your body. "Yes," you breathlessly answer, hands slightly clenching into the fabric of his shirt. Definitely not what you had expected as the outcome of the conversation, but vocal Wakatoshi makes your pussy throb with every single word.

"My babygirl needs me to touch her, huh? I will take care of that pretty little princess cunt." He kisses your cheek, and your legs feel like jelly at this point. You cling to him, hanging on every single one of his words. You feel your arousal growing, feel how you start to get wet the more his hands keep touching you.

"More," you whisper, feeling hot and bothered while he keeps on touching you and pressing kisses to your neck. "More? Is my babygirl needy? That pretty princess cunny needs me to touch her?" He lifts the bathrobe just enough to place one hand on your thigh, and you feel like your body is on fire when he touches you there.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands now finding purchase on his shoulders while you cling onto him like your life depends on it. "What does that little princess cunny want? My fingers?" He grazes his fingertips along your thigh, moving dangerously close to your pussy under the bathrobe- bare, and basically creaming for him the longer he keeps playing with your body.

"Or my tongue?" he licks along the column of your neck, and you gasp at his words, the sensation hot and forbidden god. "I want to taste you, baby. You always taste so sweet. Do you want my tongue between your legs? Licking at your pretty pussy?" His fingers reach your throbbing pussy, slightly parting your folds and dipping in your wetness.

"Do it, do it, Toshi, please," you press your legs together around his hand, effectively caging him right where you need it. "Hmm, but you have to cum on my fingers first." He pecks your cheek and pulls his hand away from your legs, just to place it on your hips to guide you towards the bed. "Lay down for me, baby. Open that bathrobe for me."

His baritone echoes through the room, and you feel yourself doing everything like you're in a haze, full of need for him. "Hmm, that's my good girl." He hums apporvingly when you discard the bathrobe on the floor. Your body is trembling in the cool air of the room, but Ushijima is quick to join you on the bed and to hover above you, radiating so much heat that you instantly feel warm.

"Baby, spread your legs for me. Show me everything." You take a deep breath and slowly part your legs, revealing your glistening folds to him. A shiver runs down his body, and he clears his throat before he speaks again, his voice now lower when he is obviously bothered and turned on by the situation. "Look at how wet you are for me. All for me."

You frantically nod, anticipation rushing through your body while you wait for him to touch you. His fingers finally roam over your thighs, and your head falls back into the pillow at the way he touches you, the way he knows exactly where and how to touch you.

"So impatient. I can't wait to be inside of you, to feel you around me." Your gaze falls to the tent in his pants, the thought of him fucking you making your head spin and your pussy throb with need. His fingers move between your legs, moving along your folds and pressing against your clit. You moan at the sensation, your hands fisting the sheets when his thumb prods on your entrance.

"You look so pretty like this. Just waiting for me to touch you, to fuck you. And you feel so good around my fingers." He pushes his thumb inside of you, and you almost close your legs around him. "I will make you feel so good. I will make you cum on my fingers, on my tongue, on my cock." You clench around the digit at his words, your eyes focused on his handsome face while he keeps on rubbing your clit. "More, please more," you whine your body shaking underneath his. "Shhh, I'll give you more. I'll give you what you need, baby." His eyes roam down your body and you almost protest when he pulls his thumb out, just to quickly replace it with three of his fingers. "Oh, Toshi," you whine, your hips arching into him, and you start to fuck yourself on his fingers. He keeps the fast rhythm, pulling his fingers out, and pushing them back inside, curling them pulling them out again. "You feel so good. You're is creaming for me, look at that." His words only add fuel to your desire, and you grab his shoulders to push him down to you to connect your lips in a needy kiss. He groans into your mouth, his movements slowing down for a few moments before he sets his rhythm again, a fast and punishing pace now.

Your nails rake along his bare shoulders, leaving red marks, and he groans at the sensation. "Come on, baby girl. Let me feel you clench around me. Cream on my fingers, make a mess for me," his voice sends you over the edge, and you moan his name when you cum, your walls pulsing and clenching softly around his fingers. He groans your name, sweet praises of how you're his good girl, how pretty you look under him, how much he loves you, leave his lips and your body arches from the bed into his while your face contorts in pure bliss.

He prolongs your high, making sure to keep his pace and to curl his fingers just the right way, and your body goes limp when he finally slows down. His lips meet yours, pressing chaste and loving kisses to your face. "Was that okay?" The slight frown on his face is back, a clear sign of him being deep in thoughts when he pulls back after a few more kisses.

"More than okay. I think I could cum from your voice alone." You smile up at him and cup his cheek, the afterglow making you feel so good while you lay under him.

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity now sparkling in his eyes at your words, and you are quick to explain further. "I- I didn't mean that literally. Like- I just wanted to say that your voice is hot. And you are hot." Your cheeks heat up when he simply nods and hums, a mild smile on his lips.

"I want to test that out. Let's see if I can make you cum with my voice alone, baby."

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #ushijima #ushijima smut #ushijima x reader #this got longer than I thought it would #I thought the small bit of backstory would be a nice touch #I hope you enjoy this!#just two more days #T.T #I'll probably post Suna's part on friday #and the finale on Sunday #just to let you know! <3 #I just realized how much I'm missing Tendou T.T #I'll probably write something for him soon! <3 #BTW! I am pretty convinced that Ushijima looked up some phrases online beforehand #and he will use baby for an eternity now #But he'll eventually come along and start to use a variety of names and dirty things to say

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dira333 · 7 months ago

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A plush for a lover - Oikawa x Reader

Angsty fluff, trying something new

Haikyuu taglist: @lees-chaotic-brain

"Oh," Tooru pauses at the little display behind the Couch, "You've got plushies."

"Yes, I..." You're obviously flustered by his comment, yet you did not put them away before he came over, "They mean a lot to me."

"Really?" He picks one up, admires its soft fur and cute features, "It fits, you know?"

"You think so?" You step a little closer, your warmth seeping into him. Is he allowed to pull you in? Or would that be too forward of him?

"Yeah." He turns the plush so that you're face to face. "It's cute. Like you."

"I don't have to put it up," he claims, but your smile tells him that you don't believe him. Okay, fine, he wants his trophies where people can actually see them. So what? He worked hard for them.

"We could put them on Display over there," you gesture toward the wall. "So that everyone can see them when they walk in."

"Next to the plushies?" He asks and you halt, only for a second, but it's there, he saw it.

"I wasn't..." You start but he tuts as gently as he can.

"Nonsense. They've been a part of your life longer than I am. Not that I'm jealous or anything..." You giggle and he can't help but join. "But you should showcase them. They mean a lot to you, right?"

"Yeah." You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, an unusual sign of shyness.

"You never sleep with them, though," Tooru can't help but comment. "Why is that?"

"Oh, I do..." You confess, face turned away, "But only when I feel lonely."

He's not surprised to find you curled up when he gets home. He's even less surprised to find you hugging a certain plush. It reminds you of your mom, you told him once, because it used to belong to her.

Tooru lets you sleep, knows you need it. It's never easy to have a loved one in the hospital, even less when you're too far away to help in the way you want to.

"Hey," he mumbles softly when he sees you blink an hour later, "I made you something to eat."

"Did someone call?" You ask, voice raspy from sleep and emotions.

"No." His hand cards through your hair, trying to take the anxiety from you in any way possible. "But no news is good news too, right?"

The Missus: Hey, I'm on my way home, what do you want for Dinner?

Tooru❤: Shit, sorry, I had my phone on silent. I only got out of training now. Did you wait up?

The Missus: Honey, Hajime called to ask about our next trip. Can you call me back?

The Missus: Hey, I'm sure you're training hard. Don't forget to eat.

The Missus: Love you, going to bed now. Sleep tight.

...

Tooru barely manages to catch the door before it falls shut. The apartment is dark and the cars driving by give barely any light. He finds the light switch blind, a testament to too many nights spent coming home late. Something's wrong, but he can't really put a finger on it as he slips out of his shoes, hangs his jacket where it belongs.

He's tired and hungry, but too tired to eat. Still, he prepares a protein shake, watches the hands of the clock above the TV move as he drinks.

In a minute, he will get ready for bed. In a minute, he will slip into the bedroom as quietly as he can. But he needs a break, just for a second, where he doesn't have to think.

His eyes move around the room, looking for the one thing that's out of order, the one thing that keeps bugging him.

The plants are where they're supposed to be. Even the throw blankets are perfectly folded and placed away. He switches to his trophies, counts the numbers, and - there it is. The ugly little stuffed pig he won you at a festival, a sweet little fellow you named "Oinkawa" and called your favorite - it's gone.

He puts his half-empty shake down and tiptoes toward the bedroom. His heart thuds awkwardly in his chest as if it knows how guilty it should feel.

But when he opens the door, allows a sliver of light to fall in, you're not curled up around a certain pig. You're stretched out, back turned to his side, his own sheets untouched. It looks so foreign, all of a sudden like he's only just realizing that this isn't how it's supposed to be.

He opens the door a little more, eyes widening when he spots a lump on the floor. Oinkawa, he finds, hasn't made it into bed. Or he has, but the little pig has tried to make its escape... only to get hurt on the way.

Tooru picks up the plush. He wonders when you've last had to sleep with it. Was it during his last away game? No, that was last season and you told him on the phone each night that you were cuddling one of his shirts. Was it- He thinks of you, curled up around your mother's plush, and his throat closes up.

This isn't how it's supposed to be.

"Baby?" He asks, his voice a fragile thing in the dark room. You don't move.

"Baby?" He asks again, a little louder this time, grasping for your body. You wake with a shudder and a groan.

"Tooru?" You ask, confusion audible in your voice. "What's going on?"

"Don't leave me, okay?" He begs, "I'm an idiot, but I love you."

He presses his face against your neck and you, merciful as you are, pull him in. Maybe in the morning, you will cry, when the fog of sleep has lifted.

But as for now he gladly takes everything that you're willing to give.

my Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #oikawa fluff #oikawa #oikawa angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Adult Education Part 5 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica knows she should just head home for the night, but Jake's sincerity keeps her at Chippy's. He tries to secure a second date and her still elusive phone number as he learns bit by bit just how sweet she can be.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, eventually 18+

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

There was a first time for everything. At least that's how the saying went. Jessica had never been stood up before. But it was the fact that she was completely blindsided by it that really got to her.

It was 7:34. Jake was more than thirty minutes late. He wasn't coming. She had been stringing him along for too long without giving him her phone number. Or maybe she really was just as dull as she thought she was. Regardless, she was going to have to stand up from her table and walk back past the bar and out the front door. Alone. She recognized two of her students sitting a few tables over, and she wanted to cry. Doing this pathetic walk of shame out of Chippy's would be enough to have her in tears on the drive home. She just knew it.

"Shit," she muttered to herself as she slid off of her stool so her heels clicked against the dirty floor. She adjusted her glasses with the backs of her fingers and then picked up the journals she brought with her along with her purse. Then she tried to keep her face neutral as she nodded at Chippy who looked extremely displeased behind the bar.

"Night, Reedy," he murmured as she walked past. She wished she could reach the big trash can from this side of the bar, because what sane woman keeps giving a hot man scientific journals all the time? She'd throw them away in the dumpster near where she parked. And then she would go home and reevaluate just how she managed to mess this whole thing up in the analytical way her mind wanted her to.

She skirted past her students and pushed the door open to the cool, evening air and the sounds of traffic. She managed to let out the breath she had been holding, but now the tears were right there, and she was hoping to get home before they spilled over.

"Jessica!"

She knew it was Jake. She knew his voice. She also knew she couldn't run to her car in high heels fast enough before he caught up with her. So she turned toward his voice and waited on the sidewalk as he rushed toward her.

He looked like a mess with grease stains on his jeans. His hair was disheveled, and he was all sweaty. "I'm sorry I'm late," he panted, out of breath with his hands on his hips and his head tipped back as he gasped for air.

She wasn't sure what to make of him like this. She didn't know if she even wanted to try. "I'm just going to head home," she replied softly, taking a step in the opposite direction. "It's already 7:40."

His eyes looked desperate when they met hers. "Fuck!" he grunted under his breath, broad chest rising and falling rapidly. "Stay? Please? Just let me get you one drink? And we can talk?" He was so handsome, she desperately wanted to cave and still spend the rest of the night drinking cheap beers and eating peanuts with him.

"Why are you late?" Jessica asked, adjusting her glasses. "I thought you were looking forward to Chippy's." She kind of shrugged like she was already expecting some stupid excuse, and then Jake brought his hand up to her cheek and brushed her hair back with his fingers.

"My truck was in the shop last week, and it appears to be having problems again. Once it stalled out and I couldn't get it started again, I just left it and ran here. Because I have absolutely been looking forward to Chippy's. And you look beautiful, by the way," he drawled softly, fingers tangled with her hair as his breathing evened out.

"Where did you leave your truck?" she asked, leaning slightly into his touch.

"By the Starbucks on Collier Avenue," he replied softly, green eyes fixed on hers.

Then Jessica gasped. "That's like five miles away!"

"Mmhmm," he hummed. "I should have just left it there as soon as it died, but I tried to mess with it first. That's why I'm so late. I'm sorry."

"Oh." She didn't know what else to say. He ran five miles to get here.

"Yeah. Oh," he said with an edge to his voice. "I emailed your university account, but I figured you don't check it after you're done working for the night. And I still don't have your phone number, or I would have called you immediately."

Jessica felt warmth in her cheeks as Jake closed the distance between them like he was going to kiss her. "If you give me another chance and your phone number, I'll buy a new car before our next date to guarantee I'm on time. Or I can just leave early enough to run the whole way."

She giggled softly. "You're funny, Jake."

He just shook his head and said, "I'm pretty serious right now, Reedy." Then his gaze dipped down to her lips, and Jessica could tell he wanted to kiss her. His fingertips were still gently tangled in some strands of her hair. His body was warm as he crowded her against the outside of the bar, and she was flattered that he ran to get to her.

"You must be thirsty after all that running," she whispered, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

He turned his head so his lips brushed along her knuckles, and she gasped as he said, "I'm thirsty for more than beer or water, Jess. But I'd still love to take you inside and get some drinks and some peanuts."

And then she found herself nodding and leading him toward the door.

----------------------------

The bartender was glaring at Jake as soon as he held the door open for Jessica, and it just intensified when he let his hand rest on her lower back. "Reedy?" the other man called out, absolutely scowling as he let his fist rest on the bartop.

"It's okay, Chippy," she replied, glancing up at Jake as she walked toward the only empty table in the dive bar.

"The bartender is actually Chippy himself? The man, the legend?" Jake asked softly as he pulled out one of the stools for Jessica and watched her set her journals and cute little purse on the table.

When she slid onto the seat and crossed her legs, she said, "Yes. Don't mess with Chippy. That man was nice to me when nobody else was."

Jake studied her pretty face as she adjusted her glasses. "Who in their right mind wouldn't be sweet to you?"

She looked down at the journals and pushed them aside like she was suddenly embarrassed. "It's been known to happen."

"Shouldn't though," he replied, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Now let me go mend fences with your main squeeze. I want to be able to show my face in this fine establishment again in the future."

Jessica was smiling brightly at him as he turned toward the bar where Chippy was wiping the same spot with a rag over and over again. "Good evening," Jake said to the older man who still looked like he wanted to snap Jake in half. "Could I get two pints of whichever beer is Reedy's favorite?"

"Sam Adams," he grunted, tossing the rag aside. "And sometimes I get the Sam seasonal kegs for her. When I can."

Jake just nodded. Chippy was a big fan of Jessica's. He really needed to make sure this guy liked him, and he was pretty sure leaving another massive tip was not the answer. "Right. Two Sam Adams pints then, please."

Without another word, Chippy pulled two beers from the tap for Jake, setting them down a little hard in front of him before he scooped a bowl of peanuts.

"Thank you," Jake told him as the bowl of peanuts came thudding down next to the beers.

While Jake dug a ten dollar bill out of his wallet, Chippy grunted again. "She waited a long time for you to show up." His voice was accusatory.

Jake smoothed the bill between his thumb and index finger, stealing a glance at Jessica a few tables away. She was playing with her hair and reading something with a soft smile on her lips. He turned back toward the bar and met Chippy's eyes. "It won't happen again."

"No. It won't. Because next time I'll kick you out permanently," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you can even manage to get a next time, that is."

"That's certainly the goal," Jake informed him.

"Well, a lot of men look, that's for sure. And I think she's oblivious to most of 'em. But not you, for some reason," Chippy said, scowling once again. "Handsome and annoying," he muttered. "Be nice to her or I'll kick you out once and for all." Then he reached for the rag again, completely ignoring Jake.

"Right." Jake picked up both glasses in one hand and grabbed the pretzels, and he headed back to the table and Jessica.

"Did you have a nice conversation?" she asked with an amused expression as Jake slid one of the beers in her direction and sat on the stool opposite her.

He leaned on the table and whispered, "Not particularly. Pretty sure he'd happily kick me out given the opportunity. I had to swear on my life I'd never be late again."

She laughed behind her pint before taking a sip. "His bark is worse than his bite. Mostly. But actually, the head of the chemistry department has a lifetime ban, so maybe not."

"Damn," Jake murmured, taking a sip of his own beer. "Was he late meeting you two times in a row?"

Jessica looked down into her beer, swirling the glass gently, a solemn look on her face. "Something like that...let's just say the fact that Brian Conley isn't allowed in here is just one of the reasons this is my preferred hangout."

"Okay," Jake said softly, wondering if this Conley character had anything to do with the rumors Bradshaw's wife had been telling him about. Regardless, he was going to side with Chippy on this one. Conley could eat shit if Jessica didn't like him. "We hate Brian Conley," Jake told her as they both reached for the peanuts.

For some reason this got Jessica laughing again. "We do," she said as she picked up a few peanuts and held her hand open to him. Jake rubbed his thumb along her palm before selecting one and cracking into it. "Now, did Chippy tell you I like Sam Adams? Or did you guess from last time we were here?"

Jake tossed the shell on the floor and said, "You think I'd leave that up to chance? I one hundred percent asked him just to be sure. And now I know what kind of beer to buy if you agree to come to my place and let me cook dinner for you."

Jessica froze with her hand in the air, ready to throw her peanut shell. "You know how to cook?"

"Yeah," he replied with a smile. "I love it, actually. I usually meal prep on Sundays after I buy all my groceries for the week."

She was gaping at him. "There are two of you with the uniforms and the kitchen skills?"

Jake laughed, realizing she must have been referring to Bradshaw as well. "First of all, he's married. I'm single." She finally tossed her peanut shell and rolled her eyes.

"I finally made a friend at work," she said, cracking another shell and throwing this one at him. "You think I'm going to risk that by even looking at her husband for a second too long? No."

Jake tried to keep a straight face as he said, "Nobody's gonna get mad if you look at me all day long, Reedy."

"Tempting," she said before sipping her drink without meeting his eye.

"And," he added, running his fingers along her palm as she handed him more peanuts, "the kitchen isn't the only room where I have skills."

She met his eyes and adjusted her glasses with a smirk. "Care to tell me more about that, Lieutenant Seresin?"

He nodded and said, "I'm really good in the living room, too. You should see how well I can lay on the couch and watch University of Texas football."

She laughed and said, "I almost forgot for a second that you're from Texas."

"How did you know I'm from Texas? And, oh shit... did all those A&M boys already ruin my chances for me? I almost never wear my boots and hats around, I swear."

Jake grinned as she threw more peanut shells at him. "Stop!" she whispered as she laughed, and Jake loved the sound of it. "The only thing they ruined for me is Lone Star beer and line dancing."

Now he was laughing, because yeah, that made sense. "You're a Yankee, obviously. Don't tell the Texans I've been visiting you at work. They won't stand for it."

"Oh, sounds like Romeo and Juliet," she replied. "Except without the balconies, old English, and hermits giving out free drugs to children."

"Wait," he said, now the one who was laughing too hard. "My condo has a balcony."

"Shiiit," she whispered, eyes wide in feigned shock. "I was hoping this was a comedy, not a tragedy."

"Oh, it's definitely a comedy, Jessica. The audience is in riotous laughter over the fact that I still don't have your phone number."

This time she had to cover her mouth with one hand as she laughed. And when Jake glanced toward the bar, Chippy looked decidedly less aggressive now when he met his gaze.

"You Yankee girls must have a very particular vetting process. You from New York?"

"Massachusetts," she replied, still giggling. "I went to MIT undergrad."

"That explains the Sam Adams. Also, I'm never getting your phone number, am I?" he asked playfully, reaching across the small table and tucking her pretty hair behind her ear again while she laughed. "You've got me showing up to see you at work and running five miles for dates."

"Don't count yourself out quite yet," she said as he stroked her cheek.

"And you got me reading physics journals on my couch while the college games are on," he added softly. "You brought some more for me to take home?" he asked, dropping his hand and tapping the stack on the table next to her elbow.

But now she had a dreamy look in her eyes. "You really read them instead of watching the game?"

"Mmhmm." He nodded and said, "Picked one up at halftime and realized I missed the entire third quarter before I was done reading it."

Her lips were softly parted as she blinked at him. "Yeah. I brought you some more. But you have to promise you'll read them all cover to cover."

"I always do."

"Good. You won't be disappointed."

Jake laughed and looked down at the peanut shell in his hand before he tossed it over his shoulder just to make her smile. "I doubt you could ever disappoint me, Jessica."

God, the way she looked at him when he dished out something sweet could probably bring him to his knees. And the thing was, it was never a line. He wasn't throwing out bullshit to see if landed. He meant every word of it. Her eyes were unguarded as they always seemed to be with him now, and he couldn't believe he almost completely blew this evening with his fucking truck.

It was getting a little late now, and he needed to try to secure the next date while she was still looking at him with those dreamy eyes. He just didn't want her to think he had any certain set of expectations but suggesting his place.

"You know," he started, "my couch is big enough for both of us to watch some football and read some journals together. I could buy some Sam Adams, and we could make dinner together on Saturday night."

He watched her front teeth sink into her lip. She was hesitating. And it was killing him a little bit. "I think I can make that work," she said slowly, sliding the journals across the table as his heart pounded.

"Gonna need your phone number so I can text you my address," he whispered, reaching for her hand before she pulled it away. "Please?"

He drew a little heart on her palm with the tip of his index finger, and a smile bloomed across her face. "You'll find it, Jake. I know you will." And then she slowly closed her hand and stood, leaving him to pick up the journals. "But it's getting late, and Thursdays are early for me."

"Right." He followed her past the bar and watched her wave to Chippy who looked at her with a very kind smile before giving Jake a look of warning. And maybe he needed that warning, because he was looking at the gorgeous swell of her ass and enjoying the way she walked in high heels a little too much. So he nodded at Chippy, and kept his eyes on her wavy hair instead.

Once they were outside, Jessica dragged the toe of one of her shoe a few inches along the sidewalk as she leaned against the building. "Thanks for the three dollar beer," she said with a smile.

"You know, I'm pretty sure Chippy would give them to you for free if you were alone."

Her smile turned into another pretty laugh. "You're not wrong. Do you need a ride back to your truck?"

"Wouldn't mind one since I need to get it towed," he murmured, not quite ready to move from this spot where her face looked so perfect in the dim light. "But I'd be more than happy to run the five miles back."

And then her right hand reached up to tug on his shirt collar, and she didn't look so hesitant now as he eased himself closer, letting his hand rest on the wall next to her. "You have a peanut shell in your hair," she whispered, releasing his collar and brushing her fingers along his temple.

Jake swallowed hard. His lips were just a few inches from hers as he softly said, "That's probably because a beautiful woman was throwing them at me."

Her laugh was quiet and breathy, and then the space between their lips was negligible. And then she was kissing him with her small hand wrapped gently around his neck. Jessica was smiling against his lips, and he wasn't used to it being this sweet. He didn't kiss the girls from the bar like this, and they never teased his cheek with the tip of their nose or ran their thumb delicately behind his ear.

Oh, he was going to crave this now. Soft, exploratory kisses that tasted like beer and peanuts. And the sound of her soft moan as he let his hand trail from the wall near her shoulder down along her side to her waist. Yeah, this was going to become a necessity for Jake.

She brushed her lips along his again before looking up at him with surprised eyes as he held her a little tighter. And then six more little kisses while her hand trailed down his neck. "I was really afraid you stood me up earlier," she whispered, trailing some kisses along his chin.

"I wouldn't do that, Baby. You have any idea how much I wanted tonight to happen?" Jake had one hand full of physics journals and one hand full of Jessica, and he was already thinking about what he might cook for dinner on Saturday night.

With a soft laugh, she started to lead him down the sidewalk to her car. And he got to do even more things he never really did. Like open her car door instead of call her a cab at two in the morning. And lean over from the passenger seat and kiss her cheek gently as she started the engine.

"What's your day looking like tomorrow, Dr. Reed?" he asked, linking his fingers loosly with hers for the short drive to his truck.

"Department meeting, lectures, more lectures, a lab, and then my office hours."

Jake's mind was already working on a plan. "I have a long day ahead of me, too. There's my truck," he said, pointing to the piece of shit he was afraid he was going to have to replace.

Jessica pulled up next to it and put her car in park, but when she reached for the key, he covered her hand with his. "Just leave me here. I'll get it towed to the garage again and then get Bradshaw to drive me home from there. I want you to go right home. It's late and it's dark out."

Jake wrapped her hand around the steering wheel again as she said, "Okay." But the single word was muffled by his lips crashing against hers. He kissed her long and hard one time, and her glasses were a little crooked when he was done. He straightened them out before he reached for the door handle.

"I had a great time tonight. I'm sorry I almost ruined it by being late."

"You made up for it by running five miles," she whispered. "Night, Jake."

And then he was watching her pull back into traffic as he called for a tow truck, keeping his eyes on her brake lights until they were out of sight. Just for good measure he looked up some new trucks for sale as he sat behind his steering wheel, but that got boring after a few minutes. And then he thought about the way Jessica told him she was confident he would find her number.

He lunged for the journals sitting on the seat next to him, and he spread them out to read all the covers. His eyes caught on an edition of Applied Physics from late last year that said Jessica Reed, PhD. on the cover under an article title about combustion in jets.

"It's gotta be," he whispered as the tow truck arrived, and he frantically flipped to the page where her article had been printed. He would read the whole thing later. He wanted to read the whole thing later. But right now his eyes settled on a small, handwritten note. He recognized her writing from the mini lecture he'd accidentally attended, and a smile crept along his lips.

Jake,

If you made it this far, you can call or text me anytime.

Her number was written beneath it, and he was entering her as a contact in his phone when he got out to talk to the tow truck driver. He felt like he just won the lottery as he added the picture of her he had saved from the San Diego State University website as her contact photo.

Jessica, I'm sending you my address for Saturday. You and me, my couch, physics journals, college football and dinner? Please say yes.

It was getting very late now, and maybe she wouldn't respond until tomorrow, but Jake felt like he was on cloud nine. He just kept thinking about how sweet Jessica was. About how he wouldn't mind wrapping her up in his arms for some more soft kisses on his couch.

Once the driver was unloading his truck at the garage, Jake opened a different contact on his phone and made a quick call.

"It's 10:30, Hangman. This better be important."

"Bradshaw. I need a ride home from the garage. My truck is acting up again," Jake replied, trying not to smile at how annoyed Rooster sounded.

An exasperated sigh carried through the phone, and then Jake could hear his wife in the background asking, "Who is it?"

"It's Hangman. He needs a ride."

"Oh, well we can always finish this later, Beer Boy." His wife sounded less annoyed than him, thankfully.

After a brief pause, Bradshaw said, "Give me twenty minutes. I need to get dressed."

"Thanks. Much appreciated," Jake replied. He dropped his keys into the overnight box with a note telling the mechanic he was having the same issues as last week. And then he waited for that blue Bronco to pull into the lot, and when Jake climbed in, Bradshaw looked pissed as hell.

"Do you have any idea what my wife was about to do to me when you called?" he growled, shifting into reverse before Jake even had the door closed.

"Come on, man. Your wife's hot, but I don't want to be imagining what the two of you get up to."

"She was about to reprimand me for turning in sloppy math homework," he said, completely disregarding Jake. "And I'm virtually sure she will no longer be in the mood for that when I get back at 11:30. So you owe me. I don't even know what you owe me yet, but it's going to be big. Because I'm assuming you expect me to give you a ride to work in the morning, too."

Jake cleared his throat and said, "If you wouldn't mind."

"Fuck," Rooster growled as he pulled up to Jake's condo building. "I'll pick you up at 7:30. Get the fuck out."

"Thanks," Jake said, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible. Jessica had just texted him back, and he was all smiles even as the Bronco peeled away. He was in.

------------------------

As Jessica undressed in her bedroom, she ran her fingers along her lace bra. She wondered what Jake's favorite color was, because she probably owned a pretty matching set that she would love to wear for him. She should have known this was going to happen; one kiss from him, and she was thinking about spending a lazy Sunday in bed with her fingers tangled in his hair.

"Stop," she told herself half heartedly with a dreamy smile in the mirror. She'd given him the journal with her number inside, and now she just had to wait. He'd probably find it by tomorrow. Maybe she would see him at her office hours again. Her whole body was tingling with excitement as she unclasped her bra, and then she heard the ping of her phone notifications.

She tossed her bra and bounded across the room in just her panties and saw a text from an unknown number.

Jessica, I'm sending you my address for Saturday. You and me, my couch, physics journals, college football and dinner? Please say yes.

She squealed as she flopped down onto her bed. He was good. It took him almost no time to find her phone number. She typed back a message as she thought about his big hands and his southern drawl. After she hit send, she closed her eyes and imagined everything she wanted to do to him in her office as she let her fingers glide along her body.

Don't forget the Sam Adams. See you on Saturday.

-----------------------------

Yes! You run those five miles, Jake! Anyone else just love Chippy? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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lazyneonrabbitt · 1 year ago

Text

Sergei

Kraven x Reader [Pt.2]

Big cat man has a weak spot for little cats and their owner. / A simple domestic, fluffy one where a quick job takes an unexpected turn.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Kraven wanted to hit the Spider man where it hurt the most; his found family.

That family included you, so let's go over that day you met, yeah?

All he had was your name, social media profile pics and an adress his people managed to conjure up for him.

So there he was, parked a few blocks away, ready to get to his first prey. He made his way into the apartment building and followed the door numbers untill he had reached the right one.

He had decided to give this a more stealthy approach, so instead of simply breaking down your door he picked the lock and let himself in quietly. With one hand on the door handle and the other on his knife he stepped into your home, immediately being alarmed by the animals either hissing at him or scurrying away. He quietly closed the door behind him, taking in his surroundings and being almost stunned by the little piece of paradise you seemed to live in. He stepped around in your apartment, careful not to step on any of the many cat toys sprawled all over and avoiding any of the cats that were curiously staring at him. He stared at your walls covered in fabric covered shelves amd scratching poles, little food and water bowls everywhere. Without thinking about it he reached out for one of the furry residents who happily pressed its head into his palm. As one started, the others slowly became more comfortable around him as well and within a short moment he was surrounded by cats of all shapes and sizes.

He padded around a bit more untill he had reached your small kitchen, staring at the lion themed towels and the cat shaped mugs behind the glass cabinet doors. A touch to his leg pulls him from his thoughts as he spots the big, red cat rubbing against his calf, purring for attention. He reaches down to pet him and makes the mistake of sitting down because quickly he is stuck with his back against the kitchen cabinets and a large cat in his lap with more surrounding him.

You're done at the store a few blocks from your home and make your way back with a small bag of food and another one full of cat treats.

You get to your floor and walk along the hall until you reach your door, putting the key into the lock and opening the door with only a small twist of the key. 'Ugh, again?' You think to yourself, making a mental note to remember to check if you locked your door before you walk away next time.

Entering your house you're immediately noticing you're not being welcomed like you usually are. There's no crazy meowing or paws trying to grab whatever is in the plastic bags. Really, only two of your oldest cats were to be seen from your spot at the door as you put your keys and phone on the little side table.

You stepped forward to say hi to the old, grey one closest to you gave him some pats and made your way through the livingroom, turning the corner and stopping dead in your tracks across from your kitchen entrance.

The bags previously in your hand hit the floor with a loud crunch, startling some of your cats, them scurrying away to their hiding places. 'What the hell..'

Before you were almost all of your cats, surrounding a man who was sitting against your kitchen cabinets with your biggest orange cat in his lap, clearly demanding scratches as he complained loudly every tine the man removed his hands from him.

"You uh.. You got a great place here." Who was this guy? And see? You did lock your door when you left! You just stood there, staring in confusion.

"What?" Was all your brain was doing. What was he doing here? What's the meaning of this? How did he even get in here and why is this stupidly handsome cat loving man on my kitchen floor? Who even is he?

A sigh left the man's lips as your loving companion clawed at his hands and pulled it back onto him for the umpteenth time in the short period he had been there.

"I'm Sergei." He spoke, looking up at you. "And you're a friend of the spider man." The way he stated it so matter of factly immediately sent you into panic mode, fidgeting to grab your phone, remembering you had put it at the door. Your cursed at yourself, not wanting to turn around to grab it because if he knew about you and spiderman there was no way this guy was gonna let you reach that phone.

He raised one of his hands, not wanting go raise the other as well and get scratched again. It was so stupid how you just stopped thinking of grabbing your phone when you noticed his sweet gestures towards your pets and the way they all seemed to love him. Your friends always joked about how you could never be someone's friend if your cats didn't like them, and since they all liked this man.. They liked Sergei so you just slowly picked up your bags and started putting the items away. You two talked, mostly about your crazy amount of animals and the things he observed about them as you walked around, keeping a close eye on him in the meantime.

"This guy is nice, what's his name?" Sergei spoke, pointing at the cat still draped over his legs. "That fatty is Nacho, he usually hates new people." You muse from beside him, squatted down to put the cat food on the bottom shelf. You look over at them, reaching to give Nacho some belly rubs like he wasn't still laying in this stranger's lap.

"You still haven't told me why you're here." You stood up and grabbed four large party snack plates and a box of wet food, deviding ghe food in small portions. You quietly shook your head as Sergei hadn't said anything yet. With the amount of space you needed to prepare this food, you had stepped so far to the side that his shoulder was resting against your leg. You nudged him with your knee, getting his attention. "You know you can just, like, put him on the floor, right?" They both looked up at you like you had just offended their families. "Get up and give a hand here."

He blinked in surprise with how direct you were being with him and gave an apologetic look to the animal in his lap before picking him up and placing him on the tile floor. Getting up he let out a tired groan aa he lazily reached for the two outter plates you jad prepared and basically trapping you between him and the counter. "Now, where do you want these?" He asks quietly, laughing softly to himself as he sees you stammering, trying so hard to find the words of the locations you put the cats' dinner. He chuckles and picks up the plates, carecully walking around to find the right spots and making sure not to accidentally kick any of the eager felines trying to get as close as possible to the food.

He looks around, spotting an empty side table and placing the first one there before taking the other one to a spot where three cats sat waiting on the floor.

By the time he had finished placing the food you were back to yourself enough to put the remaining plates away on autopilot, only stopping to aimlessly walk around as you see Sergei again, very carefully petting one of the older cats and letting it lick some sauce off his fingers. You walked closer, not taking your eyes off the scene in front of you, shocked that old Mr. Snowball was actually accepting food like that.

"He never does that.." you state blankly, more to yourself than to your guest. He had heard your comment and smiled to himself, petting the old cat some more and kept feeding it for a bit longer. You stood closer to him now, closely observing his movements and body language, hoping to learn something from the way he managed to feed the one cat who barely even wanted to eat his favorite snacks anymore.

The doorbell made you both jump, taking away your focus on the scene before you as you walked to open the door, realization hitting you that you completely forgot to cancel your dinner order after your friend canceled your plans earlier today. You open the door and accept the food, thanking the delivery guy with a sweet smile and close the door with your foot.

"So, hungry?" You quip withtour hands full of takeout boxes. The confused stare you receive isn't really helping you feel less awkward about the whole situation. "I forgot to cancel the food order after my friend called me she couldn't make it tonight." You continue to ramble about today's events being all messed up, and on top of that having a complete stranger in her house.

During your speech he had moved over and carefully taken the boxes from your hands, setting them on the small coffeetable in front of the tv. "I can eat." His answer came out so simple, not even phased by your rather offensive wording from only a minute ago. With some convincing he managed to get you to sit down on the couch.

He sits down at the tsble on the floor, his back against the couch seats right next to you. "I'm not here to hurt you." He speaks softly without looking at you. "Well.." A sigh leaves his lips. "Not anymore, at least."

You sigh, head laid back against the back cushions. "You're one of Spidey's enemies." It wasn't even a question. You recalled him mentioning you being friends with him earlier.

He turned to face you, one arm over the couch seat. "I can't hurt someone like you." You gave him a look at his choice of words. "You care more for these creatures than for yourself. I love that." Turning baxk to the table, he took one of the takeout boxes and handed it to you. "Altough I believe you need to start caring for yourseld a bit more. I looked inside your fridge." You fake whince at the fridge mention and accept the food, quickly taking a bite.

"So," still chewing on your food, you start. "You broke into my apartment to either kill me or hurt me very bad.." You looked at him and shook your head. "But you decided not to when you learned I like animals more than people?"

He lets out a laugh at that. "Yes. That is the basics." You smile back at him. "Well, be glad my cats like you, then. Otherwise I would have tried to kick you out and I'd have gotten hurt and slash or killed for sure. And honestly I'm surprised you managed to feed him." Nodding your head in the direction of the old cat in the corner. He follows your gaze and smiles to himself. "What can I say? I'm a cat person." He shrugs casually, eating some more fries.

Looking at the table you realised you wanted something to drink. You got up and placed your food bsck on the table, walking over to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle and two glasses, setting them all down on the table and pouring you both a glass. You sit back down and the two of you finish your food together.

After dinner you gather everything off the table, taking the stack and putting it away, bringing back a new bottle of drinks from the kitchen.

As you sat back down you missed your little side table and scooted over to the other side, placing your glass next to you and settling down right behind Sergei who was still on the floor. "You don't have to stay down there, you know." You mention. He looks up at you, his head now touching your lower legs as you sit cross-legged behind him. "I'm good here. Easy access to these guys." His hands again reaching out to pet some more wandering cats. He had closed his eyes halfway into his sentence and kept his head laying against your leg. Without thinking twice you let one of your own hands wander and softly brushed your fingers through his oh so soft looking curls. He let out a soft hum at that and you couldn't help but laugh at yourself a little.

"What's so funny?" With a quirked up eyebrow he watches you through one opened eye.

"It's just, my friends always told me I have a horrible taste in men,"

With that he openend his eyes to look at you properly. "What I mean is, they would totally kick me out of the friendgroup if they saw me here, having dinner and being cute with a guy who had plans to kill me." You kept playing with his hair as you spoke nervously to which he let out a soft hum and put a hand up to pat your leg. "You think they'd dare to say anything if they saw me next to you?" Putting the emphasis on the 'me' by motioning at himself and mostly his physique.

You nodded in agreement, knowing how absolutely intimidating he looked when he stood upright, so close and looking down on you at the kitchen counter. Not even the image of the gorgeous man towering over you, an image that would have normally helped distract you from literally anything, wasn't even helping against the anxiety that was coursing through your head right now.

Meanwhile your hands were still in his hair and his hand was still resting on your leg, the other coming up as well to rub comforting circles on your skin. "You really have to relax, little rabbit. I can feel you stressing out.." He leaned over on the couch and hopped up on it next to you, back agsinst the oposite armrest with one leg against the backrest and the other dangling off the seat. One of his hands reached out to give your shoulder a queeze and grabbed your arm, causing you to let out a yelp as he pulled you against him. He easily manhandled you on top of him, your side against his front and legs stuck between his. You let out a long, tired breath and told yourself to focus on his warmth instead of the gnawing, angry yelling in the back of your head. One of his hands dangled next to the couch, waiting for one of the cats to bump their head against if before picking one up and placing it next to you, petting it softly so it laid down for you to pet as well.

"Thankyou," you softly said getting more comfortable against him, nuzzling against his clothed chest. You had no idea how he managed, but in this short time from feeding your cats till now he had made you feel more normal than anyone else had ever done. His strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you further into him, his legs wrapping around and covering yours. Your face was now hidden in his neck and his lips were on your temple, a low, rumbling satisfied hum coming from his as he inhaled your scent. You returned his gesture by softly pressing your lips against his jawline, not exactly kissing it but just holding them there for a short moment.

He could feel the smile forming against his jaw and slowly led his fingers to your chin while moving slightly to capture your lips with his own. Without hesitation you maneuvered yourself to wrap your arms around him and kiss him back properly, scaring your cat away by doing so making you both laugh and separate. When he looked up at you he saw the tears theatening to spill, placing a hand on your cheek. "Let me care for you like you care for your creatures." It wasn't really a question, more of a statement of which the details would be discussed later. You sniffled, "Yeah," and nodded in agreement. "I'd like that."

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