#jamesons door

[eroshaven]

[goblinintherock]

Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man 23

Fellas how gay is it to show up at your "colleagues" home, with wine after getting beat up? 🤨

[sightless-highland]

https://www.artstation.com/artwork/EvLdGe

Jameson: Another Door Opens

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Tutor Me

michael gavey x bimbo!reader

A/N: this was a request so i hope you enjoy! thank you to bel for putting michael creaming in his pants in my head.

TW: SMUT!! michael is mean and then he cums in his pants, this is the most filthy thing i've written perhaps

word count: 2,099 words

You knock three times on Michael Gavey’s door and flinch when he opens it just as you lay down the third knock.

Was he waiting at the door for you?

He’s almost annoyed by your presence before he takes in what you’re wearing, a tiny, lacy, pink, babydoll crop-top with a slit from your belly button to just below your breasts and the tiniest little white skirt that falls just below your bum. Oh, and don’t get him started on the godforsaken thigh-highs, the things are practically lethal.

“Um, Earth to Michael?” You wave a hand in front of his face to try and snap him back into reality. The poor man is starstruck at just the sight of you.

“S-Sorry yes… come in.” He stutters and steps back so you can walk in. 

You brush it off and strut into his room, sitting down on his bed. Oh god how he loves the sight of you on his bed with your skirt riding up ever so slightly and your plush thighs pressed together. You hold your textbook in your lap as he stares at you once again, clenching his hands into fists in an attempt to get his cock to stop rising.

“Are we going to get started?” You ask, trying to snap him out of it once again.

“Started with what?” He blurts out.

“Trig?”

“Oh yes, of course - sorry.” He mumbles and wipes his hands on his palms before apprehensively sitting next to you.

You open up your book and show him the problems you were struggling with.

“These are the questions you’re struggling to comprehend?” He asks condescendingly. “There aren’t many thoughts in that pretty little head of yours, are there?” He seems to get back to his old self with ease.

“Don’t be cruel.” You say with a huff. “Not everyone is as smart as you.”

“Clearly.”

“You won’t speak to me like this if you’re going to tutor me.” You say firmly.

“You can’t make demands when i’m doing you a favour.” He scoffs.

“You’re actually doing Ms. Jameson a favour and i’m sure she would be very disappointed if you couldn’t follow through.”

Michael grumbles something about how he wouldn’t be the one who wasn’t following through but sighs anyhow and begins to look at your attempts that you’ve written under each question. You cross your arms a bit smugly.

“Nothing else to say?” You taunt him.

“I’m trying to be nice…” He trails off when he glances up at you, noticing how your arms are crossed - noticing the way the action pushes up your tits.

You might be a little ditzy but you’re not that ditzy. “Are you really staring at my tits right now?”

“What? No - are you that full of yourself?” He sputters out, his cheeks turning red.

“You don’t spend much time around women, do you?” You giggle.

“Of course I do!” He protests and then grumbles out, “And i’m the rude one?”

“Michael, have you ever kissed a girl?” You ask a little gently.

“I’ve kissed loads!” He claims but his cheeks get redder.

“Oh well then. I was going to offer to teach you but there’s clearly no need.”

He’s silent for a moment, a long moment.

“Out.” He says finally.

“What?”

“Stop fucking with me like that and get out of my room.” He is clearly embarrassed, thinking you’re playing some cruel prank on him.

“I’m not messing with you.” You say but he’s already getting your things together.

“Like hell you’re not.” He shoves your things into your hands and stands to get the door. You put your stuff back down.

“I’m not leaving,”

“Yes you are. I won’t have you making a fool out of me and then giggling about it with your little friends.” He grabs your wrist to pull you to your feet.

“I don’t think you’re a fool. I like you.” You say earnestly.

“Bullshit.” He says but he isn’t dragging you to the door yet.

“I do, Michael. I think you’re cute.” He searches your eyes for dishonesty but the blush on your cheeks makes him inclined to believe you.

“Y-You do?” His eyes soften.

“I do.”

“And you’re not taking the mickey out of me?” He asks one more time, just to be sure.

You shake your head. “I’m not.”

“You really want to kiss me?’

“Only if you tell me the truth about how many girls you’ve kissed… and if you close that door.” You say sweetly.

Michael practically slams the door with haste and proceeds to lock it. “I haven’t kissed any girls.” He admits.

That was easy.

“Can we kiss now?” He asks eagerly and you giggle.

“Sit down on the bed.”

He does so right away, wiping his palms on the covers. You walk over to him slowly, so you can tease him even more. He gulps as you perch yourself right on his lap, straddling both his legs and oh boy do you feel how hard he is immediately. He’s bigger than you expected and you can tell even through his trousers.

“Are you ready?” You ask as you rub your hands up and down his chest and he nods swiftly in response. “Okay…” You whisper out before leaning in slowly to brush your lips gently against his. It’s definitely more than a peck but doesn’t leave him anywhere near satisfied. “How was that?”

“Good but I think we should do it again to be sure.” He says, clearly flustered.

“I think so too, but this time, you’ll open your mouth a bit.”

“O-Okay.” He breathes out and you press your lips against his once again, kissing him with more pressure this time. He opens his mouth and you slip your tongue past his lips to touch his tongue for a moment before pulling it back. He whimpers into your mouth and the two of you begin to properly makeout at this point as Michael grows his confidence. He is an… aggressive kisser so to say but it’s clearly because of how excited he is. You’ve never seen someone act so excited to just kiss you before. You lift his hands as you kiss him and place them on your waist. He immediately begins to squeeze at the soft flesh and he groans at the feeling. He then begins to subconsciously rock you back and forth over his crotch so he can gain some friction. The poor boy is so close to creaming in his pants that he actually whines when you pull away. His lips try to chase yours as you do but you push at his chest to stop him.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks nervously as his hands continue to knead at your skin, never straying from your waist.

“No.” You say, finding his concern sweet. 

“Then why’d you stop?” He asks and you find it cute at how such an egotistic man is reduced to using puppy-dog eyes.

“Well, you’re always staring at my tits. I thought you’d like to see them for real.” His eyes light up.

“That would um… be nice.” He tries to say casually and you giggle at his response.

You take off your babydoll top and you’ve never felt more flattered. He looks at you like a kid on christmas, as if your tits came gift-wrapped with a bow.

“Oh god.” He groans out, looking mesmerised. 

“You can touch them if you want.” You say and you could imagine that his face would be the same as a man who has just won the lottery.

He is almost apprehensive at first as if you’ll slap him and storm off the moment he touches them but he lifts his hands anyhow and places them gently on your chest.

“They’re so soft… and plush.” You can feel his hips moving from under you and when he gives your tits a good squeeze, he also moans, bucking his hips up hard.

Then you realize.

He just came in his pants.

When you glance down, he realizes that you know what just happened.

“Oh god, i’m so fucking sorry. Fuck.” He lifts you off his lap with surprising ease so he can cover his crotch with his hands. He stands up, with his back facing you so he doesn’t have to look at what he expects to be, a disappointed look on your face.

“Michael-”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just look at me-”

“That’s so bloody humiliating.”

He is clearly in some sort of a state so you roll your eyes, but then an idea pops into your head. You pull your lacy, wet panties off and throw them right over his shoulder. They land right on the desk in front of him. Michael freezes. He knows right away what they are and reaches to pick them up, getting rock hard again when he feels how wet they are. Without a second thought, he brings them up to his nose and inhales. He’ll for sure have those wrapped around his cock when you’re not around. 

You’re laying back on his bed when he turns back around, your thigh-highs still on and your skirt hiked up around your waist. His eyes then fall to your glistening cunt.

“I still need to be fucked, Michael.”

He’s on you in a second, kissing you ravenously as he unbuckles his belt. When his cock is finally out, he pauses.

“I don’t have any condoms.” He’s embarrassed but he’s never had a need for them before.

“I’m on the pill. Do what feels good.” You say, wanting him as much as he wants you.

He does exactly as you advise and does as he pleases, slamming himself in, all the way to the hilt and relishing the feeling of you squeezing around him.

“Jesus - fuck.” You curse.

“What’s wrong?” He asks with concern as you hold his hips to keep him still.

“Usually when a man - how do I put this lightly… has a massive horse cock, they enter a bit slower.” 

“I’ll pull out then.” He says, trying to find a solution as he gets halfway out, dragging a whimper out of you.

“No, no!” You whine, your eyes rolling back in your head from this pleasure of having him inside you.

“No?” He grins a little.

“I just needed to adjust.”

“To my huge dick?”

Great, another thing for him to be cocky about.

“Fuck you.” You murmur.

“I think i’ll be doing the fucking.” He says playfully as he gives an experimental thrust back into you. When he sees your pleased expression, he begins to fuck you harder, loving the way his cock looks slipping in and out of your dripping cunt.

“Mmm, Michael.” You moan when he hits your sweet-spot so he continues to bully the head of his cock against it.

“Getting all dumb again? Think if I asked you a trig question, you’d be able to answer?” He teases as he bruises your cervix.

You squeeze around him in retaliation. “Would you?”

His hips stutter a bit and he gets more sloppy. You remember now that he’s a virgin and you’re impressed that he didn’t just cum right away.

“F-Fuck.” 

He begins to truly realize what he’s actually doing. The hottest girl in school is almost fully naked on his bed with his cock balls deep inside of her. He’s going to take full advantage of the situation.

“You’re so pretty.” He says and looks down at your breasts. “Your tits are so pretty too.” He leans down to kiss them, sucking on your nipple. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this. Please let me do it again.”

He isn’t even finished and he’s already begging for more. His pace begins to slow as he keeps sucking on your tits and you know he’s close so you squeeze around him. This time, the action makes him orgasm and thick, hot spurts of cum spill inside you. He lays down on you, happily using your chest as a pillow.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He says in a very tired voice. “Did you like it?” He asks.

“Very much.” You say truthfully as you run your fingers through his hair.

He then lifts his head to look at you. “Did you um… cum?”

“Well… no.” His face drops and he feels like he’s failed. He’s also nervous that you won’t like him anymore. “It’s okay though. I never taught you how.”

He thinks on that for a moment and then the sad look leaves his face.

“Let me eat your pussy then.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

[carolmunson]

i'm the best thing at this party | e.m.

up and coming rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader (is that a picture of slash? sure, but we can pretend it isn't.) aka the first time carol ever wrote a fic based off a taylor song. but in my defense, it was a chase petra cover of 'you're losing me' that inspired it. this is not connected to my rockstar!eddie x actress!reader storyline, this is it's own oneshot in a separate story.

in the early 90s, when your boyfriend's band starts to make it in the big leagues, you start to come to terms with the fact that he might not want or need a small town player anymore. eighteen plus. established relationship. angst. hurt/no comfort-ish. open ending.

"and i'm fading, thinkin': 'do something, babe. say somethin'. lose somethin' babe, risk something. choose somethin' babe. i got nothin' to believe, unless you're choosing me.'"

The Hideout was hot with all the bodies packed in like sardines; stark contrast to the icy chill of winter outside. Glowing on the screen was The Tonight Show, everyone’s eyes glued to it while Corroded Coffin made their first national televised debut. 

No one’s totally sure how their manager Richie was able to finesse this slot – but they went to New York to film earlier in the week and didn’t ask any questions. With Richie, it's better to not ask questions and just let it happen. Eddie came home with an adrenaline rush so intense that he barely slept for three days. No matter how much you tried to keep him in bed and tire him out. 

And sure, it was hard to have him be gone while you drove out to Indy and took a friend to see the new graffiti art exhibit that came in from LA when it was supposed to be with him. It was hard to have him miss a lot of things. His return from the city only started another big talk about it, one you've been having every few months the last two years. Even so, you couldn’t help but be proud of him, proud of all of them. Remembering that just four years ago they were barely getting fifteen people in here to see them play when you first started dating. 

The crowd erupts when the camera comes off of the band on the stage and back to Leno at his desk, the boys in real life all standing on the bar. You look up at Ed and smile, he finally did it, he’s doing it. The contracts are signed, the people saw him, he’s gonna make it. He’s making it. 

You duck out of the way when they start to spray champagne over everyone by the bar, “Not my hair, babe!” 

The two  bartenders pour shots of Jameson and flutes of Prosecco while the show cuts to commercial and it’s not long before you feel the sticky chest of your boyfriend up against your shoulder, “It was good? I did good?” 

“Ed you’re…you’re fuckin’ famous,” you grin, “You’re fuckin’ famous!”

You follow while he leads you through the crowd, settled in near the back where the stage doors lead to the dressing room and out into the parking lot. He looks over his shoulder twice before he sneaks you both behind the amps; heart pounding when he leans you up against the painted cinder block walls, noses mashing when he takes your lips in his. It’s feverish, desperate when he pulls at your hips, one arm wrapped around your mid back to keep you steady up against him.

“Lemme – mmm – lemme take you to the green room,” he breathes between kisses, moving your hand toward the bulge in his jeans, “C’mon I wan–” 

“The interview’s up!” Jeff calls from on top of the bar. 

“Where’s Ed? ED? Come on! The interview’s up!” Gareth calls, the crowd erupting in a cheer of ‘Edd-ie, Edd-ie, Edd-ie!’

“Come on, come on!” you squeal, pulling away to pull him toward the front of the bar again, “You said they were gonna cut it!”  

“It’s stupid, babe,” he assures, “It’s so dumb.” 

“Ed, you’re being interviewed by Leno, this isn’t stupid,” you urge, “This is like – this is it.” 

“It’s literally like two minutes, it’s not special,” he doesn’t move when you pull him along with you, a frown pulling on your lips. 

“Eddie,” your voice raises an octave, tugging on his hand – he lets go. 

“I’m gonna take a leak,” he shrugs, heading toward the green room while you watch him disappear behind the door. Your brows furrow slightly, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way back to the edge of the bar where everyone’s eyes are glued to the medium sized screen in the corner. 

The crowd cheers again while the band is re-introduced, Eddie and Jeff sitting on the chairs with Gareth and Grant standing behind them. You admire the way your boyfriend looks post performance, nearly glittering with sweat but glowing with pride – with accomplishment. You look over your shoulder to see if he’s back from the bathroom yet, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“So we got a group of some – what looks like – nice, respectable hard core guys,” Jay smiles. 

“I don’t know about respectable,” Eddie scrunches his nose back at the host. 

“I don’t know about nice, either,” Jeff jokes. You marvel at how relaxed and natural they all look on camera, cracking wise and getting laughs from the audience. They talk about the album briefly, and the front cover which has all four boys in caskets with a red kiss print on their cheeks. 

“So, the debut is self titled, Corroded Coffin – but it looks like you all got a coffin kiss here,” he points out, “These from anyone special? You got the girls going crazy.” The audience erupts in cheers and screams, a bra finding its way flung into the sound stage. You giggle when Gareth and Grant  hold it up, making them both blush pink on the screen. 

“Well I got a girl at home, so, I don’t hear any screamin’ if it’s not her cheering for me,” Jeff’s smile is bright when the camera focuses on him and he winks into the lens. Sasha, Jeff’s girlfriend, screeches in the crowd of The Hideout. 

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that!” she beams, and your heart thunders while you watch them kiss on the bar. The promise ring that he gave her back in ‘88 shines on her ring finger, awaiting something much more flashy when that first big rockstar payday hits.

“It’s definitely a change of pace,” Grant nods on the screen, “Definitely wasn’t getting a lot of girls in high school.” 

“It’s wild,” Gare laughs. 

“And what about you, Munson,” Jay asks, “Frontman like you’s gotta be beating them off with a stick.” 

The camera focuses on him, his pink lips and smart grin, a flash of teeth before he starts talking. He’s so handsome, you feel your fingers and toes start to tingle when he opens his mouth.You weren’t expecting to hear your name on national television, or be alluded to. You’d never really prepared yourself for something like this. To be declared to thousands, maybe millions, as a rockstar girlfriend.

You swallow the nervous spit pooling in your mouth, heart pattering while you run through all of the scenarios of the outcome of being ‘announced’ in your head.  

“I don’t kiss and tell, Jay,” he smirks.

Oh.

Your hearing clouds and your vision blurs – unsure of what you just heard. If maybe you imagined it, but that proves to be untrue when you feel a few sets of eyes on you. A moment of silent confusion lulls on the crowd at the bar.

You swallow the lump in your throat, fingers and toes cold now while the blood rushes to your heart and head, to your lungs which suddenly forgot how to work. Through teary eyes you look around, drowned out by the cheers of the bar when Jay announces when the album will release. You sniffle, trying to hold it back – but there he is in the back of the crowd now, eyes rounded; pleading, looking straight at you. 

The tears spill over and you try to catch your breath as you make your way through the bodies on your way to the front door. You hear Gareth call after you, hearing him stumble over the barstools while he hops off the counter. Another ragged intake of breath shakes through you while you get closer to the sticker covered door, pushing through the first set and then the other into the dark blue night. Your breath puffs white in front of you, coat abandoned somewhere back inside The Hideout while you walk across the street to your car. 

You fumble with the keys, blubbering while you get the engine started and the radio blares Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together part way through the song. In the rear view you see him hustle out of the bar to search for you, catching the start of your car and getting to the passenger window before you can pull away. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he strains, his fingers hanging on the edge of the half open glass, “I promise it’s not what you think. Richie asked me to answer like that, it wasn’t on purpose.” 

You press slightly on the gas, making the car lurch forward and inch.

“Wait! Please don’t – don’t just go,” he begs, voice breaking with desperation, “We can talk about it.” 

You look at him through wet eyes, the street lights haloing behind his head to feign his innocence. He can talk himself out of anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you rasp out quietly, “We’ve done enough talking.” 

“I can…please don’t go,” he says again, “Not with you crying like this, c’mon. Don’t leave.” 

“I’m gonna go home, Ed,” you sniffle, “J-just go h-have fun inside. S’too cold to be out here.” 

“You don’t have your coat,” he states, “Come back in and get it. We can talk in the back, please.” 

“I don’t need my coat,” you garble out, “I’m going h-home.” 

“Well I’ll – I’ll bring it to you tomorrow morning,” he nods needily, “Okay? Is that okay?” 

You let out a shaky breath, fogging again against your windshield, “F-fine.” 

Eddie cracks a weak but winning smile, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

“I love you,” he adds. It tastes like ash in your mouth. You pull away before you feel compelled to say it back. 

Eddie show’s up in the morning with coffee and your coat, a small carton of donut holes for you both to share. He’s all smiles, seeing you in the kitchenette cleaning out the coffee pot that you now no longer have to fill. 

“Morning, baby,” he grins, “I brought your coat.” 

“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the droplets of water that race down the side of the glass pout, “You can just hang it on the hook.” 

“Are you…are you still upset with me?” his voice is airy, surprised while he makes his way behind you. Calloused hands reach around to pull your back in his chest, nose nuzzling against your cheek. Your stomach rolls, bile inching up the base of your throat. 

“Enough, Ed,” you sigh, pulling out of his hold. 

“Sweetheart, c’mon,” he huffs, “I told you already. I didn’t want to say that. But you know how Richie is! He just wants what’s best for the band and so do I! Don’t you? I thought you’d understand.” 

“Jeff had no problem talking about Sasha,” you do your best to measure your tone, too early to start yelling. 

“Jeff has the wholesome thing going for him; plus – you know his family isn’t for him being considered like, a rogue or whatever. He’s already in a metal band,” Eddie explains, like this is a totally normal conversation, “Richie even said this morning that he was getting a lot of calls.” “Okay,” you nod, sitting down at the small table in your kitchen where your coffee sits. 

“And like, a lot of people wanna do interviews with us and get hype up for the release,” he half smiles, sitting down across from you, “I told you, it was…it was a good thing. They were saying y’know like, mysterious bad boy front man is a good angle.” 

“Great.” 

“It doesn’t…babe, it doesn’t mean we can’t be together,” he leans forward, hand reaching out to touch yours. His shoulders sulk when you put them both under the table. 

“Ed I –” you let out a breath, eyes tracing a pattern on the waxed canvas tablecloth, “I can’t even look at you right now. And you wanna tell me we can still be together?” 

“What like it’s…some consolation prize?” you choke out, “You made a fool out of me. The looks I got?”   

“I know, I know, but it was for the band. You know how I feel abo—“ 

“How you feel about me?” you hold back a bitter laugh. 

“Ed, the last year or so we have kept having the same conversation over and over again. You are so, so caught up in Corroded and making it and getting there and trust me I am so proud of you. If there is anyone on the planet who is more proud than me maybe it’s Wayne, but – this is just like, this is kind of it. We have nowhere to go from here.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, his brown eyes rounding and brows tilting slightly when he realizes what you’re really saying, “What do you mean no where to go? Are you not listening? I said we can still be together, just like befo–” 

“Before? Before when?” you get up and pace back to the kitchen where he can still see you, “Before when you would cancel dates to go practice? When you missed my awards night for work  because you wanted to fill in guitar for a gig in Ohio? When you didn’t come to my poetry reading with the guys like you said you would and instead got plastered at The Hideout after rehearsal?” 

“Well I apologized for all that, that was all in the past couple years and I – look, I said I was sorry and you accepted that,” his voice raises slightly, he stands up to full height with defense evident in his stance, “You can’t just throw it back in my face.” 

“When you were gone weeks at a time for mini tours, for opening for bands on the East Coast – god, all the work I took off to make sure I was there for you? When you canceled our three year anniversary dinner, without my knowledge, because you got a call for discounted studio time on the same night,” you manage to get out, the tears inching toward the edge of your lash line, “And I sat there at the table in my new dress and everyone looked at me the same way they looked at me last night. Poor girl. Must’ve got stood up. What an idiot.” 

“Yeah well that studio time is why we were on fuckin’ LENO, babe!” he pleads, “Don’t you get that? It’s for us!” 

“It’s for you!” you break, the shrill frustration coming out with your voice, “It’s always just been for you. It’s always about Eddie and the guys. I have done nothing but make sacrifice after sacrifice, excuse after excuse to play the part of perfect, understanding, cool, laidback girlfriend but like fuck Ed, when is it gonna be about me, huh?” He stands there, unsure, cheeks sucking in between his teeth.

“And what’s on the docket for you on Friday? Have any plans?” you ask, your voice softening while you cross your arms over your chest. You lean the small of your back against the counter while you watch him. He clears his throat, hands finding their way into the back pockets of his jeans. 

“Um, we have some meetings in the morning in Indy. And then um, we’re gonna take a late flight out to LA. The label’s excited – they’re really excited,” he breathes out, eyes finding the floor and your sock covered feet.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” you nod, voice still measured, “Since we’ve had the tickets for my niece’s winter school concert on the fridge for over a month. I guess I’ll have to tell her that her favorite bonus teacher couldn’t make it.” 

“Fuck,” Eddie’s eyes shut, pulling his lips in to run his tongue across them while he thinks of what to say next. Your heart thrums in your chest, throat getting tighter and tighter while you hold back a cry – this was just another thing to add to the list.

“I can make it up to her, I promise,” his raspy nicotine voice becoming garbled with desperation, “I can make this all up to you, too. I swear. I wish you had just told me about all of this.” 

“I have, Ed. We are always having the same conversation. I’m tired of having it. I’m so tired of this. Make it up to me? How do you make up for it?” 

“I…” he chokes on his words, ringed fingers running over his face and reaching to pull his hair back off his neck. 

“Go ahead,” you encourage angrily, “What’re you gonna do? Say something. Fucking, do something, Ed!” 

“Baby, I don’t know what to…” he swallows, tears pooling in shiny wells over his eyes, “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.” 

You take a breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth, taking the three steps it takes to get to him. Your hands fall from being crossed, reaching up to cup each of his cheeks. Your thumbs run over the apples and drag softly over the stubble left over from the night before. 

His eyes shut while he keens into your touch, his rough hands covering yours. Calloused fingertips coasting delicately over your knuckles. You know what you have to do, even if his touch makes you want to do the opposite. 

“Go be famous,” you shrug, smiling weakly, “Go be the big rockstar I know you are. Like how you wanted. Go play The Garden and live in LA.” 

Your hands slide down his face, tears falling after them, “Go do all that, and just, um – just leave me alone. Please.” 

“But I don’t–” he starts, pulling in a sharp breath while a cry leaks out of him, “I don’t wanna lose you.” 

“Oh, Ed,” you shake your head while the ache spills over into your own leveled sob, “I’m already lost.” 

“No, please,” he begs, trying to catch your hands as they make it back to your sides, “Please, baby, I’ll fix it. I pro-promise.” 

“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whisper in finality, “You should go.” 

“I don’t want to,” Eddie’s soft pink lips quiver while he speaks, “Please. Please. I can fix it, the next interview, anything, it’ll be all you. I swear I can…I can…” 

When your face doesn’t change he knows there’s no way to pull you from your stance, voice trailing off in defeat. You watch as he rips open your storm door and goes to his van, his chest and back shaking with sobs that make the hardware on his jacket cry with him.

A year passes and you are not surprised when you find out that Corroded Coffin has made the cover of Rolling Stone. Wayne bought every copy from the gas station at the end of the road and put them in every mailbox early that morning. You don’t think there’s been a day in the last year that Wayne wasn’t seen beaming ear to ear; his boy finally getting everything he wanted. 

Life had gotten easier now that you weren’t regularly expecting disappointment. You went on few dates here and there, just trying to navigate your life after spending four years sharing it with someone else. Some nights were colder than others, but it was better than the frigidness you felt that night at the bar.

You did your best to avoid the tabloids – Eddie was certainly doing just fine navigating his life as a bachelor; some new model or actress on his arm every other month it seemed. Hardrock’s Resident Playboy. It stung the first time you saw it, and a little less each time after – heart breaker to the core; you would know, you were the blueprint.

In the same cold that matched the night at The Hideout a year prior; you sat on your steps wrapped in a robe – morning cigarette between your fingers. 

“Morning,” Wayne’s voice is gravelly when it sounds over you, still soaked with left over sleep. 

“Mornin’ Wayne,” you smile, taking a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in your other hand. 

“Wanted to uh, to let you know that the guys are playin’ a show in the city tonight. I could uh – I could get you a ticket if y–” 

“That’s sweet of you Wayne,” you smile tightly, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“He might like to see you,” he shrugs. He hadn’t quite gotten over the break up the way you and Eddie had, convinced that this was the real deal – that he was watching young love flourish into something bigger. 

“He’s seeing someone, Wayne,” you take a drag of your cigarette, “Why would he want to see his ex-girlfriend who still lives in Hawkins? He’s got some actress girl now, right?” 

Wayne shrugs again, scratching at the back of his neck, “I never know what that boy’s got goin’ on in California outside of shows and gettin’ into trouble. Maybe he is seeing some girl but, y’know, seein’ an old friend could be good for him.” 

“He’s still got plenty of friends here he can see,” you let the smoke out to drift off in the gentle wind rustling through the line of trailers and mobile homes, “I don’t think I need to be one of them.” 

“Well, they’re gonna have a small after party at The Hideout tomorrow,” he offers, “Even if you just wanna do somethin’ fun. I never see you goin’ out anymore.” 

You laugh, “You work at night, what do you mean you don’t see me goin’ out anymore? I go out plenty.” 

His eyes linger on you, enough to encourage a thoughtful sigh – you might as well humor him. 

“I’ll think about it, okay?” you toss your half finished cigarette onto the browned grass before looking back up at him.

“Okay,” he smiles, eyes sparkling as he makes his way back inside. 

You spend the next day deliberating between making it to the bar or not, putting in the effort to get ready and showing up. Why bother? Just to sit awkwardly in the corner while everyone flocks to the boys and tells them how great they are? They already know they’re great, they’re crawling higher and higher up the ladder. 

You haven’t even talked to Eddie since the morning he left your trailer, and Wayne knows that. He knows how bad you hurt his nephew because he came over to talk to you a week after Eddie went to California and stayed for good. ‘So why should I show my face there? So I can relive the moment he made a fool of me over again?’ You think while the hot water of the shower glides over your shoulders and down your chest. 

‘Maybe it’ll be good to make amends or something, I at least owe it to the guys,’ you figure silently while you slather on some moisturizer at the bathroom sink. And you did – not seeing Eddie meant not seeing the rest of the band. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were your friends too, and you sort of broke up with them in the same instance. Sasha moved out to California with them soon after – it would be nice to catch up at least. You hadn’t seen her since that night. 

‘But why would I want to bother? So I can see that engagement ring on her finger and hear her talk about her wedding plans?’ you swallow sourly while you use a touch of your lipstick as blush on the apples of your cheeks. ‘Remember all the times you thought you and Ed were gonna get married? Hilarious.’ 

Before you know it, it’s 11:30 and you’re standing outside of the sticky and stickered covered door of The Hideout. Even from where you’re standing the bar is a buzz like a hive, energy inside like a livewire when you get into the entryway, showing your ID to the bouncer at the inside door. 

‘Small after party my ass, Wayne,’ you think to yourself when you get in, shrugging off your coat. There was barely room to move and most of the lights were off or dimmed aside from the small stage in the back. By the looks of it, they must’ve played a small set – an intimate ‘home base’ concert for the real hometown fans. You push through some of the crowd, acrid smoke haze hovering over the room. A single bar stool sits empty at the end of the counter close to the wall and before you can think about it, you beeline straight there before someone else can grab it. Not that anyone would be able to see it through the six couples making out to Slayer blasting through the speakers. 

The bar tender notices you soon after, coming over to get your order while his two cohorts speedily pour shots and mix drinks. You almost don’t want to get anything just to make the night easier, but opt for a beer instead. 

“How much?” you ask over the music. 

“WHAT?” the bartender shouts, holding a hand to his ear. 

“HOW MUCH?” you yell back. 

“ON THE HOUSE. BAND IS COVERING DRINKS,” he shouts back. You take a few dollars out while he pours your beer anyway, sliding it across the bar with a smile. He smiles back, pocketing the ones with a wink before helping another person leaning over the bar. 

The TV takes your attention, a tape of their recent interviews and music videos playing on a loop with no sound. The beer is almost comforting as it passes over your tongue, it’s been some time since you just sat in a busy bar – and for the most part, no one here even knows you. For the most part. 

A call of your name snaps you back to reality, looking around to see exactly who you thought you would. Sasha. And low and behold a ring sparkles bright on her finger, a breathtakingly big diamond glittering in the neon lights behind the bar. 

“Hey!” you call back with a smile, sick crawling up your throat. You watch as she fights the crowd to get over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug while you stay seated on the stool. 

“How have you been? You look gorgeous,” Sasha’s tan skin glows back orange in green while the lights change, tight dark curls bouncing prettily around her face. 

“I’ve been good!” you nod, your voice hardly sounds like your own, “Y’know just – hanging around Hawkins. How’s LA? How’ that ring?!” 

She holds her hand out so you can really see it, her skin is warm in yours while you take her fingers. It’s more beautiful up close, the marquise diamond flanked by two smaller triangles in perfect harmony. 

“He did so good, Sash,” you giggle. 

“I slapped his arm so hard when I saw it,” she laughs, “I said, ‘Jeff we could’ve bought a freakin’ house!’ but you know how he is.” 

“I do, I do,” you nod, “Did you set a date?” 

“Probably not for another year or so if we do a big wedding,” she shrugs, “Maybe a little longer? We think it’s smart to actually buy a house first – with this kind of money coming in. And y’know, the industry is, uh, well, it can be wishy washy. What’s in today could be out tomorrow. We wanna be smart.” 

“Well thank god he’s marrying someone like you then,” you tease. 

“That’s true,” she beams, “Do the guys know you’re here? I can go grab J–”

“No, no, they don’t,” you interrupt, taking her arm gently while she turns to leave, “You don’t have to tell them I’m here. I’ll go find them, I promise.” 

Sasha gives you a half hearted smile, “Okay. Well – We’re sitting over by the stage if you wanna come say hi to the guys. Gareth would lose his mind, and Grant brought his new girl with him, she’s so cool. They met in LA and she’s like, got the sickest punky-goth type of thing about her.” 

“I love that he’s in love,” you gush. 

“Me too,” she nods, “The girls are obsessed with him out there.” 

There’s a silence, but it’s knowing – still one person yet to have been mentioned but you both seem to understand it’s not worth bringing it up. Sasha reminds you that they’re by the stage, giving her a wave while she disappears in the throngs of people in the crowd. 

Half way through your second beer and a couple of random conversations with people later, you see him in glimpses while people pass by. You can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s flirting, and when more people move and re-disperse, settling, you see glimpses of her, too. Some cute young looking thing, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was her twenty-first birthday. All doe eyed and giggly while he leans over her against the wall near the booths. I guess whoever he’s seeing in California isn’t too important.

He looks good, healthy, you can tell his clothes are tailored now – sort of comical that a tailor would fit and adjust ripped jeans and an old leather jacket. Not that he has to know you think it’s funny. 

Eddie leans forward and lets his finger tap her on the nose, a tell-tale sign of his that they’ll kiss later. He’s used that move on you more times than you can count. He did it the night you met, tipsy at a party at Gareth’s – tapped you on the nose, making you scrunch it. 

‘Aw, if I knew you’d make a face like that I would’ve booped you way earlier.’ 

‘What do you mean? What face?’ You scrunch again. 

‘That face,’ he bites his lower lip, blush on his cheeks, ‘It’s a cute face.’

You expected it to hurt more, to watch him active in his element; but it doesn’t. You know the motions, you know his tells, he next move. You can see it in the way he leans into her and then leans away – almost kissing her, but leaving her wanting more. You smirk into your next sip, counting down the moments until he puts their conversation on pause to do their rounds and finding her again later. Gotta keep her yearning, you guess. He certainly was always good at things like that. 

You don’t see their reunion, you assume it was somewhere near the stage where the band and Sasha were. At the end of the night, the boys play a goodnight mini-set, just three songs. You’d never seen Ed so in his zone in your life, fully basking in the glow of upcoming stardom. Every chord and every lyric punching out of him like the sweat pouring from his hairline and chest. This was what you wanted, what you told him to do. 

Go be famous. And here he was. Famous. Just like you said he would be. 

Water takes the place of your beer while they play; and you know better than to get up and join the crowd. Much happier sitting at the end of the now more empty bar just listening instead of getting potentially punched or tussled with amongst the bodies. 

People take their time leaving when the set is over, shrugging on their coats to brave the cold weather. 

‘Thanks for comin’ out to celebrate with us – now get the fuck out so our buddies at the bar can go home before four!’ 

You savor the conversations and music settling down to a much quieter murmur while you sketch on a napkin. A few people you shared niceties with tap your shoulder to say goodbye, new friends you’ll never see again. On the other end of the bar you hear Grant and his girl order a round of shots. Your head almost pops up at the sound of his voice, but that might bring attention to you that you don’t think you really want. Now that the night is over, you’re glad you came. If anything, just to see that they were making it just fine – and they would have with or without you. 

With less people in the bar you can hear Sasha’s laugh in the back where the stage is, and you laugh into your napkin turned sketchpad. Her laugh was always infectious, enough to make the crowd follow suit. You grab a fresh napkin from the pile next to you and start to doodle again while you figure out how to best leave without anyone catching wise that you’re here. Out of the last twenty people left at the bar, a little more than half knew who you were.

The tap of the pen on the bar top while you think blends in with the tinkling of hardware that gets a little louder the closer it gets to you. A squish of leather and drag of a barstool later makes you privy that someone’s next to you. Spiced cologne and sweat sheened skin. 

“You come here often?” 

Slowly, you turn your head – level with brown eyes you haven’t looked in for a year, just in the glossy pages of magazines you’d leave behind at the grocery store or Melvald’s. 

“I used to,” you offer a quiet tired smile, leaning your chin on your hand on the bar, “It’s been a while.” 

Eddie smiles back, soft, cautious, “Yeah, same for me.” 

You both don’t speak for a moment, adjusting yourselves on the barstools while a few more people head out to leave. The jingle of the door fades out, crunches of the parting patrons’ sneakers and boots in the snow sound outside.

He clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him – the curls of his hair, the slight stubble on his jaw and cheeks. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment before he turns his chest toward you. 

“Can I uh, can I get you a drink?” 

[hollyoongs]

THANK YOU, JAKE ✦ S.JY

pairing tasp!jake x news intern!fem reader

summary when you told your friend about the challenge that your boss put you on in order to work on the company, which was taking a picture of the amazing Spider Man, Jake makes it come true.

genre fluff

warnings both of them like each other, cameo of Jay and Ri-Ki, everything is NYC and I tried to make it short for the other one that I'm planning to make it in the future <3

a/n I can finally get this one up here, I'll do the second part with smut, but Jake's fluff is already needed in this profile. Shout out to the editor of THIS Jake Spider-Man, my jupi @glitterjay and also to my lovely moot @ja3yun, this is the spidey!jake I was preparing ;) [PART TWO: 🕸]

wc +3.0k

It was one of those days where everything seemed to conspire against you. As you trudged through the bustling streets of New York City, your camera bag heavy on your shoulder, you couldn't shake off the feeling of exhaustion that clung to you like a stubborn shadow. The sweltering heat of the summer sun only added to your irritation as you made your way to the Daily Bugle, where you were interning as a photographer.

Your future boss, Mr. Jameson, was notorious for his gruff demeanor and demanding nature. Today seemed to be no exception, as he barked orders at the staff, his voice reverberating through the newsroom like thunder. Your friend, Jay, was massaging his forehead, and you couldn't help but go there first. He looked up to see you and gave you a tired smile.

"Rough already?"

"And it's not even 9 a.m." Jay spat in anger, and you opened your bag to give him some of the jelly you always carry around. He took them slightly happier, opening as he started talking again. "He's putting stupid challenges on everyone here. Rumor has it that he's getting jealous of the other newspaper company since they took the #1 place from us."

"Well, wish me luck." You braced yourself for another onslaught of criticism as you approached his desk, hoping to avoid his wrath.

"Ah, there you are," Mr. Jameson said, his tone dripping with impatience. "I've got a special assignment for you."

You felt your heart sink at his words, knowing that whatever task he had in store would likely be arduous and thankless, just like Jay said. But you nodded, steeling yourself for whatever was to come.

"I want you to get me a picture of Spider-Man," he said bluntly, his eyes narrowing in a challenging glare.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor at his request. Spider-Man? The elusive vigilante who swung through the city was a hero to some and a menace to others. Getting a photo of him in action was no small feat, and you knew it.

"But how am I supposed to…" you began, but Mr. Jameson cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I don't care how you do it; just get it done," he said firmly. "And make it front-page material, or you'll be out of your ear."

With that ominous warning hanging in the air, you felt a wave of panic wash over you. How were you supposed to capture a photo of Spider-Man when you could barely catch a break in your own life? Desperation clawed at your chest as you racked your brain for a solution. He looked at Jay, and he was with his mouth open. She was simply screwed.

The hours passed slowly, and 7 o'clock of the night finally reached, which made you fly to the only place you find comfort at the moment. Shim Jake's place. Feeling all the weight on your shoulders, you sigh as you knock on the door. His aunt opens before your knuckles can touch the door.

"Hey darling… Oh no, bad day?" like a button, your eyes got watery, and she hugged you. You hold your tears as she loses you in the warm hug. "I'm going to buy food. Jake and Ni-Ki are in the room. I know what you like."

"You are truly the best, May."

"I know, darling. Go." She left you, and you entered the house, going directly to the Australian boy's room. You knocked, and you heard things falling.

"Who's it?"

"Who else, Ni-Ki? Come on, I had a bad day, and I need you guys."

"Hold on a second!" A few seconds passed, and Jake was the one who opened the door, his messy hair, sweat pant and big white shirt and hsi big glasses that made him look more handsome than usual in front of you. "Hey lensgirl, what's wrong?"

You went for a hug, this time with tears going down and your crying getting noticeable.

Jake was taken aback by your sudden display of emotion, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, rubbing your back soothingly. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself as you pulled away slightly. "It's just… work," you managed to choke out between sobs. "Mr. Jameson… He wants me to get a photo of Spider-Man for the front page, and I- I don't know how to do it. I'm so screwed, Jake."

Jake's expression softened with understanding, though you had no idea just how much he truly understood. "Hey, it's okay," he repeated, guiding you to sit on his bed. "We'll figure it out, okay? You're not alone in this."

Ni-Ki, hearing the commotion, poked his head out from behind the doorframe. "Jake can help," he said, and you could feel Jake getting tense. You looked up to Ni-Ki.

"What?"

"Jake knows Spider-Man. You could get the picture." You open your eyes as your eyes travel again to Jake's.

"Since when?!" You practically shouted at him, and he gave a shy smile, which you loved, but the thought of him being friends with the hero and not telling you was in your mind.

"I'll tell you right after you clean and calm yourself. You know what? Go to the bathroom." As you were protesting, Jake obligated you to go inside. The boys went straight to the room and locked it, Jake basically punching Ni-Ki for opening his mouth.

"Are you being serious?! Why did you say that?"

"You know I'm fond of her, and I can't stand her crying. And also, I'm doing you a favor; you've liked her since forever, and with this, you can make a move. And you know that she loves Spider-Man. I consider this a win."

Jake's heart raced as he processed Ni-Ki's words. He couldn't deny the truth about them. He had harbored feelings for you for what felt like forever, but he never found the courage to act on them, and because of the sudden powers he got after being bite by a spider, the dangers were too much to the point he would rather die with the secret in order to keep you save. That's how much he loved you.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. Keeping his identity as Spider-Man a secret was crucial, and now, with you unknowingly on the brink of discovering the truth, he felt the pressure mounting.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Jake turned to Ni-Ki. "Okay, okay," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "But we have to be careful. She can't know about this, Ni-Ki. It's too risky."

Ni-Ki nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I won't say anything else, I promise. Only you have to stay cool, you get to nervous around her. I'm surprise you're not right now" he assured Jake.

"Because someone open his mouth"

"Stop crying and be grateful. I pulled a move that you couldn't make for the past 4 years."

It has already been two days since that weird conversation and the explanation of Jake being friends with Spider-Man. It was so odd to you, but the most odd thing was when he told you by text, "I will send you the address where he's going to be."

And here you were, going into the alley for him to arrive. It was getting late, and you could feel your heart beating fast when you saw a few guys in there, cigars in their hands, their auras as bad as how they looked.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said, which you ignored completely.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you ignored the leering comments from the men in the alley. You clutched your camera bag tightly, feeling a surge of unease as you realized just how vulnerable you were in this dimly lit space.

Just as panic threatened to overtake you, a familiar sound cut through the tension—a whoosh of air followed by the distinct thud of impact. Before you could even process what was happening, Spider-Man descended from the shadows, landing gracefully in front of you with his trademark agility.

"Hey there, fellas," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I don't think the lady appreciates your company."

The men scoffed, eyeing Spider-Man with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. "And who are you supposed to be, huh?" One of them sneered, taking a step forward. You started taking your camera out of your bag, setting it up for a good shot, and to make it take as many photos as you could as both men focused on the hero.

Spider-Man's demeanor shifted subtly, his stance becoming more assertive as he addressed the group. "Let's just say I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and I'm not too keen on seeing people hassle innocent bystanders, especially this pretty girl," he replied, his tone firm.

The men hesitated, sizing up the masked vigilante before them. But before they could make another move, Spider-Man sprang into action, his movements a blur of speed and precision. With calculated strikes and well-timed dodges, he swiftly incapacitated the would-be troublemakers, leaving them groaning on the ground in defeat.

You watched in awe as Spider-Man effortlessly dispatched the thugs, a surge of gratitude welling up inside you. Once the immediate threat had been neutralized, Spider-Man turned to you, his masked eyes meeting yours with a sense of warmth and reassurance. You took your camera and looked at the pictures, so many good enough to be front page material.

"Are you okay there?" he asked, his concern evident even behind the mask.

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you in his presence. "Yeah, I'm okay," you stammered, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded before you. You felt some drops of water falling on your face, looking up at the sky and wondering if more drops were falling. "Damn it, it's raining."

"Then let me take you out of here." without a warning, his hand wrapped around your waist, both of your bodies covering the camera. "Hold on tight lensgirl," you frown at the nicknmae. There's only one person that could call you like that, but you couldn't think much of it as you held dear life to him as he swang you around places.

You ended up on your apartment building—in your balcony, to be more exact—and the roof kept both of you off the water, you went inside for a moment to leave the camera in your bed and return. He was hanging from the ceiling as you watched him, forcing you to believe that everything that happened in the past ten minutes was not a dream.

"Don't you want to stand up? So you don't get dizzy."

"I like it this way. Don't worry. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you."

"No problem, that's my job."

"Because you're a hero," the masked guy sighs in front of you. making you feel slighty sad for it.

"Some people don't think so." and it was true, all the fake rumors to paint him as a bad guy made you think about how much free time all this people have to just tear the life of someone who really wants to help.

"But you are, at least I think that."

"It's nice to have a fan as pretty as you."

"Let me say thank you."

"But you already did."

"I meant the trip, not you saving me." You approached him more, and the sound of the rain at the back made the scene more lovely. Then slowly took the mask, only showing his lips. You were surprised by the familiar shape, making your mind go wild. No wonder Ni-Ki and Jake got nervous; no wonder Jake was the only one that could help you with the hero; and there's no wonder why he called you "Lensgirl."

Jake was Spider-Man.

Leaving your thoughts behind, you place your lips on his. The kiss was electrifying, a rush of emotions coursing through both of you as your lips met in a tender embrace. Raindrops fell softly around you, adding to the surreal moment as you shared this intimate connection with the masked hero who had just swept you off your feet—literally.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of clarity wash over you. Everything suddenly made sense—the mysterious conversations, the unspoken tension between you and Jake, even the strange nickname he had given you. It was all because he was Spider-Man, the hero you had admired from afar, and now he was the man whose lips were pressed against yours.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss, the world fading away until it was just the two of you tangled together on that rooftop balcony.

"Thank you, Jake," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

"Wait… how?"

"You let out "Lensgirl," and I've stared at your lips too much to actually know the shape," he finally dropped himself, taking off his mask completely, revealing his red cheeks and normal shy demeanor.

He actually searched your face for any sign of rejection. "I know it's a lot to take in," he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "But I wanted to tell you, not in this way; I've got to learn to also shut my mouth up. I… I care about you more than you'll ever know."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached up to cup his face in your hands, the weight of everything finally sinking in. "I care about you too, Jake," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "I just… I never imagined…"

Before you could finish your sentence, Jake leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss, sealing the unspoken words between you with a promise of something more. 

With a smile on your lips and love in your heart, you leaned into Jake's embrace, letting the warmth of his touch chase away the chill of the night as you watched the city skyline glitter in the rain.

"Please write a good news about me."

"Trust me, you'll sure have it, Spidey."

"I just realized that I've to thank Ri-Ki, damn it."

[alchemistc]

how the turntables

an: my drunky bf got home from the bar last night, played me seven songs that reminded him of me, and then demanded i tuck him into bed, spoon him, and give him back scratchies until he fell asleep. this was supposed to be about that, but it got away from me, a bit this could technically be buddietommy, if you squint, even if that wasn't necessarily my intention.

Buck has had his fair share of drunken revelry. He has done his time in the trenches, and puked in Hen's bathroom trashcan once or twice to pay for it. He knows how quickly things can go from "just a few drinks" to crying on a park bench with a potential hookup turned babysitter.

The sight that greets him when he pushes open his apartment door is unexpected. Not because he hadn't known that Eddie and Tommy would be hanging out while he babysat Jee for the evening, but because he is almost positive they'd said they were going to be at Tommy's place, and if they'd gotten waylaid somewhere along the way, Eddie's place is still closer.

He's also pretty positive they'd said they were just gonna spar and then catch the Kings game, maybe.

"Baby," says Tommy, eyes going wide, cheeks rippling like tide-pool waves, ears scrunching up in their wake, and from his spot parked on top of the island counter top Eddie grins too.

"Buck!" he says, more excitable than Buck has seen him in a while. They're both hammered. Buck has a sneaking suspicion that if he were to get within five feet of them he'd be able to smell the Jameson wafting off of them.

Eddie throws an elbow up on Tommy's shoulder, ruffles his hair, and gets a large palm with fingers outstretched planted in the meat of his face for his trouble.

Tommy and Eddie are both tactile, when they're drunk. Buck will be the first to admit, if only to himself, that he has definitely taken advantage of this on more than one occasion. From his spot across the room, as they get into a squabble that has Buck immediately cataloging how many different injuries Eddie could sustain falling off the counter, he has to firmly remind himself that he and Tommy have had this conversation, and that the touches Eddie and Tommy share are not the same as the ones he shares with Buck. Still, though.

"Is that my secret stash of pizza rolls?" Buck asks, loudly, while Eddie tries to get Tommy in a headlock and Tommy fully lifts Eddie off the countertop like he's five seconds away from executing a firemans carry across the loft.

(Which he absolutely could, Buck has intimate knowledge of how easily he could do that.)

Tommy is the first to yield, setting Eddie back down and staring back up at Buck while he does some practiced, if a little sloppy, move with his arm to break the hold Eddie has around his neck.

"We ordered Eber-üt's." His face scrunches. "Eber-üts."

Oh, Buck is absolutely going to tease the shit out of him tomorrow. Once he's nursed the hangover off of him.

"Eber-üt's," Eddie echoes confidently, before his own expression morphs into confusion. Buck stares back at them, biting his lip - he's never been sober enough to really experience the majesty of either one of them three sheets to the wind.

"Okay. How about you both let me handle the hot oven and the lava filled snacks."

Eddie pouts. "We were gonna use the air fryer."

Which Buck doesn't have. He has three ovens, he doesn't need an air fryer.

Buck hangs his keys up. Rolls up his sleeves, and ignores the way Tommy's eyes go a little dark at the sight. When he rounds the kitchen island, he is fully intent on breezing past them both for the cabinet full of plastic toss-away cups he's been collecting for when Jee gets the hang of cup-drinking, but Tommy waylays him with an arm snugged around his waist and a nose pressed to his neck.

Yeah.

He's gonna be sweating out Jameson for the next ten hours.

But Buck can also smell a hint of his aftershave, woodsy and warm, and Tommy at least has the decency to keep his hands mostly in Eddie-approved areas. (Eddie has threatened to give his spare back multiple times, at this point, despite reminders from both of them that a courtesy call wouldn't hurt, once in a while.) "Hi," Tommy murmurs into Buck's neck, lips ghosting along his pulse point, and Buck ignores the hand drifting daringly close to the band of his jeans, reaching a hand of his own to grip Tommy's chin, thumb in his cleft as he angles his head.

The look in Tommy's eye does the opposite of cooling, which is Buck's mistake, absolutely, but he presses a quick peck to Tommy's lips before he dances away, back on mission to get these two idiots some water.

Eddie blows a raspberry at Buck's retreating back. "Is that the quivering loins inducing kiss you were talking about?" Eddie asks, clearly not talking to Buck, and when Tommy doesn't answer right away Buck dares a glimpse over his shoulder. Mistake. Tommy's eyes are firmly on his ass, and rather than being faux-disgusted by their honeymoonish antics, Eddie is biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning too wide.

"Quivering loins?" Buck asks, while he fills two cups of water and grabs for the pain killers he keeps in his spice cabinet.

Tommy looks anything but embarrassed as he shrugs his shoulders, but Eddie is still following that thread. "Some guy was aggressively hitting on your boyfriend tonight, Buck." The thrill of that word hasn't quite died down, yet, but he's pretty sure he hides it okay as he passes off the cups to his two unexpected guests. "But he handled it like a pro. The phrase was used."

"The...phrase," Buck repeats, while Tommy tips his head back and takes obscene gulps of the water. "The phrase...quivering loins?"

Eddie nods, and takes the daintiest sip of his own water that Buck's ever seen.

"So maybe kiss him better than that. The guy was like, a solid LA nine."

Eddie is way too drunk for them to get into the question of why he's suddenly comfortable openly ranking the attractiveness of men now that he's got two queer male friends. Buck tables it.

"Do you want your pizza rolls, or do you wanna see me and Tommy make out?"

Eddie's gaze gets a little distant. Buck continues to table it.

"You told an LA nine that I quiver your loins?" Buck asks instead, and Tommy's grin goes a little dopey. It's not exactly the worst feeling in the world, seeing the irrefutable proof of how much Tommy likes him splashed plain as day across his face, and Buck gives, a little, swaying into Tommy once he's checked that the oven is preheated and tucked the tray of pizza rolls in there. This kiss lingers, just a bit, though Buck keeps his tongue firmly in his own mouth, even though drunk Eddie apparently doesn't have the same qualms as sober Eddie does.

"He was a seven, at most."

"He was a dick," Eddie concludes, now staring at his still full cup of water. "He thought I was your date, and he still went for it."

"How'd you guys go from a quiet night in to... sloppy drunk in my apartment at eleven-thirty at night?"

Tommy's hands are warm against his waist as he shoots Buck a careful glance. There's a weight of significance in the look, and Buck wonders at it for all of a moment before Tommy raises a brow. "Eddie wanted to go to Micky's."

Eddie doesn't seem remotely concerned by that reveal, even though the only reason he knows about Micky's is because he'd listened to Buck wax poetical about Tommy taking him to his first gay bar, months ago now. So. Maybe he shouldn't table that conversation for too long, actually.

Buck only has to smack their hands away from the pizza rolls about three times while he lets them cool, and in the ten minutes it takes for them to eat the whole bag of them, plus the three bags of corn nuts each, he's set up the couch for Eddie, laid out bottles of Gatorade in the living room and the bedside table on Tommy's side of the bed, and found a pair of sweats for Eddie to sleep in. The food is doing the hard work of reminding them they're not in their twenties anymore, and it only takes some gentle coaxing to usher Eddie to the bathroom downstairs, and Tommy upstairs.

It isn't until Buck is crawling under the covers, teeth freshly brushed and in far more clothes than he's used to wearing with Tommy in the bed next to him, listening to the gentle snores drifting up to the loft from the couch, that he tugs Tommy in for a proper kiss.

Tommy melts into it, which isn't exactly abnormal, but there seems to be some extra tension that gets released this time, as he presses his nose into Buck's cheek and curls his tongue over Buck's teeth, torso rolling forward to meet Buck's, palms skating over Buck's hips, fingers digging and pressing into the grooves of Buck's waist.

This isn't remotely the first time Tommy's had to question what exactly there is, between Buck and Eddie, and he's good at keeping a level head about it, at not making assumptions, at talking about his own insecurities without blaming Buck for them. This isn't the first time Buck has made it a point to reassure him, with touches and gestures and words, when they're needed, that he's in this with Tommy.

"Hi," Buck says, when they finally come up for air. The snores are still steady, below, and Buck knows from experience that it'd take a klaxon to wake Eddie, at the moment, but he keeps his voice low as he cups Tommy's jaw. Tommy nips when he thumbs at his bottom lip. "Micky's?"

Tommy's pursed lips dance, as he works through what he wants to say. "We -- I've got pretty blanket permission to talk to you about it, but -- in the morning?"

Buck tips his head, pressing their foreheads together, and Tommy's eyes get a little crinkly around the corners, like they always do when Buck does something intimate that's not a lead up to sex. "Turn over," Buck tells him, and Tommy's eyes sparkle at the words, because as often as they end up curled around and over each other in sleep, he can never seem to get enough of being the little spoon.

Tommy isn't shy about getting himself situated exactly the way he wants, hitching his ass back into the cradle of Buck's groin, pressing the backs of his knees firmly into the bend of Buck's legs, back to chest and tugging at the arm under their now shared pillow until they're both comfortable. Drunk Tommy's a bit of a brat, honestly, now that Buck's the sober one, and he is absolutely going to remind him of this at some point, but for now, he skates his fingers up Tommy's arm, angles his palm in so that he can trace the pattern of moles across his shoulder blade and up his spine.

Tommy sighs, and tilts just enough to give Buck room to continue the aimless journey of his fingers across the breadth of Tommy's back.

For as much as Tommy loves this, in the quiet moments when they get silly and argue about who gets the back scratchies for the night, Buck will never admit it, but he almost prefers it this way, being able to give this, being the person Tommy will accept this from. He's desperately enamored with the idea that they get to be this, for each other, for as long as they both still want it. Forever feels like a long ways off, and neither one of them has said it, in as many words, but it's there, in the way Tommy laughs at his dumb jokes; in the way Buck tucks his hand into Tommy's, fingers interlaced; in the way they fit together in heated gasps and soft groans, in quiet sighs and soft murmurs.

"In the morning," Buck says, while Tommy's breaths start to slow, "after you beg me to crack open the Pedialyte and try to kill Eddie with your hangover glare," Tommy grunts, shoulder knocking back in consternation, "I'm gonna make you tell me exactly what you said to the LA seven about your quivering loins."

Tommy huffs a soft laugh. "Scratch my back until I fall asleep, Evan, and maybe I will."

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

In the heart of the military training ground, you, a seasoned Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technician, stand poised amidst a group of nervous soldiers. Among them is Private Jameson, a newcomer with trembling hands and apprehensive eyes. With unwavering composure, you take charge, your voice steady as you address the group.

"Today, we're covering the basics of bomb disposal," you begin, your tone reassuring yet firm. Turning to Private Jameson, you offer a patient smile.

"You, Private. What's your name?" Despite his nervousness, Private Jameson responds, and you guide him with a calming presence, instilling confidence as you impart your expertise.

"Jameson, take a deep breath," you instruct softly but firmly. "Remember, focus is key. You've got this." Private Jameson nods, his eyes locked on your reassuring gaze.

As he examines the device, you watch attentively, offering guidance with each movement. When he finishes, you nod approvingly. "Well done, Private. Now, let's move on."

As Private Jameson continues under your guidance, the other soldiers watch with admiration. They've seen you in action before, witnessed your dedication to the mission and your willingness to put yourself in harm's way for the greater good.

"Ma'am, what if the situation calls for immediate action?" Private Reynolds interjects, reflecting the group's curiosity.

You acknowledge the gravity of the question. "In a real-world scenario, there may not be time for thorough examination," you explain calmly. "Trust your instincts and make split-second decisions."

Private Jameson glances at you, newfound respect shining in his eyes. "But you always seem so calm under pressure, ma'am," he remarks admiringly.

You smile humbly, reflecting on the countless moments of uncertainty you've faced. "It's not about being fearless, Private," you reply earnestly. "It's about pushing through fear for those counting on you."

Your words hang in the air, a silent reminder of the sacrifices made by soldiers like you every day. With renewed determination, Private Jameson nods, his resolve strengthened by your example.

As the door of the training facility echoed with a sharp knock, you exchanged a puzzled glance with your comrades. The abrupt interruption stirred a sense of unease within you, a foreboding whisper of uncertainty.

"A lawyer wants to see you," the soldier at the door announced, his voice tinged with urgency.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Me?" you repeated, your mind racing to grasp the sudden turn of events. "Hmm, he sounds British," you mused aloud, your instincts sharpened by years of training.

With measured steps, you followed your comrade through the maze of corridors until you reached the visitor's area. There, standing before you, was a figure from your past, a familiar face veiled in the somber cloak of time.

"Miss," the lawyer greeted you with a solemn nod, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him, the memories flooding back like an unstoppable tide. It had been fifteen years since you last saw him, a lifetime of distance and estrangement separating you.

"I assumed something bad happened?" you ventured cautiously, your tone laced with concern and apprehension.

The lawyer, Cedric, nodded gravely, his expression betraying the gravity of the news he bore.

You and Cedric found a quiet place to talk. "Something's wrong?" you inquired, noting the somber expression on Cedric's face as he adjusted his glasses.

Cedric remained silent momentarily, his gaze fixed on the ground before meeting your eyes. "Duke Rupert died two days ago," he finally uttered, his voice laden with gravity.

Your heart clenched at the news. Duke Rupert was your stepfather, and the thought of his passing filled you with a mix of sorrow and apprehension.

Cedric continued, his words weighed down by the weight of the news. "On his will, he wrote that he wants all the family to gather. I came here as soon as I could. And you could attend the funeral too. He probably wants it too."

You nodded, absorbing the information with a heavy heart. The sudden loss of Duke Rupert had thrown your world into disarray, and the prospect of gathering with the family only added to the uncertainty swirling within you.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, determined to face whatever lay ahead with strength

You nodded in response to Cedric's words, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "I'll gather my things," you said quietly, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

As you packed your belongings into your bag, Private Jameson approached you, his curiosity evident in his voice. "So, it turns out you're a noble," he remarked, his tone tinged with surprise.

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head in response. "I'm not. It was my step-dad. There's no noble blood in me," you explained, a hint of self-deprecation in your voice.

Jameson furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. "We've been working together for years, but you never mentioned anything about this," he observed, his tone filled with genuine interest.

You zipped up your bag, pausing momentarily before meeting Jameson's gaze. "It's just family stuff. Nothing interesting," you replied cryptically, a hint of sadness flickering in your eyes before you turned away, ready to face the uncertain future that lay ahead.

After a grueling 12-hour flight, you finally arrived back in the UK. As the car pulled up to Evergreen Abbey, your childhood home, a rush of nostalgia washed over you. The manor stood proudly, its historical façade unchanged by the passing years.

Stepping out of the car, you took a moment to absorb the familiar sight before you. The memories of your upbringing flooded back, filling you with a sense of belonging despite the years of absence.

As you entered the manor, you were greeted by the sight of a middle-aged woman wearing a classic black dress adorned with a string of pearls. Her youthful aura belied the years that had passed since you last saw her. It was your mother, Susan.

"You're back," she exclaimed, opening her arms wide to envelop you in a warm embrace. The familiar scent of her perfume brought tears to your eyes as you returned her hug, feeling a sense of comfort and homecoming wash over you.

You nodded as Susan spoke, absorbing the news of Duke Rupert's accident with a heavy heart. The realization that your stepfather had passed away hit you like a wave, stirring emotions you had long buried.

"I'm so sorry. What happened?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern as you reached out to grasp Susan's hand for support.

Susan sighed her expression a mixture of sadness and frustration. "That silly old man's, I told him not to ride a horse, but he insisted and he fell," she explained, her tone tinged with regret. "Rupert always well-prepared, but I don't know why he really insisted on riding a horse that day."

Before you could respond, the sound of another voice broke through the somber atmosphere. "Thank God you're here," the voice exclaimed, drawing your attention. You turned to see your stepbrother, Charles, standing before you.

But your breath caught in your throat when you saw him wearing priestly attire. "Charles?" you uttered in disbelief, your eyes widening in surprise.

Charles opened his arms and enveloped you in a warm hug, his presence comforting despite the unexpected change in his appearance. "I'm glad you're here," he said, his handshake firm and sincere as he greeted you.

You were speechless, your mind struggling to process the transformation before you. There was a warmth in Charles's eyes, a genuine kindness that seemed to radiate from within him. He was different from the last time you saw him, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of him in his new role.

"Are you wearing a cassock?" you finally managed to ask, your voice filled with curiosity as you glanced at Charles's attire.

Susan gently pinched your arm, her expression amused yet reproachful. "Silly girl, this is why you should reply to my letters, phone calls, and emails," she chided gently. "Charles has become a priest."

"I know you will find it hard to believe. But I went through a miracle that made me fully believed in God." As Charles spoke of his newfound faith, you struggled to reconcile this revelation with the memory of Charlie, who once hurled harsh words at you.

Then you heard a familiar voice, cutting through the tension like a knife. "You're here."

It was Charlotte, Charles's twin sister. Her gaze bore into you with the same disdain it always had, unchanged after all these years.

Charlotte was never one to hide her feelings about you. From the moment your mother brought you into their lives, she had seen you as nothing more than an unwanted burden.

Your mother's marriage to the Duke had brought you into a world of privilege and resentment. While your stepfather had become a father figure you'd never had, it came at the cost of your relationship with your own mother. Susan was desperate to fit into her new role as Duchess, and you were often left feeling like an outsider in your own home.

The Duke's children, Charles and Charlotte, had quickly formed a bond with your mother, leaving you feeling like an intruder in your own family. They resented you for stealing their father's attention, and the tension between you had only grown over the years.

Living at Evergreen Abbey had always felt like walking on eggshells. That's why, as soon as you came of age, you left for the United States and joined the army, seeking refuge from the suffocating atmosphere of the manor.

Charlotte's cold gaze was a painful reminder of the resentment that had always simmered beneath the surface. "Let's get this over with, please," she said, her words dripping with disdain.

"What does it mean?" you asked, scanning the room for answers but finding only silence and the weight of years of unresolved conflict hanging heavy in the air.

You couldn't believe your eyes as Charles stood before you, now a priest leading your stepfather's funeral. Rupert's passing seemed surreal, and as they closed the casket, you had a chance to see his face one last time.

His face looked different, smiling unnaturally due to the glue used to preserve it. It starkly contrasted the smile you remembered, and you regretted not seeing Rupert one last time before this moment. Placing a red rose near his casket, you whispered, "I'm going to miss you."

During the burial, your gaze wandered, and you noticed a little boy standing near your mother.

But someone standing alone amidst the gathering of family and guests caught your attention. Who is he?

After the burial concluded, the house filled with guests offering condolences. The strange man also disappeared. Susan and Charles gracefully accepted their sympathies, while Charlotte's whereabouts only God knows.

Amidst the crowd, you heard a gentle voice call your name. "Y/N?"

Turning around, you saw Eddie standing there. "Eddie? How are you?" You greeted him with a side hug, grateful for the familiarity in the midst of the somber occasion.

Eddie hugged you back, offering his condolences as you shared a moment of solace amid the chaos of the gathering.

Eddie's inquiry about your military service brought back memories, including a long-kept secret: you used to have a crush on him. It was partly why you joined the army, sharing a dream of serving alongside him. "Yeah," you answered, still groggy from the day's emotions.

"What about you? Did you join the army too?"

Eddie chuckled. "I did, but I left to pursue a business."

You nodded, finding it fitting for him. "You're looking more like a duke these days."

Taking a sip of water, Eddie revealed a surprising truth. "I am. I became a duke after my father passed."

Your shock was evident. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Eddie's chuckle held a hint of understanding. "Yeah, after you left, you sort of cut contacts with everyone."

You hesitated, recalling the mention of a will by Cedric. "What about your family tradition? Isn't your older brother supposed to be the duke?"

Eddie's expression shifted slightly. "It changed after my father's will."

Your unease grew as thoughts of Rupert's will resurfaced. Eddie noticed your worry and reached out, touching your hand. "Hey, if you need me, just call me."

Grateful for his support, you managed a small smile. "Thanks, Eddie."

########

As everyone sat waiting for the lawyer, a new presence entered the room. A little boy, perhaps around 10 years old, joined the gathering, taking a seat beside Charlotte. He stole occasional glances in your direction, his curiosity evident in his wide-eyed gaze.

Unable to contain your surprise, you turned to Charlotte and asked, "You have a child?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes in response, her annoyance palpable, while Charles chuckled softly at the exchange.

Feeling a familiar pinch on your arm, you turned to see Susan giving you a reproachful look. "This is why you should've answered my calls. He's your brother," she scolded gently.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "Huh?!" you exclaimed, your mind struggling to comprehend the revelation as you glanced back at the little boy sitting beside Charlotte, a newfound sense of connection dawning within you. Now his face and future look similar to yours.

You found yourself at a loss for words, grappling with the sudden revelation of a long-lost sibling. The realization that you had cut off all contact when you joined the army weighed heavily on your conscience, leaving you with a profound sense of regret for the years of missed connections and lost opportunities.

Running a hand through your face, you let out a weary sigh, the weight of the past 15 years bearing down on you like a heavy burden. "Will there be another surprise?" you wondered aloud, the question hanging in the air as you braced yourself for whatever other unexpected twists fate had in store for you.

A few minutes later, Cedric, the lawyer, strode into the room with purpose, placing his briefcase on the table before retrieving the file. With a solemn expression, he began to read aloud the contents of Duke Rupert's will.

"Everyone will get a share of his insurance and investments," Cedric announced, his voice measured and professional. "Except Y/N."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of resignation at the news, having expected as much given the strained dynamics within the family. Glancing around the room, you noted the acceptance in your mother's and the twins' expressions, as if they had anticipated this outcome.

But then, Cedric's next words shattered the calm facade that had settled over the room. "For the Evergreen Abbey Manor and the title, I hereby give it to Y/N L/N," he continued, his voice resolute.

Your shock was palpable, the expletive escaping your lips before you could stop it.

'HUH?!'

"What the fuck?" you exclaimed, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events as the weight of Duke Rupert's decision settled heavily upon you.

As Charles let out a disbelieving "Hoo," and Charlotte expressed her relief with a curt "Great, not my problem anymore," the tension in the room seemed to escalate.

'Wait. The twins aren't angry?'

Your mother reached out, gently squeezing your hand and offering a reassuring look, her silent support a comforting anchor amidst the chaos unfolding around you.

"Why do I feel like I'm carrying a bomb in my hand?" you muttered, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a heavy burden.

Cedric adjusted his glasses, his expression grave as he spoke. "When you became the Lady of this house... Your grace, pardon me that I have to tell you this," he began carefully. "The former Duke had debts, and he was involved in what we might call 'creative' work."

"You mean drugs, gambling, and the like?" you interjected, your voice laced with disbelief.

Susan shot you a warning glance, her lips forming a silent reprimand. "You shouldn't say that word in front of your brother," she whispered, her tone urgent.

Turning to her younger son, she leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not drugs, but weed," she clarified softly.

"Oh, wow. Now I feel relieved," you replied sarcastically, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you as you struggled to come to terms with the unexpected revelations about Duke Rupert's illicit activities.

You ran a hand through your hair in frustration, the enormity of the situation sinking in. "How much is the debt?" you asked, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"8 million pounds," Cedricbreplied solemnly, his tone grave.

Charles made the sign of the cross a gesture of disbelief. "Oh Lord," he murmured under his breath.

"And he wants me to repay the debt when I never took a single cent?" you exclaimed, incredulity coloring your words as you struggled to comprehend the injustice of it all.

"Was he high when he wrote the will? Why me?!!"

Sighing heavily, you turned your gaze towards the imposing manor, its grandeur now overshadowed by the weight of Duke Rupert's debts. "Can I just sell this manor?" you wondered aloud, desperation creeping into your voice.

"It will take months or years, Your Grace. And the debt has to be paid by the end of this month," Cedric explained, punctuated by a sense of urgency.

But before you could act on your impulse, Susan's voice cut through the air, her tone laced with urgency and apprehension. "You can't sell the manor," she interjected, her gaze pleading with you to reconsider.

Confusion flickered in your eyes as you turned to face her, a mix of frustration and resignation bubbling up inside you. "Why not?" you demanded, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Susan's response was swift, her words carrying the weight of years of pent-up frustration and resentment. "If you sell the manor, I would lose my title as a duchess," she explained, her voice quavering with emotion.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, stirring up memories of the strained relationship that had defined your interactions with Susan over the years. Her obsession with upholding the image of a perfect duchess had driven a wedge between you, leaving your relationship fraught with tension and resentment.

As you stood there, grappling with the weight of Duke Rupert's debts and the expectations thrust upon you by your title, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness creeping in.

You let out another sigh, resigned to the reality of the situation. "I need a drink," you muttered, the thought of seeking solace in the most potent alcohol near the lake seeming like the only reprieve from the turmoil raging inside you.

As you sat by the lake's tranquil waters, the weight of the situation bearing down on you, regret began to seep into your thoughts like a creeping mist.

Coming back here had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of Duke Rupert's debts and the burden they placed upon you, you couldn't help but wonder if it had been a mistake.

Taking a sip of your whiskey, you allowed the warmth of the liquid to wash over you, momentarily easing the turmoil in your mind. But even the soothing embrace of alcohol couldn't dispel the unease gnawing at your insides.

Lost in your thoughts, you were startled when a small figure approached, breaking the silence that had settled over the lakeside. You glanced up to see your little stepbrother, Hugo, standing before you with a tentative expression on his face.

"Uh, hi. Hello. I'm your older sister," you greeted awkwardly, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.

Hugo returned your greeting with a shy smile. "Hi, step-bro. Hugo. Ten years old," he introduced himself, his voice soft and uncertain.

An awkward silence hung between you, the gap between your worlds feeling vast and insurmountable. Sensing the tension, you made an effort to bridge the divide.

"You want to walk?" you offered, gesturing towards the path that wound its way around the edge of the lake.

Hugo hesitated for a moment before nodding hesitantly. "Hmm...," he murmured, his eyes brightening with a hint of curiosity as he took a tentative step forward, ready to embark on this uncertain journey with you.

As you and Hugo began to playfully throw stones into the lake, the tension between you gradually dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie born from the simple joy of shared activity.

"So, Hugo, do you know what's happening at the household?" you asked, choosing your words carefully. You had learned in the military that children often possessed an innate honesty that could shed light on complex situations.

Hugo paused in his stone-throwing, considering your question for a moment before responding. "Walls have ears, and the workers always gossip," he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with wisdom beyond his years.

Impressed by his insight, you couldn't help but smile. "Wow," you remarked, genuinely impressed by Hugo's observation. "Do you want to share?" you prompted, curious to hear his perspective on the goings-on within the household.

As Hugo shared his insights, you listened intently, surprised by the depth of understanding hidden behind his youthful facade.

"Charlie doesn't want to take the house because of the debt, and he wants to become a pope," Hugo explained matter-of-factly, his words carrying a weight of resignation.

You responded with a puzzled "Huh?"

"And Charlotte doesn't care since she's going to marry a prince. She doesn't want anything related to Dad's 'creative work.' It will ruin her image."

"Her image? She's marrying a prince?" you interjected, your incredulity evident in your tone.

Hugo regarded you with a knowing look. "You're really ignorant, huh?" he remarked bluntly, his words stinging with a hint of playful teasing.

Feeling a pang of embarrassment at being corrected by a child, you cleared your throat awkwardly. "Hey..." you started, but Hugo continued without missing a beat.

"Sis Charlotte has quite millions of followers on social media," he elaborated, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "If her name is connected to weed and family debt—"

"It will ruin her image, and she'll have to pay the penalty," you finished, the implications sinking in as you processed Hugo's words. "Wait, how old are you again?" you asked, feeling a mix of surprise and amusement at the maturity of his observations.

Hugo raised both hands, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Ten," he replied, the innocence of his youth juxtaposed against the weight of the knowledge he carried.

You chuckled softly, taking another sip of your whiskey as you observed Hugo with newfound respect. Children were indeed frighteningly perceptive these days, and you made a mental note to tread carefully around him in the future.

You looked at the lake and sighed again. No wonder Charlie felt relieved upon seeing you. He wouldn't have to worry about these things. If his past caught up with him while pursuing his path to becoming a pope, it would ruin everything for him.

As for Charlotte, nothing ever seems to be enough for her. If her future in-laws from the royal family were to find out about this business, they would likely cancel her marriage.

So it's obvious they were relieved when Rupert chose you as the heir.

As both of you made your way back home, your senses went on high alert as you spotted a black Range Rover parked near the entrance. The sight of the familiar car sent a chill down your spine, and you felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

He's the man who watched Rupert's funeral from afar.

"Hugo, go inside," you instructed quietly, your voice tinged with urgency as you gestured for him to retreat to the safety of the house.

The man who emerged from the car was none other than the same individual you had seen at the funeral. James Barnes, or "Bucky" as he preferred to be called, approached you with a confident stride, his demeanor exuding an air of authority.

"Sorry to disturb your afternoon walk," Bucky began, his voice smooth and polite. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm James Barnes, but you could call me Bucky."

You nodded in acknowledgment, your guard instinctively rising as you braced yourself for whatever news he had come to deliver. "How can I help you, Mr. Barnes?" you inquired, your tone guarded yet polite.

"It's difficult for me to say while you're still grieving," Bucky admitted, his expression sympathetic. "But the former duke owed money to us."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "You see, Mr. Barnes, I just got here two days ago after 15 years," you explained wearily, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at your revelation, his interest piqued. "Yeah, Rupert mentioned it a couple of times," he remarked casually.

"Did he?" you muttered under your breath, feeling a surge of annoyance at Duke Rupert's apparent penchant for gossip.

"Let's continue this at the office," you suggested tersely, eager to put some distance between yourself and the unsettling presence of James Barnes.

As you stepped into Rupert's office for the first time, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingling with the lingering scent of his cigar and the familiar musk that seemed to permeate the room. It was a scent you had grown accustomed to over the years, a reminder of the man who had once occupied this space.

Pouring another whiskey for yourself and a glass for Bucky, you couldn't help but feel a pang of melancholy as you reflected on the memories associated with this room. Duke Rupert's presence seemed to linger in every corner, his larger-than-life persona casting a shadow over the space.

Bucky took a moment to savor the whiskey, his expression one of appreciation. "Your step-dad always did have a good collection of alcohol," he remarked, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words as he raised his glass in a silent toast.

You nodded in agreement, acknowledging the truth in his words. Despite the complexities of his character, Duke Rupert had always taken pride in his impressive selection of drinks, a testament to his refined taste and penchant for the finer things in life.

Taking a sip of your drink, you cleared your throat, breaking the heavy silence in the air. "Do you have business with my step-dad?" you asked, your tone cautious as you eyed Bucky across the desk.

Bucky's admission hung heavy in the air as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of responsibility and obligation.

"I lent him my money and I protected him," he explained, his tone tinged with a sense of duty.

"Why? His weed business didn't work out?" you asked, curiosity piqued by the revelation.

Bucky shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "It was successful. But he had a change of heart and wanted out. And his boss didn't like it. That's where I came in," he elaborated, his expression grave.

"Eight million pounds. Is all because of you?" you queried, the enormity of the debt now beginning to make sense.

Bucky tilted his head, his gaze meeting yours with a solemn intensity. "The price of the damage I got for protecting your step-dad. I gained more enemies," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

Setting down your whiskey glass, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Despite the tangled web of intrigue and deceit surrounding Duke Rupert, at least his involvement in the weed business was not the cause of his debts.

You let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Options seemed limited, and each path forward appeared fraught with challenges and uncertainties.

Glancing at the bank statements and stock reports spread out on the desk before you, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Duke Rupert's financial situation was far from ideal, and the prospect of producing eight million pounds seemed increasingly daunting.

Your mother's reluctance to sell the manor only added to the complexity of the situation. Despite the financial burden it represented, the estate held sentimental value for her, serving as a tangible connection to Duke Rupert and the life they had built together.

The twins' indifference to the predicament only further highlighted the sense of isolation you felt in confronting this dilemma alone. But then your thoughts turned to Hugo, the youngest member of the family, and the realization dawned on you that the manor held a special significance for him as well.

Selling off the artwork and alcohol collection was a possibility, but the process would take time, and the prospect of navigating the complexities of the open market and taxation only added to the uncertainty.

With few options left to consider, you knew that your best course of action was to confront the man himself. Despite your reservations, you couldn't ignore the fact that Bucky held the key to unraveling the mystery of Duke Rupert's debts.

As the desire to return to the U.S. gnawed at you, a sense of urgency washed over you, driving you to seek resolution as quickly as possible. But with time ticking away and the weight of responsibility bearing on your shoulders, you knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and sacrifices.

You sighed heavily, the weight of the situation settling upon your shoulders. "What options do I have?

Bucky's smile was almost too slick, his finger pointing at you like a loaded gun. "I really like your attitude, Your Grace. Straight to the point," he remarked, his voice smooth as silk.

As he unbuttoned his suit and slid his hands into his pocket pants, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a dark cloud. "I'm also intrigued by your career as an expert in bombs," he continued, his words sending a chill down your spine.

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach as you braced yourself for what was to come. "Go on," you replied tersely, the tension crackling in the air between you.

With a calculated gesture, Bucky brought his hands together, the glint of gold rings catching the light and adding an air of menace to his demeanor. "I will make the debt of 8 million pounds disappear. If you help me," he declared, his tone dripping with promise.

Your heart skipped a beat at the audacity of his offer, the implications of his words sinking in like a lead weight. "What do you want?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty before he finally spoke. "I've got more competition after I helped Rupert. Thinking about it gives me headaches. That's where you come in," he explained cryptically, his words laden with hidden meaning.

Raising an eyebrow, you regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The silence stretched between you, thick with tension, until Bucky finally broke it with a chilling revelation. "I want you to create an explosion. To get rid of them," he stated bluntly, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering intensity.

"Fuck!"

Cursing under your breath, you cast a wary glance at the painting of Rupert hanging on the wall. His eyes seemed to bore into you, judging your every move. As an army EOD technician, the thought of making a bomb for a criminal to pay off a debt filled you with a sense of dread.

Regret gnawed at you like a festering wound as you grappled with the weight of the decision before you. Coming back home had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of the situation, you couldn't help but wish you had never returned.

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓣wo

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you have been having issues, with your car engine and kitchen sink. funny and strangely enough, your mysterious neighbor offers to fix your troubles.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, goofiness, tension, swearing, references to past relationships, terrible knowledge of military shenanigans

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

are you weird for watching your neighbor when he comes and leaves his apartment?

yes, undoubtedly but you can’t help it.

a random ass dude suddenly appears from nowhere, MIA for 5 months then apparently is your neighbor.

some days he leaves at the same time as you leave for your work. using the elevator together, standing in awkward silence like the first time. walking together, most of the time you in front and him behind you since he always lets you exit the elevator first. a gentleman, a trait you like and appreciate. you get into your car and him on his bike.

the only difference is coming home at different times. however, one time you were returning home when you caught him leaving. it was surprise to see him but you mind your business.

it was mostly the mornings you see him the most.

as you’re locking the door, you feel a light tap on your shoulder which makes you jump a little, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your neighbor.

“your mail was in mine, coincidentally.” he holds up two envelopes, your name clearly printed on both.

“oh…” you gingerly take them from him. “thanks.” you shove them in your purse, too lazy to unlock the door just to toss them inside.

like most mornings, you take the elevator together. occupying each side of the small, squared space. a reasonable distance between you two.

“your dog is cute.”

his compliment caught you off guard a little. it’s a compliment you often receive but from him, your mysterious intimidating neighbor, is a shocker.

“thank you, her name’s luna.”

the man hums, a sign that indicates leaving the conversation at that. however, much to your surprise, he asks another question.

“how long?”

how long have you had her? is what you assume.

“5 years.” you answer.

silence returns, just like always.

you exit the elevator, your neighbor letting you go first then him after like previous times. parting ways to your respective vehicles and drive off.

the fact he initiated a conversation left you baffled. interested in your dog, complimenting on her adorableness. well, she is a tiny white fluff ball.

as you turn on the ignition, the engine doesn’t start.

oh fuck.

no no no, this cannot be happening.

after multiple attempts, the engine still refuses to start. well that’s just fucking fantastic, now you’re gonna be late for work. oh jameson is gonna kill you.

“chingado!” you shout angrily, slamming the steering wheel. thankfully no one else is there besides your neighbor who’s across the parking lot.

perhaps you didn’t think you were that loud because as you look up from the steering wheel, you see your neighbor staring back at you with a questionable look. oh great, he probably thinks you’re crazy.

you brush it off, shaking your head in frustration. burning your face in your hands, resting on the steering wheel. a whine escapes your lips.

why the fuck does this have to happen? especially when you’re leaving for work.

might as well get a fucking uber. or call eddie and ask if he could pick you up. you like the second idea better, getting into a stranger’s car and drive to where you work does not sound appealling.

those thoughts vanish when you hear tapping on the window, making you jump. you look up and see your neighbor standing beside the driver door. his muscular, tall figure startles you a little.

with a sigh, you roll down your window, flashing him a sheepish smile. “sorry you heard that.”

he dismissed your apology. “dead engine?”

you glance away, concealing the embarrassment written over your face. “yeah…”

“need help?”

“no, it’s fine. i’ll just call my friend if he can pick me up, i don’t wanna bother you.”

“you’re not. open the hood for me.”

you look back at him with a surprised look. “but i—“

he walks away and stands in front of your car. arms crossed over his chest, waiting for you to open the hood like he requested.

you decide to not argue and waste both your time and pop open the hood. you exit your car and join him. he’s already investigating the problem. one arm holding up the hood, even though it can hold by itself but you don’t correct him. while investigating the engine, you can’t help but ogle at his biceps. how the muscle flexes as he maneuvers.

damn they look so thick, hugged tightly by the sleeve of his black plain shirt. the cotton material looks so thin it could rip due to his bulging bicep.

shit- stop staring and focus.

not even 5 minutes, he got the engine working.

how the fuck-

“you’re fine now.” he closes the hood.

“thanks. i got like $20 to—“

“don’t.” he cuts you off. “don’t worry about it.”

your brows furrowed. “you sure? it’s at least to pay you back for helping me.”

the man shakes his head. “i said don’t worry, chica.”

well, you don’t like arguing and you can’t waste any more time so might as well leave it at that.

“alright, thanks again.”

he gives you a nod then walks away. you get back into your car with a turned-on engine this time. looking ahead, you see your neighbor getting on his bike. your eyes follow his silhouette exit the parking garage until he was out of your sight.

an interesting way to start your morning.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

one day your sink decided to not work. oh that’s just great. worse part is you don’t have any plumbing skills. you take the blame for not asking your dad to teach you. a frustrated sigh escapes your lips. you don’t wanna spend money on hiring a plumber since you’ve been keeping an eye on your finances. you remember your neighbor charlie has some plumbing skills. one time he fixed mrs harrington’s plumbing issues in the bathroom. but then you remember he’s gone on vacation for a month.

who else could you ask?

prior to moving to new york, when you thought you were living the dream, he would fix your plumbing issues. sometimes fix it before you’d even get the chance to ask him. that son of a bitch.

but now you don’t have him anymore, thankfully. you’d take anyone else but him.

but who else, though?

your next door neighbor.

should you ask him? you don’t wanna bother him, asking him a simple task you could do if only you learned. the silent, intimidating demeanor makes him seem like someone who doesn’t like being distributed, to be left alone.

he did help and fix your engine the other day. you’re still impressed by his skills. managed to fix it under 5 minutes without a problem.

with a sigh, you leave to go ask him.

standing in front of his door, heart pumping more than usual. hands fiddling with each other as a sigh of nervousness. what if he’s not home? how embarrassing you’d feel standing in front of his apartment expecting him to appear when he could be someplace else. there’s only one way to find out.

sallowing down the negative thoughts, you raise a hesitant fist and leave a gentle knock of the door. you take a step back, anticipating his presence.

your heart rate picks up when the door opens. cranking your neck all the up, forgetting how freakishly tall he is, you meet his gaze.

messy hair, a few strands dangling over his forehead. a plain white t-shirt that snugs up his muscular frame to perfection and a pair of gray sweats.

“uh sorry to bother you. i didn’t have anyone else to ask. i uh- my sink isn’t working and i was wondering if maybe you could fix it? if you know how to.”

god you feel so fucking embarrassed. you sound like a damn idiot. all you want is to facepalm yourself, run back into your apartment and hide.

“y’know what, never mind. sorry for bothering—“ you turn to leave but his voice stops you.

“i’ll fix it.”

“are you sure? if you’re busy, i don’t wanna add more to your plate.”

“yes, it’s fine.” he said sincerely.

next thing you know it, your neighbor is kneeling next to the sink fixing it. his small tool box beside him. you didn’t know what to do. stand there observing like a creep. go sit and wait on the couch with luna. watch tv or read book. you decide to stand awkwardly in front of your small bookshelf, holding luna in your arms as you pretend searching for a book to read. but really you keep sneaking glances at him.

the flexing of his biceps as he maneuvers. the white cotton snuggling the muscle so perfectly. the outline of those broad shoulders. the shirt looks so tight, you can makeout each curve of his back muscles. god damn this dude is a greek sculpture.

not to mention you love men being totally handymen. watching them maneuver around is just so attractive. blue collar men is definitely one of your types.

oh my god- stop drooling, especially over him. he’s your neighbor goddamnit.

you were too busy focused on those dumbass thoughts to hear him saying he finished. it wasn’t until you notice a tall, large presence next to you. a quiet gasp left your lips as you turn to see your neighbor beside you, confusion written all over his face at your spooked reaction.

“you okay?” a hint of concern in his tone.

“uh yeah, just spaced out for a sec.” a bullshit excuse but you ain’t telling him the truth. how embarrassing and awkward that would be.

he gives you a skeptical look, like he knows you’re lying but he lets it go. “your sink works now.”

walking back in the kitchen, miguel explains what the problem was and demonstrates it. yeah, you should’ve let your dad taught you.

“thanks for fixing it. sorry for bugging you again.”

miguel shrugs. “it’s fine.”

“i can still give you that $20.”

“i already told you, you don’t need to worry.”

“but this is the second time you fixed my shit, i have give something in return.”

“en serio, chica, don’t worry about it.” his tone was serious yet gentle, arms folded over his chest.

now you feel bad. this man fixed your engine and your sink. you have to pay him or at least give something in return for his service, it’s the right thing to do. how the hell can he say no?

“can i least offer you water?”

your offer stunned him a little, it’s obvious by his face. when mechanics or maintenance come, you offer them water as a kind gesture and appreciation for their work hard. they thank you with a kind smile.

he was quiet for a moment, still a bit baffled until he finally spoke. “i… don’t mind one.”

you quickly snatch a water bottle from the fridge and hand it to him which he accepts. you didn’t even ask if he preferred cold or room temperature but miguel said cold was fine, either would be fine for him.

while sipping on the sweet tea you made for yourself, you notice dog tags adorned around his thick neck. the shimmering silver contrasting the white color of his shirt. oh shit, he is in the military.

“military?” you gesture at the dog tags.

“mhm.” the man hums. “9 years.”

eddie was right, the son of a bitch.

your eyebrows raise slightly, visibly impressed. “cool.” such an awkward compliment, makes you want to facepalm yourself. “which branch?”

“special forces.”

oh that you weren’t expecting. you may lack knowledge in military stuff but you know that is serious shit. honestly, you’re more impressed.

“you just got back, huh?”

the nod he gives you confirms his absence for the past five months. now those assumptions finally wash away. you don’t have to worry about having a potential creepy next door neighbor. instead a man from the military, sounds better.

you don’t question further. considering he’s in special forces, it’s probably top secret shit.

“well, at least i now know someone lives in that apartment.” you joke nonchalantly.

“could say the same thing about you.”

well, he isn’t wrong. he has lived here longer than you and you’ve only been here for five months. technically, you are the surprise neighbor. now you two have to share a wall together.

“yeah, for five months.” you tell him. “you?”

“three years.”

damn, you’re really the newbie here.

you watch his eyes glance upward at your microwave, reading the time. “i uh… i’ll let myself out.” without leaving you a chance to speak, he turns and starts walking towards the front door.

you quickly follow him. “wait- are you sure you don’t want the $20? i gotta pay you somehow.”

“ay por dios, sí mujer. you really like to argue, don’t you? the water is enough, thank you.”

a small pout rests on your lips. you beg differ, feeling a bit guilty for not paying this man properly for his efforts. twice, as a reminder.

you let out a sigh, standing by the door holding it with a hand. “well, thank you again.”

miguel turns to you with nod. “if it happens again or something else breaks, just come to me.”

oh, he’s offering? well, charlie won’t be back for a while and you can’t call your dad to drive 40 miles just to fix a damn sink. your neighbor would be a fine choice, right next door and accessible.

“i… i appreciate that, thanks.”

he gives you one final nod before walking away, heading back to his apartment next door.

you learned a new thing today.

your neighbor is in the military.

now you’re dreading the moment eddie will say “told you so” after telling him about this news.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose

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[inmyheaddd]

✦ anything - grayson hawthorne x reader

summary: you go to the cliffs to find peace and time alone after an argument with grayson, only for him to follow after you shortly, where he’s briefly reminded of a certain someone. warnings: angst, emily mention…, more angst, happy ending / resolved at the end i pinky swear!! wc: 1.7k masterlist || jameson version!

you slammed the door behind you, your breath coming in quick, uneven bursts as you stormed out of the house. the fight still echoed in your mind, every word hitting like a fresh wound. grayson had this unwavering ability of cutting deep without raising his voice, of shutting you out without even trying.

you needed to get away. anywhere but there.

you always found solace in the ocean, viewing it from up high brought you a sense of serenity nothing else could compare to. 

"you can't keep shutting me out, grayson."

"i'm not shutting you out, i'm trying to protect you."

"oh,” you chuckled dryly “from what? from you?" you almost mocked, recalling the words he would always say. 

his face had been unreadable, that cold mask slipping into place as soon as you started to get too close to the truth. it always happened like this. every time you pushed, he pulled away. every time you needed him, he locked himself down tighter.

"you don't understand—"

"no, i do understand. i understand that you don't trust me. that you'll never let me in. your problems don’t make you less than, they make you human.” you tried to explain to him, but it was like he would never get it. it was drilled into him since he was a child that he had to be ‘perfect.’ 

“i just want you to be real with me, gray.”

the wind whipped at your hair as you stared out at the waves, your heart pounding in your chest. he didn’t trust you. he never had. no matter how much you tried to be there for him, to show him that he didn’t have to do this alone, he always shut you out.

you paid no mind to the wind tugging at your hair as you reached the top of the cliffs, your eyes fixed on the dark horizon twinkled with stars and constellations you had spent many nights learning with grayson. 

god, it always came back to him somehow. his voice still echoed in your head, and you willed for it to go away, focusing on anything you possibly could around you. 

it almost worked, until the voice wasn’t just in your head anymore. 

“it’s late, you shouldn’t be out here.” 

of course he found his way here. so much for your short lived peace. 

“i know how to take care of myself,” you spat, not even looking back at him. 

you felt his sharp gaze on you, “i never said otherwise.” 

the wind whipped harder as you reached the edge, the waves crashing violently below, almost mirroring the maelstrom you felt inside you. you stared out, your heart pounding in your chest as you wrapped your arms around you. why did it always end like this with him? why couldn’t he just let you in?

“don’t walk away from me,” he called out when you kept silent, “we can work this out. you know we can.” 

you took a deep inhale, the cold sea air filling your senses before you turned your head to face grayson. “you say that, but when we try, you still never fully open up to me. what the hell am i supposed to do with that?” 

he immediately took a step forward when you finally turned to face him, but there was still a metre distance between you two. “i’m  not trying to shut you out. i’m—” he hesitated, his breath catching. “i’m protecting you.”

“there it is again,” you muttered under your breath, your grip on your arms tightening. “protect me from what? grayson, you keep saying that like it’s a valid reason but you don’t tell me anything.” you stated, growing more frustrated and exasperated by the second.

“my problems shouldn’t be your burden.” he said with his jaw stone tight, his eyes colder than you’ve ever seen them. “i’ve dealend with them alone all my life, that doesn’t have to change.”

“oh my god, grayson, it’s like talking to a brick wall with you.” you sighed, on the brink of crying or screaming, you weren’t too sure what would come first. “why can’t you understand that i want to be there for you? i want to help you, i want you to be able to trust me.” you pointed out, like it couldn’t be more simple. 

when he kept everything to himself, it felt like he didn’t value your input or that you didn't mean enough to him for him to tell you. you know that wasn’t the case, but it still felt like it. 

you shook your head, “you’re not a burden, i love you, for gods sake.” you turned around frustratedly with a huff and faced your back to him. your eyes pricked and your throat burned— you hated the way you felt everything so deeply sometimes. you felt selfish.

you shook your head and took a step forward, further away from him and closer to the edge. 

it wasn’t a large step, by any means, but there was something in the action seemed to set grayson off. 

he called out for you, almost like a gasp with the way his voice was strained and quieter than it usually was. 

your mind seemed to block out all the other things in an instant, the argument, the harsh wind blowing in your hair, the waves crashing below you, the way your ears rang. 

the only thing you were focused on was him.

your head whipped around, the anger dissipating from your body when you took in the expression on his face. “grayson?” when he didn’t respond, you walked towards him tentatively.

he didn’t respond right away, just kept staring past you, his whole body tense, like he was frozen. “hey, what’s wrong?” you said, taking another step back, maybe he needed space, and watched as his eyes finally shifted to yours.

"please," he said, but it wasn’t a demand—it was a plea. "don’t do that."

“gray?” you took his hands in yours in an attempt to ground him, but he simply shook his head. 

“i’m sorry,” his eyes looked almost panicked he finally said, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. “i’m sorry, please don’t do that. i love you; i promise.” he repeated, his voice crackling in a way that broke your heart all the same. 

his breath was shallow as you furrowed your brows in confusion, hoping there’d be an answer in his eyes as you switched looking between them. “grayson, what do you mean?”

then you realized: he wasn’t hearing you anymore. his mind was somewhere else, somewhere far away, somewhere dark. he wasn’t looking at you—he was looking past you.

emily. god, how you hated the mere mention of that name. you didn’t know the full extent of what she did, but you knew enough. more than enough. 

you knew that she hurt grayson davenport hawthorne in a way no one had before.

“gray, look at me, please. i’m not emily.” you begged, taking your hands to his chest. 

nothing. 

“grayson,” your breath was picking up, your mouth felt drier than ever. you weren’t even sure if a word you were saying would even get to him over the noise of the cliffs, and the state he was in. “you’re scaring me.”

that seemed to do it for him, as the panic left his eyes and made way for something else— almost sorrow, you thought. 

he blinked rapidly, as if shaking himself out of a trance. his grip tightened around your hands, grounding himself in your presence. the distant, haunted look in his eyes slowly faded, replaced with something fragile, something that made your heart ache for him.

“i’m sorry,” he muttered again, but this time it wasn’t panicked—it was broken.

“it’s okay,” you whispered, though you knew it wasn’t, not entirely. but right now, the only thing that mattered was him. “i’m not going anywhere, grayson.”

his hands were still trembling slightly, and you held them tighter, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you.

“i’m not her,” you repeated softly, your voice steady even as your heart raced. “i’m here, and i love you. nothing you say or do will change that.” you took a breath in, “but you have to let me in, grayson. i can’t do this if you won’t trust me.”

his gaze finally met yours fully, the coldness and distance replaced by a vulnerability you’d rarely seen in him. his jaw clenched, as if he was trying to hold back whatever storm of emotions was raging inside him.

“you’re too good for me, you deserve better. i’m—“ he trailed off, “you shouldn’t have to deal with… this.” 

he deflected your whole point. 

you understood what the message of that was— what he wouldn’t say. he thinks he’s too shattered for you. too much. 

“grayson. i don’t need your protection from yourself. you think you’re some broken toy that needs fixing, you think you need to become something else, something unattainable— but that’s not true.” you shook your head as you forced back tears threatening to come up. 

“i don’t want the version of yourself you think you should be, i want the version you are. how many ways do i have to say it for you to understand?��� you continued with a humourless laugh, looking into his eyes that shone a little extra now, focused on you entirely.  

“i love you for you, the way you stifle your laughs when your brothers do something stupid, the way your dimples only show when you find something really funny, or the way that you connect with your passions in such a way that can only leave someone mesmerized. i love you. you’re everything to me.” 

for a long moment, there was silence between you, only the sound of the wind and the waves filling the space. then he finally spoke, the vulnerability in his voice more evident than ever. “i don’t deserve you,” he finally said

“you deserve more than you think,” you almost whispered, without missing a beat. “talk to me, gray. let me know what you’re going through.” 

“i can’t.” he said. grayson davenport hawthorne couldn’t not do anything, and he never admitted it either. 

“i don’t know how to.” he continued; this was just grayson to you. his last name and all that came with it didn’t mean anything to you.

“try,” you asked, your voice steady but soft as you knew how hard this was for the both of you. 

“you don’t have to do it all at once, but let me be there for you. let me love you how i should.”

his hands broke away from yours to cup your face, bringing you into a kiss that was more of a silent promise. words would’ve failed him in fully expressing what he wanted to say. 

when he pulled back from your lips, the wind around you felt a little gentler. he ended up speaking anyways, and the words undid you. 

“i’ll try,” he whispered against your lips, “i’ll try.” 

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @taysbrina

@littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @bewitchingkisses @maybxlle @sheisntyou

@emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23

@imaseabear @soleilars @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm

[grlsbstshot]

Pairing (Original Characters): Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Story Synopsis: R&B singer/songwriter, Jameson Lucas, is well known as a charming playboy. The latest in his line of 'loved em and left em' behavior? Imani St. Cirie, an emotive singer/songwriter herself. A common sense pulls them in opposite directions – friendships are tested, old flames resurface, and new opportunities threaten to tear them apart for good. In this industry, dreams can make or break you – but what happens when love becomes the gamble of a lifetime? Chapter Synopsis: Jameson makes a late night appearance in his ex's life after a year apart. Warnings: Smut (18+), toxic relationship, possessiveness infidelity mentions, explicit language (mild dirty talk), unprotected sex, daddy kink (very much so), unintentional breath play, dirty talking, creampie Word Count: 6.7k Divider Template: @cafekitsune Notes: The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists. There will be alternating POVs between our two leads.

Chapter I: Real Games

[ blockdt unless horny ] : wya?

imani rolled her eyes and tossed the phone back across the couch. of course jameson decided that after a year of not seeing one another, he'd reach out NOW. a year after he broke her heart and ruined their three year relationship, he decided to contact her. with three letters? pathetic. even more pathetic was the fact that she picked the phone back up...and thought of a response.

jameson lucas was like a drug to her. when they met, he was cocky but never without reason. he pursued her relentlessly and it didn't take long until they were everywhere together. the son of a r&b legend, jameson took his own path into music. they just fit each other. imani's own career was in its early stages but she took off like a rocket. soon enough, they were the first names called in their fields. especially when they used their love affair to inspire music. they took a hit of each other and it was nonstop. he knew all he had to do was get his foot in the door and she'd be gone. but imani was determined not to play his game this time. he was almost out of her system. she'd get rid of him for good now.

[ imani ] : why do you care? [ blockdt unless horny ] : i miss you. that better? [ imani ] : no. it's still not explaining what the fuck you want [ blockdt unless horny ] : if i'm looking for you and i want to see you. what do you think i want? [ imani ] : sex? got it. okay, not interested [ blockdt unless horny ] : if i wanted to fuck, i wouldn't have a problem finding somebody to do that with. i want to see you because i miss you. am i being clear enough? [ imani ] : lmfao yeah i guess you wouldn't. i'm not dumb. you want something. [ blockdt unless horny ] : you. i want you. i am literally saying what i want. [ imani ] : and why should i give you access to me? [ blockdt unless horny ] : because i'm asking? begging, really. because i love you? [ imani ] : love me? let's be fucking real, jameson [ blockdt unless horny ] : if i don't love you, i don't love nobody, mani. you not tired of fighting yet? [ imani ] : lmfaoooo you're a fucking joke. you don't cheat on the person you love. [ blockdt unless horny ] : i made a mistake. that doesn't change the fact that i love you. i know we'll never be together again because you don't trust me but what am i supposed to do with the shit i feel? [ imani ] : stop saying you love me. idk maybe you need to live with that shit. i'm doing perfectly fine without you. [ blockdt unless horny ] : okay

jameson exhaled sharply, frustrated with himself. he knew deep in his heart that getting in touch with imani had been a mistake. their relationship came crashing down after his infidelity. a night with a woman he shouldn't have been with spiraled. guilt-ridden, he had confessed the next day then spent months trying to get her back. when his efforts failed and she'd gotten a quarterback as her next man -- jameson had moved on. he'd had another girlfriend for a few months but imani hadn't left his mind. he watched every instagram post with an eager eye but it wasn't like he could avoid her. imani st. cirie was r&b's favorite lover girl. her lyrics were captions more often than his own. he could feel her scolding him with every record release but he listened anyway. the two of them played a game where they pretended not to care or notice one another...but in the dark of night, his finger always hovered over that button to call her. even as another woman lay in his bed. sometimes he fought the urge to press it but most of the time he failed -- and got her voicemail. he wrote songs for her, keeping the object of his affection nameless but their fans could connect the dots. he wasn't over her and never would be.

now his bed was empty and he allowed hope to carry him away. they were both single for the first time in a year. maybe now was the time to work it out? imani's texts quickly shut the idea down. he was losing her and any minute, she'd block him. jameson shuffled uncomfortably in the front seat of his mercedes benz. his gaze strayed up to the gates of her home, wondering if she could see him and knew how atrociously down bad he was. his phone beeped on his lap and he peered down in surprise. she responded ?

[ imani ] : now the cat got your fuckin tongue? [ jameson ] : what would you like me to say to that, imani? nothing, right? [ imani ] : it's just so funny to me. why should i give you what you want? [ jameson ] : why are you asking me questions you really don't care about the answer to? you miss me too. you want to see me too. you love me too. so why are we doing this? [ imani ] : i do want an answer. all that's true but you know it's not good for us to see each other. [ jameson ] : i know, baby. i know you deserve better than this. i just miss you. let me see you for ten minutes. [ imani ] : no. [ jameson ] : baby, please. i swear to god i'll leave after that. [ imani ] : fine. i'm at home. [ jameson ]: i'm outside

imani stared down at her phone with wide eyes, in shock as if she wasn't the one who just texted the words 'fine. i'm at home'. she dropped her phone and jumped off her couch, hands over her mouth. "shit, shit, shit." the woman muttered behind her palms. what the hell was she going to do now? she hadn't expected herself to invite him over and she sure as fuck didn't expect him to be sitting outside.

she took a second more to panic before sprinting up her stairs and down the hall into her bedroom. she tugged her t-shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Her shorts followed as she dug into her drawer for another outfit. something that said 'i'm not thinking about you, bitch! but you think i'm cute?' she ended up with a cropped sweatsuit. it showed the tiniest bit of skin and was still comfortable. she didn't bother trying to wrestle with her hair. she left it in a ponytail and practically broke her neck going to brush her teeth.

her doorbell hadn't rung but she could feel the moment he was in front of her home. an electric undercurrent made her body tense. she finished in the bathroom and forced herself to take slow, measured steps back down to the first floor. she wouldn't be seen trying to look her best for him. he was only visiting for ten minutes anyway.

she was crazy for agreeing with this. she knew she should have left the conversation alone but she couldn't help herself. everything that jameson said was true. she missed him. she loved him. she wanted to see him...and imani hated herself for it. yet there she was opening the door for him. "hey." she managed to utter uninterestedly, taking her time before she met his gaze. when she did, she could have choked on her damn spit.

to his mother and god be all the fucking glory...he was beautiful.

it hadn't been as if she hadn't seen his face since they split. he'd released an album, won three grammys for it, and embarked on a very public relationship with a co-star from that little comedic show he was doing. but seeing him up close and personal again? insane. imani grasped the doorknob tightly to keep herself from moving toward him.

freshly braided cornrows lined his scalp and met at the back of his head. she couldn't see the tattoo at the back of his neck but she knew it was there. she had traced her nails across it often enough. it was the soundwave of his first platinum single. he'd been so proud of it. he had numerous other tattoos but that was the one she loved the most. his warm, golden brown skin that she'd kissed and licked so much that she knew every inch of it practically glowed. he had shaved his beard down to a goatee. it framed full lips that could do the most devilish things to her. he lifted his long, incredibly agile, fingers to give her a wave and it broke her out of the spell she was under.

"hey. you got a timer going?" he asked her, humor evident in his tone but she was too distracted by the sound of his voice. deep, soothing, commanding. imani abruptly turned away from the door and stopped in her living room, folding her arms over her chest. the sooner they got this over with, the sooner he could leave.

"i thought you would have it since you said you were only staying for ten minutes." they both knew that he often made promises that he couldn't keep but she wanted to see how long he'd keep up with the charade. imani crossed one leg over the other as she peered at him. why did he have to be so fine? maybe if he wasn't attractive, things would be easier.

"would rather spend my time looking at you than watching a clock." he told her softly, lowering himself onto the same couch as her. as close as he could get. jameson leaned back against the cushions, settling comfortably. he didn't say anything else for a few moments, one hand patting at his chest lightly. "i feel better seeing you." he admitted lowly. "i know you think i'm full of shit...but that's true. i miss you when i'm not with you. i only feel better when i'm right here."

imani sighed softly. she could feel herself crack at the confession but she refused to go down without a fight. "you just wasted two of your minutes." her stony expression didn't hold up so she chose to look away, not responding again. she just didn't know how to. instead, she slightly shifted so she wasn't as close to him. the perfect storm was brewing between them and she had to decide if she was strong enough to withstand it. "is that all you came over here for? we both know you're just gonna get bored with me, cheat, and then leave again. quit while you're behind."

"i'm okay with whatever you want to do." jameson told her, knowing that the day was coming when she would get tired of this and cut him out for good. he'd have no choice but to let her go. but today wasn't that day. he could tell that even though she was sick of his shit, she didn't mean that they should cut things off. and being the man he was...he was glad. instead of answering her question, jameson was quiet. "but i was never bored of you. i swear."

he didn't quite know why they never seemed to get things right. he drifted away from her and then couldn't stand it so he came right back. she got pissed at him and told him to fuck off but then let him come back. it was crazy but it was them. "you know what you mean to me." he said softly, pulling his hand from his pocket to lift his hand. he brushed his thumb against her cheek, tilting his head to watch her expression. "don't you?"

when imani turned to meet his gaze, he knew it hadn't been wrong to contact her. it had been a year but the same energy was between them. he watched her try to pull herself again, try to pull the hardass out and build the wall back up between them. that was the thing about loving someone you knew like the back of your hand -- you saw everything. even the shit they didn't want you to see. "enough with the bullshit, jameson."

literally no other woman could have him open like she did. he spent years sniffing after her. and when he cheated, he spent months begging. he'd never begged a woman for anything. but he knew he'd get down on his knees for her each and every time. "i fucked you over and i regret it everyday." he said softly, pulling his hand from her. "i never loved anybody before i saw you. i can't prove to you it's not bullshit but i swear on everything...you are the love of my life."

it was the one thing he had never told her and he knew saying it shifted things for him emotionally. but damn it, he was running out of answers. "i can't breathe unless i know you're a phone call away. i can barely fucking function if i go too long without seeing you. you are everything." 

silence lapsed between them as they both processed that there was some kind of breakthrough happening. their communication had been better in bed than anywhere else but jameson knew he'd strip as many layers as he could to get down to the heart of it all. the longer they went without speaking, the more he wondered what she was thinking.

"you hurt me, jameson. you do that shit every time and I let you." she said, looking into his eyes. "i don't know why i fuckin' let you do it. but i do." she moved from her spot, positioning herself in his lap. jameson made room for her, wrapping his arms around her waist. the two fell into tandem -- as if they hadn't spent any time apart at all. imani straddled his lap, he could see the regret in her face but he couldn't bring himself to let her ponder on it. he lifted his head and pressed the gentlest kiss to the corner of her mouth. she melted against him and he heard her whisper against his ear. "just don't promise me shit this time. i don't want to hear any lies."

jameson knew he should be a better man and let her be happy with someone else. but he couldn't find it in himself. "okay, baby." what else could he say? he was a piece of shit. "just...don't give up on me." he said softly, surprising himself with how much he meant the words. "i need you. ain't no me without you." his hand pressed against the small of her back, fingertips stroking against her spine as he sighed. "my ten minutes are up, i think. give me a kiss goodnight."

there it was. she had let him just waltz back into her fucking life. folded quicker than a cheap umbrella in a hurricane. a few apologies, kisses, and touches -- imani was partially disgusted with herself. she was relieved to see she wasn't alone in her addiction though. he clung to her body like a man who hadn't been touched in an eternity even though she knew that was far from the truth. maybe she couldn't leave him alone but she could establish a set of boundaries. not lying seemed easy enough.

she sighed as he relaxed into her body. her arms wrapped rightly around his neck and she placed a kiss on his forehead. "i guess you can stay a little longer." imani slipped her hand under his chin, bringing his lips to hers. that familiar feeling washed over her just from the feel of his lips.

imani could feel him smile against her lips and she couldn't help but nip against his lower lip to settle his ego. jameson gave a lingering groan at the contact. it'd been so long since she'd touched him but every single time, it felt like coming home. "mm. mm-uh." he exhaled, breaking the kiss and shaking his head as he swiftly rose from the couch. imani went up with him, thinking quickly and wrapping her legs around his waist. "i can't stay. i gotta go." he muttered, "i promised i'd leave after ten minutes. i just said i wouldn't lie to you."

it was obvious he didn't want to go. if it hadn't been obvious from the way he kept leaning into her, his body begging for those little kisses from her -- it was obvious when he rose from the couch. he braced his hands underneath her, fingers sprawling across her ass. imani was pressed against him, the evidence of what he wanted to do pressed against her thigh. he couldn't lie to her even if he wanted to. "i'm gonna put you down...in a minute." he mumbled, burying his face against the crook of her neck.

suddenly, she didn't want to talk. she didn't want to think of the shit he'd done to her, the way he'd broken her heart. all she wanted to do was feel. That's what she wanted to focus on right now. "no, no, no." she murmured, shaking her head. "this is a promise you can break. it's okay." she placed her hand on the back of his neck. her acrylics grazed his skin -- claiming him once again. imani left a trail of kisses against his neck to his earlobe then sucked it into her mouth. "you're not leaving." she told him in a demanding whisper.

imani pressed herself to him, nails grazing the skin at the back of his neck, and he felt himself break out in chills. the slight pressure there pleased him. his arms tightened around her as he sighed softly. imani pulled back and he saw the smirk gracing her lips. she knew. she knew he was weak for her and knew exactly how to get what she wanted from him. nobody knew him better than her -- whatever she might think of their relationship, she got him in a way nobody else did. she knew exactly what made him tick and she proved it just then. jameson didn't bother to vocally agree. he just began to walk through her living room, headed to the stairs to get to her bedroom. 

"i hate your house sometimes." he huffed as he shifted her in his arms, tossing her onto his shoulder. she gave a short yell of surprise at the move, her hands pressed to his lower back as he carried her up the stairs. the couch wasn't big enough for what he wanted to do with her. "i can't even fuck you on these uncomfortable ass stairs."

"you don't think so?" she asked. "i don't know. that sounds like a challenge to me." the palm of his hand swatted towards her ass, the stinging in his palm probably not as intense as the one she felt. "a challenge for both of us to break our necks." he walked up the stairs easily, her weight against his shoulder going unnoticed. jameson didn't even bother to answer her question any further. he was sure it'd be uncomfortable but he was also sure he'd fuck her anywhere he could. it was the exact reason he walked down her hallway and took the first left he saw. it wasn't the direction of her bedroom...but it was the closest one to them.

even as the heat and tension spiraled between them, he managed to keep his senses alert enough to flip the light switch. in the brightness of the spare bedroom, jameson carefully lowered imani from his shoulder, standing with her next to the bed. for a moment as he placed her onto the bed. he hadn't been lying when he said he'd rather look at her than anything else. he watched as she struggled to get out of the sweatsuit. she tugged her arms free but seemed too jittery to completely get undressed.

jameson began to move closer...leaving her no choice but to fall backward onto the bed. she began to crawl up it, watching him the whole time. "you impatient, mama?" he asked her, a grin gracing his full lips. imani nodded, meeting his gaze. he dropped his hands to her hips, fingertips grazing against the band of her sweatpants. without a word, he gently pulled them over the curve of her ass then down legs. "me too." he confessed. before she could say anything, he was kneeling in front of her. "show me you missed me." jameson said softly, kissing her thigh.

he saw the moment it clicked in her mind what he wanted from her. her hand moved between her legs and jameson spread her thighs greedily, not wanting to miss a moment. they clicked into their typical roles when it came to sex so quickly that he was practically moving on autopilot. he talked to her like he was still her man, like no time had passed at all. imani's fingers parted her folds with ease, wetness sticking to her fingers. she let out a hushed moan as her fingers pressed into her pussy.

some games he and imani played were painful. some pissed him off. some were even amusing. but the best kind of games were the ones where they drove each other crazy. he watched her play along with him -- following his command with ease. "i forgot how pretty she gets when you're turned on." he murmured, slowly pulling his own sweatshirt over his head. jameson tossed it aside, not caring where it landed. "spread. let me see it all. make me remember." he was pleased when imani whimpered softly and did as he said. fingertips parted her folds, exposing her clit to him as her legs parted further as well.

he didn't have any charming shit to say, nothing smooth or seductive. all he knew was that he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. so jameson descended to the bed, settling himself between her legs. his hand reached out for her own, gently grasping her fingers to pull them to his mouth. he sucked at her digits, carefully pulling each from his mouth to savor the taste of her until he tasted nothing but her skin. both of his hands came to her thighs, pulling her further down the bed and toward his mouth. jameson pressed a kiss to her clit before his tongue pressed to her folds. no sooner had he slid his tongue between her lips did he groan, happy to be home in a sense. and then he went to work.

imani couldn't believe how gone she allowed herself to be for jameson. the woman she was a few months ago would be sickened to see her writhing across a bed, doing his bidding. that thought should have been enough to make her push him away but they were silenced with the kiss to her clit. her back arched, the shock of pleasure bringing a cry from her lips.

the only thing that stopped her from pulling at those big ass ears to stop him and demand he fuck her right then was the fact that he owed her. for every moment he pissed her off or disappointed her, he owed her this pleasure as recompense.

he unwound one arm from around her leg -- pressing his fingers into her. imani lifted his head to watch as her pussy enveloped his digits, pulling and squeezing. he pressed his fingers deeper, harder -- wanting to see how she would react. eventually, he settled into a familiar rhythm. his index and middle finger delving deeply into her, his thumb lazily teasing against her ass. jameson leaned in again, closing his mouth over her clit as he ran his tongue back and forth...back and forth, timing the movement with that of his thumb. he kept it up until arousal soaked his tongue and knew he swallowed it down with glee because he groaned every single time.

her senses were already overloaded. She didn't like the power that jameson had over her. from his slightest touch, she was putty in his hands. "fuck, jameson." she whimpered. her hands palmed the back of his head, fingertips clinging to his braids, pussy grinding against his face. she wasn't going to last long and she hated that. hated him for it. "baby, wait." it hit her like a cramp to the stomach and imani jackknifed up from the bed, one hand pressed to the bed behind her to keep her upright. "i'ma cum, baby." she whimpered. before he could do anything else, her body jerked and her eyes shut close tightly.

she had prepared for him to be right where he was for a while. but it was going to be over before she knew it. jameson picked up his pace and added another finger, at her confession. she was sure he didn't even need the warning but even with her eyes closed, she could feel him watching her -- pleasure written all over her face. "let me see." he urged her own. "give me my shit."

her body jerked and imani felt him slow down. three fingers pressed into her, a thumb pressed to her clit, and another one teasing at her ass -- it was too much. her legs shut tightly over his hands as he pulled the orgasm free. it hit her hard enough to make her thigh shake. imani thrust herself against his fingers, praying he wouldn't stop. and he didn't. as much as she wanted, he gave it to her. she was breathless by the time her hips stopped arching up, begging for more.

only when she came down did she realize he was speaking to her.

"i missed my greedy pussy." "get what you want, baby. take it." "you better keep this energy the same when i get up."

every word brought a moan from her lips and jolt from her hips. imani watched as he pulled his hands free, sucked on his fingers, and stood from the bed. the two didn't exchange a word as she watched him undress. first went his shirt and then his sweatpants. she hadn't even noticed when he took his damn shoes off. his boxers followed next and...behold. a thing of fucking beauty. his dick bobbed freely, fully erect, and she had the urge to taste him. she wanted him sliding between her lips and down her throat the way he used to but she didn't move. she only watched him climb back onto the bed and settled between her legs. then he hesitated.

"fuck." jameson muttered, "baby...i didn't bring shit with me." he told her quietly. imani genuinely felt fear in the moment. fear he would pull away and get up. she wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping him from pulling away even as he continued speaking. "please tell me you have a couple here." imani parted her legs wider, pouting up at him. "you really didn't bring anything?" she repeated, still not processing it. jameson shook his head, his hands pressed to her hips as he kissed her neck and mumbled his apologies. in the moment, she really didn't give a fuck. "it's okay." she whispered. her hand slipped between them and wrapped her hands around his dick. she moved her hips forward to slowly guide him inside of her. she would think about the consequences later. all she knew was that she wanted him NOW.

jameson knew how these things went with imani. they always ended up here one way or another. he cursed himself for not bringing protection. but it didn't matter — they were both desperate for one another. he froze when she reached for him, his breath trapped in his throat at the feel of her hand. he only exhaled sharply when she widened her legs and pressed him inside.

the last time they had sex without protection had been when they were together. now, they were...well, complicated. but he couldn't deny that it felt right. it's why he didn't pull away. "you sure?" he asked her, lust making his speech slurred. even before she nodded her head, he gave a short, gentle thrust — enveloping himself in her entirely. "oh my god -- you feel so good, daddy." she whispered against his ear. "i'm daddy already? i like hearing my baby say that."

their eyes met as he eased deeper into her. imani's hands found his back and jameson fought off a smile as she replied to him. "you never stopped being daddy." she said lowly. He was incomparable to anyone else. despite what happened between them, she still could acknowledge that he was the only one that could make her feel like this. imani sealed their fate when she arched her back, lifted her hips, and told him that she needed him. jameson wanted to be wanted. he wanted to be needed. and he could tell from the sound of her voice that she meant it -- she didn't just want to get off, she meant it. she needed him.

jameson moved his hand from her hips to the small of her back, keeping her hips lifted and pressed against his own. he tested their position -- slowly pulling out. his gaze dropped to watch the movement, a groan leaving his lips as he saw how she coated him in her arousal. as turned on as he was, he still found the time to joke. "don't come so fast this time.", he teased her, his hips moving forward to fill her again. "we're just getting started."

he laughed out loud when her blissed out face turned into a frown. she opened her mouth -- likely to tell him to shut the fuck up -- and he silenced her with a sharp thrust. any insult turned into a moan. "i'm playin, i'm playin." amusement filtering into his tone as he moved his hand from her hip, fingertips gliding down her leg to grasp her thigh. jameson shifted her leg around his waist, picking it up higher so it rested against his back as he slowly fucked her. once he got her leg readjusted, he ran his thumb against her lower lip, his eyes lowered to watch where they connected. "suck."

her brow was still furrowed as they rocked together. it was almost as if she was deciding if she wanted to curse him out but she opened her mouth and took his thumb between her lips. the more precise his movements, the harder it became for her to keep his thumb in her mouth. he didn't think it was possible but it felt like she became even wetter after his command. imani playfully swirled her tongue around his finger and jameson had to close his eyes for a brief second -- lust making his abdomen clench. "shit, mani. oh my -- fuck." jameson panted, slowly pulling his thumb from her mouth. he let it trail across her lower lip before leaning in to kiss her circle his tongue around a nipple. he pressed his body to hers, hips rocking as he wedged his hand between them.

the bedroom was bright and he could see everything -- a blessing, he figured. he dropped his head, looking between their bodies, and made sure he was pressing his wet thumb against her clit. jameson pressed gently, circling there with ease. he was multi-tasking pretty damn well. he could hear his thighs making contact with hers, the squelching between them as he drove himself deeply into her, sucking and gently biting at her nipple.

"jamie. oh baby..." imani hummed, unable to focus on anything besides the sound of her pussy loudly welcoming her lover home. he slid in and out with precision, angling his hips in the exact way to drive her crazy. her moans and screams accompanied the sound of her love. "you're gonna make me -- i'ma cum again." she whimpered, locking her legs around his thighs.

"this my pussy, ain't it?" imani nodded so fast that he was sure she'd cause a sprain in her neck. "then act like it. give me that shit." he knew she was reacting to what he was doing and saying but jameson could hardly hear imani. he was in his own little world, grazing his teeth against her nipple. he kept his thumb pressed to her clit as he kept up the pace of his hips. when he lifted his head, he found that he didn't have much of anything to say. he was in a daze. he heard himself moan, unashamed of the fact that she knew how far gone he was over her.

"i swear to god...i fucking love you." he muttered, eyes drifting closed as he quickly reached out for her leg, pulling it from around his waist to extend. he pressed it to his shoulder, both hands moving to her hips to pull her onto his length harder. all pretenses of taking things slow were out the window. he was fucking her now, his thumb shifting from pressing to quick circles against her clit. "ooh fuck! daddy, i love you too. i swear." she panted.

he could feel her fighting it. she fluttered over him, shaking in his grasp. she didn't want to make this as easy as the first orgasm she experienced but jameson didn't have a problem working for it. her body shifted again with her leg on his shoulder. He picked up his pace and the speed of his thumb. "sh-iiii-t, fuck me daddy. just like that!" imani clawed at his back and tightened her walls around him. her hands grasp at his ass, firm and full in her hands.

he liked the way she called out for him. but he liked the way she told him she loved him. the words had an effect on him. he grunted, gritting his teeth as he tried to rein himself in. it sent chills up his spine and he couldn't shake the desire to hear the words again. jameson slowed down when he should have kept the same pace. "like that?" he asked imani, his hand slowly moving from between her legs and up her abdomen. "yes! yes b-baby." she stuttered. her hands left his body and found the sheets, gripping them tightly as she blinked up at him. it was like she couldn't ground herself no matter what she held on to. good. he didn't want her sane at all. jameson could tell that she wouldn't last much longer.

his other hand caressed her calf, his head turning to press kisses to her leg. he moved slowly, twisting his hips and biting back another moan. it's even better than what he was doing before. how the fuck could she do that without even trying? she made his head spin half the fucking time and he was still in awe of her. "tell me you love me again." he asked her quietly.

she didn't even hesitate to repeat it. "i love you, baby." mani hissed. "i love you so fuckin' much." her eyes shut and she seized so hard that it was almost as if her body froze. she didn't get to warn him that time. her back arched and her eyes fluttered shut. he could feel her holding her breath. he didn't slack up, lifting his hand to slap down against her clit. her body flinched but still, she didn't release her breath. jameson dropped her her leg from his shoulder to give her a moment of rest. "breathe, mani." he commanded. no sooner than he spoke did he feel her let go. she inhaled sharply, whimpering and moaning out as she did so. nobody could tell him this woman didn't belong to him. the evidence was in the way she let him have his way and her essence covering both their thighs.

she moaned and convulsed around him, wringing a groan from his throat. jameson lowered his body to hers, kissing imani deeply. his tongue slipping between her lips as she clung to him. it was his turn to collapse under the pressure of pleasure. "how you want me, baby?" he asked her between kisses, his release nearing the more he pressed into her. she shook her head as if she didn't understand him and jameson held off with a grunt. "where you want this nut, mani? tell daddy." he was asking for permission and holding off until he got it. even if it killed him.

her voice got caught in her throat and finally, she managed to croak out a response. "inside." one word, the last word she should have said to him. they both knew that. she soaked his dick, the wet spot under them expanding each time he pressed into her. it practically spurted from her. she was spent, he knew she had very little left to give him so now it was time for her to take.

her hands lifted to frame his face, her lips pressed to his cheek, and jameson allowed himself to relax into her. he felt the thrill of lust race down his spine, pulling back only to bury his face in the crook of her neck. he thrust into her roughly, his body losing the sensuous sense of coordination he'd used to get her off. there was no focus or gameplan, desire was driving him now.

he whispered words against her neck, mindless praise about how good she felt. how beautiful she was. how much he loved her. he whispered until the words turned into moans. his hips shuddered and then he came. one hand against her hip, the other over her head -- clenched around the sheets. jameson sagged against her, pressing kisses to imani's shoulder as his hand caressed her hip.

post-nut clarity was a bitch. she had given the man permission to do what he wanted with her body and only now -- when he sagged against her -- did it hit her. her unfaithful, untrustworthy ex had come into her home, hit her with some bullshit about love, and she fell on top of his dick. he breathed heavily against her skin, sleepily pressing kisses to her neck. as much as he pissed her off, she ran her hand up and down his back on instinct. "i really do love you." she heard him say.

despite the fact that they exchanged 'i love you' several times while fucking, it took coming on his dick a few times to remember that she didn't believe him anymore. "mhm." she hummed, patting his shoulder. "i gotta clean up." jameson took the hint and pulled out, surprising imani when he placed his hand against her abdomen. "stay here. i got it." she was silent as he left the room, not even watching his ass as he walked away. she was disappointed in herself. even though her thighs and pussy ached, her clit practically tingled, and her eyes felt heavy with exhaustion -- was it worth going on this damn rollercoaster with jameson again?

he returned to the room with a wet towel. neither of them said a word as he went through the motions of cleaning between her thighs. he even rolled her out of the wet spot that she had been unable to escape. she expected him to take the same care with himself but he didn't. once he was done with the towel, he tossed it aside. the air between them had changed. she could feel it and knew he did too.

"mani." "get out." "...baby, we don't have to do it like that. we can start over." "i don't want to start over with you. i wanted to cum and i did that. so now you can get the fuck out of my house."

imani watched the words impact him and knew he was trying to decide if he believed her or not. she slowly sat up, hating that her body still trembled while she was trying to be strong. "get out, jameson." part of her was pleased that he seemed to give up in the moment. she watched him redress mournfully. they didn't trade words. he was fully dressed and she still sat on the bed, undressed.

"i'll call you." "don't bother."

despite the heat in her words, jameson still leaned in to kiss her. she let him do so, telling herself it was easier than to shove him away. when he finally turned to leave the room, imani let her mask slip. she fell back onto the bed, breath shuddering. she had done the right thing. fucking him was a mistake but she could bounce back. she didn't have to let him back into her life anymore. that chapter of her life was over.

We hope you guys like the start of Neon Lights. If not, please keep it to yourself. No, I'm kidding. Constructive criticism is very welcome!

[wish-i-were-heather]

A FOOL FOR YOU PT 4⤵ GRAYSON HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 2642 words, no use of y/n (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5)

STORY: well, y'know. you can't ignore a 911 text from a hawthorne

WARNINGS: none really, reader does struggle to swim tho and freaks out a little

TAGS: @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl @zuzanna-jadw1ga @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @jimcarreyfann42 @ravishinglyliving @maybxlle - lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

A/N: EEK I LOVED WRITING THIS. i didn't describe the reader's swimsuit because i don't know what everyone is comfortable with so i let you kinda imagine it however u want! i'm not sure how many more parts i can get out of this idea, there'll definitely be at least one more lmk what u think tho

He said please. 

Grayson didn’t lack manners. It’s not that he didn’t know how to say please and thank you. But he also wasn’t the kind of person to throw around a plea lightly. Grayson Hawthorne was, well, a Hawthorne. The name itself was a demand, not requiring a please. But he’d felt the need to say please to you. 

Maybe you were overthinking it. 

Or maybe you were still in denial, like Avery said you were. 

The texts came in at eight at night, too, which only raised more questions in your mind. If he wanted to talk to you, why hadn’t he just found you? Or simply texted you to meet somewhere? You didn’t understand why he’d felt the need to use the 911; you would’ve come if he’d just told you to go to the pool. 

Hawthornes did tend to have a flare for dramatics, you supposed. 

You had no idea why Grayson wanted you to meet him at the pool. He was a swimmer, sure, but that was very much his personal time. Grayson didn’t often appreciate people watching or joining him in the pool. But, you figured there was a chance he expected you to.

So you found yourself at her door again. Despite the faint conversation you could hear from inside, you knocked. 

Avery took longer than last time to open the door. “What’s up?” She asked. 

“Hey. Uh, do you have a swimsuit I could borrow?”

She frowned slightly, confused. “I mean I do, yeah, but why-”

You didn’t even have to say anything. You just showed her your phone screen with the text messages. Her eyes widened as she read them and she immediately opened the door wider for you. “Get the hell in here.”

Avery was already digging through the grand dresser. As you entered the room behind her, you noticed Jameson sitting on the floor in front of a deck of cards, giving you a curious look. “What-”

“Not now, Jamie,” Avery quickly answered. “Girl problem.”

That shut him up. 

“Don’t mind him,” she told you, turning back around with a few items in hand. “We were just playing solitaire.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Together? Isn’t that a one player game?”

“His idea, not mine. Managed to turn it into a competition too, somehow,” Avery shrugged. Jameson gasped dramatically but she continued before he could speak, bringing your attention back to why you asked for help. “So, I’ve actually never worn this one before, you could keep it if you want. Or-”

“That one’s fine,” you interrupted, taking it from her. “Can I change in your bathroom?” “Oh, uh, yeah, sure I guess,” Avery answered, clearly confused as to why you were so quick to answer. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get there as soon as I can. Thanks.”

You didn’t change completely, just putting it on and putting your clothes back on over it. You didn’t plan on getting into the water, but it was worth being prepared.

As you were stepping out of the room and thanking Avery, Jameson called, “Say hi to Gray for me.”

Your head snapped back. “What?”

“Come on,” he smirked. “He’s practically the only person who uses the pool, especially at this time. So tell him I said hi.”

Shaking your head, you just ignored him. Jameson was the type of person who could read people well, so odds are he probably already knew he was right. But you didn’t want to give even more of a reaction to him than you already had. 

Avery grabbed your arm though, before you left. “Hey, hey, good luck.”

You thanked her and left, just hoping Jameson wouldn’t try to watch from the window. 

~~

The cool night air hit you sharply as you stepped outside. It hadn’t been too chilly during the day, but you now found yourself wishing you were in more than just shorts and a thin hoodie.

Shivering, you made your way over to the pool. Your mind was racing the whole way there, but there wasn’t really anything else for you to be wondering. Grayson had asked for you to come to the pool, presumably either to swim with him or just because he was most comfortable there. Either way, it was pretty clear that he wanted to discuss what happened when he was drunk. But you still didn’t understand why he sent the 911. 

Good thing you were on your way to finding out. 

The pool deck was empty, save for a few lounge chairs. The fancy cushioned kind, the ones you would only find at a hotel. And the Hawthorne mansion, of course. 

On one of the chairs were two neatly folded towels- two. So he did expect you to get in the water with him? Where was he anyway? If he’d already brought out towels, why wasn’t he-

Splash.

You’d been too caught up in your thoughts and the sound of your heart racing in your chest to realize that Grayson was, in fact, already in the pool. Swimming laps because he was Grayson Hawthorne, so of course he was swimming laps when the sun had already set and the only light in the sky was that of the stars. 

Swimming had never really been your thing, so you didn’t know the exact stroke, but you would’ve been a liar if you said you weren't somewhat mesmerized. The way his arms went up and out, the way his fingers glided along the surface before entering the water once again. His legs kicked together, the movement fast and almost indiscernible under the blue of surrounding him. 

Grayson came up for air so quickly you couldn’t even make out his face, but your eyes caught on the way his hair flicked up with his head. It was certainly a skill, and he managed it so gracefully. You struggled to look away.

Thankfully, you were pulled out of your stare when he suddenly reached the wall nearest to you. Grayson’s hands touched the edge of the pool in perfect sync. You could see the red in his face, the tire he was giving himself from swimming. You wondered how long he’d been there before you found him.

Grayson met your eyes with a tired smile as he caught his breath. “You came.”

“You said 911,” you explained, sitting on the edge of the chair where he’d set the towels. “I figured it was pretty important.” 

“Yes, I did.” He nodded. “We do only get one of those a year, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to any of my brothers.”

“Got it.”

He was avoiding the elephant in the room. 

“Would you like to join me?”

You stared at him. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused,” he said. “Would you like to join me?”

Was he really just going to ignore the fact that he’d sent you such an urgent message? A 911 could’ve meant he was dying, for all you knew when you’d first received it. And what, it was because he wanted to go for a swim with you? There was more he wasn’t saying and you just wanted to yell at him to spit it out. 

Instead, you responded calmly. 

“Join you in the pool?”

Grayson looked you up and down and shook his head. “I suppose you can’t really, not without proper swimwear.”

You got in the pool in a suit when you were drunk, you didn’t say. 

“I have a bathing suit on under this,” you explained. “I just… why do I need to get in the water? Can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath. 

“I’ve decided I owe you an apology. For what happened.” You knew immediately what he was referring to. “I was reckless and foolish and unintentionally put the burden of myself onto you. It would have been easier for you to just leave me be, but you dealt with my mess. I appreciate that.” 

The silence that followed was only interrupted by the gentle lapping of the pool.

“See why I figured you should get in?” He asked. “We’d be at an even level. Better suited for such a conversation.”

“Or you could just get out,” you offered. 

“Please?” 

That word again.

Grayson Hawthorne knew what he was doing. 

“Fine,” you groaned, but really only half annoyed. You turned around as you began to take off the layers above the swimsuit, watching him in the corner of your eye as he looked away respectfully.

The cold hit you even harder now that you had removed your hoodie, and you hoped that the pool was well heated. 

“Okay, okay.” You began walking over to the edge of the pool where Grayson was. When his eyes found you, he stared for a little longer than normal before answering.

“You’re nervous,” he observed. “Can you swim?”

You shrugged, taking another step closer. “I know how to stop myself from drowning.”

Grayson moved out of your way and you sat on the edge of the pool with your feet getting wet. It was heated, thankfully. Comfortably so. No wonder he loved to come here at night. 

He was watching you silently. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it was killing you. Not that anyone could ever tell what Grayson Hawthorne hid behind those piercing eyes, but yet another question amidst everything that had happened that week was too much.

Of course he’s a mystery, he’s a Hawthorne. 

Before you could overthink it even further, you got in.

The warmth of the water enveloped you, contrasting greatly with the chill of the night air. You were holding onto the wall, not planning on letting go because your swimming skills were just barely above that of a child starting swim lessons. But Grayson’s intense gaze kept your heart racing. 

He swam towards you, grabbing onto the wall a little closer but still leaving a respectful distance between you. “Do you know why I sent the 911?”

“No,” you admitted. “It scared me.”

“I apologize for that. I panicked.”

You hadn’t expected that confession from him.

“You panicked?”

He nodded slowly. “I was afraid you’d think less of me after how I acted. You haven’t spoken to me in days, so I wasn’t sure you’d come otherwise.” The vulnerability in his voice was tangible.

“It’s not that I’ve been trying to avoid you, Grayson,” you explained. “I just… I mean, you haven’t spoken to me either.”

“I thanked you, I thought we were past what happened. I didn’t think we needed to talk about it.”

“You thanked me and then flirted and walked away.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Did I?”

“You know very well what you did,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your face. 

He swam a little closer. His voice dropped to the same sincere tone it had adopted back when he was drunk. When you’d told him to be careful and he’d cupped your face. When he said he’d never hurt you, never. 

“Perhaps I do. But that doesn’t change the fact that I burdened you with my drunk self.”

“You’re not a burden, Grayson,” you told him, also pushing yourself closer to him along the wall. “It was no problem, really. Just a little entertaining.”

He chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or bitter. 

The way he was looking at you was making you feel something. Something you couldn’t name but… didn’t quite hate. You started to move yourself a little closer to him until-

Splash.

Your hand slipped off the edge of the pool, accidentally sending you back. Not exceptionally far or deep into the pool, but enough to make you panic. You could keep yourself afloat, sure, but not when you were suddenly pushed away from the only solid thing keeping your head above water.

But before you could fully let the panic set in, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you upwards.

The sensation of being lifted was disorienting. You were overwhelmed by the sudden rush of water and movement, then the lack of water as your head reached the surface again. Even if you’d barely been below the water for a few seconds, you found yourself gasping for air. 

Grayson’s arm around you was the only steady thing in the chaos.

“Hey, hey” Grayson spoke, and it took a moment for your startled mind to process the words. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to focus. It took a moment for your breathing to calm down, but you helped yourself by rationalizing it; you’d been under the water for maybe five seconds, there was no need to panic so much.

The shock had just gotten you.

His voice broke through again, focusing your vision and hearing on him. “Just breathe, in and out. Nice and slow, just like that.”

You followed his instructions, taking deep breaths. Your panic began to fade, and you became painfully aware of how close he now was to you, the proximity at which he held you.

Grayson didn’t let go as you calmed down, simply keeping you tucked protectively in his arm as if the water was threatening you. He used his free hand to reach up and brush a wet strand of hair from your face behind your ear. The gesture was so gentle, so careful, that you felt your heart flutter.

“Are you alright?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I think so. Thank you.”

He only nodded in return, his usually sharp gray eyes beginning to soften as he stared down at you. He didn’t move his hand away after moving the hair out of your face. It stayed there, lingering around your ear, until he decided to move down, cupping your face.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the first time that shirtless Grayson Hawthorne was holding your face in his large hands and looking at you in a way that was more than an annoyed glance. 

But it felt different this time. More intense, more real. 

He wasn’t drunk, not hungover; there was no doubt in your mind that he really meant everything. His eyes were still locked on yours with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place, yet somehow felt deep within your core. 

He leaned forward, so close to you that your foreheads were almost touching. His eyes fluttered shut and you realized what was happening only after you felt the words he whispered against your lips-

“I’m sorry.”

Grayson closed the small gap between you, gently pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant at first, like he was giving you the chance to pull away or tell  him to stop. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into the kiss, the arm around you tightened.

Your hands moved on their own, both sliding their way up to rest on his chest. He responded to your touch with a low hum that made you shiver despite the heated pool. 

His arm moved up to the back of your head, pushing you impossibly closer to him. The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, like he was trying to express every emotion he’d been hiding for the past week. It was overwhelming, and for a moment nothing existed outside of you and Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

When he pulled back, you kept your eyes closed. Grayson placed a small kiss on your forehead before resting it against his own. You were so close now, much closer than before, but that didn’t matter anymore.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he admitted softly.

“Me too, Grayson,” you grinned. “Me too.”

When he kissed you again, he tasted like those stupid cherries he loved and felt like the end of the world.

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather

[erodasfishtacos]

Picked The Right One

prompt: ceorry first vs most recent time

word count: 8.5k+

warnings: teeth rotting fluff, smut

AN: hiiii. Long time! I’m not posting on here anymore really but I wanted to post a one shot to show my appreciation for my fans who can’t subscribe to my patreon.

I post 4-5 8k+ fics a month for $3USD

Love youuuuu isla x

-

YN had never ever pictured herself where she is currently at right now.

Because currently, she was trying to pick between two different dresses as she went on her fifth date with a billionaire.

It sounded comical even in her head.

YN never really imagined who she would end up with but she had been through a handful of duds and thought that might set the precedent for the rest of her life.

Up until Harry, she barely even made it past a date with someone before she’s calling it off because she can’t see herself with the person.

The last time YN went out on a date, the man ‘forgot’ his wallet after ordering three imported beers that cost YN nearly half of a paycheck.

Their dates had been going well, YN felt less and less nervous every time that she saw Harry but she still felt the need to impress him.

She shouldn’t have googled his dating history even though it doesn’t confirm anything from his past - he has always been secretive and private about his personal life.

However, there are some paparazzi shots of him leaving exclusive night clubs with pretty, modelesque girls in the background behind him.

And thousands of gossip blogs who loved to predict who he was sleeping with and who he was in a relationship with.

He had disclosed to YN that he has only had one serious relationship that ended horribly when he was just beginning his career which would have been years ago.

YN’s still in her bathrobe, Harry’s coming to pick her up any moment, and she’s wondering how nice the bra and underwear set she picked out needs to be.

Tonight was the first time Harry was taking her to his house or from what she saw on google - his 23.3 million pound estate.

YN had been surprised that he hadn’t been pushy like other dates who tried to get in her pants.

The sexual tension has definitely been building but Harry hadn’t made any move to do anything about it.

He hadn’t asked her back to his house after any of the five dates but their kisses had been getting longer and steamier.

Particularly after the last one.

-

Harry always parked his car and walked her up to her apartment door, she appreciated that he tried to not crinkle his nose at that mildew odor or how run down the interior of the building is.

When they get to her burnt orange door, YN unlocks it and turns back around to him as he watches her with a small smile.

“Do you want to come in?” YN offers even though she knows that he’ll decline, she’s always hopeful.

“I want to but I shouldn’t. Let me be a gentleman,” Harry simpers softly, his voice deep and accent thick, his hands come up to cup her jaw, “But I am going to steal a kiss.”

“Please,” YN agrees with excitement pumping through her veins, he leans down to connect their lips and he’s such a good kisser.

As soon as their lips connect, YN has to swallow down a moan because even though it’s just a kiss - she’s never been more turned on in her life.

She parts her lips when he swipes his tongue across them, pushing inside once she opens up, and stroking her tongue with his.

His body is pressed up into hers, cornering her more against the door and YN’s lets the smallest whimper slip.

She’s about to be embarrassed but Harry growls at the noise and breaks a part for the moment, “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

YN can’t even blink before his mouth is back on hers, holding her jaw a bit firmer, and biting at her bottom lip.

She had never physically felt herself getting wet until right now when she actually cold feel it start to coat her folds.

“Shame on you,” A scratchy voice hisses from behind them, making them split apart quickly, and they look back to see YN’s neighbor.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jameson,” YN waves her hand as the woman glares at her, shaking her head before disappearing into the apartment across from them.

Harry’s thumb comes up to pull at her swollen bottom lip, “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

YN’s never been so bold as now when she leans back up to kiss him again, “Please, come in?”

Harry entertains one more long kiss before he’s breaking them apart and taking a step back, “Let me do this right, pet. I’m going to make it special.”

“You do this with all your dates?” YN jokes lamely because she just can‘t imagine that she’s the first girl he’s done this with.

Harry’s smile falters a bit but he recovers quickly, his thumb now brushing over her cheekbone.

“I’m a bit embarrassed to say,” He chuckles as his eyes dart to the side in nervousness, “I haven’t been this much of a gentleman in the past is all I will say.”

“Why is it different for me? I’m not anything special,” She replies because she doesn’t think she’s nearly anything compared to the other beautiful women he’s had on his life.

“Hey,” His voice is firmer and offended by her comments, his green eyes serious and honeyed when he looks at her, “You’re the most special person I’ve ever met.”

-

YN startles when she hears a knock at her front door, glancing over to the clock, and Harry is exactly on time for their date.

She’s still staring at her lingerie sets when the noise echos through her apartment, her hair and makeup was at least done but she was still only in a towel.

After the second knock comes, YN’s cursing as she rushes to the door, swinging it open, and Harry’s in the hallways looking like he just walked off the set of a photoshoot in a perfect fitting suit and styled hair.

He raises an eyebrow as he looks her up and down, “I’m not going to complain if this is all you want to wear tonight. Much easier to take it off of you.”

Oh, they were definitely fucking.

YN moves aside to let him in, he ducks down to kiss her cheek before sitting on the edge of her sofa.

“I just need like two more minutes,” She tells quickly, why was her heart rate spiking anytime he was around?

“I’ll be here,” Harry replies as his eyes trace around her apartment, picking up a book on her coffee table.

YN takes a deep breath when she’s back in her room, snatching the sexier set off the bed before shimmying a recently purchased black dress overtop.

Harry stands up and straightens his broad shoulders when she comes back into the living room, “Bloody hell. You look like a dream.”

YN’s stomach flips at his seemingly sincere compliment but she can’t control the intrusive comments that follow in her own mind.

You’re not as pretty as that one model he was seen with

You’re not a model

He’s just being nice

“Thank you. You look handsome,” She replies nervously, she hadn’t been this nervous on their last two or three dates but it felt like the first time all over again.

Harry isn’t dumb, he can sense it but he’s kind enough not to call her out on it as they quietly walk to his car.

After slipping in the passenger seat of the exotic car, a new one for every date, and Harry begins to drive off - it almost feels tense for a moment.

Harry’s hand twitches on the wheel, hesitating before asking, “Is it okay if I touch you?”

It makes YN feels guilty that now she’s made Harry nervous enough that he didn’t feel comfortable enough to reach over.

“You don’t have to ask,” YN assures him with more confidence in her voice as his one hand moves from the well to her thigh, his hand was big, making her thick thigh look nearly encompassed, the metal of his rings was cold against her skin.

She wanted to smack herself when she felt the arousal starting to creep in, clenching her thighs together a bit too obviously because Harry smirks to himself but doesn’t make a remark.

-

“Thi-this is your house?” YN’s eyes widen when they pull through the gates, men dressed in black waving them through before the gate closes quickly behind them.

The pictures on google didn’t do the beauty of the sprawling estate justice.

It was so massive that YN couldn’t imagine just one person living alone in there and it made her a little sad to think about Harry in this near castle all by himself.

Harry gives her a tour of some of the rooms where all YN can do is nod along to what he’s saying, compliment the astounding beauty, and not have any doubt why his house has been mentioned in Architectural Digest so much.

Then he’s leading her to the kitchen where YN takes a seat on a stool while Harry begins pulling out the ingredients to make dinner.

YN cannot stop staring at everything around her - she’s never seen anything close to this and to think that she’s going on date with someone who lives this extravagantly.

The conversation flows easily while Harry moves around the kitchen to prepare the chicken Alfredo, there’s plenty of laughter and quite a few stolen kisses before they sit down for dinner.

-

Towards the end of the meal, the conversation becomes more serious, and Harry takes a sip of his wine before stating, “None of this impresses you, does it?”

YN’s taken aback by the question, he doesn’t seem angry but he just seems confused as he puts down his fork and knife, “What do you mean?”

Harry shakes his head like he doesn’t know how to get out the words he wants to, “It’s just…the cars, my house, it doesn’t seem like you care. I don’t mean that in a bad way, it just doesn’t seem to be impressing you and I…I don’t really know how to take that.”

“I’ve never brought a date to my home before but still, usually most of the conversation on previous dates has been about my business or my cars or my estates. You haven’t bought any of that up once or made a big deal about it.”

YN can’t read Harry very in this moment, she doesn’t know him well enough, and his face is smooth, calm but just the tiniest furrow in his brow gives away emotion.

“It’s very impressive, the life you’ve built,” YN chooses her words carefully, putting down her glass of wine, “It’s something you should be proud of. I haven’t brought any of those things up because those things aren’t who you are. I’ve been asking you about family, hobbies, likes, dislikes because I care about you as a person, not as a ‘billionaire’ or a ‘public figure.”

Harry’s face distorts a little bit, he almost looks a bit devastated as he looks down at his plate, and he doesn’t say anything which makes YN think she said something wrong.

“I’m sorry, I just…” YN trails off with a sigh.

“Don’t apologize, please. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” Harry glances back up with widen eyes, he reaches across the table to put his hand over her, “I’ve just never had someone care about me, I don’t think. At least not for a very long time.”

YN moves her hand away, only to move it atop his and squeezes, “I think it’s lovely that you’ve created a very comfortable and successful life for yourself but I’m falling for you as a person, not the cars or the house.”

And a blinding crooked smile breaks out on Harry’s face, YN loved when his dimples popped out and carved into his cheeks, “Falling for me? Are you falling for me, darling?”

YN’s feel the heat rises up into her cheeks, looking down at the table for a moment but then Harry’s pushing his chair back and standing up - he’s strides over to YN’s chair and helps her out of it, pulling her up and into his chest.

“No need to be embarassed, S’just me,” Harry rumbles as he tucks his finger up her chin and lifts her head so that he can connect their lips softly, YN’s hands coming to rest on his chest.

She giggles though, shaking her head at his words - it makes him pull back and ask, “What’s funny, hm?”

“You say it’s just you,” YN murmurs, their lips are stil brushing against one another’s as they talk, “But that’s the issue, you have me on my toes. I want to impress you, not embarrass myself.”

“M’already impressed,” Harry tells her between little pecks, “Impressed how smart you are, how independent and free-thinking you, by how fuckin’ gorgeous you are. You don’t need to be embarassed if you’re falling f’me because sweetheart, m’pretty much already gone for you. You’re everything that I want.”

“Please,” YN says softly because they basically just confessed their fondness for each other and the dark sweet smell of his cologne was making her dizzy.

She would never consider herself sex hungry until this point, she had always been more than okay waiting a few dates to get intimate but YN had never craved someone else’s body like this.

“Please what, sweet girl,” Harry replies against her lips, he had her pressed up against an oak cabinet that looked to be displaying expensive, hand-painted plates and vases - the pieces shook a bit when her back hit the glass.

A single glass ends up falling off one of the higher shelf’s, shattering behind them, and YN begins to profusely apologizing, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

And Harry’s unconcerned that a five thousand dollar wine glass just shattered as he shushes her quiet, “S’fine. Just want to kiss you,” He mumbles against her lips.

YN presses further into the kiss, her hands moving from his chest up and around his neck as she parts her lips, allowing their tongues to brush as his hands move to her hips - massaging at the plush as his leg sneaks in between hers, making it so she couldn’t clench her thighs together.

“Want to-“ YN gets distracted halfway through her sentence when his hands begin to trail up her sides, up towards her chest but he instead teases his fingers along her rib cage.

“Want to…..?” Harry copies her, he even tastes good like his rich, dry red wine that they had been drinking at dinner.

“Harry,” YN huffs out when he pulls back just an inch, “You know what I mean.”

Harry kisses once more before responding, “Tell me. Do you want me to touch you?”

YN nods eagerly, she wanted so bad to press their hips together to see if he was just as needy as she was but he was purposely not doing that, “Yes.”

“Where do you want my hands or maybe even my mouth?” His voice was unfairly raspy as he teases her with his words, his hands dancing upwards until he finally cups her breasts, “Here? I think you probably have the prettiest nipples I’ve ever seen? You want me to pinch them or suck at them until their puffy and hard?”

Fuck, YN’s never been so turned on in her life.

“I want that,” YN responds tightly as he kneads at her breasts for only a moment before his hands are trailing back down the length of her dress, “Please take me upstairs, Harry.”

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you beg, haven’t even told you what I’m going to do to your cunt,” He chuckles as his lips wander from hers to the hinge of her jaw where he drags his teeth across the thin skin, “I’m going to take such good care of you. Get you so ready for me that you’ll be crying on my fingers.”

“You’re all talk at this point,” YN points out but it doesn’t come off as bratty as she’d hope because of how breathless she is by now.

That’s all it takes to have Harry taking YN’s hand and leading her up the winding grand staircase to his bedroom - his room wasn’t overly decorated and was pretty simple with high ceilings and a bed that could easily fit five people.

Harry steps away from YN for a moment, going around the room and turning on the lights which illuminated the room in more of a romantic glow.

As he did, YN’s brain became a bit less hazy and the reality of what was about to happen sunk in, especially when Harry came over and murmurs, “Can I take this off of you?” As his fingers curled into the hem of her dress near her thighs.

And for some reason, all the insecurities and anxiety that she felt earlier about not being able to compare to the other women comes flashing into her mind but she finds herself nodding and saying, “Yes.”

Harry’s pulls the hem off the dress up slowly and in between kisses until YN is raising her arms up so that he can fully take it off of her, just leaving her in her lingerie that she bought off a cheap boutique online - nothing like what those models wore.

“Fuckin’ hell, are you trying to kill me?” Harry groans when he takes in her in just her bra and underwear, his eyes looking all over like they couldn’t decide one place to stay put but he is kissing her shoulder before he’s kneeling down in front of her.

That was sight that YN never wanted to forget, Harry down on his knees in front of her, his lips right at her belly and his strong hands moving behind her to knead at her backside.

She didn’t realize she was trembling until Harry pulls back with a frown.

YN wants to shout at him to come back when he stands back up and puts a foot of distance between them, “Are you sure you want to, pet? Your legs are shaking. I hope I haven’t made you feel pressured in anyway. I apol-“

And she wants to cry because that’s not it at all.

She instantly starts shaking her head in disagreement, interrupting him by putting her hand up, “No…I want to. I really want to and you haven’t pressured me one bit. I’m just…being stupid.”

Harry’s shoulders slump a bit in relief and he steps back over to her, his hands caressing over the caps of her shoulder blades, “If it’s not that than why are you shakin’ like a leaf, sweetheart?”

YN squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep inhale, deciding honesty is probably the best route in this situation, “I know I shouldn’t have but I googled you. And I just saw all these pictures of you leaving clubs and events with these models and…I know I don’t look anything like them and I’m not as sexy as them. I’m scared you’ll be disappointed with the experience.”

Harry’s quiet for a moment as he cradles her head in between his hands, his face is sincere and a bit sad when he tells her, “I’ve never liked someone like I like you. And this may sound crude or forward but I’ve never wanted to lay someone out and make them come as many times as they can like I want to do with you. I’ve never been more attracted to someone in my life.”

“Any person in the past five years that I’ve hooked up with have been nothing more than that. And in the past two years or so, I can't even remember the last time I’ve done that. I know you might not believe me but I haven’t been with anyone in quite some time. It stopped being fun when every single person I got with just wanted to use me for clout, popularity, bragging rights.”

“I believe you,” YN tells him, relief starting flooding into her body because he was so sincere and even though she was surprised that he was that he was so attracted to her, she believed him full heartedly.

“You act like you’re not drop dead gorgeous,”Harry frowns as he brushes a stray hair off of her forehead, “The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Never been able to look away from you since the first time you bumped into me.”

“I want you to do what you just said you wanted to do,” YN smiles with a shyness that is unusual for her, pressing herself up against him while he was still in his suit and now she was almost bare.

The delighted, hungry expression returns to Harry’s face when he hears that, taunting her as he shrugs out of his suit jacket, “Oh, remind me. What did I say, pet?”

But his lips were running down the column of her neck, his hands brushing the bra straps off her shoulders until they fell, and his lips taking their place.

“You’re such a tease,” YN accuses as she curls her fingers into his hair.

And YN’s never been teased like this, never had such buildup that wasn’t even foreplay yet, every other guy she’s been with - it had all been perfunctory and boring, predictable.

“S’not time to lay you out on m’bed yet,” Harry titters as his fingers come to her back, running along the band of her bra, and ghosting over the clasp, “Have to get to know your body first. Play with every single part of it and make sure you’ll never forget how good I’m going to make you feel.”

YN’s nearly sighs in relief when he finally slips the bra off, moving back to look at her, and she doesn’t even have a moment to feel self-conscious before he’s letting out an obscene moan at the sight, cupping them before moving down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth.

It was like he was starved for touch as he pulled at the nub between his teeth before lapping at it as his hand massaging at the neglected one, his fingers moving up to rub and pinch.

“Oh…fuck,” YN whines as she lets her head fall back, hair cascading down past her shoulders as she holds his head as close as possible to her and it’s never felt this good before when someone touched her chest.

Harry switches between the two, taking his time to languidly run his tongue over both of them after he pushes them together, and sucks at them with tight pressure.

YN’s never known that just her nipples being played with could make her aroused but she knew there had to be a damp spot on the front of her panties as Harry started walking them back towards the bed.

“That feels so good,” YN breathes at when he begins to nip at her buds, causing just the dullest pain pain that quickly melted into more pleasant sensation.

“Sweetheart, this is just the beginning. M’going have you crying with pleasure by the time I’m done with you,” Harry growls as YN’s knees hit the bed and she falls back, letting herself hit the fluffy comforter, “Do you like overstimulation?”

YN’s wriggles further onto the bed, bringing Harry with her by the hand wrapped around the nape of Harry’s neck, and tells him, “I don’t know.”

Harry pulls back from her tits, looking at her with a confused expression, “What do you mean? Do you like when someone makes you come more than once? Like when it almost feels too much.”

Oh god, she didn’t want to admit this.

“I…The guys I’ve been with have never made me come,” YN mumbles as she adverts her gaze up to the ceiling in humiliation for a moment before looking back down at Harry who’s resting his chin on her belly.

Harry’s face goes blank, a bit dumbfounded as he asks, “Are you fucking with me?”

“Stop,” YN giggles as she playfully kicks at him, “It’s embarrassing I know. I just haven’t been with anyone who’s been talented in that department, okay?”

Harry’s hand wraps around her ankle, a cocky smile coating his face, “Oh darlin’, m’going to show you my worth tonight. Now bend your knees for me.”

YN obliges, bending her knee, and watches as Harry kneels at the end of the bed - his button-up shirt was open for the most part, showing off his defined pectoral muscles and the butterfly that was inked below.

He moves his arms underneath her thighs which made it easier to pull her bum to the edge of the bed and he drapes her legs in the crooks of his elbows and her clothed core is right in front of him.

YN lays back and closes her eyes, just allowing herself to feel as she feels her stomach moves up and down quickly as she sucks in air, and she’s shaking now but it’s in pure anticipation for what’s to come.

She’s waiting for Harry to shimmy off her underwear but instead, Harry ducks forward and begins to kiss at her puffy mound and folds over the thin fabric.

YN tries to move her hips to get more but Harry keeps her in place, he moves down in the slightest and pushes in between her folds until he pushes the fabric is against her clit with his tongue.

“H, there,” YN murmurs softly as he begins to stroke at her with his tongue while his hands grip her bum and pull her further into his mouth as he makes the underwear sodden with her slick and his mouth.

It was overwhelmingly good to have the pressure on her bud like she’d never had before, her hands gripping the comforter that she was laying on.

YN lets out the most spoiled whine when Harry pulls his head back and he raises his eyebrow at her, he moves his one arm so that he can reach between them and put his thumb right on her clit where he gives her the most torturous, slow rubs he could.

“You’re a greedy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Harry hums as his free hand moves up to thumb at her pebbled nipples, “Already getting obsessed with my touch. Just like it should be, never let you leave my bed. You’re a fuckin’ slice of heaven.”

“I’m not greedy,” YN denies weakly as her hips push up to get more friction applied from his thumb to where she’s throbbing for him.

“You’re riding my thumb right now,” Harry chuckles meanly, biting at the skin of her belly hard enough to make her squeak, “Most greedy lil’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

Harry keeps YN in this purgatory of pleasure and pure frustration for a good thirty minutes of switching between his mouth and thumb on her clit through her underwear.

She could feel hot tears prickling at the corner of her eyes because she wanted to come, she wanted him.

YN needed Harry and it seemed like she might die if she doesn’t in this moment even if it’s dramatic - she’s never craved anything like she’s craving his touch.

Harry catches it as soon as the first tear dribbles down her cheek, “Am I making you desperate, baby? M’not trying to be cruel. I’m just trying to prove to you that you should keep me around, y’know?”

What is he even talking about?

She’s definitely keeping him.

And she tells him so.

“Wh-why do you have to prove it? I’m keeping you, you’re mine,” YN gasps as he presses on her button just a little bit harder than before.

Harry preens at her words, “Say it again and I’ll make you come. Say it loud for me, pet.”

“You’re mine, Harry,” YN tells him again, voice louder and more confident, “You’re mine, please. Please need it.”

“Give you anything,” He murmurs, pleased as can be as he moves to the band of her panties and pulls them down her thighs until she’s bare.

He’s then helping her move up and to the center of the bed, splayed out with love bites all over her chest and belly, the sheen of his spit-slick kisses reflecting in the dim light.

Harry fucking finally relents when he burrows down between her thighs after shucking off his dress shirt and he uses two fingers to split her open to reveal what her puffy folds had been hiding.

“You’re going to make me come without even touching me,” Harry abdomishes as he stares at her, “How do you have the prettiest face, nipples, and cunt? It doesn’t make any sense, darling.”

YN felt like she was a rubber band about to snap, she couldn’t take anymore and she just needed him to do something because her orgasm has been building for the last half-hour.

“Please,” YN whispers quietly, it was pathetic and desperate but she let out a shutter from her sniffles - she’s never felt this good.

Harry pushes himself up to kiss her lips once before settling back down where he splits her folds open and gives her a firm, harsh lick from her core to clit.

His mouth stays there, pulling her clit between his lips and massaging it with his tongue while two of his thick fingers danced around her entrance before slowly tucking them up inside and curling forward.

YN came instantly, she swore she blacked out for a moment and saw stars but also felt a rush of fluid that she couldn’t figure out what is was until she finally comes back down to earth.

When YN sits up, she notices a small dark part of the comforter that was wet along with Harry’s face shining with slick.

“Oh my god,” YN gasps in horror as she realizes she not only just had her first orgasm from someone else but squirted on top of that.

Harry blinks up at her, he was just as surprised as he brought his hand back up where it was wet with her, “I’m not joking when I say that’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

And just like that, the humiliation is gone from her body and she’s giggling because he just looks so thrilled with himself.

She squeals excitedly when he pushes her back down and continues on, burying his face back between her legs.

When he licks at her sensitive, throbbing clit again - her legs kick out in reaction as pinpricks of overstimulation try to push Harry off.

But YN’s hand is wrapping up in his hair and keeping him down there.

She never had more than one orgasm at time, didn’t really know that she could, and she was shocked when she felt her next one building within a minute or two.

“Harry, I’m close again,” YN warns as her thighs begin to shake, she so badly wanted to close them around Harry’s head but his broad shoulders are prohibiting her from doing that.

“Come on, sweet girl,” Harry encourages in between suckles and laps, moving up to nip at the hood of clit to give her a spike of dull pain before soothing it with his tongue, “Show me how good you can be.”

Oh, she does.

YN’s back arches and she doesn’t care about being embarrassed anymore when she lets out a long, high-pitched whine, a sound she’s never made before as her chest heaves when her second orgasm comes barreling over her.

“Baby, s’good,” YN mewls, uncaring when the pet name slips even though Harry’s been using them constantly, and when she’s starting to come down from the second one, she gently leads Harry by the hair until he’s crawling up over her and their lips are meeting again.

YN’s not worried about being shy anymore, not after Harry just made her come like that, and so when she’s running her hand down his chest, tracing over the muscles of his stomach, she doesn’t stop until she’s palming him in his dress pants.

“Shit,” He gruffs in surprise, breaking their kiss for a moment, and moaning when she traces the outline of his cock where it’s ready to be freed from his confines.

YN manages to wriggle until Harry gets the picture and rolls off of her, onto his back where now he’s splayed out with his stomach sucking in, his ribs dancing against his skin on every breath in.

He’s body was incredible, the definition of his muscles from his pecs to his abdominals, all the way down to where there’s a sharp cut leading into the dress pants.

She had to get her mouth on him and had to give him a bit of the same treatment he gave her, she figured out quickly that he loved being bit and given lovebites.

YN works her way from his neck down his chest, stopping to give attention to his nipples which he was surprisingly reactive to - bucking his hips up when she dragged her teeth along them.

When she finally gets to the fine dusting of hair leading into his pants, YN unbuttons and zips them before beginning to tug them down his narrow hip.

At first, she was going to tease him but her eagerness to see him and so she’s peeling down his briefs too until he’s bare to her too - god, he was just as perfect here as well which shouldn’t be a surprise.

His cock was far bigger than anyone man she had even been with, by far, but it wasn’t initimating to her because she so desperately wanted it inside her.

It was thick and she never thought she’d describe a dick as pretty but it was, the pink tip was wet and his skins was smooth velvet as she ran her hand down the length of it.

There was a reason he had big dick energy.

And YN puffs out a breath of frustration when Harry pulls her back up right before she puts her mouth on him, he chuckles at her furrowed brow like a disgruntled puppy.

“Stop pouting,” Harry smooths out the wrinkle between her eyebrows, “I’m so hard for you, pet. I’ll come if you tease me and I want to get in you. I want to show you how good I can be for you.”

YN doesn’t regret it when she leans down and bits his shoulder, making him hiss before she’s grumps, “You teased me for nearly an hour and I can’t even touch you. S’not fair.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Harry pouts out his bottom lip condescendingly, “I promise there will be many more times to come where I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

“You better keep that promise,” YN warns but she’s about as intimidating as a baby deer.

Harry lets out a throaty laugh as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “It’s not a hardship for me to promise you that you can have my cock whenever you want.”

He was filthy and YN was obsessed with it.

“Now need you to shush up,” Harry rumbles as he steadies YN where she’s sat across his thighs and sits up, scooting backwards until his back is against the headboard, “Gonna have you sit that pretty pussy on me. Gonna let you go as slow or fast as you want. Okay, baby?”

YN nods with a bit of nerves back in her as she straightens up and kneels further up until he’s bumping against her folds, she goes to reach to position him but Harry knocks her hand out of the way.

Harry presses forward until the plum tip of him parts her lips, finding her swollen clit and tapping himself against her which sends voltage shocks through her spine.

He paints himself down to her core, where he barely pushes in, YN’s stomach tense in anticipation before he’s moving back up to rub himself against her nerves.

She was so wet that there was soft noise as he teased, “Baby, do you hear how wet you are for me? Can’t believe how good you feel. Do you always get like this?”

YN shakes her head, swallowing dryly before telling him, “Never really got wet like this before. I, er, usually wasn’t enough other times and so they had to use lube.”

Harry’s expression is downright offended, “Nobody ever warmed you up, huh? Sounds like you’ve been with a bunch of chauvinistic pigs. I’ll always have you dripping down your thighs, pet.”

And she believes him.

YN’s still in a dazed state of his teasing when he doesn’t just push in a little but starts helping her sit down on him to finally get inside of her and god, she feels so full.

There’s no pain or stretch like she’s felt before with guys who were less endowed then him but he had gotten her so turned on and ready that there wasn’t anything but pure pleasure as he bottomed out .

He’s already nudging against an a livewired spot inside of her that she never felt before but knew was her g-spot, and his was just pressing on it by just being inside her.

“O-oh,” YN lets out a wanton moan as she begins grinding her hips, on every swivel her clit was bumping against the neatly trimmed hair on his pubic bone and the spot inside her being triggered by how thick and hard he was.

“That’s it, baby,” Harry sighs happily and he’s looking up at her with such awe before he’s pushing at the small of her back to get her upper body closer to his.

As she chases her own release, he’s kissing all over her, and it intimate as she’s ever been with someone as Harry just encourages her to make herself feel good with his body.

His lips are on her sternum, her belly, her shoulder, her face.

There was something about the way he kissed over her cheeks and jaw as she moans in pure ecstasy that made it romantic and made her feel closeness to her partner that she’d never felt before.

The soft whispers of encouragement against her temple as she got closer and closer to the edge, her thigh muscles were tired, “Please, H. Need you to make me feel good, please.”

And like that, Harry’s flipping them until YN’s splayed on her back once again, and he’s over top of her, his cross necklace tickling at her chest when props himself up on his elbows, either side of her head, and grinds his hips back into her.

YN can’t help but wrap her legs around Harry’s waist as he begins a steady rhythm of thrusts, leaning down to connect their lips together but YN can’t focus on it as she moans into his mouth.

“I need you to come f’me,” Harry pants lightly between pecks, his thrusts were becoming harder and he wasn’t pulling back as fast, “You’ve got me close, darling. Never had anyone feel so good on my cock.”

Harry doesn’t wait though, he’s going down on one arm to use his other to snake between their bodies to rub tight, purposeful circles on her bud until YN feels the band of tension snap and she’s digging her nails into his back as she comes for the third time.

And as soon as she does, Harry’s thrusting in twice more before stilling and letting out the sexiest, most filthy moan as he drops his head and let’s go, his moans were so low that YN didn’t even think his voice could get that deep and gravely like he’d been smoking.

YN’s become boneless, melting into the comfortable mattress, as she keeps her eyes shut - peaceful to feel the pinpricks of pain from overstimulation and how achey her thighs were from not usually using those muscles as much as she did tonight.

“Open your eyes f’me,” Harry murmurs softly after a moment, his thumb coming to sweep the drying tears off her cheeks and when YN whines in protest, he coos, “Just for a tick, darling. Look at me.”

YN blinks her eyes open, she’s exhausted and spent, and doesn’t feel like she could move if someone offered her a million dollars to do so as she meets Harry’s warm green eyes.

“I need to get you showered. M’not going to let you fall asleep all sticky and sweaty,” Harry titters as he begins to get off the bed, taking YN with him despite her weak whines of protest.

He coerces into his shower and YN was so tired that she couldn’t even appreciate that the shower head was on the ceiling and the water fell down like a rainforest storm.

YN stays leaned up against Harry, her head resting on his chest as he goes about lathering and massaging the shampoo into her hair with strong, magic fingers.

“Thank you,” YN mumbles after he washes out all the suds and moves onto scrubbing down her body, “I can clean myself.”

Harry stops where the washcloth is on her shoulder, “Do you not want me to do it?”

YN blinks rapidly again, coming back into focus, she dind’t want to offend him and she did want him too, “I do, it’s nice. I love it actually, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do all of this because we had sex.”

Harry frowns at her, “Have you never heard of aftercare?”

“I have I just thought that was for like crazy bondage or something.”

He chuckles with a shake of his head, “It is definitely important for people to do that but it’s also important anytime there’s intense sex. I’m not doing this because I feel obligated before we just slept together. I want to continue to take care of you, not just in the way of sex but because you’re important to me.”

“Do you do this with every girl?” YN asks out loud and maybe it wasn’t an appropriate question but she wasn’t going to judge if he said ‘yes’, it was pure curiosity.

Harry eyes dart to the side, his expression turning into a bit of guilt like he’s remembering other times, “No. I’ve never been great about it and some of the times I probably should have but just left. I…I can’t tell you enough how different you are than the rest.”

YN’s giggles when Harry’s resumes washing down her body, making her stomach as he wipes her underarms, “It was the best sex I’ve ever had. I look forward to having a lot more of it with you.”

He perks up with a cute hopeful expression, “Yeah? I…Do you think you would want to be exclusive with me?”

“As in we just date each other?” YN has to tease him a bit because of how he did the same to her earlier in the night.

Harry looks embarassed, “I wasn’t trying to -. If you don’t wan-“

“I’m just fucking with you. A little payback for earlier,” YN chuckles but Harry nips at her jaw meanly which makes her squeak, “Of course, I want that with you.”

“I promise I’ll be so good to you in every way,” Harry tells her sincerely as he washes the soapy residue from her body, “All make sure you’re taken care of. You can look forward much more sex in the future.”

❤️nine years later ❤️

“M’heart, what are you doin-“ Harry tries to question but he’s cut off by a harsh kiss as he’s being pushed backwards into a empty bathroom of a fancy museum where an event was being held in his honor.

YN’s breaks the kiss for only a moment to lock the door before her hands are going to his belt to start quickly undoing it as her lips nip and sucks at his jaw, leaving lipstick prints in their wake.

“What’s gotten into you?” Harry hums as he helps her unbutton his trousers, he was hard from the moment he realized he was being dragged into the loo for a quickie and so when she untucks his dress shirt his pants, he‘s plump and ready for her.

“The speech,” Is all YN utters before she has his briefs down to mid-thigh and she’s kneeling down in front of him, carefully in her designer dress to grip him firmly at the base and not hesitate to take him all the way down which she’s adores the surprised moan that comes from his chest without his permission.

The speech.

Harry had just been honored for the fifth year in the row with The United Kingdom’s Humanitarian of the Year Award because he had donated upwards a billion dollars to different charities and organizations, as well as having three successful charities of his own - one being in honor of Willow and her adoption.

He had gotten up on stage and began with the basic speech of what it means to donate and support causes all over the world, how the success of his business had led him to be this charitable, and how he encourages other billionaires to follow in his footsteps.

Then Harry went on to get a bit emotional when he thanks his wife and all three of his babies for making him a more charitable person, how he wouldn’t be anywhere without the love and support of YN, what a wonderful wife and mother she is, and how much he loves his three daughters.

Seeing Harry be such an amazing husband and father never failed to get YN wet for him.

It never went away after the first time that they shared a bed, that craving for Harry that made her stomach begin to churn with fiery arousal and lust for him.

She never failed to have her clenching her thighs together when Harry teased her, even just the little bit, and yes, it’s because they’re still wildly attracted to each other.

But she also thinks that it’s because they are so fucking in love with each other and she swears her undying love for him grows more everyday even if she thought that she couldn’t love him more.

And she knows Harry feels the same way.

From their first time, Harry’s promise had always stood, he never ever faltered to take care of her ever - he was always by her side during the good and bad times, he loved her so deeply that it couldn’t be put in to words.

Harry always made her feel like enough, she never worried about leggy models or not fitting the image that most expected because Harry never gave her a moment to doubt it.

After nine years, he was still trying to get in her pants anytime she would let him - he could be dominant and assertive which turned her on to no end but she also fucking loved it when he was pliant and let her boss him around.

“The speech, huh?” Harry repeats but he nearly chokes on the last syllable when her nose brushes into the hair of his pubic bone before she’s pulling back to take a deep breath, “Darling, your mouth is so pretty around my cock.”

YN is truly Harry’s match. Harry loves to tease. It never stopped after the first date, he loved to build anticipation by edging, and YN realized it was just as much fun to return the favor.

They really don’t have time for it right now because Harry’s the man of the night and all eyes are on him but right now, he’s nowhere to be found after his thank you speech.

She’s has a firm grip on his base as she suckles at tip, doe eyes blinking up at him as she seems in no rush to move things along, pulling back to run her tongue on the underside of him.

“Sweetheart, we don’t have time for this,” Harry warns but he’s struggling to keep his eyes open because even just the small kitten licks feel like heaven and just to keep him on his toes, she’s occasionally taking him all the way down, “Can drool over my cock when we get home. We have the house to ourselves tonight.”

And when YN ignores him, Harry knows what she wants, and it makes a sharp thrill pump through his veins, he reaches down and knots his hand in her hair and tugs, “I said enough. Are you that cock hungry?”

YN begins to pick up her pace which is a telltale sign that the dirty talk is working, and that she doesn’t want him to stop, so he doesn’t, adding in that same raspy tone, “You are so fuckin’ spoiled. Can’t stand anyone else given me attention, got to pull me into a bathroom and get me to fuck you.”

“I didn’t say anything about you fucking me,” YN bites back because now she’s in full brat mode but she’s still standing back up when Harry gives her hair another tug.

“No? So if I put my hand under your dress you won’t be dripping down your thighs?” Harry coos but his hand is already hiking up the skirt of her dress and the moment his fingers brush over the front of her mound, he can feel how damp she is, “S’cute that after all this time you get soaked for me like the first time I fucked you.”

YN mewls when he tugs her panties to the side to tuck two fingers up, Harry’s trying to get her to beg, he loved turning the tables when she came in bossy but left a crybaby.

He pets right at her spot and he can feel her tense, a telltale sign that she was going to come soon, and so he pulls out his fingers to suck them in between his own lips, “I wish I had enough time to lick in to you. I guess you’ll just have to make do with my cock.”

“Come on, now please, baby,” YN grumbles as he lifts her up to put her bum on the sink counter, pushing the dress up around her hips, and pinning the underwear to the side.

“Tell me you love me and I’ll fuck you, m’heart,” Harry hums as he pumps himself, he was so ready for her, and he rests the tip right at where she’s hot for him - his hips twitched in anticipation.

“I love you so much,” YN whines but it’s sincere, leaning up to kiss him before adding, “The best husband and father of my babies I could ask for. I just want you, H. Want you all the time.”

Harry melts a little at her sweet words, the dominance in his voice fading as he pushes in, moving to cup her jaw, and he brushes his nose against hers - far too intimate for this setting.

“I couldn’t love anymore than I love you,” He whispers against her lips, “I fuckin’ live for you. Everyday I wake up and wonder what the fuck I did to deserve you. I want you now and for forever, you’re mine, the love of my life.”

And YN thinks back to when she was nervous, shaking like a leaf in front of the same man because she was so intimidated by him - she’s now married to him and has three children with, how she didn’t think she was worthy.

To know having that same man smattering kisses over her cheeks and nose to make her giggle while he cleans her up in a tiny bathroom after having a quickie that they really shouldn’t have because he’s the man of the night.

She knew she picked right.

[orangeaurora]

Steve Harrington | Spidey 🕷️

Summary: You get stuck with Steve Harrington as your lab partner in your college biology class but he never seems to show up to class or make time for important homework assignments.

Imma call this aaaaa “people who love to bicker but actually love each other” fic because reader and Steve aren’t mean enough to each other to be considered enemies. :p ALSO! I will GLADLY write a part 2 of this so lemme know 🥰

Author’s note: I haven’t written anything in so long but I love this idea and had to write it myself. I hope you enjoy. 🧡

Warnings: getting cat called, and slightly grabbed (a man grabs your wrist hard but that’s as far as it goes), slight angst, cussing, uhhhh I think that’s it??

Word count: 3.9k

You sat in the cool air of your dorm room, focused on the biology homework in front of you as your roommate Robin was quickly flipping through channels on the TV to find something to watch. “-and Spider-Man!”, you hear quickly before the channel is changed again and your eyes are adverted to Robin. “Hey! Go back!” You say excitingly as Robin shrugs and goes back a few channels. “Okay, stop!” Your eyes light up as J. Jonah Jameson is going on another rampage about the city’s new hero.

“What… this?? I hate this guy.” You shake your head and laugh. “No, not the news guy! Spider-Man!” Robin rolls her eyes and smiles slightly, like she knows something that you don’t. “Ew. You know, there could be a complete weirdo underneath that mask and you wouldn’t even know it.” You shrug and go back to doing your homework. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Oh suuuure…” Robin says under her breath. “Huh?” You say with your eyebrows furrowed not actually sure of what Robin had said. “What? Oh, nothing!” She smiles and quickly fills her mouth with a handful of popcorn so she can’t talk anymore.

A few hours later Robin had left the dorm room to go take a shower and you hear a quick, melodic knock on the door. You sigh and stand up from the comfy spot in your bed and shuffle yourself to the door. As you approach the door you hear the sound of small items hitting the floor, followed by a mumbled, “oh, shit, fuck… SHIT!” You swing the door open to reveal Steve Harrington dropping a bunch of boxed candy and bags of popcorn on the floor. His fit frame bent down, picking up everything quickly. “Sorry I’m late, Robin, I got caught up with Spi- OH!” He jumps slightly before finally gathering himself and looks up at you, his smile dropping. “It’s you.” He stands up straight and shrugs, and scoots past you into your dorm room.

“Yeah, come right on in!” You say with a scoff as Steve lays all his stuff on Robin’s bed. “Hm… finally here to do our biology lab, Harrington?” He scoffs and starts pulling out a bunch of movies from his backpack. “Hell no. It’s horror movie night for Robin and I.” His back stays turned away from you as he talks, your eyes burning into the back of his head the whole time. Your arms cross over your chest as you lean your back against your bed. “Soooo, lemme get this straight, you don’t show up for class, you never show up to our study sessions, and now you can’t even help with the lab that YOUR name is gonna be on… even if you didn’t do any of it?” He shrugs and finally turns around to look at you. “Yeah, sounds about right.” He takes a step towards you. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ll figure out how to be included in the lab somehow, okay?” Your eyes narrow at him as you process what he’s saying.

“No you won’t.” You say flatly. Steve’s eyebrows furrow at you, his eyes looking a little bit shocked. “Wh-what do you mean?” You roll your eyes again before grabbing some of your stuff and a blanket. “You say that every homework assignment. I’m tired of picking up the slack for you.” You slug your backpack over your shoulder before walking towards the door. “It’s almost midnight! Where are you going?!” Steve says as he slightly raises his voice, annoyed with you. “To finish our lab, ya know? The one that’s due in…8 hours.” You look at a fake watch on your wrist before opening the door, revealing Robin only a few feet away from your dorm room. “Hey, idiot, where are you going?” Robin says with a smile as you walk right past her. “Enjoy your movie night.” You say to both of them as you make your way to the library.

As you reach the library, you couldn’t help but feel as if there were eyes on you the whole way there. It was a Sunday night on a college campus, lots of kids were finally returning to their dorms after a weekend of partying, but there was no reason to feel unsafe. You shake the feeling before finally finding a study room to finish your lab in peace. Thankfully you get super focused, not allowing your mind to wonder about the interaction you had just had with Steve or about the anxious feeling you had felt only a moment before. Only an hour later, you finished your assignment and smiled. Though, as you look at the top of the page where your name was written in nice, neat handwriting, you freeze for a second, tapping your pencil on the table as you think before sighing, and quickly writing, “Steve Harrington”, right next to yours.

You quickly close your notebook before you can change your mind and shove it into your backpack. The anxious feeling suddenly comes back as you realize you’re the only one in the library. You shake your head and quickly grab your things and start to make your way back to your dorm. Before you can make it to your dorm building you hear a whistle and freeze. “Hey, pretty thing!” Someone yells out and you continue walking. “Oh, come on, I just want to talk!” The voice is getting closer and closer to you as your feet start to move as fast as they can. Unfortunately, you weren’t walking fast enough as there is now a very drunk college boy walking parallel with you. “What? A guy can’t compliment a girl anymore?” He takes a slug of his drink before turning towards you. “Hm, thanks but I’m not interested. Have a good night.” He scoffs. “Come on! It won’t hurt to give me the time of day.” “It might…” you mumble under your breath before feeling a tight grip on your wrist. “What did you say?” He says between gritted teeth. “N-nothing!” Your voice gets louder but before he can respond, another voice is heard from above.

“Now is that any way to treat a lady?” Both you and the man, who’s grip on you loosens, look above you to reveal a figure perched up on a light post. The voice is sarcastic but playful as he shoots his hand out and releases a silk like substance from his hand, throwing the man away from you onto the ground. You stay frozen in your place, not sure if it’s out of fear or confusion. “Wha-?” You can’t even finish your sentence as the perched figure stands and jumps down besides you, your eyes going wide. “S-spider-man?” Your eyes light up as a smile appears on your face.

“Oh! Seems I have a fan?” The tone of the masked man is fun yet comforting, and it reminds you of honey. “Don’t get too close.” He says with a laugh as he walks towards the drunk boy who is still plastered on the ground. The masked man makes his way to the boy and webs him to the floor before crouching next to him. “Now, let’s use our big boy words and tell the girl you’re sorry? Okay?” The boy quickly nods before shaking and looking over at you. “S-sorry.” He looks over at Spider-Man, who’s shaking his head at him. “Hm… one more time. Like you mean it.”

“I’m really sorry, ma’am.” The boy looks back at Spider-Man for approval. “Much better.” Spider-man pats him on the shoulder before standing up, “Enjoy your time outside tonight!” He says as he looks down at the boy still webbed to the ground before turning his attention to you.

“Do me a favor, princess?” You nod your head, mouth slightly agape as you stand in shock still. “Go get to your dorm safely.” He points behind you as he walks backwards, never letting his back turn from you until you start walking away. You clutch your books to your chest before quickly turning around again to see if he is still there. Your heart is beating so fast that you can feel it in your throat, but you still manage to yell a clear, “Spider-Man?” In his direction. He turns back around and looks at you, walking backwards again.

“Thank you…” you say with a small smile. “Anything for you.” He yells back before swinging into the shadows. As soon as you turn around to walk into your building, you bite your lip and smile. “Oh Robin’s gonna love this.” You mumble underneath your breath.

As soon as you open the door to your dorm room, you feel an anxious energy flood over you. Your smile fades as you look over at Robin pacing back and forth and chewing on her nails. As she makes eye contact with you, her eyes light up. “Oh my god, you’re okay! I mean…” she puts her hair behind her ear. “Of course you’re okay, why wouldn’t you be okay? You were just at the library. At the library… in the dark! And I’m really scared of the dark so… in reality I’m just projecting my own fears!! I’m just being silly.” Robin laughs nervously as she sits on her bed. Staring at you with an awkward smile.

“Ooookay.” You say with a small laugh as you sit on your bed that’s across from her. Your smile grows bigger as you two sit in silence. “Oh, god, what??” Robin says with an amused but also grossed out tone. “IsawSpider-Mantonight.” You say under your breath super quickly. Robin squints her eyes at you. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying.” She says as she leans her head in closer to you. “Spider-Man. I just saw him… right now. He… he talked to me, Robin.” Your voice grows louder and louder as you speak, excitement spilling from your body.

Robin rolls her eyes as she lays back into her bed, slamming her back into the mattress. “Oh Jesus Christ, that’s what’s got you all riled up?” If only you could see the smirk on her face. “Robin, he saved me from this super creepy guy… and then called me princess.” Robin sits up from her parallel position and looks at you. “Ew.” She frowns.

Now it was your turn to roll your own eyes as you laugh and throw one of your pillows at her. “Whatever.” She laughs now too and throws one of her pillows back. “I’m happy for you, idiot.” She smiles as she lays down and pulls her blanket over her body. “Now go to bed and dream about your little spider boy.” She giggles and lays her head on her pillow, you mirroring her actions. “Oh I plan on it.” You mumble and fall into a deep sleep, every dream including the masked man who saved you tonight.

When you wake up in the morning, you quickly check your phone to see what time it is, and it immediately puts you into a panic. “Shit!” You say as you throw your blanket off of your body and pick up a pair of dirty jeans off of the floor and tug them up your legs. “What… are… you doing?” Robin grumbles as she covers her face with her pillow. “My stupid lab is due today and class starts in like…10 minutes.” You scoff as you pull a t-shirt over your head. “And lord knows Steve isn’t gonna show up and present anything so if I’m late that means both of us are going to get zeros.” Robin groans as she turns over in her bed. “Good luck.” She says as she throws a thumbs up over at you. “Mmhmm… thanks, R.” You quickly run your fingers through your hair as you shrug with approval and grab all your things, making your way quickly out of your dorm and to your class.

You had never walked faster to a class in your life. Your feet were moving a million miles a minute as you approached your classroom. That is until you hear a voice from beside you. “You look like you’re in a rush.” You stop in your tracks as you look at the boy and scoff. “Wow, decided to show up today, huh?” You look up at him, Steve. He shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. “Decided I had enough time for you today I guess.” Your eyes squint at him for only a moment before you scoff. “Okay, Harrington.”

You shake your head as you quickly dig through your backpack and pull out the notebook that had your lab written in it, slapping it in Steve’s hands. “Review that as we walk.” You say as your feet start moving towards your classroom again. “You have a lot to catch up on. Come on, looks like we are both in a rush.”

Steve quickly follows behind you as he looks down at the lab in his hands, a smile forming on his face. “You know you really don’t have to give me credit for any of this… you shouldn’t.” You shrug as you look up at him. “You’re smart, Steve. I know you are. You just… are occupied. It’s okay. I’ll cover for you.” You smile up at him as he looks down at you with a glimmer in his eyes, the sun hitting off of the rim of his glasses perfectly.

“We could make a deal? I’ll do the next lab by myself. I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at Steve’s words as you shake your head. “Yeahhh not holding you to that promise, Harrington. Though, I do appreciate the offer.” Steve stops walking for a second, softly grabbing your wrist. “No, I’m serious, please, let me make it up to you.” Your eyebrows furrow as your eyes meet his, seriously considering his offer. “Fine. Pinky promise me, Steve Harrington.” Steve rolls his eyes as he holds out his pinky. A sweet smile on his face as a curl falls down into his face. “Pinky promise.” He slightly whispers as you two lock fingers. As your fingers lock and your eyes meet one another’s, you feel a flutter in your chest. It feels like time is frozen until you both get knocked out of whatever trance you’re in with each other when Steve looks down at his watch that’s on the hand that is currently interlocked with yours. “Okay but seriously we should probably get to class.” You release your hand from his as you nod quickly. “Mhmm, yeah. Class.”

As you and Steve are waiting for your turn to present, you can see Steve getting antsy. His leg shakes up and down as he chews on his thumb nail, his eyes staying in one place, his face showing that though his body is in the classroom, his mind is not. “Hey…” you whisper over at him. “Relax. We’re gonna do fine.” Steve looks at you confused. “Hm? I know that.” He shakes his head and goes back to chewing on his nails, his eyes darting down at his watch over and over again. You start to grow nervous that Steve might walk out on you right now. It wouldn’t be the first time. Finally, your names are called to present your lab and Steve sighs in relief, quickly standing up.

You guys present your lab almost perfectly, besides the fact that Steve could not slow down his speech, making it known he was in a rush. As soon as you said the last word of your presentation, Steve darted out the door. You smile at your professor awkwardly and then to your classmates. “Thank you…” you say quietly as you make your way back to your seat. The seat next to you now uncomfortably empty.

As soon as class is over you close your books and make your way to your dorm. You are incredibly thankful that you have no more classes for the day as you walk through campus. You can feel your throat start to close as tears brew in your eyes. Just once you wanted Steve to actually care. So many missed homework assignments, so many missed presentations, and now, finally when Steve shows up, he reminds you once again that none of this matters to him. Did you matter to him? Why would you? He’s Robin’s friend. You’re just his lab partner. You somehow wished you were more. After almost a whole year of being put on the back burner by Steve Harrington, you still expected more from him. Wanted more from him. You quickly wipe the tears that fall down your cheeks before a voice is heard from above.

“Hey, princess!!” The voice yells down. You jump slightly before looking up and seeing your favorite masked hero looking down at you. “Why the long face, sweetheart?” You laugh softly, wiping your tears clean off of your face. “I think you have better things to do than help a girl with her feelings.” You yell back with a smile. Spider-Man quickly jumps down and takes up the space right next to you. He shrugs, “my job comes with many responsibilities.” He starts to count on his fingers as he speaks. “Beating up bad guys, helping old ladies get their cats out of trees…helping old ladies cross the street, OH and watching pretty girls walk home.” One of your eyebrows goes up as your face contorts into amusement.

“Oh so I have a stalker now?” Even though the man has a mask on, you can feel the worry on his face as he gasps. “What? No… no! That’s not what I meant! You know that’s not what I meant!” He says awkwardly and in a panic as he puts his hand on his head. “I just mean… you know, you never know what could happen because of that… creepy guy the other night.” He leans his back on the wall of the building you guys are standing next to, trying to be slick and cover up what he had said. You can’t help but laugh as you step closer to him. “Well then I guess I’m honored.” As you look at the masked man, you can’t help but feel a longing for him. You want to know his secrets, what he looks like. His favorite color and favorite movie. You want to know him. Not Spider-Man, but the man in the mask. Your smile fades as you look toward your dorm building.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you. It’s uh, it’s sweet of you to check on me.” You start to walk backwards, making your way to your dorm. Spider-Man sighs as he throws out his hand and swings back up to the light post he was on only minutes ago. “Don’t be a stranger.” He yells down. “How could I be??? You’re stalking me, remember??” You yell back at him as he shakes his head and laughs. “In your dreams, princess!” He yells one last time before swinging away. Oh if only he knew.

You spend the rest of the day longing for another interaction with Spider-Man. Just from the two small interactions you had, he made you feel like you mattered. As you sit cuddled up in your comforter, you can hear laughter approaching your room before Robin walks in with Steve. “Oh, sorry dingus number two! I didn’t know you’d be home yet.” You sigh as you sit up and look at them both. “No problem.” A small smile forms on your lips as Steve looks over at you. He waves and scratches his neck nervously. Robin looks at you both and rolls her eyes with a loud groan. “Oh get over it already you two. I can not have my two best friends be this awkward with each other all the time. It’s killing me!” She grabs a few popcorn bags and walks towards the door again. “I’m going to the lounge to make this. You two…” she points at you both back and forth, “work this out right now. She’s joining us for movie night tonight.” Steve looks at Robin with furrowed brows and slumped shoulders, almost begging her not to leave. Like they both know something you don’t and they are communicating with their minds.

Robin tilts her head at Steve and he rolls his eyes with a quiet, “okay, fine, fine…” leaving his lips, his hands going up in surrender. Robin quickly makes her way out of the dorm room, slamming the door behind her. You can’t help but laugh at her dramatics, Steve joining in right after. “Awkward? Pft… we aren’t awkward.” Steve says as he leans against Robin’s bed, arms crossed over his chest. You smile at him and roll your eyes before pointing between the two of you. “Oh, this isn’t awkward?” He shakes his head with a smug smile. “Nah…” he laughs before sighing and looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry… about earlier. I wish I could make it up to yo-,”

“Don’t worry about it.” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to get upset, but Steve shakes his head. “No, I am worried about it. I’m sorry.” You frown slightly at him before speaking. “I just want to know why, Steve. I know I’m just your lab partner, but…” you shake your head at your own words. Steve squints slightly at you, wanting you to keep going. “But what?”

You scoff again. “Nothing. Seriously. You have better things to do, I understand that.” Steve frowns back at you now as he glides his hand through his hair. “I just wish I could explain…” you shrug at him. “There’s nothing to explain, Steve. You have your life, I have mine.” Steve pushes his glasses up his face before sticking his hands in his pockets. “Whatever you say, princess.” You smile as you look down in your lap, but suddenly a voice in the back of your head repeats the word princess back to you. It’s not the word, it’s the way he said it. It’s not mocking you, it’s sweet…like honey. You freeze, mouth going slightly dry as your head shoots up to look at him, eyes going wide in shock. The nickname, of course you’ve heard it before.

“What?” Steve says with a small chuckle, noticing the way you're suddenly studying his face. The chuckle that leaves Steve’s lips suddenly sounds familiar to you. He’s busy all the time because he is Spider-Man. A voice says in your head before you shake it away. “Nothing…nothing! We’re good, Steve, I promise.” Your mind is still running wild. You try your best to hide your thoughts, not wanting to look crazy. Steve smiles and holds out his pinky, just like earlier. “Pinky promise?” You take a deep breath before locking fingers with him again. “Pinky promise.” You smile and just as you’re about to say something else, Robin barges in the room with two bowls full of popcorn, she smiles wildly as she looks at your fingers interlocked. “Awwww… dingus one and dingus two just needed some alone time!” She says as you and Steve both roll your eyes and let go of each other’s hands. You look over at Steve one more time, his curly hair dangling in his face, his glasses perfectly framing his face, and you can’t help but smile.

Maybe your connection with Spider-Man ran deeper than just having a crush on a masked superhero. Maybe he’s been in front of you this whole time and you’ve never realized it. Whether your sudden realization was real or not, Steve Harrington had his secrets, but so did everyone else. Maybe you’d never know who was behind the masked hero, but suddenly, it didn’t matter.

[the-kr8tor]

Two Slow Dancers

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.2k

Synopsis: It's the very first day of your first 'real' job, with new faces and names, you find yourself fumbling over a handsome coworker. Will you survive the day?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), a bit of loser! Hobie, The office AU, mockumentary AU, Coworkers AU, Coworker! Hobie, Reader has nicknames, one suggestive joke, CW food mentions, CW vomit mention, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @pleaktale for the idea!

Navigation

The camera zooms in on your confused expression until the lenses can see every single one of your pores. The producer clears her throat, and the camera man immediately tries to fix the view. The camera lense whirrs for a second before focusing on you as you sit on an old office chair in the corner of the conference room together with the drab eggshell white painted walls and a single plastic plant placed right next to you.

All you can see are the same drab white walls with thirty year old motivational posters tacked on it. The rows of plastic chairs are lined up in front of the whiteboard where a rolling table with a small box tv sits and collects dust. You feel like you're in an uncanny side of the world where everything is all paperwork and the sound of the photocopying machine whirs in the background amidst the smell of old carpet.

This is being a full fledged adult, you thought. You're starting to hate it already.

“Is this necessary? I just got here.” You chuckle nervously, fingers fixing your collar that doesn't need to be fixed.

“Yes, we need everyone's point of view.” The muffled voice of the producer echoes in the boom mic. “And please stop fiddling with your collar, the mic will pick up the sound.”

“Sorry,” you give her a tight smile. “Um, I guess I should give you my name?” They all nod simultaneously, making you more nervous than you already are on your first day of work. Saying your name without stuttering, you mentally pat yourself on the back for your accomplishment. “I–I just started today, and I'm very excited to work here at Connor's and Jameson's.” You smile sweetly at the camera, a rough cough from someone on the crew makes your smile falter. “C–can I go now?”

A sudden deep rumble can be heard through the mic, shaking you in your seat as you hold on to the armchair. “Woah!” As quick as it came, it subsides. “I think that was an earthquake!” You say, eyes wide in panic, fingers fiddling with your collar as your nerves get to you.

“No,” the producer behind the camera sighs, “there's construction just starting next door.”

“Oh,” You wish the earth could swallow you right now. Way to embarrass yourself on your first day, and on camera too. “Right, sorry.”

The scene shifts to your new boss, Miguel, as he watches the bullpen from his office with his watchful eyes. His hands are tucked behind his back, his large frame practically blocking the sun from his window. He sees the camera crew zooming in on him, and he awkwardly straightens up, weight subtly shifting from side to side.

The camera follows his gaze, landing on Lyla, who's chewing on the cap of her pen as she chats you up while you're working quietly on your desk. She wears a cheerful yellow button up complete with the same yellow pants. You gotta admit, she wears business well.

“I'm just saying, it's eat or be eaten in this office.” The boom mic captures her voice. And the camera moves from her to the entire bullpen that's quiet except for the sound of tapping keyboards and clicking mice. “But I'm sure you'll be okay, we're just selling electric toothbrushes. It's not the end of the world of you commit one fuck up.”

You stare at the camera with a wide look before glancing at Lyla. “T–thanks for the tip.”

Lyla tilts her head with a genuine smile, “no problem, newbie. If you need any help, you know where my department is.” As you nod and glance quickly at Miguel, who's still standing still inside his office, Lyla notices your nervous demeanor. She narrows her gaze at Miguel before flipping him the bird.

“Lyla!” You whisper yell, while Miguel presumably huffs in his office and closes the blinds right after.

“What? It's just office banter!” She returns her gaze to you, eyes softening at your nervous glance. “Nice blouse by the way! Pink suits you.”

The scene changes and now Lyla is the one in your former seat inside the conference room. “Let's just say that I have… some information on him.” She smirks before the camera lense zooms in on the window in the background where Miguel stares heavily on Lyla’s back, his nose flaring, and mouth etched in a deep frown. Lyla feels the presence, brows pinching together before looking over her shoulder. “Hey, boss man!” She says without a care in the world (Or without a care for authority no doubt,) while she waves at him casually.

The scene cuts back to you struggling on the copy machine.

The machine keeps eating all the paper you feed it, making a strange and awful creaking sound whenever you press the button. You're sure that you did everything Lyla taught you. The stack of paper goes into the side, then the file you're going to copy is placed on the scanner. Pressing a few more buttons, it should've spat out an exact copy instead of giving you a jumbled mess of paper that looks like a demonic curse was printed on it.

“Damn it.” You curse under your breath. Eyes glancing to the side, you see the camera crew practically stalking you by the pillar. You quickly change your demeanor, back straightening up, shoulders straight but your huffing through the boom mic can still be picked up unbeknownst to you.

Yanking the half eaten paper away from the slot, you internally curse the photocopy god for giving you this trial for your first day. Looking around the bullpen, you see Lyla in Miguel's office, probably getting chewed on for what she did earlier. You definitely cannot ask her for help. Gazing at your right, your other co-workers are busy with their tasks, tip tapping away at their computers with their blank stares. Well, except for that one intern you hadn't had the pleasure of meeting, who's playing minesweeper on his computer. Amazingly, he looks like he's winning.

Hands balled into fists, you're contemplating whether or not you should start throwing punches at the machine. Lyla did tell you its temperamental, maybe a quick punch would make it think twice from giving you hell.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout squarin’ up with the xerox machine?” A sudden new voice startles you in place. His tone is smooth, confident and deep that it sends good shivers down your arms. “Sorry, thought you need some help.” he chuckles, backing away from you when he notices your shocked expression. “You new ‘ere, huh?”

“It's okay,” your nerves bust through your shaky tone. “Uh, yeah, new associate– on probation for the next six months.”

He smiles sweetly, silver lip piercing drawing your attention towards his lips which you immediately correct your gaze by staring at his brow piercing instead. It didn't help much with your nerves, he looks handsome in every angle. It's not like you're looking for an office romance, it's not illegal to stare, right?

Your new acquaintance has his wicks in a ponytail, silver charms clinking against each other whenever he moves his head. He wears a dark button up, untucked and without a necktie. You find him unbelievably charming.

“‘m sure you'll get it. Once you get ol’ Jerry ‘ere to work for you.” He pats the machine as it whirs and eats another piece of paper. His lithe hand grabs your attention, silver rings dotted along it like he's about to play on stage.

You swallow thickly, avoiding staring too long. “J–Jerry?”

“Yeah, we named it after this bloke who worked ‘ere.”

“That's kind of nice.”

“He's not with us anymore.”

“Oh–” you blink, lips already forming apologies.

“He’s retired, we got him a cake and everythin’” you can see that he's trying to tamp down a laugh by how his Adam's apple bops up and down and from how he subtly bites his lip piercing. “Did you think—?”

“No.” You immediately say. He gives you a teasing look, brilliant hazel eyes that are a beautiful mix of brown and green gazes at you playfully. “T–That’s what I thought too.”

“Right,” he says, unconvinced. “My offer of help still stands. But after this you have to tame the bloody beast on your own.”

You nod, “please, I'm starting to rationalize whether I should punch it or not.”

He gives you a genuine smile, “that could work actually. I've seen people do it a few times.”

“Really?” You say with raised brows and a hint of a hopeful smile.

“Nah.” He shakes his head with a smirk, smile widening when you frown at him with an annoyed look. With a chuckle, he reaches towards the half eaten paper stuck inside, fingers wrapping around it to pull away. “‘m Hobie, Hobie Brown. I work in the post room.” He gestures with his head towards the cart full of envelopes and small parcels. “Or what I like to call it in a fancy way, the logistics room.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hobie.” You smile at him, and Hobie smiles back as he finally rips the page away with a rough tug. The paper is suddenly released, the force almost topples him over if not for your quick reflexes. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and you swear you felt his pulse quicken.

“You okay, Hobie?” As quick as you were, you retract your hand back to your side.

He nonchalantly clears his throat, fist gripping the paper in his palms. “Yeah, thank you…” he waits for your reply.

You give him your name, cheeks warm and palm suddenly clammy as you shift your feet from side to side to hide your bashfulness. With an inhale and your mind returning to the task at hand, you channel your bravery. “Care to teach me how to tame the beast?”

Hobie balls up the ruined paper all without leaving his eyes on you with a gentle smile. A bit unsure but definitely genuine. “Sure, I charge by the minute, by the way.” He jokes.

“Do you take lunch as payment?” You ride with his joke, hands placed inside your blazer pocket to again hide your shyness.

He grins, “I think we'll get along well, probie.”

You two have completely forgotten about the cameras. They got the whole interaction on film, complete with the lingering gazes and soft smiles you two seem to harbour.

—

“Hobie Brown.” He says while he's sitting on an office chair backwards, arms hugging the back of the chair and chin placed atop it casually. The producer eggs him on to continue with a single look. Hobie sighs, standing up swiftly before twirling the office chair away from him in one fluid and suave motion. “I work in the post room.” He crosses his arms on his chest, annoyed. “I've been ‘ere for three years. Don't like it, but it helps pay the bills, innit?”

“Can you tour us around the mailroom?” The producer asks in a hushed tone but loud enough to be captured by the boom mic.

“No.” He says flatly, already turning to leave the camera crew as he wheels his mail cart out of the room wordlessly.

The camera is left to just roam all over the organized chaos that is the mailroom. Everything seems to be in place but at the same time it's not. All the envelopes are in their correct spots on the large shelf on the far end of the wall, but all the boxes are shoved in a corner, all stacked up. It's a miracle that it's still standing without toppling over.

The mic picks up muffled chatter out in the hallway. Hurried footsteps can be heard as the crew follows the source of the sound. The camera peeks at the doorway, tilting to get a better look of you, who seems to be chatting Hobie up with a polite smile on your face.

“Mr. O’hara said that the shipping company messed up and gave us a different sample product.” You hold the box in your arms, clearly opened but was hastily closed off with masking tape. “He asked if you could send it back?” You ask sheepishly.

Hobie's whole demeanor seems to change as the white fluorescent light shines on your bashful eyes. “Sure, I know those blokes. I can even get it shipped for free.” He opens his arms, receiving the box from you, hands briefly brushing along his own. “They rarely fuck up, what's inside?”

“Uh,” you laugh nervously, cheeks aflame. “Something that is electric but definitely not a toothbrush—” before you could warn him, he shakes the box. It sets off numerous buzzing sounds inside. Hobie's neck snaps up towards you in a flash, with a smile slowly spreading across his amused face. “Yeah…” You wince, biting at your lower lip. “They're not toothbrushes.”

“Holy shit! It's—”

“Don't say it, Hobie!” You say through your grin. “Miguel was furious!”

His loud guffaw echoes down the hallway, making the boom mic pick up the sound, almost shattering the mic itself. Earning a high pitched sound emanate from it briefly. The poor sound tech had to take off his earphones lest he breaks his eardrums.

Hobie laughs harder. “I bet. I'd pay to see him all mad like that.” Shaking the box even more, the buzzing sound makes you chuckle, hand clasping over your mouth to tamp down your giggles. He mirrors your smile, finding your laughter contagious. After you've composed yourself, worthy of being your business self, he gestures towards the mailroom with his head. “You wanna see the post room, probie? It's not as glamorous as the bullpen but it's alright.”

“As long as you don't shake or god forbid, open the box.” You playfully gesture with your index at the box in his hands.

“Only if you ask.” He jokes back, or was it flirting on his end? Clearing his throat, he sees you widen your eyes, breath hitching in your throat. “I wouldn't, don't worry.” He immediately decides to remedy the awkwardness, feeling that he might've offended you. “There's a parcel ‘ere that's dated to be delivered in ten years. Don't ask why because I don't know.”

“In ten years? Weird, who's it addressed to?” You follow Hobie despite your thudding heart. He makes you feel like you're back in school again with all the crushes and lingering gazes across the classroom. Maybe it's not so bad to befriend someone else here that isn't Layla.

The camera crew immediately runs to the other end of the hallway to continue secretly filming the two of you, before you or Hobie could see them. Hobie opens the door for you, balancing his hold on the box and on the door.

“Yeah, it has your name on it.” You gasp right next to him. He smirks, eyes glancing at you teasingly. “Just fuckin' with you, probie.”

“I have a name, y’know.” You roll your eyes, seeing something move in your peripheral.

“You're probie until the lunch club says so.”

“The lunch club?” You ask, head tilting at the peeping camera from the corner of the hallway.

“You'll see,” Hobie shakes the box again to get your attention.

“You—! I told you not to shake it again!” Your giggles get muffled as you close the door behind you with a creak. The noise is followed by Hobie enthusiastically giving you a tour of the mailroom to the whole documentary crew’s amusement, and half disappointment.

—

You finally make it to lunch without a hitch. Without any more raunchy parcels and without you tripping over your own heels on the carpeted floors.

The camera follows right behind you, giving you enough space after you complained to Lyla in the HR department at how they've been too close to you, and hindering your work. (They haven't, you just find them annoying.) Hobie seems to have the same idea as you when he went to her office to tell them off too. According to him, ‘If I see another camera up in my face, I'll break their dodgy lenses.’ He said it with such gravitas that the documentary crew backed away immediately with their tails tucked in between their legs.

You grasp your lunch box in your hands, eyes roaming around the small break room with a few tables and chairs all grouped up. The vending machines on the side of the room whirr, its lights flickering in and out that has you suddenly creeped out. You blame Hobie for telling you a story about a night janitor that cleans the whole building even without its head attached to his neck.

Goosebumps appear on your arms when you remember how eerily he told it. Still, you were properly entertained before you had to go back to work, back to your drab computer with its boring programs and even more boring paperwork. Hobie makes it all bearable. You smile at the thought. Good thing that you're the only person in the breakroom, or your new coworkers would think that you're losing it. Then you remember the camera zeroing in on your face, you want to throw your lunch at them. If only it didn't cause you your job.

With a sigh, you claim the table nearest towards the vending machine. Sitting down your packed lunch, a bottle of your favourite iced tea grabs your attention inside the vending machine, begging to be let out of its glass confines.

Rummaging through your blazer, you could only find a stick of gum, and a button that magically flew out of your sleeve when you moved to grab a stapler earlier. You sigh, longingly staring at the sweetened tea. You bet that it'll help make your miserable first day a bit better. But alas, you're too lazy to go back to your desk to quickly grab your wallet.

Suddenly, an arm appears next to you, you almost screamed at the appearance if not for the recognizable rings around his fingers.

“Hobie, you scared me!” You clutch your imaginary pearls. “I thought you were—”

“The night janitor?” He smirks teasingly. You find him adorably infuriating. “D’you still need that change?” Glancing at his hand that's clutching the coin, it’s ready to be placed inside the coin slot, just waiting for your cue.

The camera crew backs away further into the corner, having the perfect view of the entire room and your interaction.

“I—” you wince when you pat down your other pocket, cursing at how your pencil skirt doesn't even have pockets. “— will you, please?” Great, your embarrassment will transcend through TV screens from now on.

Hobie smiles softly, coin clinking inside the machine as it falls. “Choose your poison, probie.”

Without a doubt, you press the number that correlates to your favourite drink. “Thanks, Hobie. I'll pay you back later. I'm supposed to be buying you lunch, remember?” You crouch down as the bottle tumbles down with a thud, falling right into your waiting hand. It's cold to the touch, the bee mascot on the packaging greets you with a cartoonish smile.

“Don't mind it, I have my own lunch. Save the IOU for another day.” he says as he sits down, setting his own lunch adjacent to yours. “Take it as a welcome gift.”

You turn around to face him, having a hard time opening the bottle cap. “And here I thought you wanted me out of here.”

Hobie scoffs without malice laced in it. The camera lense zooms in on his gentle smile. “Please, I don't give a tour to anyone in my post room just like that.” He gestures for the bottle wordlessly, fingers opening and closing in a come hither motion.

“I thought you brought all the new girls in there.” Teasing, you sit down in front of him, handing him your drink which he opens for you without a struggle. “Thanks.” He hands it back, warm fingers unintentionally brushing along your own.

“Not all the new girls.” He shrugs. “Jus’ the ones with the weak wrists.”

“Hey!” You chuckle, “rude. The cap was screwed in too tightly.”

“Sure, probie.” He opens his lunchbox, the smell of savoury meat and sautéed vegetables makes your hastily made sandwich look like it came from a microwavable meal.

“Wow.” You blink at the perfectly cooked rice. “Is that turmeric in the rice?”

Puffing up his chest, he smugly smiles. “Yeah, Beef broccoli with oyster sauce.”

“Damn,” you look down at your regular white bread egg sandwich. “Wanna switch?”

He chuckles, “no.” He makes sure to enunciate.

“Worth a try.” You mirror his smile. “Did your girlfriend or partner make it?”

“Nope, no girlfriend. Made it myself.” He says the last sentence proudly.

No girlfriend, huh? “It's pretty amazing that you have time to prep meals.” You take a bite of your abysmal lunch.

“That's what gets you when you don't have a partner.” Hobie scoops out a decent amount of his meal with his spoon, “your sandwich is…”

“Shit, I know.”

Chuckling, Hobie looks at you through his shining hazel eyes. “I was gonna say alright, but that works too.”

You take a sip of your iced tea, letting the cool drink douse your obvious shyness and flustered state whenever you converse with him. Lyla's words during the orientation keep repeating in your head, ‘no office romance,’ she said. ‘It's too complicated,’ she said. Is it though?

“So what's the lunch club? Shouldn't they be meeting up right about now?” Just as you said it, the doors swing open, revealing three college aged kids in their business outfits.

“Sorry we're late. Pav here needed to finish something.”

“Don't blame me,” The one with the flowy hair and dark brown suit scrunches his nose. “You're the one who's playing minesweeper all day, Miles.”

“The fields aren't getting cleared all by themselves, y'know?”

The only girl in the group sighs and rolls her blue eyes, pausing in the doorway once she sees you sitting with Hobie. “Well, who do we have here?” Her voice puts a stop to the arguing.

“Meet the new girl. Gwen, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet Gwen.” Hobie gestures over to the blond then to you.

“Hi, it's a pleasure.” You say whilst quickly chewing your food to appear somewhat presentable when they caught you mid chew.

“Oho, so she's the one you've been yapping about, Hobie.” Gwen crosses the small distance, palm patting Hobie on his shoulder. “Now it's really nice to meet you.”

“You talk about me?” You tilt your head, eyes narrowed playfully.

“He will not shut up, trust me.” Pav waves towards you in greeting. “I'm Pavitr by the way! I wish you could meet Gyatri but she's out sick.” He sighs, sinking down on the chair.

“It's nice to meet you, Pavitr.” You smile genuinely at the seemingly lovestruck Pavitr.

“Don't mind him, he just misses his girlfriend.” The one in a white button up and black lopsided necktie holds out his hand to you. “I'm Miles Morales.”

“Pleasure,” you shake his hand briefly while Hobie watches you interact with three of them. The documentary crew fades in the background, practically a fly on the wall by now that the group has gotten used to their cameras and lights. “I'm guessing this is the lunch club?”

“That's what Hobie told you?” Gwen sits down next to you, sliding drinks she got from the vending machine towards each of her friends. “We're more like the gossiping slash complaining club.”

You chuckle, “you guys are interns?”

“Unpaid interns.” They all say simultaneously in the same monotonous tone.

“It should be Illegal.” Hobie says, elbows placed on the table to address you fully.

“Not being paid for work in the guise that it's just an internship therefore the ‘pay’ is experience?” You make quotation marks with your fingers. Hobie raises an amused brow while the three share a knowing look that you can't quite decipher.

“That and interns.” Hobie shrugs with a smile, you snort at his joke, gazes lingering for a second before returning to each of your meals.

Gwen smirks and nudges Hobie's leg with her foot. The camera picks up and records their wordless conversation before she turns towards you. “If not for me then the mailroom would be a complete mess.”

“It's organized, Gwendy.”

“Well you did a shit job at organizing it.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you.”

Miles leans towards you, “Hobie's technically her boss.”

“Doesn't look like it. They argue like siblings.” You watch them with amusement, eyes crinkling in the corners. You decide to save everyone's lunch, “so… the lunch club is just you guys chatting about?”

“It’s more than that!” Pav says while he quickly swallows his lunch, “it's a way of life!”

“We sometimes meet up to play a gig at some dinghy place, or to just hangout after work.” Gwen smiles at you, hand clasped around her drink after Miles tried to switch it with his. “Wait!” Her blue eyes sparkles, “you haven't told her that you're in a band, Hobie!”

The trio gives Hobie a wry smile. Mischief glimmering in their eyes. “Yeah, Hobie, tell her about that time you played for one thousand people.” Pav nudges him with his elbow with a wink that you missed.

“You're in a band?!” Your expression brightens. “That's so cool! My roommate’s in a band, what do you play?”

Hobie throws the trio a quick glare before clearing his throat. “The guitar—”

“Just don't ask him to serenade you— Ow!” Gwen flinches in her seat, gaze narrowed at Hobie.

Your smile gets brighter, “you must be good at it then, playing for a thousand souls isn't a walk in the park.”

“Pav’s exaggeratin’, it was only a hundred or so.”

“Please,” Miles scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “It was definitely more than ‘a hundred or so.’” He copies Hobie's accent imperfectly. “You should've seen him,” he points at Hobie with his thumb while animatedly talking and clearly gassing him up. “He was basically Freddie Mercury up there— Ow, what?!” He stares at Hobie as if his looks could burn a hole through his head.

“He has a show next week—” Pav suddenly exclaims. “don't you dare, Hobie!” He points accusingly at Hobie. A moment passes while the two have a stare off. Meanwhile, the camera zooms in under the table where Hobie's foot is threatening to kick at Pav's leg.

Hobie sighs, blinking away his annoyance, (and putting his foot down) “it's in the white horse pub, if you're free next weekend.”

“Drinks are on Hobie—!” Gwen quickly says before twisting in her seat, effectively dodging Hobie's attack. “You should go! The rest of the band will appreciate a new face in the crowd.”

“Are you guys sure?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I don't want to impose.”

“Impose away, probie.” Hobie smiles at you, dimples in full display. “‘sides, the pub’s fish and chips are unmatched.” His eyes sparkle under the fluorescent light of the vending machines.

You nod bashfully. “Sure. You had me at fish and chips.”

The trio share a knowing look before side eyeing the camera simultaneously with the same expression while you and Hobie gaze at each other with slight trepidation.

—

Before your first day could end, Miguel O’Hara calls everyone in the conference room for a quick meeting. You highly doubt that it's a quick meeting though since there's only thirty minutes before the day could officially end. Couldn't he just email it instead? Or maybe this is about *that package. If it is, you don't want to go.

With a huff and a quick but tired look at the camera, you make your way towards the conference room. As you enter, Miguel stands at front, muscular arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning the room.

You avoid his stare, finding that your new boss scares you just a tiny bit with his air of authority around him.

Leather shoes and heels shuffle on the floor as each employee finds their place on their seat. You find the farthest chair to sit on in hopes of staying invisible. The plastic chair squeaks as you sit, cringing at the sound, knowing that the mic probably picked it up. You're starting to hate this documentary crew following your every move. Who would even find an electric toothbrush company entertaining to watch? Moreso to film its day to day operations? It's a complete mystery to you.

The room slowly fills up with you sitting at the back, your fists bunch up at your skirt with your nerves bothering you as Miguel scans his brown eyes around the room. The man sitting in front of you twists in his seat, a smile etched on his face.

“You're the new kid, huh?” You nod at him sheepishly as he reaches for you in greeting. “I'm Peter B. Welcome to the shit show.”

“Nice to meet you?” You shake his hand despite what he said.

The woman next to him sighs audibly, curls bouncing as she looks over her shoulder over to Peter. “Don't depress the poor kid on her first day, Peter.” With a polite smile, she addresses you. “I'm Jessica, don't listen to him, he's nihilistic. And likes to scare the newbies.”

“Well, I couldn't do it to Harry, might as well do it to— what's your name again?” Peter raises a brow at you.

“I haven't given it to you yet.” Chuckling nervously, you give him your name, fists unfurling around your skirt as you find them weirdly comforting. Like your favourite aunt and uncle you only get to see during the holidays.

“And I'm that Harry.” Someone suddenly speaks on your right. You almost jump in place if not for his gentle and unassuming smile. “I was hired a month before you.”

You take his waiting hand and shake it politely, finding his hand warm and friendly. “Y/N. Got any advice?”

Harry chuckles, a strand of auburn hair falling over his eye which he quickly brushes away casually. “My advice?” You nod, “go with the flow, and don't take it too seriously. The world won't catch fire if you accidentally mess up your documents. Worst case is that someone won't be able to brush their teeth for a few days.”

“Thanks.” You utter with a chuckle.

“No problem, oh, and uh, stay away from the bathroom on the second floor.”

You blink, curiosity written all over your face. “Why? Did someone die there?” You whisper the last sentence.

Harry leans closer, whispering back, pausing for suspense as you wait with trepidation. “...No, the other workers in the building just like to take a dump in there.” With every word, his smile grows. “Why would you think someone died there?” He says teasingly.

Just as you laugh, Hobie finally enters the room with the trio in tow. Miguel gives them a sour look for being late. You glance at him, “I think someone gave me that idea.”

Harry shakes his head with a smile, leaning away as Hobie sits down on your left. Harry gives him a polite nod before glancing softly at you and returning his attention to the front of the room. The camera zeroes in on Hobie's colder gaze at the man right next to you.

“What'd I miss?” He crosses his leg over the other casually, foot nudging you gently.

“Not much, just a few introductions—” Miguel's voice suddenly calling your name interrupts you. You feel like a student again when a teacher scolds you for talking in class. “Yes— sorry?” You stand up lightning quick, hands sweaty and stomach plummeting down.

“I was going to ask if you want to introduce yourself.” Miguel blinks at you, suddenly, you feel the room shrinking and with everyone's eyes on your trembling form.

You want to run and hide somewhere. Maybe not in the second floor bathroom.

“Uh, yeah, s–sure.” You curse yourself internally for fumbling over your own words. Saying your name, your throat feels like it's about to close on you. Someone coughs within the crowd, you feel faint. Hobie notices, the back of his hand brushes atop yours. You look down at the source, and he nods and smiles at you, encouraging you gently. “And I— I'm excited to work with all of you.”

Miguel nods, satisfied, giving you a glance as he tells you to sit back down. You can see Lyla give you a thumbs up from her seat up front.

“Nice job,” Hobie whispers to you, shoulder nudging your own. You inhale deeply whilst the camera lens focuses on you and Hobie. Miguel's words drones on, fading in the background. “Oi,” he says gently, “just breathe, yeah? It's over, you did brilliantly.”

“I think I'm gonna vomit.” You huff, trying to inhale and exhale out your bundle of nerves. “I almost fucked that up.”

“But you didn't.” Smiling, he taps your hand with his pinky. “Keep breathin’ for me. Don't want you gettin' sick all over the floors. What would the night janitor think about you now.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth to quiet down your chuckles. “Thank you, Hobie. I'm sorry that you have to keep saving me.”

Your whispered words make him grin, hiding how his cheeks grow warmer atop his shoulder. “No problem, it's part of my job description—”

“Hobie Brown!” Miguel's voice echoes from the front towards the back of the room, you flinch at the sound. “What do you do during an earthquake?”

Hobie's brows pinch together in confusion. “Why?”

Miguel rubs at the skin in between his eyes. Cameras flicking over to him and over to Hobie, who's grinning mischievously. The trio, except for Gwen, mirrors his playful grin.

“Dios mio, it's because we've been talking about an earthquake drill for the past five minutes.” You can tell that Miguel’s holding back from swearing.

“Ah, that.” Hobie smirks, feigning confusion. You swear he was actually listening to Miguel while he was talking to you. “Get on the floor and roll over?”

You almost laughed, Pav does, which was immediately extinguished by Miguel's stern stare.

“No, that's for when there's a fire.” Miguel gestures towards Harry right next to you. “Osborne.”

“Duck, cover and hold.” He shrugs, glancing at you, or was he staring over you and towards Hobie instead?

“Good,” Miguel breathes out a sigh, “the company wants us to practice what to do in the event of an earthquake.”

Hobie snickers in place. While Miles raises a defiant hand. “But there hasn't been an earthquake in New York since 1884.”

Miguel pauses like he's also thinking on why the company would instruct him that. “They just want to cover all the bases.” He says confidently, you admire at how fast he came up with that. “Lyla here will show you how—”

The floor suddenly shakes, and you grip at the nearest thing near you, which is coincidentally, Hobie's hand.

“Earthquake!” Lyla yells atop her lungs, already running out of the room in haste, leaving everyone to fend for themselves. Everyone follows right behind her, panic settling in everyone.

Hobie glances at you, with a playful wink, he launches off his chair, hand clutching at your wrist gently. You follow a half second later, heels clicking against the floor as you try to keep up with his long strides.

“Wait! It's just the—” Miguel gets bumped by Peter, stumbling briefly before catching himself. “Lyla! It's just the construction next door!” Still, everyone sprints off, leaving him alone in the room.

With everyone either in a panic or just following the crowd without an ounce of haste, Hobie seems to be having the time of his life. Cackling above Lyla's high pitched screams whilst he holds onto your wrist.

“C’mon, probie! Don't want the buildin’ to fall on you now!” He says while running with measured steps on the stairs of the fire exit. You're sure that running out of a building during an earthquake isn't wise, but the shake wasn't technically an earthquake.

Your panic is replaced with something lighter, smiling as he holds onto you. “Do you know it's just the—?” Foot stumbling over the other whilst you two run down the stairs, he immediately twists around when he feels that you've become suddenly weightless right behind him. “Shit!”

“Got you!” Hobie's arms catch you mid air as you instinctively yelp and grab a hold of him. His back hits the wall in a groan, eyes briefly closing from the sudden ache. “You alright?”

“Me?! Are you okay?!” You actually panic now, scanning him for injuries, head craning to look at the back of his head. Thankfully, you don't find any injuries. “Oh thank fuck.” Thumping your head on his shoulder, he chuckles as his hands hovers above your back.

The rush of footsteps subside, and you two are left alone on the staircase. His shallow breaths echo while you lean away, but still near enough to see his dimples and how flustered you look in his gorgeous eyes.

“Sorry for draggin’ you around, love.” The new nickname has your head craning up to look at him at lightning speed. “Thought you could keep up.”

You two don't notice the lone cameraman atop the stairs, watching the scene unfold, all the while having a front row seat.

Your palms are on his chest, lips slightly agape, eyes gazing into his hazel eyes. “I did, you're not the one wearing heels, Hobie.”

“There you go, fight back, love.” His voice warms your chest as he smiles at you and only you.

Heart beating rapidly, you hear footsteps from behind, and you immediately unlatch yourself from Hobie. His warmth is left etched on your form, eyes glancing shyly at him, finding that he's already staring at you with the same softness.

“Good, you're still here.” Miguel huffs from the top of the stairs, “get the others back up here.”

The scene shifts to Miguel sitting alone in his office, looking disgruntled and tired. “I want to quit.” He says in a flat tone.

—

It's finally time to go home. You close your computer and grab your things, waving goodbye to Lyla, who's staying behind to work on paperwork. You guess that's her punishment for setting off panic in the whole office.

Mind recounting your whole day, you enter the elevator on auto pilot. The elevator door starts to close, but a hand reaches in between the closing doors, effectively opening it.

Hobie's expression brightens when he sees you.

“Hi, Hobie.” You smile, holding the door for him to give him time to enter.

“Love.” He tips his head to you, joining you in the elevator. He puts on his leather jacket filled with shiny spikes and buttons all around it, atop his button up, making him look like a tough businessman of sorts. “Headin’ home?”

“Yep,” you pop the letter ‘p’ whilst trying your best not to ogle him. “My roommate’s picking me up, we're gonna go celebrate with a couple pints of ice cream.”

“Cute.” He mumbles, quickly clearing his throat right after.

“Huh?” You glance at him, heart thudding, and hands clammy around your bag.

“I said that it's adorable, celebratin’ your first day.”

“You think it's childish?” Your brows pinch together.

“Didn't say that,” he backtracks, “I think it's nice to celebrate it.” You hum in reply. “I didn't mean—” Side eyeing him, you tamp down your laughter by biting down on your lip. He catches on immediately. Shaking his head with a fond smile, Hobie leans on the elevator wall, hands casually shoved in his pockets. “Cheeky.”

“Learned from the best.” You shuffle on your feet to hide your shyness. “What happened to the camera crew?”

“They went home, they have regular hours too y’know. Why, you miss ‘em?”

“God, no.” The doors open with a ding as Hobie chuckles at your reply. You exit the elevator, shoulders aching from how much you've been sitting down today.

“Before I forget.” Stepping off, he opens the glass door for you, propping it open with his body as he rummages through his pockets. You wait for him patiently, watching as he pats all his pockets. “‘ere.” Handing you a piece of paper, he waits for you to read it.

“Is this?” Reading the contents written in his handwriting, complete with a little doodle of the iced tea you had for lunch. Your eyes soften under the orange sunset.

“The recipe for my beef broccoli I had for lunch.” He shrugs, hand scratching at the back of his head as he stares anywhere that isn't your shining eyes. “It's easier than you think it is. It only took me about 30 minutes to cook because I chopped everythin’ up and prepped it the night before. I stopped eatin’ at shitty fast food places when I learned to do it myself.” He rambles on nervously, hiding his sweet gesture with numerous explanations.

You pat his arm before pocketing the recipe for safekeeping. “Thank you, Hobie. I'll make sure to make extra for you.”

The corner of his lips tug up into a gentle smile. “Make sure you give me an extra serving of beef then, love.”

You nod, heart beating loudly against your chest. “Does this mean I'm part of the lunch club now?”

“‘Course.” He says it like it's the most obvious thing ever. “The council has approved your membership. That includes the rest of my band mates.”

“And here I thought the council only consisted of you and a trio of teenagers.” You take a jab at him in an effort to tease him.

“Fuckin' cheeky, you're hangin’ ‘round me too much—”

A familiar weight suddenly falls on your shoulders. “Who's this tall drink of—”

“MJ!” You immediately clamp her mouth shut with your hand to save yourself the embarrassment. “This is Hobie, my coworker.”

Hobie's brows furrow, the cogs in his head turn at the sight of the red haired. “I think I know you from somewhere.”

Mj moves your hand away before answering. “Wait, I think I know you too!”

Recognition flits over their faces, eyes widening. “You're in that band!” They say at the same time while pointing at eachother.

MJ leaves your side, and Hobie fist bumps her hand in greeting. You're standing in between them so you back away a little to give them space. You smile at their interaction, it's such a small world that they actually know each other. You're happy that your best friend is acquainted with your new friend.

“You're in ‘Mary Janes,’ right?” Hobie's smile grows bigger.

“Bitch, I am the Mary Jane!” She gestures in a ‘here I am’ pose, continuing to chat him up.

“Shit, I like your music, mate.”

“Dude, yours absolutely fucks hard!” Mj jumps on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I saw you guys play last month, the crowd was wild!”

“We have a gig next week at the white horse, wanna come with?”

“Fuck yeah, my guy!”

As they talk, you blend into the background. Your mouth opens to try to get a word in, but their enthusiastic words plow over your own. Your smile falters as they slowly forget about you standing on the side. So you wait, and wait like a kid waiting for their parent to stop talking to someone they bumped into at the grocery store.

Your first day wasn't so bad, right?

[hxneyfarm]

here, have a little modern steddie meet-cute. meet-ugly, maybe? idk. 1k words, mostly dialogue

"uber for, uh," the guy in the beemer at the curb looks at the phone in his hand, "eddie m.?"

"hey, that's my name!" eddie shouts, stumbling toward the car. the world is tipping sideways a little, but it's been a good night.

he wrenches open the passenger side door and slides in.

"cool if i sit up front, man? i get motion sickness sitting in the back, and you would not like me when i'm motion sick."

"uh, sure?"

eddie pulls the door closed behind him and says, "so what's your name, pretty boy?"

"you don't check the app before getting into some random guy's car?" the guy asks with a huff.

"oh, no, i never order these things for myself." eddie laughs. he tries to think back, remember how many jameson shots he put back tonight. can't. oh, well. "my roommate always sets it up beforehand when i come down to the styx for a show."

"a show? like a concert?"

"uh, no. drag show. styx is a gay bar." the guy's quiet at that. "that a problem? still dunno your name."

"oh. steve," the guy - steve - says shortly. "no, it just... looks more like a... metal bar, or something."

"sometimes things are both, can you believe it! they do a drag show last wednesday of every month. good show tonight, all the girls looked great." he kicks his feet up on the dashboard of the car, watches steve's eyes cut sideways at them as he does. "do you like drag shows, steve?"

he's testing the waters, feeling steve out to see if he should be worried about getting into some random guy's car outisde a gay bar with a dead phone. eddie's definitely had a little too much tonight. he's probably got glitter in his hair. there's definitely black lipstick smeared across his cheek from when allison chaynz planted one on him earlier during her set.

"only been to a few, but yeah. they're a good time. good show."

safe, then. tentatively.

eddie studies steve for a moment, trying to figure him out. he's got this thing he does sometimes, in an uber; eddie's an easy read - he gets into an uber and the driver immediately flips their spotify over to a metal playlist.

the driver's are usually easy to read too, and it's eddie's favorite game; he tends to know when he's got a country boy behind the wheel, or an emo transplant from the mid aughts, or the indie girlies with their iced coffees and perpetual dark undereye circles that all the concealer in the world can't hide.

the guy looks like he wears teenage boy deodorant and smells like repressed trauma. he has the indie girlie dark circles under his eyes, an apple watch strapped to his wrist. rich boy. drives a beemer. good hair, stupid highlights. there's a tube of burt's bees cherry lip balm in the center console and a days old energy drink in the cupholder.

"hmmm, the front bottoms," he decides at last, after staring at steve for what must have been an uncomfortably long time.

"i'm sorry?"

"i said, the front bottoms."

"is that a... what's the word... a euphemism?"

"no, steeeeve. it's a band. check 'em out sometime, your daddy issues'll thank you. do you like music, steve?"

"sure."

eddie clicks his tongue. "smells like bullshit. no one who likes music says sure when someone asks if they like music."

they're stopped at a stoplight. from behind the wheel, steve is studying him right back, looking him up and down, his gaze coming to rest once again on eddie's shoes on the dash.

"get your feet down," steve says, pushing at eddie's shins. "do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"fine, fine. so if you don't listen to music, steve, what do you listen to in this fancy bmw?"

"sports, mostly," steve shrugs. "podcasts sometimes."

"oh, boy, you are a walking red flag, aren't you? shame you're so pretty."

"well what about you? what do you listen to?"

"guess."

"i dunno, probably that metal shit. five finger whatever, or something."

eddie presses his hand to his chest. "five finger - oh, stevie, i am wounded. i wouldn't be caught dead listening to bro rock."

out of the corner of his eye, he definitely catches a smile from steve.

steve holds an aux cable out to him. "here, then. wow me. show me some real metal or whatever."

"god, i'd love to take you up on that," eddie says, huffing out a little laugh. he holds his phone up. "this sucker's been dead for hours."

this time steve's the one to click his tongue. "shame."

"truly. so what's your story, steven? what's got you out at three in the morning?"

"it's my night off," steve shrugs. "just started night shift at the hospital, trying to get used to the new sleep schedule."

"mmm, the hospital. you a nurse?"

"i am. trauma nurse."

"nice. ever see any gnarly injuries?"

"had a pretty fucked up dog bite come in the other night."

"shit."

"yeah." another stoplight, another unsubtle once over from steve. "so what about you? what do you do?"

"line cook."

steve's eyes linger on him a little longer than necessary. "oh, but i'm the walking red flag. got it."

"whoa," eddie laughs. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i've dated line cooks. everyone's dated a line cook."

"sounds like something a slut would say, steve. craziest dick you've ever had, huh?"

"mmm."

it's not a denial.

they're getting close to eddie's building now, and that's an actual shame. because steve's cute. he needs a haircut maybe, and the stubble around his mouth and chin is just on the wrong side of five o'clock shadow, but he's got these distracting little moles along his face and neck and arm that eddie's been itching to play connect the dots with since he got in the car.

"wait, i know this building," steve says as he slows at the curb and looks at the address on his phone again. "my roommate's girlfriend lives in this building."

it clicks into place, then, for eddie.

"oh, shit! you're robin's steve!"

steve's eyebrows draw together as he gapes at eddie, and then his eyes go wide with realization. "chrissy's ed?"

"eddie," he corrects. "gotta be a level twenty friend to call me ed. and chrissy's the only level twenty friend i'll ever have."

"noted. good to finally meet you, man. i, uh. i guess this is you, then, huh?"

"yeah, sure is. maybe i'll see ya around." eddie goes to get out of the car.

"oh, you will," steve says, his smile lopsided and goofy. "i'll make sure of it."

"hold ya to it," eddie promises with a wink.

steve wiggles his fingers in a flirtatious wave as eddie walks backward on the sidewalk toward his building.

so robin's steve is cute. maybe he should have been letting chrissy set them up this whole time.

still. sports and podcasts. guy's a walking red flag. who knows, maybe they're green. eddie's never been able to see the difference anyway.