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mystellenia · 5 months ago

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first kiss with abby ୨ৎ

summary: after the romantic tension between you and abby reaches a peak, you two finally share a sweet kiss.

content: answer to this req and part two to this!! fluffyfluffyfluffy! ehehehehehe. i love fluff i love writing fluff. nothing nsfw. just lowk domesticity with abby and then super cutesy pie origami stuff and then a kiss 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋 ok toodles enjoy

notes: three weeks of no post i’m sorry my children. i am back!!! classes just finished and now i have summer break so i just had to soak in my freedom from my fuckass med teacher. he can choke fr 💯

(wc 1.6k)

a series of vibrations from your phone rudely pulls you out of your sleep and you swipe your hand across the bed to silence the notifications. you find your phone connected to abby's charger on her vacant side of the bed, the sheets cold without the warmth from her skin to heat them up. she always ran hot—especially during the night—which usually resulted in her yelping at your cold feet pressed to her thighs and trying to absorb her warmth in the hours of the night.

you raise your phone to your face and are met with four notifications from abby on your home screen.

abby :p otw back with our loot

abby :p two berry pastries for the missus and one cream cheese puff pastry for me

abby :p and nadia gave us two chocolate croissants bc we're super cool

swiping to unlock your phone, you head to messages and reply to her.

you YAY thanks you're the best

you we gotta get nadia a gift card or somethin

you or a bottle of liquor

you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth with your toothbrush abby got for you for her apartment since you slept over so often. while you load your brush with toothpaste, your phone lights up with a notice from messages: "abby :p loved 'or a bottle of liquor.' " sticking the toothbrush in your mouth, you smile around the minty foam and continue freshening up before abby returns.

around ten minutes later, you hear the jingle of her keys at the front door and practically skip to the living room to retrieve your pastries.

abby unlocks the door and pushes it open, a brown bag with a cafe logo printed on it in one hand and a drink carrier with two coffee cups hanging from her ring and pinky fingers in her other. with her few remaining fingers grasping onto her car keys to not drop them, she nudges the door back shut with her hip and locks it.

her blonde head donns a blue and white trucker hat, the brim of it blocking her from seeing you standing and sheepishly smiling a few strides away. she calls out to you to signal her return.

"hey, i'm back! and i come bearing gifts. i got-" it's then that abby takes her hat off and notices you inching ever closer. "oh, hi. i got you herbal tea. there weirdly was a lot of traffic today, even though it's, like, seven."

she continues on as she unpacks everything that she got for you. "then again, i guess kids have school. man, i hated that about high school—waking up early and getting to class on tim- you know what? you're not listening anyway with your food right in front of you," she chuckles. "go on. release! free!" she pokes, using command words for a dog.

you kiss your teeth and scowl at her, mumbling a "whatever" before tearing into the paper bag. you're met with your two fruit pastries first, then you spot the chocolate croissants abby mentioned under them.

the two of you stand and eat in comfortable silence in the kitchen, you sipping on your tea and abby picking at her puff pastry. when you finish, you clean both of your spots and abby throws away the paper bag and pastry wrappers, washing her hands after.

after breakfast, you guys ping pong around her apartment, moving from her bed to the couch to the floor and then back to her bed again, all just to talk or scroll on your phones.

hours pass, and after a brief joint nap in her bedroom, you guys now sat on the floor of her living room, light filtering in from her large windows and warming your skin. the floor was littered in origami squares of all different sizes and colors, the origami book abby had gotten for you split open between you two.

there was a village of origami figures surrounding you, from hearts to frogs to ladybugs to cranes. the book was flipped to a particularly challenging page of an elephant, and you looked over at abby in confusion.

she was just as confused as you, if not more. her hair was tied in a messy golden knot at the nape of her neck, loose strands crazy and framing her face. her brows were pulled tight on her face, her eyes bewildered and looking at the same piece of paper in her hands as if she'd never seen it before.

"what step are you on?" she asks, looking at the square in front of you that you were working on.

"twelve. out of..." you flip the page twice. "god. thirty." you sit up straight to stretch your back out. "i get it, though. kinda."

"what? show me. i’m on, like, seven. i swear they skipped a step. or forgot to add a picture. just something is wrong."

you scoot over to sit next to her, pulling your leg to your body and propping your cheek on it. abby places her piece in front of you puts her hands in her crossed lap, her eyes wide and waiting for you to make sense of her issue.

"okay, let's see." you pull the book closer to you to confirm the step she's on. "step seven is... rotating and folding the back of the elephant."

"which i did," abby verifies.

you rotate the piece and immediately find her mistake. "which you did not."

"what?! where?"

"here." you trace your finger along the missing crease. "you see how on mine, this part is creased and pointed? like a peak?"

"uh-huh..."

"and yours doesn't do that."

she simply hums, so you look over at her to confirm that she's listening. her eyes are unfocused and locked on your face. they flit between your own and then drop to your lips for a second. the single second feels quite long, though, when she looks so deeply at you in the way that she does, or when her baby hairs draw attention to her blonde lashes, long and very slightly curled around her sapphire eyes.

she seems to snap out it—whatever it was—and she deeply inhales, licking her lips and refocusing on the task at hand.

"can you repeat that?" she asks. "sorry, i... i zoned out."

it was your turn, now, to lose focus and examine her. you stare at her lips, rosy and still glossy from her just licking them. you stare at the corners of them and the ever so slight frown her mouth always pulls into when she's focused. you stare at the little creases in them, the dozens of lines that-

"are you looking at my lips?" she questions, interrogative and almost paranoid.

"oh, um, sorry. i was-"

"why were you looking at them?" she interrupts again, her eyes wild and demanding an answer from you.

"because, i- well, you just licked them, so- i don't know. because." you swallow, mumbling, "what, can i not look at them or something?"

her stone stare softens after noticing your flustered state, and the two of you exchange a long and quiet look.

abby held her breath nearly the entire time. she didn't want to assume anything or read the situation wrong, but your eyes were dilated. they were dilated from looking at her, and just from that.

as if it were out of your control—like you were magnets—you started moving closer to her. abby could not seem to remember how to control a single muscle in her body, so she just sat and watched you move closer as her cheeks grew pinker and pinker.

you stop right in front of her face, the tips of your noses kissing and your breaths shared. after a few seconds, you realized abby wouldn't initiate anything, so you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers, short and sweet. when you pulled away, abby's eyes remained closed for a few seconds before they slowly fluttered open.

"you just kissed me," abby whispers in disbelief, pointing out the obvious.

"i just kissed you," you echo back.

it's abby who leans in for the second kiss, thick and intense with emotion, her hand sliding up your arm. her hand reaches the back of your neck, and she pulls you closer and deepens the kiss.

you press your forehead to hers and stop kissing her, an infectious smile taking up your features instead.

"are you.. are you seriously smiling right now?" abby gasps theatrically with mock offense.

your smile breaks out into giggles and you press your face into her cheek to hide.

"wow, i cannot believe this. you are laughing at our kiss!" she teases.

"stop, no i’m not!" you plead, still laughing.

"whatever you say." she grabs your chin between her fingers and pulls your face back to look at you. peppering kisses on your cheeks, she relents on her taunting.

"are you gonna show me what i did wrong, or what?" she says, referring to the initial topic of her paper elephant.

you smile back at her. "yeah, i will."

"okay." she presses one last kiss to your temple and then waits for your instruction.

"i was saying, there's supposed to be a crease here, on what'll be the back of the elephant."

abby nods and hums like she's listening, but really, she smiles at your profile as you continue to speak.

@abbysbug @abbyonmars @abigails-gf @picklesarenice69

heheheh all done!!!! this was so cute to write especially the end like i was talking to @abbyonmars while i wrote the end and we were fangirling over typed words and pixels. but what else is tumblr dot com for if not to fangirl!!!!

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ericshoney · 5 months ago

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Interrupt ~ Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: You agreed to film a car video with the guys but you couldn't help keep interrupting Nick due to your random thoughts, resulting in a fight.

Warnings: Shouting, swearing, ADHD!Reader, argument, angst with a happy ending.

~~~~~~~~~~

Today you had gone to hang out with your best friends, agreeing to film a car video with them. The guys knew about your ADHD and being an influencer yourself, you were open about it on the internet.

All four of you were sat in the car, eating McDonald’s happily as Nick began to intro the video.

“Hey look at this funny TikTok I found of a dog!” You shouted, cutting Nick off.

You showed the video to the boys, Nick sighing as you did. All of them loved you and helped where they could with your ADHD, but they weren’t professionals.

Nick continued to talk about the video topic, however you kept interrupting him. It was like Chris but worse and Nick started to get angry.

“Shh! Your on time out for a minute!” He shouted, setting a timer on his phone, as Chris and Matt both laughed.

You pouted as he kept taking, Matt and Chris taking as well and as soon as the time stopped, you talked again.

“I think that food looks disgusting! I mean dog food looks better!” You shouted, looking at the gross food.

"Okay, what about thi-" Nick began saying, but you interrupted him.

"Oh remember that TikTok of that guy who tried dog food!" You shouted.

"Shh!" Nick exclaimed.

"Go Nick." Matt said.

"I'm trying!" He responded loudly.

"Dude calm down." Chris said.

"No! I'm actually getting pissed off now. She's constantly interrupting me every second! Like at least you keep your mouth shut for a bit, Chris." Nick responded.

You frowned a bit, Matt already turning the camera off, knowing none of them wanted this footage to be recorded.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean too." You apologised.

"You always say that, but you keep doing it. Like shut the fuck up and let someone else speak! You can't blame your ADHD all the time!" He shouted.

You fell quiet and looked out the window, feeling your heart sink. You had forgotten to take your meds this morning, resulting in you being extra loud and bubbly. They guys didn't know this though.

"Let's carry on, shall we." You said quietly.

"I promise I won't interrupt you Nick, or Matt or Chris. I promise to keep my mouth shut." You added.

"No, kid. We're not filming right now. I'm driving home and we can continue filming another time." Matt said, starting the engine.

Chris had agreed while Nick remained quiet. He instantly regretted shouting at you, especially hearing your apology for no reason.

When you all returned home, you rushed to Matt's room, taking shelter in there, as Matt slapped Nick around the head.

"Hey woah!" He shouted.

"Dude you fucked up." Chris said.

"I just got angry alright, I shout at both of you sometimes." Nick responded.

"Yeah and we take it differently to her. Plus you know she can't help it with her ADHD, why use that against her." Matt said, disappointingly.

"I know and as soon as I said it, I felt bad." Nick admitted.

"Go tell her then, bro!" Chris called.

Nick came to Matt's room and as soon as he heard you crying, he felt his heart break instantly. He walked in coming over and hugging you tightly.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean anything I said. I was just a bit angry and I know you can't help it I really do, I'm sorry and know it's a fucked up thing. I get if your angry at me." He apologised.

"Didn't have my meds. I forgot." You admitted.

"Kid, why didn't you tell us?" Nick asked softly.

"Scared you'd tell me off or something....but that already happened." You answered.

"I'm so sorry again. I really am." He apologised again.

"If your willing, how about Chris, Matt and I help you try and remember your meds? Come up with some sort of plan that we'll stick by too, then we help you out and something like this won't happy again." He suggested.

"You....You want to help me?" You asked in shock.

"Of course sweetheart. I'm so sorry again for shouting at you, I should have checked if you had your meds or needed time to regulate before jumping to being a asshole." He replied.

"Thank you." You said, giving him a small smile.

"Your welcome and I'm so sorry again." He said.

You smiled and hugged him, happy he apologised and knew he was going to do better to help you and make up for his mistake.

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itneverendshere · 29 days ago

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INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (five)

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: angst

part one; part two; part three; part four

Rafe could still feel the salt air on his skin, even if he was a thousand miles away from that damn island. It sticks to him, the way the Outer Banks does. Like he could never really shake it off, no matter how fast he ran or how far he got.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not for him, not for you.

The bus rattles down the highway, windows fogged up from the heat inside, condensation mixing with the dirt. It stinks—of sweat, of old clothes, of people trying to disappear. Like him. Rafe sank deeper into his seat, arms crossed over his chest, hat pulled low so no one got a good look at him.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have to do this.

They were going to ship him off like a stray dog. Get him out of sight, out of mind.

And Rafe almost did it. For you. He was this close to turning back and going along with it, just to make sure you were safe, make sure your parents didn’t take it out on you. But he knew he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let them win. Couldn’t let them pull him out of your life just like that.

The bus jerked as it hit a pothole, snapping him back to the present. There was an old guy sitting across from him, his head lolling to one side as he snored. People getting out, getting on, moving like ghosts through the aisles. No one looked twice at him, which was exactly how he needed it. He couldn’t take risks of someone recognizing him, not yet. Not while he’s deranged mother could still ship him back wherever she wanted.

You’d think he’d be scared. Rafe didn’t have a car, a plan, not even a place to sleep that night, or the next.. But scared? At this point, he was drained. Tired of running in circles, tired of people telling him who he was, and what he should be. Tired of feeling like he didn’t belong anywhere, except maybe with you.

But that was over now.

And fucking god, he hadn’t slept since. Not a minute. Not since he left. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was you. Lying there in his bed, so peaceful, so damn beautiful, tucked under his arm like you always did. You looked at him that night, just before you drifted off, and smiled like everything was fine. Like you had tomorrow. Like you had forever.

But Rafe knew. He knew it was the last night he’d hold you, the last night he’d wake up next to you. And he didn’t say a fucking word. Didn’t tell you he was leaving. Didn’t tell you that he had no choice but to go. He just watched you sleep, memorized every inch of you—how your hair fell across your face, the way your hand clutched his shirt in your sleep, the way you always stole the blankets.

He could’ve woken you up. Could’ve told you he was running, that he had to leave. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Rafe just couldn’t watch your heart break.

He glanced out the window, watching as the big trees blurred past, the town behind him fading as the distance grew. He didn’t know where he was headed. The only thing Rafe knew is that he couldn’t go back. Police would be looking for him, no doubt. Tony would get them on his case, only for the sake of keeping the money from your parents. Your dad would find another way to keep him as far away from you as possible. He’d probably already planned to shut down any chance of you hearing from Rafe, anyway.

And your dad? He’s probably already planning to shut down any chance of you hearing from him.

Rafe shifted in his seat, pulling his hoodie tighter around him as the bus slowed down at another random stop. Somewhere off the highway, another town that looked just like the last one. The bus groaned as the doors creaked open, and a few people shuffled on. His stomach growls. Haven’t eaten since… well, he can’t remember when. But food wasn’t the priority right now. Staying off the radar for a while was. That, and trying not to think ‘bout you.

But you were all he thought about. All he could think about was you, still wrapped up in those blankets, still asleep, still not knowing it was goodbye. It was driving him out of his mind.

The bus shuddered to a stop again, and he saw a sign out the window. Lincolnville. Some small-ass town that probably only got one diner, one bar, and a bunch of people who didn’t care about strangers. Perfect.

Rafe grabbed his bag from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder as he made his way to the front. The driver gave him a half-assed nod as he stepped off the bus, gravel crunching under his boots. The air was cooler there, crisp and clean, like a different world from the sticky humidity of Kildare.

It was also quiet. Too quiet. Just the sound of the bus pulling away, leaving him behind with nothing but the clothes on his back and a couple of crumpled bills he saved up from work, in his pocket. He glanced down the road and spotted the diner. Neon lights flickering, the kind of place that was open 24/7 but never full. His stomach growled again, and he figured he might as well get something in him.

The bell over the door jingled as Rafe stepped inside, and it was exactly what he had expected. Old-school booths, sticky linoleum floors, and a waitress who looked like she had been working here since before he was born. She eyed him as he slided into a booth by the window, but didn’t say nothin’. Just grabbed a menu from the counter and plopped it in front of him.

“Coffee?” she asked, barely looking at him.

“Yeah, sure,” Rafe muttered, running a hand through his hair, after taking the hat off. “Black.”

She shuffled off, and he stared down at the menu. It was all the same greasy food he’d seen a hundred times before, but it’d do. He ordered a burger, something cheap, and leaned back in the booth, staring out at the empty street.

He thought about you again. Wondered if you were okay, safe. If you’d figured it all out by now. Maybe you did. You were the smartest person he’d ever had the pleasure of loving. The only one really. He wondered if you were still thinking about him.

The waitress sat the coffee down in front of him, steam rising from the cup. He took a sip, the bitterness waking him up just a little. But it didn’t stop the thoughts from spiraling.

Rafe would figure it out. He always did. And maybe, one day, when the dust settled, he’d come back for you.

Time feels different out here, like it slips through his fingers faster than Rafe can keep up. But maybe that’s just how it goes when someone is trying to leave their past behind.

He ended up in a place called Huntsville. It’s about as far from the Outer Banks as he could get without leaving the South. Small town, but big enough where people mind their own business. There’s something peaceful about that—being able to disappear into the background, no one asking too many questions. Just another face in the crowd.

He got a job working at a garage off the highway. Nothing fancy, but it pays the bills. He was lucky enough to find the place when he did.

The owner, Jerry, took him in because he had experience working on engines back home, thanks to his old boss’s obsession with boats and making him learn how to fix them. Jerry didn’t ask much, just showed Rafe what needed fixing and let him do his thing. He’s got a gruff way about him, but he’s fair. Sometimes, Rafe thinks he knows he’s running from something.

Most days, it’s just him and the smell of oil, grease, and old tools. He doesn’t mind it. It’s simple. Clear. He fix what’s broken, and it works again. Not like life. Not like the mess he left behind.

He lives in a run-down apartment above the garage, just a one-room deal with a bed, kitchen, bathroom, and a busted TV. But it his, you know? He doesn’t owe it to anyone. No one can take it from him. He makes more than enough to keep the lights on, and keeps some food in the fridge, and that’s good enough. He never needed much to survive.

He's changed. The baby face he used to have? It’s gone now. Got a scruff of a beard that he can’t be bothered to shave most days. His hair’s longer, falls into his eyes when he’s working. Somedays he feels like shaving the whole thing off, but it doesn’t really matter. He likes it that way—keeps people from getting a good look at him. He’s leaner too, but stronger. Not the gym kind of strong, just the kind that comes from hauling parts and wrenching on cars all day. His hands are even rougher now, calloused from hours of work.

Sometimes, Rafe catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and hardly recognizes the guy staring back. It’s weird, though. He thought if he could change what he looked like, maybe he’d stop feeling like he was still stuck in the same old skin. But that shit doesn’t go away. No matter how much dirt you pile on top of it.

Every now and then, someone’ll ask where he’s from. He usually just says “down east,” keep it vague. The southern drawl gives him away, though. He can’t help it, still talks like he never left the island. He figured it didn’t really matter here—nobody was going to connect him back to Kildare. Back to you.

And that’s the part he still hasn’t shaken.

You. No matter how far he goes, no matter how many miles there are between you, you’re still there. In the back of his mind, in the dreams he has when he’s dead tired from a long day. He tried to let you go. He had to. But it’s like something inside him refuses to forget.

He tried to visit you once. Maybe a year and a half after he left.

You’d gone off to college like you always talked about, following your dreams, doing the things you said you would. He wanted to see you, just one last time, see if you were okay. He figured maybe he’d catch you on campus, just watch from a distance, y’know? See if you were still thinking about him, if you missed me like he missed you.

He didn’t tell a soul where he was going that day. He’d packed up early, threw on an old flannel and a baseball cap, and drove for hours. His heart felt like it was going to give out the whole time, like it was trying to talk him out of it, but he didn’t listen. He couldn’t. All he could think about was seeing you again.

He had to know.

He pulled up to your campus, parked the truck a few blocks away where nobody’d notice him. It was a hell of a lot bigger than he imagined, all these buildings, students walking around like they had somewhere important to be. He felt out of place the second he stepped foot there. His boots scuffed against the concrete, and all he could think about was how different your world was from his now.

He wandered around for a bit, keeping his head low, his cap pulled down over his eyes. He didn’t want anyone seeing him, didn’t want you seeing him. Not yet. He wasn’t ready for that.

Then he saw you.

You were sitting outside with some friends, books spread out on a table in front of you, the sun hitting your face just right. Your laugh carried over to him, soft and sweet, and jesus fucking christ, it was like a shot to his chest.

You looked... free. Like everything was finally falling into place for you. Like you didn’t have a single worry in the world.

He couldn’t move. Just stood there, hidden in the shadows of some tree, watching you. You were so beautiful it damn near took his breath away. You were smiling and it hit him then.

He’d been holding onto this idea of you—of who you were when you were together—but maybe that wasn’t you anymore. You’d moved on. You had a life now, one that didn’t have space for a guy like him.

You were really doing what you always said you’d do. Living your dreams. Being somebody.

He thought about what would happen if he stepped out from behind that tree, if you saw him. You’d probably cry, maybe even run up to him, throw your arms around him like old times. But then what?

He knew you. Knew how you were. You’d ask him where he’d been, what happened, and before he knew it, you’d be trying to figure out how to fix everything for him. That’s who you were. You’d sacrifice everything, drop all the shit you’d been working so hard for, just because you thought you could save him.

He couldn’t let you do that.

So he stood there, taking it all in—how happy you looked, how light you seemed without him. It hurt like hell, but a part of him was relieved too. You were okay. Better than okay.

You were doing fine without him. He could live with that.

He drove back to Huntsville that night, the road ahead of him hazy with tears he refused to let fall. By the time he got back, it was late, the town quiet, the lights in the garage flickering like they always did.

Rafe parked the truck, and just sat there.

He hadn’t seen you since. Never tried again. You were better off without him. Shit, maybe that’s what he needed to believe to keep going. Because if he didn’t, if he let himself think about how good it felt to see you again, even from a distance, he’d never be able to stay away.

And hell, maybe that’s why he’s been stuck here, never really able to shake it. Even now, when he closes his eyes at night, he thinks about what it would’ve been like if he’d stayed. If he’d found some way to fight instead of run. But he was too scared.

Scared that you’d grown to hate him for what he did.

He tried to move on. There’ve been other women. Just passing flings, nothing serious. They come and go, and none of them stick around long enough to really matter. Not that Rafe ever let them. It’s easier that way—keeping things light, keeping things simple. But every time he looks at one of them, he’s thinking about you. Every time they smile at him, he’s thinking about your pretty grin, about the way your eyes lit up when you two were alone, just you and him, like the world didn’t exist outside of those walls.

But he knows he can’t get that back. Fuck, maybe he doesn’t deserve to. He left. He ran. And that’s on him. He didn’t tell you, didn’t give you a chance to follow him.

The morning is already sweltering by the time Rafe gets to the garage. Another scorcher, sun beating down like it’s trying to fry him alive. Sweat clung to him before he even started working, so he decided to strip his shirt off, letting the heat hit his bare skin. His shoulders are broad now, tanned from long hours out in the sun, grease smeared across his chest and arms from a morning spent elbow-deep in some busted old engine. He runs a hand through his hair—it's shorter than the day before. He’d cut it himself last night and shaved the beard too.

First time in months he’d even thought about doing it. He grabs a rag, wiping the oil from his hands as he bends against the open hood of the car.

“Rafe!”

Jerry’s voice snaps him out of it, the old man waving him over from under the hood of another car. “Need a hand with this transmission. You gonna help me with this, or you gonna stand there daydreamin’?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m on it,” Rafe mutters, shaking his head and bending back over the engine, grabbing a wrench from the toolbox and heading over. The work is good for him. Keeps his mind off everything, keeps his hands busy and his head clear.

Jerry grunts, sliding further under the car on the creeper. “Pass me that ratchet, will ya?”

He grabs the tool from the bench and hands it over. “Here.”

The old man doesn’t even look up. Just keeps working as he rambles away.

“Transmission’s shot to hell, but we’ll get it runnin’ again. Always do.” He grunts again as he tightened something, then mutters to himself, “Damn thing’s been makin’ more noise than my wife at a family reunion.”

Rafe can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, well, you tell her that, not me.”

Jerry’s laugh rumbles out from under the car, "Boy, if I told her that, I’d be sleeping in this garage for the rest of my life."

Rafe smirks as he watches him work. Sweat trickles down his back, and he wipes his forehead with his arm. The summer heat’s brutal, like there’s no air left to breathe.

“Speaking of wives,” Jerry starts, sliding out from under the car, cleaning his hands on a dirty rag. “You ever think about it? You know, settlin’ down? Gettin' yourself a girl, maybe even kids someday?”

The question catches him off guard. He huffs out a breath, avoiding Jerry’s eyes as he fiddles with a wrench, trying to act like it doesn’t mean much to him. “Nah, not really.”

The older man raises an eyebrow, giving him one of those looks like he’s not buying it.

“Don’t gimme that. Every time we go down to Smitty’s for a drink, you start lookin’ all mopey. Especially after a couple beers. Start talkin’ about this girl you left behind.”

He tenses. He doesn’t like where this is going, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to talk about you. Not here. Not now. He sets the wrench down with a clink and leans against the car, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “That was a long time ago.”

“Maybe.” Jerry shrugs, grabbing a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lighting it up. “But from the way you talk about her, she still rattlin’ around in that head of yours.”

Rafe stays quiet, staring at the oil-stained floor, the cigarette smoke swirling in the humid air. He can’t deny it. You’re always there, no matter how far he runs, no matter how hard he tries to forget.

Jerry takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slow, like he’s thinking about something “Look, I ain’t tryin’ to pry, but you ever think about goin’ back? Maybe fixin' things with her?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Nah, she’s better off without me. She’s got a whole life now. College, friends, probably some new guy too.” His voice sounds bitter, even to him, but he can’t help it. “No reason for me to go screwin’ that up.”

“Maybe. But from the way you talk, sounds like she was pretty important to you. And if she was, maybe you oughta stop runnin' and try to figure out if there’s still somethin’ there.”

It’s not that simple. It’s never that simple. He left for a reason.

“Besides,” Jerry continues, a little grin tugging at his lips. “I ain’t never heard you talk about another girl the way you talk about her.”

Rafe shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t talk about her.”

“Oh, you do,” Jerry chuckles, flicking his cigarette butt onto the ground. “You just don’t realize it. Especially when you’re a few beers deep. Start mumblin’ about ‘the girl.’ Always ‘the girl.’ Like there ain’t no other one that ever mattered.”

He’s never meant to say anything. Those nights at the bar, when the drinks start flowing and the memories start flooding back, he tries to keep a lid on it. But sometimes, it slips out. And it’s always you.

He pushes off the car, grabbing the ratchet again, trying to ignore the mess of feelings inside him. “That’s just the way it is.”

Jerry nods, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. “Well, you do what you gotta do. Just don’t wait too long. Life’s funny like that—if you don’t grab what you want when you have the chance, sometimes it’s gone before you know it.”

He knows the old man’s right, but what the hell’s he supposed to do?

Show up at your door, after all this time, after all the silence, and what—ask you to throw it all away for him? For a guy who ran at the first sign of trouble?

They work in comfortable silence for a bit, the hum of the fans and the clang of tools filling the space. He likes it better this way. But then the sound of tires crunching on gravel gets his attention. A car pulls up outside, engine smooth as silk. Not the usual beat-up trucks or clunkers they got in this place.

Jerry’s voice is muffled, back under the car. “Go check that out. Might be my 4 o’clock appointment.”

He stands, stepping over some scattered tools as he makes his way toward the open garage door. “Yeah, I’m on it.”

As he gets outside, the sun hits him full force again, baking his skin. He squints against the glare, but his eyes are already on the car parked just outside.

“Damn,” he whistles, low under his breath.

It's nice. Real nice. Some high-end, foreign model he didn’t see around these parts. Glossy black paint, chrome accents. Clean, like it’d just rolled off the lot. Whoever owns it has money. More than anyone he has ever known in this town.

He steps closer, his eyes running over the curves of the car. He can almost feel the engine purrin’ from where he stands. He hasn’t worked on a car like this in a long time, not since—

But before he can finish the thought, he hears a voice.

“Uh, excuse me?”

It’s soft, hesitant.

Wait a fucking minute.

His body moves before he can think about it, and when he finally locks eyes with the person standing a few feet away, he nearly passes out on the spot.

He must be hallucinating.

It’s you.

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jsprnt · 4 months ago

Text

it’s difficult to communicate with a cute boy when you don’t speak each other’s language fluently

arda güler x jude’s younger sister

A/N: missed writing so much! based on this request, thank you babes! ❤️ (physical features are not specified!)

W/C: 1.574

"I'm outside, hurry up.."

you scream at your incredibly slow older brother through the phone. squinting as the july sun beams through your windshield, into your eyes.

"you're so impatient, you guys-" your brother huffs, his voice low and hushed.

"I'm not the impatient one! mister jobe over here, just ate an entire bag of sweet-and-salty popcorn in one sitting!"

you turn you head, giving jobe a nasty look, in turn, receiving a jab from your irish twin.

"stop! we got it to share!" you shout, rubbing your arm.

"now he's hitting me, come on, or I'll kick him out of the car!"

You scream, fighting back the urge to open the passenger door and kick your brother out to the curb.

"I'll be there in five, behave.."

"It's never just five minutes with you, and I'm not a dog, so I won't 'behave'-"

before you can end your sentence, your older brother hangs up on you. leaving you speechless as jobe snorts at you.

"fuckin' rude ass.."

you mumble, leaning back into your car seat.

"here, sis.." he suddenly says, nice enough, tipping the bag of popcorn just enough for you to see the contents.

it's not much, but it is something..

"thanks.." you reply, sticking your hand into the bag, and retrieving the sweet-and-salty goodness, popping the crunchy snack into your mouth.

five minutes turn into ten, and before you know it, it's been over half an hour.

"look! finally.."

you look up from your phone when jobe suddenly speaks. sighing in relief when you spot jude walking out of the real madrid training center.

"Is he alone?" you squint, moving your head to see.

"he's with brahim, and arda.."

you perk up at the names, immediately following his gaze to the three guys, all carrying their toiletry bags. indicating they'd just finished training.

the second name uttered by your brother, had your heart stuttering instantly. you try to hide the smile creeping up to your face, and pretend like you're still pissed at your older brother for being- extra late.

though, seeing the boy you've been crushing on for a couple months, next to him- maybe, just maybe you'll forgive jude for being so late.

you clear your throat, trying to act like seeing arda hadn't thrown you off a bit, and roll your window down as jude walks over to you.

"you're late.." you mutter, trying to scold your older brother, very discreetly.

you squeal when his hand comes up your face, his palm stretched over your face to shut you up.

"and I'm paying dinner, again, so shush.." he mutters, pulling his hand back when you slap his arm.

"paying for food is your duty as an older brother. it's not like you earn money to buy things for yourself.." you bite, smiling when jobe chimes in.

"yeah, big bro- she has a point.."

you grin at your big brother's expression, though your face falls when he starts talking to his teammates.

your eyes flicker to arda, noticing he'd gotten his hair cut since the last time you saw him.

you had been crushing on him since the day you two met, when you picked up jude after one of his spanish classes, and drove arda home too. out of the kindness of your licenseless-older-brother's heart.

arda didn't even speak that much english, nor did you speak any turkish.

spanish wasn't totally out of the question for the both of you, since you both were learning the language after moving there.

safe to say, you knew the guys communicated in a strange mix of spanish and mostly english. whatever was understood, went.

"can the guys join us?" jude suddenly says, breaking you out of your trance.

"you're paying, so I won't object.." jobe says, leaning back into his seat, and pulling his seatbelt on.

"sure, why not?"

not even twenty minutes pass, and your already parking your little volkswagen polo into the parking lot of the restaurant.

'a perfect first car for my daughter, especially in a new country..' your dad had beamed at the spanish dealership. shaking the dealer’s hand like he'd just bought a brand-new mercedes.

the ride to the unfamiliar restaurant is less awkward than you'd imagined, with two of your older brother's friends in the backseat. mainly lively due to your, suddenly very talkative brothers.

"we're here.." you speak, killing the engine and collecting your handbag.

your eyes dart to the building, and back to your outfit.

you'd never been before, and could only arrive correctly due to jude screaming a couple of directions in between his gossip session.

you sigh to yourself, your pretty summer dress was definitely better than the basic tee and sweatpants worn by the guys.

turning, you reach over to open your door, gasping when the door is opened by someone else.

you look up, making eye contact with a certain age mate of yours. you smile up at him, like it's on instinct, getting out of the car as he holds the door open for you.

"thank you, arda.." you speak, trying to hide the nervous tremble in your voice.

there was something about that smile that made you want to cheese over him all the time. and his brown hair, which looked golden in the sunlight, or the language barrier that made it extra difficult to get closer to him.

but, if your older brother could do it, you could too..

"have you been here before? to this restaurant?" you ask, eyes expressive as you watch him close your car door once you've stepped out.

"yes, two times.." he answers in his thick turkish accent, making eye contact with you.

"was it good?" you continue, eyes flickering to your brothers and brahim already walking into the restaurant.

noticing, you both speed up your pace, your handbag dangling from your hand, and in between you both.

"very good, delicious.."

you chuckle at the movements he makes to express himself, finding it absolutely adorable to his already sweet personality.

"that's good. I trust your taste.."

your words earn an awkward grin back, and you clear your throat. holding yourself back from completely crossing the line.

"you're insanely slow today.."

you hold back a surprised gasp when jobe grabs onto your hand, unaware of your moment with arda. your brother drags you towards a reserved table, and you sigh in reluctance before plastering a smile on your face and greeting the hostess.

the next couple minutes are filled with laughter and chatter, you glance across the table often. conveniently sitting across from arda. you notice the quick glances he takes, and grin to yourself.

taking a second bite of pasta, you look at your bothers. sneaking a bite of jobe's food when he's not looking.

you freeze when you hear a lone chuckle, looking up with red sauced lips to make eye contact with a smiley arda.

he quirks up a brow, looking down at his pizza, before sliding the plate closer to you.

"share?" he suggests with a smile, making you nod eagerly.

"deal.." you say, sliding your plate closer to him. before snatching a slice of the pizza.

"delicious..." you mutter, covering your mouth when you chew down on the cheesy goodness.

arda nods back excitedly, glancing at you with the most tender look in his eyes.

you gulp your food down with an ice-cold lemonade, watching as arda tries your pasta.

"very good.." he finally says, looking at you with a thumb pointing up. giving you the universal sign for 'good/okay'.

though, your cute food tasting moment is interrupted by jobe pricking his fork into your pasta, ruining the mood.

"can I have a breadstick?" he mutters, mouth full.

"I thought you said that you had a new diet for next season?"

"it's a breadstick. come on, sis.."

"okay- you're making it sound like I'm restricting you. eat all you want, damn.." you mutter, chuckling when you make eye contact with arda.

"you want one?" you ask, holding the breadbasket out.

"no, thank you.." you hear him say, before you're distracted by the rest of your food.

later, when dessert is ordered, and you're staring at your empty plate of food when it's being taken away, your phone pings.

you look up, unlocking your phone quickly before reading a pop up message.

'receive a note from 'arda's iphone'?'

you look up at him, quirking up a brow at the smiling boy.

you accept quickly, eyes scanning the message.

'you me, dinner again? I will study english for you.'

you almost lose your composure at the phone number underneath the sweet message, your face and body heating up.

your eyes lock, and you try to nod as discreetly as possible.

you save the number quickly, sending him a message, and watch his phone screen light up.

you grin to yourself, both of you sneaking glances at each other.

flustered enough, to not notice the look both your brothers and brahim are sending you two.

your older brother is protective as ever, though confused about what he should worry about.

arda was a good kid, and there was no way in hell he could give him the 'older brother talk' in your stead.

"your dessert, miss..”

you tune out the waiter, mind drifting to the message arda sent.

cute, you think.

what should you wear on your first date with him?

#arda güler imagines #arda güler x reader #arda x reader #arda guler #arda güler #real madrid fc #real madrid #jude bellingham #jobe bellingham #football imagines #football blurb #footballer x reader #football fanfic #football imagine #football

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lewisyellowhelmet · 1 year ago

Text

freefall (pt 2)

lewis hamilton x mercedes engineer!reader

read part 1 here !!

summary: You and Lewis have let this go on too far, and for too long. (You are an engineer for Mercedes on Lewis’ side of the garage).

content: 18+!!!! general m/f sex acts. coworker relationship. let me know if u want anything else flagged!

You wake cold. The hotel air conditioning has kicked on during the night, a familiar whir in the ceiling, and in your sleep you’ve pulled the covers up around your chin in an attempt to keep your body warmth in. It takes a few circulations of the room for you to find the off switch for the air-con.

After, you stand against the big window until your alarm goes off, warm breath making a condensation cloud against the glass. You’re in Baku. No. Budapest. Budapest. You’ve been in this hotel before, you’ve seen this view. You have to close your eyes when the surge of memories come. The sound of Lewis singing to himself in the shower. His warm arm over your belly while you slept. Leaning over graphs together to try and figure out how to be faster, how to be better. Your iPhone is ringing, vibrating, morning alarm. The room is still cold.

You get to the engineers room before Lewis does. It’s rained overnight, the track wet, the air brisk. Endless emails await you. The cars not right. Nothing is right. A headache is pulsing at your temples. Your coffee is cold before you remember to drink it. Others work around you. Recently, you’ve begun having this urge, strong and gripping, to stand up and be wild, to yell and scream. We were in love. We were in love and no one knew. I sacrificed that to give us another go at a championship and now you can’t even get the fucking car to work?

You have to close your eyes and practice box breathing until it passes. When you lift your head again, Lewis is moving around your desk to go into Toto’s office. He doesn’t look at you.

—

It has been a year. A hard year. You’d left the hotel room, left him, feeling on the verge of insanity. Lewis had let you go without much of a fight. It felt like his confession, his acceptance, had drained all his energy. Somewhere silent and hidden behind your heart, you wish he’d fought harder. Having to pretend nothing had happened in front of your co-workers was gut wrenching. Sleeping alone was worse. The break between seasons had helped, a forced separation, different cities, but now, in the thick of a new calendar, a new year, you were constantly turning corners and bumping into him. You couldn’t go back to the friendship you’d had before. And you couldn’t go forward into a new, adjusted working relationship. There was only a sense of coldness, of formality. No way forward, no way back. Only this compounding sense of dread, anticipating the next interaction.

Toto’s assistant sticks her head out of the office while you’re gazing unseeing at the screens in front of you, calling for you. Your bones feel stiff and unwilling as you unfold yourself, follow her into the small room. Lewis is sitting in front of the desk, one knee pulled up, gives you a polite smile upon your entrance. Toto is leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled, deep thinking. There are no chairs for you. You hover behind Lewis, and refuse to think about reaching out, touching the back of his neck, smoothing your fingers into his hair.

Generic meeting. A summary of free practice, and then qualifying from the day before. Plans for the day. Any new ideas? Any solutions? Your headache is getting stronger. No solutions.

Lewis holds the door open for you when the meeting is over, and you can smell him as you move past. Familiar cologne. He used to laugh when you buried his face in his neck, sniffed over-dramatically, pretending to be a curious dog. He’d wriggled from the sensation, your tickling mouth, pressing nose. Pretended he didn’t like it, but always made sure to wear your favourite smell everyday anyway.

You need paracetamol. Too late you realise he’s following you to hospitality, where the first aid kit is stored. He is a step behind, lagging, despite easily being able to match your pace. You feel the gap keenly, an open wound.

—

The over-ear headphones drown out the noise of the garage. This, at least, you can do. Go through the motions of race day, a familiar rhythm. Positioned on your stool in front of your screens, the microphone against your mouth, the final, tenuous connection between you and Lewis. A direct line between you and him. You go through the regular checks together, safety, engine, ensuring the connection is clear. The cars roar. The adrenaline pounds.

“Ready?” You ask.

“Ready.”

You chew on the inside of your mouth so you don’t say, be safe, be careful. The lights flash down. The engines rev. The job begins.

—

The air conditioning is on again in the hotel room. They’ve been in to change the sheets, the towels, vacuumed. You feel stupid with fatigue, with loneliness, with missing him. The after-race meetings had dragged. Lewis was tired. The atmosphere was tense. You want to sleep for ten years, but there is a plane to catch first thing tomorrow morning. There are spirits in the mini-fridge, ice clear and beckoning. You drink two in the shower, and another in front of BBC World News on the television. Are you dreaming? Is this real life? The gin gives everything a foggy haze. Your steps are unsteady. You sit in bed and scroll through yours and Lewis’ text threads. Room numbers. Memes. Inside jokes texted under the table during long meetings. You manage to convince yourself its a mistake when you tap through to his contact number, watch it dial, ring through. Listen to the connecting sound, hear him say, “hello?” before you realise what’s happened, what you’ve done, what rule you’ve broken. You hang up. Hot panic. The newsreader is talking about weather. Lewis is calling back, already, and you watch it ring out. You feel frozen by horror. The room is so cold, and the fridge is worse as you reach in, tiny bottles clinking together. Vodka this time. Forget, forget, forget.

There’s someone knocking on the door. You manage to get yourself into a hotel issued robe, pull it tight, before you get into the small hallway, fumble with the handle, get the door open. You swear, and Lewis has to reach out to stop you closing the door again.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“Yes,” you insist.

“You called me.”

“Did I? It must have been a mistake.”

Your voice sounds fake, even to you, the laugh reedy and broken.

“Are you drunk?” Lewis asks.

“No,” you lie.

He drops his arm from where it was holding open the door. He’s wearing pyjama pants and a worn grey hoodie. One you used to wear to go make the coffee in the morning. You can tell from the softness of his expression he’s been recently asleep. You should shut the door now. Block him out again. Go to bed. Instead, you feel yourself start to cry, building in your chest, the tightness in your throat, burning in your eyes.

“Babe,” he says, so sad, so concerned, and the sob you emit is embarrassing and loud. You have to let go of the door to cover your face, feeling your back curve over. Lewis is gentle about coming inside, guiding you to the bed, tucking you in. He brings you a glass of water, makes you have three big sips. You’re still crying, childlike, red faced and snotty. He passes you tissues, strokes your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you start to say, even as he shushes you, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, “Everything’s okay.”

You feel as if the world is ending. Crying like this in front of him. Drunk and messy. And the room is so fucking cold.

“Can you,” you stumble, wriggling over in the bed, throwing open the covers, “I’m really cold.”

He says your name the way he used to say it, warm and intimate, a nickname. Like a lover. Like a partner.

“Are you sure?” He asks, even as you’re reaching out for him, dragging him in.

“Please,” you say, “I’m cold.”

He tastes salty when you kiss him, your own tears on his mouth. He makes a wounded sound, but then he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you to his chest, his leg over yours. You feel held, sheltered. He lets you kiss him again, deeper, better.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, when you need to breathe, and he’s smiling, warm eyes, smoothing you hair off your face.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, “Whatever you need.”

Your hands are fists in his hoodie, “I need you.”

“How do you need me?”

“Like this,” you whisper, lips brushing his, taking his hand to slip into your robe, over your breast. He sighs out a breath as his fingers touch your nipple, swipe over it again so you make a small, wanting noise.

It feels dreamlike, a long awaited thing. A rush, almost, to get out of your robe, Lewis out of his own clothes so you can sling a leg over his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck as he pushes into you, his big hand tangled in your hair, holding you to him. Rasping breaths, the sudden heat of two bodies working together, the length of him inside you, pushing deep. It feels instinctual, animalistic, breathing him in, trying to remember everything, compartmentalise every second, every touch, every groan. Lewis rolls you onto your back, but stays close, his mouth finding yours, sharing breath as he grinds into you. You come quickly, nothing controlled, grasping at him and panting, shaking through it. Lewis holds himself there, lets you shudder and cry out, pulsing around him. His eyes are dark and liquid, but he keeps watching you, like he’s trying to remember as well, be present for everything. You don’t want this to ever end. When you can breathe again, he returns to his rythym, steady knocks of his hips into yours, the rush of his breath, of his body. His face drops into your neck when he finishes, hands gripping you like he will never let go again. You feel new, hot tears leak down your face as you hold him.

—

You wake warm, this time. You’re curled around yourself, a child, with Lewis aligned to your back, his face against your spine, his arm over you, protecting you. You’re facing the window, curtains left open, blinking at an apartment building, holding hundreds of different lives, different bedrooms, different people. Lewis is still asleep, you can tell from the steadiness of his breath, the sleep-weight of his body over yours. You place your hand over his, interlinking knuckles. The more you wake up, the more you feel embarrassed, shame curdling in your belly. He’s done this out of pity. How gross, to call him, drunk, drag him into bed with you, to beg. You feel overheated, suddenly, untangle yourself from him, slip out of the covers and into the bathroom, pulling the sliding door to encase yourself in the marble and glass. Your eyes are swollen from crying. You mouth is bruised pink from him. There are fingertip bruises on your waist from where he’s held you. You have to sit on the lip of the built in tub so you don’t throw up, or start crying again. You haven’t washed your hair in a few days, and it hangs limp around your fingers, head in your hands, again. Hiding. Wanting to disappear. Your hangover makes you tremble. You’ve failed. You failed years ago, when you looped your arms around his neck and kissed him for the first time. You failed again when you turned your back on him. And now, to be so weak, to force him to do this again, to look after you.

The bathroom door slides open. Lewis is in your robe, tight around his shoulders. You try to smile at him, but even without seeing you know it’s more of a grimace.

“I don’t know what to say,” you tell him, raking your hands through your hair, “I’m just so, so sorry.”

“You said that a lot last night.”

Lewis doesn’t move any further into the room. Stays in the doorway. Watches. Witnesses.

“I can’t believe I. I’m so embarrassed.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t be.”

“Lewis,” you’re speechless. What is there to say? How to apologise? To take back?

“Look,” he spreads his hands, surrender, “We don’t have to talk about it. It never happened.”

“Never happened,” you echo. Vomit threatens. Never happened.

“If that’s what you want,” Lewis says.

You’re nodding, looking down at your bare feet on the tiles, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The silence makes you want to scream. Just to break it. You can hear your heartbeat in your head. A constant pound. You stay there, on the edge of the bathtub, while he gets dressed. He doesn’t look in on his way out. The door shuts with a finality.

—

You fly to Oxford. He flies to Monaco. You don’t speak.

—

It happens in the middle of the night. The off season. When you check your phone for the first time the next morning, waiting for the kettle to boil, you have so many missed calls your phone has stopped counting them. The photos are blurry, but it’s obvious if you know what you’re looking for. Through a small window in the door of your office. In the first one, you’re just laughing together, the second you are reaching for his hand, the final one you are in his lap, your mouth hidden by his, Lewis’ big hands in your hair. You’re still staring at them when he calls. He does’t say anything when you pick you. You just breathe, together, for a long moment.

“So it happened,” you finally say.

“It happened,” he agrees.

“I haven’t spoken to anyone else yet. I just woke up,” you say.

“Don’t,” he says, “I’m going to fly in this afternoon. We’ll have a meeting with the publicists. Toto wants HR there, as well.”

“Fuck.”

You hesitate, and then, “Was Toto mad?”

“He wasn’t happy. He reckons Susie knew and didn’t tell him.”

“Where did the photos come from?”

“Ex-employee, they think. Was waiting for the right time.”

“And now is the right time?” You can hear the edge of hysteria in your voice.

“I’m really sorry,” Lewis says.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry.”

You need to boil the kettle again, tea forgotten. You realise you're gripping the kitchen bench so hard your knuckles have gone white. You let go. You look out over the garden, crisp with morning frost. Christmas soon. You’ll have to explain to your family.

“Did Toto say anything about my job?” You ask, feeling sick at the thought.

“No. I said if he fired you, I would quit.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not.”

There’s quiet again. You flick the kettle on.

“I think it’s good if we come in together. We can plan what we want to say. I can pick you up from your house,” he says.

“Alright.”

“Don’t answer any numbers you don’t know, okay? Media might call.”

“Really? I was just gonna pick up strange numbers all day,” you say, a bite in your tone. Lewis laughs though, an amused huff.

“You’re right, sorry. I’m control-freaking.”

You hum an agreement.

"I’ll see you soon, then,” he says.

You suddenly have a fierce urge not to let him end the call, to let his voice anchor you.

“Alright,” you say, and hang up first.

—

The meeting is awful, of course. People are panicking. Toto scolds. You go silent. Lewis rages. In the end, the core group sits silent around a meeting table. The most promising solution is to paint it as star-crossed lovers, meant to be, soulmates. Refusing to be kept apart by jobs and contracts. This would be perfect, perhaps, if you were still together.

“Could you pretend? Until it died down,” Toto had said.

“No,” you’d snapped, speaking over Lewis’, “It depends what she wants.”

Now, the silence is stale, nothing left to say, but no agreement reached. Your eyes prick with fatigue.

—

Lewis drives you home. When he pulls into the driveway, you’re too tired to get out of the car. There is a light on inside. Your mum must be here, checking in on you. Has heard somehow, which must mean it's on the internet.

“How are you feeling?” Lewis asks, when you make no move to open the door.

“Tired,” you say, “You?”

“Sad.”

It’s unconscious, reaching to to touch his leg, an urge to comfort. He sighs. The muscle of him is warm through his jeans.

“If this had happened a year ago,” he starts, and stops, shaking his head, “Doesn’t matter.”

“If it happened a year ago, what?” You say. He shrugs.

“Everything might have turned out okay.”

You turn your face from him, look out the window into the dark street. It makes your heart throb painfully to see him. You can’t speak through a thick, swollen throat.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it,” you finally manage to whisper. Your hand is still on his thigh.

“Didn’t say what?"

You close your eyes, lean to rest your forehead on the car window with a thunk.

“Didn’t say that I loved you back.”

“Did you?”

You laugh, exhausted from carrying it for so long, “Lewis. Of course. Of course I do. So much.”

“You do?”

Your eyes fly open, realising your mistake. You snatch your hand from his leg, turn to face him, “I did. I did then.”

“You don’t love me anymore,” he clarifies. He’s frowning, forehead creased. The night is pressing in on the car, dark and claustrophobic. You can’t speak.

“Because nothing has changed for me. I feel the same as I did then,” Lewis says, and you can see how he’s working to speak, jaw twitching, forcing the words out. Something private, and hidden, being pushed into the open. You’re pressing your hands together in your lap, painfully tight.

“Alright,” you say, hate yourself for it. He looks away. His eyes are gleaming.

“Alright.”

You get out of the car. Stiff and awkward. You get your key in the front door, hear him turn the engine back on. Fear is clawing at your chest. You turn around anyway, back down the steps, jump in front of the car so he has to slam on the breaks, a screech breaking the night air. He’s opening the drivers door at the same time you’re trying to open it, get to him. He’s half out of the car and you’re half in when you kiss him, cold air, warm mouths. He’s grasping your head, holding you steady.

"I’m sorry,” you’re panting, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” Lewis says, “What’s done is done.”

You keep kissing him, his face, his nose, his jaw.

“I love you,” you press into his skin, you kiss into his mouth, “I love you.”

Lewis is pulling you into his lap, back into the car, pulling the door shut again, crammed in. Your hands under his shirt, feeling his skin, feeling him breathe.

“Do you?” He asks, holding your face in front of him. You feel your face hurt with how wide you are grinning, a release of something held inside for so long. Your hands mirror his on his face, precious in your fingers.

“I do. I do. I love you.”

Lewis half laughs, half sobs. His eyes are shining. The car horn beeps from a stray elbow. You keep kissing him anyway.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #f1 smut #f1 imagine #*

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cheollipop · 1 year ago

Text

calico

navi | taglist

pairing: ex!yoon jeonghan x bartender!reader

w.c.: 3.1k

tags: fem!reader, smut, angst, past infidelity/cheating, this is really toxic.... hate sex though....

the heartache from a past game of cat and dog—leaving you with nothing but a stained bed and a broken heart—came back tenfold when freshly-chopped hair and a sly smirk greeted you through the cracked-open, tinted window.

warnings: car sex, so semi-public sex, hate sex, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, some cockwarming, degradation (mentions of past cheating, both reader and jeonghan refer to the other as "slut"), reader is also called a cockslut at one point, hair pulling, pussy slapping, nicknames (hannie; darling), jeonghan is really toxic (and a big asshole), past infidelity, seungcheol is mentioned a few times *wink wonk*

A/N: this is for the anon who requested jeonghan ages ago. I might be 5 years late to writing it, but it's here hehe~ I'm so glad I finally got to write more for svt! this was really fun to write~ please consider leaving feedback/reblogging if you enjoyed! ^^ happy reading~~

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Frosty air cooled the sweat sticking to your exposed skin, heeled boots clacking over the pavement as you stumbled out of the creaky, metal door at the back of the club. You were way too sober, you thought, eyebrow twitching at the memory of your fight with the new manager. ‘No alcohol after you clock in,’ the high-pitched sound repeated in your ears. You worked just fine with a shot or two in your system; you’d argue you worked even better, able to drown out the slurred pick-up lines and simply pour drinks. Friday nights were the worst, and having to deal with clingy men who didn’t understand rejection—most of which not even your type—without alcohol had you considering a career change. So the second the clock hit eleven, you hurriedly wiped your station before another batch of college freshmen crowded the bar, grabbing your stuff and scrambling out the back exit.

Your legs carried you out of the small alleyway and onto the lit main sidewalk, thankful that the council finally replaced the flickering light bulb. Your eyes zeroed in on the bus stop down the road, and you quickly made your way towards it before the last bus could arrive.

A sudden horn blared to your right, cutting through the stillness and sounding over the distant music from the club behind you. Your fingers dug into your pocket on instinct to circle around the tube of pepper spray, your body tensing defensively as you faced the Jeep parked in front of you. The driver’s tinted window rolled down, a head of short, brown locks peeking through the gap. Your hand eased around the spray when you met with familiar, downturned eyes, hooded with what seemed like amusement. A shot of pain seared through your chest, your heart pounding against your ribcage as Jeonghan stared back at you blankly, a simple “hey” reverberating in the air between you.

“No bitches to cheat on tonight?” You spat, tightening your fingers around the jacket in your hand.

Why was he here? After you’d finally stopped looking for him in every corner, hoping he’d pull you out from behind the bar to give you a tearful apology? After the scent of his misdeeds had faded off your bedsheets, your slumber no longer interrupted by dreams about your heart being used as a plaything?

Jeonghan's eyebrow twitched, his amusement blending with irritation. “Seungcheol’s taken now, whose cock would they jump on if I did?”

Resentment seeped into your chest, and you considered pepper spraying him just to erase that smug smirk off his face. But you turned away from him, sucking in the cool air while scheming eyes bore into your profile. You willed your legs into motion, your footsteps sounding to the beat of the muffled club music as you continued your journey down to the bus stop. A car door slammed somewhere behind you, and you picked at the side of your index finger while you walked, hoping it was just a clubber who’d been running late. A firm hand wrapped around your upper arm and twisted you around, striking out the previous possibility when Jeonghan’s hot breath brushed against your face.

“Let me drive you home,” he mumbled, his hand relaxing around your arm but not quite releasing it.

You couldn’t help but pity him in this moment. A man who’d broken your heart and left you to mend it alone, curled up on your bedroom floor while he stuffed his belongings into a worn-down duffle, not even an apology or a goodbye, only the loud clang of his spare key landing on your console before the front door slammed shut. That same man, two years later, parked in front of your workplace—for God knows how many hours—only to drive you home? A part of you was curious why that was. The other, though, wanted to get the fuck away from him.

“Why? So I can hear more about how not sorry you are? No thanks,” you tugged against his grasp, now tight around your arm again.

“(Y/n), please. I won’t say anything, I just wanna drive you home,” the subtle hint of desperation in his voice alarmed you. It didn’t make sense, and yet the unanswered question overshadowed your confusion. The anger that had been simmering in your gut was beginning to boil.

“So you actually don’t feel guilty?” You didn’t mean for your voice to crack, and yet the ache in your chest nearly made you double over the further his silence stretched—the same one that had robbed you of sleep, kept you away from all potential love interests, had you curled up in the same sheets the reeked of adultery and betrayal while Jeonghan continued to jump from woman to woman, a trail of his sins dragging behind his indifferent figure. “Let me go, Jeonghan,” your tone was weak, defeated, once again faced with agonizing reality—he’d moved on long before that day.

You missed the way his eyelids fluttered at the delicate roll of his name off your tongue, the sound sparking a memory into the front of his mind, a collage of smiles and easy laughter echoing in his ears. His hand raised to grab onto your other arm, possessiveness laced with concern slowly overtaking him at the sight of you—shoulders slumped, eyes glassy and your fingers shaking where they curled into fists at your sides, the mere mention of his indifference reducing you to the same, hurt woman he's left behind.

“It’s late. Let me just-” He paused. Jeonghan never paused, not even when you stood at your doorway, looking him in the eye while he soiled your bedsheets with someone else. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

You blamed it on the quiver in your legs, the loss of willpower to move yourself away from him, but this time, you didn’t argue.

‘I thought you would be okay,

You thought I would be the same,’

Dpr Ian played through the speakers, the volume on low despite the silence stretching between you and the man in the driver’s seat. You realized you hadn’t needed to give him directions, a relationship of three years enough to engrave the way to your apartment into his mind forever. Your eyes flitted over to the side every now and then, taking in the shadows cast over Jeonghan’s cheekbones with every passing streetlight, his fringe fanning over his forehead in a way unfamiliar to you. Looking back to the front, you decided you preferred his longer hair, and missed the innocent glimmer in his dark eyes. Though despite all the changes—new car, new hair, new attitude and style—Jeonghan still used the same perfume, one that you’d bought him for the first birthday you’d celebrated together. Something in your gut stirred at the thought, but you were unsure whether it was pleasant or not.

‘it’s just another show,

Don’t want your world no more,’

Jeonghan cleared his throat, “I got promoted to manager,” he spoke, breaking the silence.

“Good for you,” your tone was cold, uninterested.

“Yeah.”

Dpr Ian continued to play, ‘You’re so addicted to my bad decisions.’

“How’s bartending been?”

“It’s okay.”

He hummed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he took a right turn. “Mm, I worry about you sometimes. People can act crazy when drunk.”

Your eyebrow twitched, irritation creeping into your tone, “you don’t get to be worried about me.” You felt the urge to slam your fist into his unnecessarily sharp jaw, to watch bruises paint his face until the rage embedded so deep within your soul dissipated.

A few seconds of silence passed as Jeonghan parked parallel to the empty sidewalk in front of your apartment building, sighing while turning off the engine and twisting in his seat to face you. “You know, I’m just trying to be nice here.”

Your fists clenched, mirroring Jeonghan and turning around to look at him with hooded eyes, your muscles clenching and relaxing in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought to do that before you fucked a random girl in my bed,” you spat, content to have watched his face fall before turning your back to him and reaching for the door handle.

A hand flew over your shoulder before your fingers could reach their target, his index and thumb grabbing your jaw and forcefully forcing you back into your prior position. “And you thought sleeping with my best friend was a good way to handle it?” He pulled you closer to him, your lower belly digging into the console as he bent you over it, his face mere inches away and his breath blowing warm over your cheeks.

“You don’t get to blame me-”

He was quick to interrupt your defense, “you think I didn’t notice you acting like a slut to get his attention? Way before anything even happened,” his grip on your face tightened, inching his own closer as he spoke, each word falling off his tongue making the knot in your stomach wind tighter. “The looks,” something in his eyes glimmered, and while that once made butterflies flutter in your stomach, it now grew the lump in your throat until it restricted your airway. “The touches,” his breath fanned over your face, small beads of sweat pilling over your skin at the humidity, and perhaps at the rasp in Jeonghan’s voice as he laid out your sins before you. “The pictures.”

Your fingers gripped the console, slipping off with streaks of sweat staining the black leather. Heart pounding in your ears, you hoped Jeonghan’s hearing somehow declined during the years you’d spent apart, the ringing in your ears fogging up all thoughts. You blamed the nerves on his accusations—a dark past you thought you’d buried without trace—and yet the proximity, the lack of space between your face and Jeonghan’s, the mint lacing his breath and the rasp in every word he spoke, you found hidden tinges of arousal mixed in with your anxiety, dousing your panties as you tried to escape the man’s grasp.

“Why are you here, Jeonghan?” Your voice wavered, but this time, you didn’t miss the wave of what seemed like relief painting his face when his name rolled off your tongue.

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”

The ache in your chest returned, your eyebrows furling until you appeared wounded by his words. “Not for a second,” your voice remained firm, though, sparing him no glimpse at your heart.

Jeonghan only scoffed, amused by the contrast between your tone and expression. He leaned closer—as though your indifference urged him to prove himself to you—pressing his lips the corner of your mouth, whispering his next words against the soft skin, “you’re not entirely wrong… but I did miss one thing.”

‘I thought you would be okay,

You thought I would be the same.’

Your lower back dug into the steering wheel, the leather beneath your knees creaking as you adjusted your position over Jeonghan, your pants shamefully thrown over the passenger seat. Teeth clacked against each other, heavy breaths mingling between your open mouths as your tongues pressed together in a battle of lust.

Two fingers spread you open, curling between your sopping walls until your eyes rolled back, his other hand holding up the window switch, waiting until the darkened glass closed fully before moving it to your hip.

Squeezing the supple flesh, Jeonghan groaned into your parted lips, “still so fucking tight, did Seungcheol not fuck you well enough?”

Heat flared up your chest, “shut up.”

You’d thought two years and countless hookups would’ve blurred Jeonghan's memory of you, but his fingers fucked into you with purpose, as though every inch of your body, every motion that drove pleasure up your spine had become second nature to him.

“I bet he didn’t know how to satisfy my pretty slut,” he pressed his lips to your cheek, using the hand on your hip to guide you over his fingers.

“Sh-shut up-”

He slipped out of you, gliding his digits down your cunt and over your clit before landing a harsh slap over the nub, your body jolting over him and a broken cry sounding in the humid car. The wet clap of his hand on your drenched pussy repeated, and you mumbled incoherently through a breathy moan.

“What was that? Speak up for me, darling,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

The urge to punch the playfulness off his face dissipated when skilled fingers brushed over your clit, “fuck, again-”

And he conceded, bringing his hand down on your pussy once more to watch your back arch into the steering wheel behind you, lips parting as pain mingled with pleasure, your cunt throbbing under Jeonghan’s palm. That same hand swiftly moved to your face, fingers digging into your jaw and smearing your arousal over your skin while his other worked over his zipper, quickly undoing his pants and pushing them down far enough to take his cock out. It leaked precum over his black button-up, the vein lining the underside throbbing at the sight of you above him—eyes glazed over and fixed on his hard length, your tongue digging into the inside of your cheek.

His fingers tapped against your clit, once, twice, before landing another rough slap over it. He grabbed himself around the base, groaning at the sudden contact as he positioned you over the leaking cockhead, “be a good girl for once and- fuck-”

You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, sliding down his length unprompted until his cock was sheathed entirely between your fluttering walls. You rolled your hips to adjust, forcing your chests flush as you moved and pressing your lips to the shell of Jeonghan’s ear.

“You talk as if you’ve done nothing wrong, but you’re just as much of a slut as I am, aren’t you, Hannie?” Trailing feathery kisses over his jaw, you slipped his cock halfway out of your cunt before sliding him back inside, squeezing your walls around him to feel the stuttered rise and fall of his chest against you. “You fucked me that morning, then brought that bitch into my bed a couple hours after,” you pecked the sharp edge of his jawline, moving your lips back to his ear to whisper your next words, “didn’t even have the decency to take her to your apartment-”

Rough fingers tangled in the hair at your nape, tugging your face back until you met with unfocused eyes. Jeonghan readjusted under you, digging his feet into the clean mats and thrusting upwards experimentally, scoffing at the moan you tried to suppress. Your neck craned uncomfortably, gritting your teeth as Jeonghan eyed you silently, a hand on your hip keeping you still and leaving you helpless to do anything but warm his cock.

So you commenced your taunts, desperately trying to wiggle out of his grasp while you spoke, “how many hours have you been waiting outside, huh? Just to get your dick wet-”

“I have you on my cock now, don’t I?” His fingers tightened around your hair, and he leaned back in his seat, fucking up into your clenching cunt before you could think of anything to say—assuming you were still capable of processing anything but the smooth drag of his length between your pulsing walls, his nails digging thin crescents into the flesh of your hip. His breathing grew heavy, and yet his words remained clear, contemptuous. “You may hate me, darling, but whether you like it or not, you’ll keep coming back to me,” the hand in your hair eased, fingers scratching soothingly at your sore scalp and pushing your head closer to his, bringing his voice down to a whisper, “because you’re my pretty cockslut, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan nuzzled his nose into your cheek, planting a tender kiss to the heated skin while you frantically nodded your head. A staccato of moans and repetitions of his name rolled off your tongue as he brought you down to meet his relentless thrusts, his own grunts adding to the stuffiness in the closed-up car. He pounded into your dripping cunt, taking in the jolts of pleasure shaking your body every time he drove his cockhead into your g-spot, your moans growing needier the closer he pushed you towards the edge.

With one final slap to your throbbing pussy, your vision darkened and your body curled in on itself. Jeonghan’s fingers rubbed quick circles over your swollen nub, watching you writhe on top of him as waves of pleasure seared through you, your moans high-pitched and desperate as he guided you through your orgasm with unrelenting fingers, spark after spark of simmering heat blinding you to everything but Jeonghan.

He felt his own high approaching at the tight squeeze of your walls around him, his thrusts slowing down when you tumbled over the edge, but returning to their frenzied pace to chase his orgasm. Your fingers closed over his upper arms, tinges of overstimulation blending with the ecstasy of his cock slamming into your used cunt.

“Fuck- where do you want me, darling?” He rolled his head back over the headrest, eyes lidded with burning arousal and his thighs beginning to cramp up at the pace he was going at.

“Inside, Hannie, hnngh! Please, inside,” you said, words slurred and interrupted by a harmony of moans, disregarding the soreness between your legs while you begged Jeonghan to come inside you.

He laughed at the desperation, the sweet noise—airy, gravelly with the lust clouding his every sense—was cut short, interrupted by a throaty grunt as he emptied inside you, hot ropes of cum pulsing out of him to paint your walls. Cupping your ass with both hands, he sunk his fingers into the flesh and guided you over his cock in slow rolls of your hips, breathing in the air the other exhaled, eyes locked as the last spurt of cum warmed your insides.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but now, with your head resting on Jeonghan’s chest, his steady heartbeat echoing in your ears and cum slowly dribbling out of you while his cock remained sheathed deep inside, you realized you’d let your walls down for the man who’d caused them to go up, sinking into the pleasure he so generously poured into you. The walls you’d been holding up for two years, the pain he’d left you with sparking fear in your heart every time someone tried to get closer. And yet, the same man who’d planted that fear inside you somehow breached past the infrastructure you’d spent so long strengthening.

While you laid there in the faux sense of security Jeonghan so easily provided, you realized he was right: you will always find your way back to him.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #yoon jeonghan angst #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen fanfic #yoon jeonghan fanfic #yoon jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan imagines

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queenimmadolla · 1 year ago

Note

For the blurb thing

Eddie

Bath

Fluff

𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 '𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 ─ because i don't want to keep track of a bunch of different dad!eddies

“This is fucking gross.”

“Well, you smell gross. So.”

Eddie huffed, brows furrowed in irritation as he leaned his back against the shower tile. The baby in his arms slapped her palms furiously against the red mixture of water and tomato juice filling your small tub, the splashback splattering across Eddie’s face.

He looked ridiculous. You’d already taken the pictures.

The trailer was lucky enough to be equipped with a small…tub of sorts. Really, it seemed to be only suitable for children, no grown adult could bath comfortably in one of these.

Yet, here Eddie found himself, folded up in it with his knees poking out, no leg room, no back room–his ‘lean’ put him at a 92 degree angle, if he was lucky– holding a one year old, who had most definitely already peed in the mixture.

So, now he was sitting in tomato juice, water and piss.

Eddie was not happy.

“There we go,” You sang, as you poured the last can, tapping the bottom of it for good measure.

“Is that necessary?” He snapped.

You took no offense, eyes wary as you eyed him from top to knee before locking eyes again, “You need every drop.”

Then you pinched your nose and Eddie rolled his eyes.

What had been a promising start to family day at the park–picnic basket, copy of a new book you’d picked out at the bookstore in town with a couple of penny’s favorite blocks to beat into the ground, in hand–quickly turned disastrous when Eddie had taken Penny over to a tree she’d been pointing towards and babbling at while you set up the blanket, and the two of them had promptly been sprayed by a skunk hiding behind the tree trunk.

You’d heard a lot of screaming and squealing. Penny even yelled out once.

The car ride back was agony, having the front windows rolled down and the back ones propped open didn’t help, you’d had to stick your head out the window, uncaring about other people in passing cars. If being compared to a dog meant you didn’t have to smell your husband and baby, you’d bark.

Eddie had to stand outside the trailer holding Penny while you rummaged around for a Wellness magazine you’d seen the measurements for a tomato juice bath in once. When you appeared in the doorway, magazine clutched in your hands and held in the air victoriously, Eddie and Penny got to go inside while you took your car–and not his stinky van–to the market to pick up some tomato juice.

Eddie hadn’t been willing to sit in it. If it weren’t for Penny, you would have had to chase him around the trailer but you'd been able to gaslight him into thinking Penny wouldn’t like this particular bath since it wasn’t just water. A low blow since you knew how distressed he got when she cried.

So he’d gotten in. And Penny was having the freaking time of her young life.

“Do you like your bath, baby?” You cooed, leaning forward as she beamed up at you, toothless mouth open wide with her smile and those big brown eyes of hers sparkling. All because it was you talking to her, she loved you so much, “Yeah, awww, such a good stinky girl, huh?”

Penny squealed in agreement, hands slapping down against the water again, making Eddie flinch. Then she wiggled, chubby arms reaching out to you, asking you to pick her up and hold her but you quickly ran out of the breath you were holding so you yanked yourself back for a breather. The car ride might have got you a little familiar with their scent but you weren’t nose blind.

Eddie took offense, “How long do we have to sit in this?”

“Until you don’t stink.” You scooped some of the mixture up in a plastic cup and poured it over his head, trying not to laugh at the frenzied look on his face.

Penny didn’t hide it, she laughed openly, turning so she could be sure to make eye contact with her daddy. She got the same hair treatment, but she was used to having her hair washed this way, she loved it.

“And exactly how long is that, dearest?” That had been the closest he’d been to calling you a bitch.

“Uhm,” You gave Penny the cup to play with while you wiped your hand off and picked up the magazine resting on the small sink counter. It had been open, you scanned past the measurements until you reached the set time, “twenty minutes.”

Eddie was about to launch into complaints when he noticed your slight frown and the furrow in your brows.

“Huh.” Is all you said, head cocking to the side

“What?”

You were silent for a moment, reading the sentence over again in your head before you read aloud, “Does not eliminate or neutralize odor.”

“WHAT!?”

“I know right? Why would they provide the measurements for the tomato juice and water ratio if it doesn’t even work? Is this an amateur? Some sucker is walking around, thousands of dollars in debt with a degree in journalism, only to write about myt–”

“GET ME OUT!”

#last of the baby blurbs from the first round are gonna start going out #vivi's baby blurbs #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #pennyverse #dad!eddie #girl dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #stranger things #eddie munson blurb

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gottawhump · 2 months ago

Text

Dogs

115

CW/TW: pet whump, BBU/WRU, noncon, drugging, starvation, food mention, vomit mention, biting. Multiple whumpers?

He shivers in the locked cage, in the cellar. The thin, coated wires bite into his skin. No blanket to warm him or to provide a bit of comfort.

Comfort is earned.

Warmth is earned.

Food is earned.

The owner graces him with a bottle of water each day. It’s bitter, and makes him sleepy, so that he wakes aching with a throbbing headache.

There’s shouting upstairs. Two voices, hers quieter but still raised, and the owner’s, enraged. Hard shoes stomping on the floor. Then down the stairs.

A few clicks, and the cage door opens. He lifts his head, and the owner clips a leash to his collar.

“You want to go out so badly? Come on.”

He’s allowed to sit in the passenger seat this time, and he looks out the window, unable to stop gaping at the unfamiliar sights.

The owner laughs. “If I rolled down the window, you’d stick your head out like some stupid mutt.”

He stares out at the city lights, and the night.

“Come on.” The owner tugs hard at the leash, dragging him forward into the dingy warehouse.

Inside, he blinks under the bright lights. There’s crowds of people here, cheering and yelling.

As they get closer, some greet the owner by name, slapping him on his back. In the circle, 115 hears snarling and growling. Then a scream. A breath of silence, followed by curses and cheers.

“Pretty lapdog you’ve got there, Did you bring him for bait?”

“Nah, I’m going to want him back. Though I’d lend him to the club as a reward bitch.”

An active participant in my owner’s desires. If there was anything in his stomach, he’d throw up, adding a new stain to the old concrete surrounding him. If there was some way to run, he’d run.

The only times he spent in the Facility clinic were after being given to Guard Dogs.

Fighting Dogs lost a lot of the inhibitions built into Guard Dogs, he’s heard. That’s why they were illegal.

He turns his head as the door opens. A big, bloodied man comes in, a slow smile spreading across his face when he sees 115. “Go ahead and run. I like it when they run.”

He runs, useless in the small space. He’s caught, tackled to the floor, sharp teeth pricking his throat. He screams as his arm is twisted hard behind his back. Knees spread his legs apart.

This is only the first one.

The owner helps him into the car, tossing a rough blanket over him and buckling him in. His eyes are too swollen to let him see the rising dawn out the window.

Before they get home, there’s a stop, and then the owner tosses a hot paper bag in his lap. His stomach growls at the smell.

At home, the owner points to the guest bedroom. “Go clean yourself up. You can use warm water. Eat, then sleep. Don’t bleed on the sheets.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” The words come out with a bit of a lisp, over his split lips.

“Maybe now you’ll appreciate how easy you have it, little whore. Maybe now you’ll be grateful.”

Old Friends taglist: @painful-pooch @justplainwhump @redwingedwhump @maracujatangerine @honeycollectswhump @tragedyinblue

#pet whump #whump #bbu/wru

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imsodishy · 10 days ago

Text

Come and Knock on Our Door

also on A03

(this episode filmed in front of a live studio audience)

March, 1987

She hears them before she sees them, which means Steve has lost the battle for his car’s stereo for the three hundredth day in a row.

Robin is standing in the slush on the curb outside the Columbia campus bookstore with her chatty co-worker Francis, with her messenger bag clutched to her chest so she doesn’t do something insane like swing it full force into Francis' fucking face. Which wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t. Francis isn't the worst or anything. He’s just really jazzed about the philosophy classes he taking. And he loves the sound of his own voice. And he can’t take a hint or a subtle no, or a really fucking pointed no. And, okay, he kind of is the worst, but Robin needs the job, it accommodates her class schedule, and she’s rarely shares shifts with Francis. So Robin will just continue to tune him out while he blithely goes on and on about solipsism or whatever the fuck.

When the BWM rounds the corner and comes into view she sighs in relief.

Eddie’s got an arm hanging out his backseat window, drumming aggressively along to the aggressive song the beemer is blasting, when he spots her he sticks his head out too, “Buckley! This guy bothering you?” he hoots, as they pull up to the curb. Her body language must be more starkly uncomfortable than she realized.

Before she can deny it, Billy is crawling out the fucking passenger window like someone who doesn’t know how doors work, sitting himself on the ledge, and slinging his arms over the roof of the car to glare silently at Francis.

Steve turns down the music to a bearable volume, “Problem, Robin?” he slides his ray-bans down to the tip of his nose to give Francis an unimpressed once over like he’s still King of Hawkins High, like anyone in New York should give a shit about him. It’s an attitude that’s depressingly really effective in a lot of situations. When he’s in a good mood Steve says it’s all about confidence, when he’s being a moody butthead he says it’s all just bullshit. Either way, it does the trick.

Francis is bug-eyed and slack jawed, and blessedly silent for the first time all day, staring at the spectacle that is Robin’s day to day life.

“Well,” she says with cheery a smile and a smack to his shoulder, “That’s my ride. See ya, Frank.”

She rounds the car and Billy climbs the rest of the way out the front window before he opens the door for her, shuts it behind her, and then drops himself in the back seat behind her, through the actual door this time, at least. And he does it all while maintaining extremely hostile eye contact with Francis over the roof of the car.

Robin gets shotgun, always , is the only car rule Steve has been able to consistently enforce so far in their time as a unit. She’s not sure how or why.

She's also not sure how or why this is how her life is turning out. If anyone asked her to recount the story of how she came to be sharing a house in New York, with this particular array of boys she could probably lay out the steps one by one pretty easily, and coherently, but it wouldn’t really clear anything up.

The short answer is Steve Harrington suddenly started collecting strays after high school. Which no one who knew him for the first eighteen years of his life could have predicted, Robin can confidently say that as someone who did know him then, or at least knew of him. So its Steve's fault, basically. He collected the three of them like weird dogs, and he found the house they're renting too.

Just before they peel out Steve turns to her and says, “Who's the clown?” maybe loud enough for Francis to hear, maybe on purpose.

“He's a turd,” Robin says dismissively once they’re on the road. “Listen, I need to talk to you guys.”

Because she does, and she's been putting it off since the phone call on Tuesday. Told herself it could wait a day, and then Steve had a jam-packed work schedule, and then Billy was cramming for a big test he was stressed about, and then Eddie's hours were so odd she just couldn’t find a good time to sit them all down, and if she really put her mind to it she could just delay, delay, delay until the bomb dropped in their laps and they all exploded in a giant mess.

She wasn’t sure why that seemed kind of appealing, but she figured it was probably a bad sign.

Billy leans forward, hand gripping the headrest of her seat, “That guy bothering you?” it’s the same question Eddie asked before, but with a wildly different tone of menace behind it.

Eddie tries to wedge his face in next to Billy, “You need us to talk to him Robbie? Lean on him a little? Scare him into backing off?” Eddie says like a parody of a tough guy. Billy shoves him back over to his side of the back seat with an annoyed grunt, but his grip on Robin’s seat relaxes a bit too.

“The only people who find you scary are people who have never had a conversation with you,” Steve snorts, “Not even a whole conversation. Just a passing interaction. You're a scarecrow.”

Eddie squawks.

“Pretty sure Buckley’s packing bigger guns than you, dude,” Billy says and Eddie squawks again, louder and more dramatic.

“Untrue! Buckley, flex real quick.” He demands, as he tries to shake an arm loose from his permanent leather jacket/denim vest combo.

“No,” she says. “Listen-.”

“There's more than one way to scare a square,” Eddie goes on, “Just because I'm slender and svelte, doesn’t mean I can't be intimidating.”

“Sure. But you're not intimidating though,” Billy drawls.

“This is character assassination!” Eddie’s too loud for the confined space of the car, “I terrorized Hawkins High! They thought I worshiped the devil!”

“And they kicked your ass on the regular. No one was scared of you, dude.”

“Guys!” Robin tries to interject, desperate to get this conversation on track.

“You know,” Steve says, hand peeling off the wheel to gesture at Eddie, “If you wanted to bulk up you could try working out with us sometime.”

“What about any interaction we’ve ever had makes you think I would want to do that?” Eddie asks.

“You were literally just complaining about being a scrawny little weakling,” Billy says.

More (mostly) mock outrage from Eddie, “Not any of the words I used actually. I’m lithe . Like Mick Jagger, you meathead.”

Billy snorts.

“Shut up!” she finally shouts them down. All three of them give her sidelong looks like that was a little uncalled for. She takes a deep breath and gets right to the point, “My mother is coming. This weekend. She is very concerned about my living situation.”

“Little late outta the gate, isn't it. It’s been, like, months,” Billy’s right, except for one thing.

“Yeah,” Robin tugs at her bangs, “She was not aware that I was living with three boys until now. She thought I was rooming with my cousin April.” Who, when caught out by her own mother that she was not attending Columbia with Robin, but was in fact trying to make it as an actress in New York, had sung like a canary, trying to deflect some heat off herself. It hadn't worked, incidentally, Aunt Janine was also headed for the Big Apple to lay down the law. “The fact that I have been lying to my parents for months didn't really help matters.”

“Your dad’s not coming up though?” Billy checks.

She shakes her head, “Couldn’t get time off. Just my mom, taking the Greyhound up tomorrow to assess how far I’ve fallen.”

“You want one of us to pretend to be your boyfriend?” Eddie offers, “We're all single, you can take your pick.” He strikes a pinup pose, nearly elbowing Billy in the face by accident. Billy elbows him in the ribs on purpose.

“God no! Absolutely not. Any hint of impropriety, forget it. She’ll tie me up in a sack and ship me to a women’s college. I have barely negotiated a stay of execution pending a visit. She cannot under any circumstances think I'm involved with any of you,” she pauses to gag at the thought, “So, you guys need to be on your very best behaviour. Okay?” she pleads

“Okay,” Steve says dubiously, “But, she spent your whole senior year convinced I was going to get you pregnant. And I’m pretty sure I did nothing to deserve that.”

That’s true. Steve worked very hard to project good respectful boy who is not trying to have sex with your daughter. But, even though it was the truth, it never did him any good with Sharon Buckley. The fact that he is one of the three boys Robin now lives with definitely didn’t help her mother’s freak out.

“We're just going to have to make it work, okay?” She can already tell that she sounds panicky about it, she doesn’t need Steve awkwardly patting her knee to make the point to her.

“We'll make it work,” he parrots back. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, we’ll clean the whole house-“

“Real clean,” she butts in, “Not teenage boy clean.”

Eddie says, “Hey I’m twenty-one, remember.”

“All the more reason you should know how to wash a fucking dish by now.” Billy mutters. Eddie smacks him and it devolves from there. Billy quickly gets him in a headlock.

Eddie squeaks, “Uncle! Uncle!”

“Uncle Wayne can’t save you now dipshit,” Billy laughs.

Steve throws an arm back blindly to smack either or both of them, “Stop kicking my seat you assholes. I swear to God I will crash this car and kill us all!”

It has to go well with her mother. She really doesn’t want to lose this.

“Wouldn’t it be better,” Eddie says, as he's carting another load of laundry down from his room (Robin's got him doing a preliminary clean before she goes in there to help. She categorically refuses to deal with any or their dirty undies, and she will never compromise on that), “If my room looked really lived in? Since were trying to prove everything is above board and nobody is a bed hopping harlot?” He’s been kind of vaguely complaining all afternoon, but he hasn’t actually been slacking off.

The house they share in the Bronx is tall, narrow, and a little rundown, in a neighborhood full of tall, narrow, rundown houses. Eddie's room is just the whole third floor all to himself. Which is ideal, because he's a rabid collector of junk and it gives maximum room for his knickknacks and oddities to spread out without taking over shared spaces.

The second floor has Billy and Steve's rooms and the boy's bathroom, which they squabble over constantly.

Robin’s room is on the ground floor, along with the living room, kitchen, laundry room, and her own bathroom, which Steve is not allowed to use for his hair routine, no matter how much he bitches about Billy hogging their sink. If she gives an inch she'll be drowning in hairspray in no time.

“There's a fine line between ‘lived in’ and ‘biohazard,’” Steve says. Robin has him vacuuming, which right now means he's cross-legged on the ground trying to extract a sock that was under the sofa and is now tangled up in the beater-bar of their second-hand machine. She told him to move the sofa first, but did he listen?

“Easy for you to say, rich boy. Missing your maid yet?”

“For the millionth time, we didn’t have a maid!” and they're off on that we’ll tread track, Robin tunes out the millionth go ‘round of Steve insisting a cleaning lady is different than a maid, because she only came once a week, not every day.

Billy's been tasked with deep cleaning the kitchen, because he's the only one who can be trusted to do it undirected.

Robin's been trash bagging anything that she deems Not Mom Safe, saucy albums and posters, cheeky mugs and the like. She's not actually going to throw their stuff out (she quite likes a few of those posters), but she is going to stash it all under the porch for the weekend.

She's made all three of them swear on their lives that their porn is locked down like Fort Knox. Which will have to be good enough. She’d rather die than have first hand knowledge of any of their jerkoff material.

She's peeling down their calendar that's purportedly advertising power tools, but is covered front to back in bikini babes, when Eddie exits the laundry room and asks, “Is all this really necessary?”

“Yes,” Robin says without hesitation, “She's like a dog with a bone. Anything could set her off.”

Billy pauses in the kitchen, “Set her off like how?”

“Lectures. Endless ones about all the dangers of sex, and how sex is everywhere, and you need to be prepared, and the urges and dangers, and dangerous urges, and on and on until you just wish the earth would swallow you whole.”

“You know,” Eddie says speculatively, “There’s an easy fix, if she's so worried us dirty boys are gonna compromise your genteel virtue.”

“Oh yeah? What's that, Casanova?” Billy asks, turning back to the sink he was scrubbing.

“We could pull a triple-Tripper.”

Steve scrunches up his face, looks around to check he’s not the only one who’s lost, then asks, “A what now?”

“Jack Tripper. Three's Company?” Eddie clarifies, then, when that clarifies nothing (obviously), he singsongs like a grade school teacher trying to lead the class to an obvious answer, “We pretend to be homosexuals.”

Robin freezes. Trash bag full of half naked babes in her hand.

“Is that what went on on that show?” Steve wonders out loud before his eyes drift to Robin and he notices her deer in the headlights routine, “Uh, would that be… bad?” he asks her tentatively.

Because Steve knows. Steve’s the only one that knows. Since they got accidentally way to high after a shift at the mall the summer they started hanging out and she word vomited all over him (she also real vomited on him that night, but that was incidental).

In her frozen prey animal state she cannot answer him, of course. What she can do, is clock the other body that has gone unnaturally still. Standing in the kitchen with a sponge clenched in his fist. In stark contrast to her wide-eyed panic, Billy’s face is entirely blank. Eerily blank.

A year ago she wouldn't have hesitated to say he was angry, disgusted by the very concept. He'll, even just a couple months ago. Now though…

No, though. That's an insane thought. Surely.

Probably.

Definitely.

On the bright side, the insane thought (quickly dismissed, not at all camped out in her brain for later obsessing over, no sir) knocks her out of her torpor enough to choke out, “Uhhhh, we’re not hatching any hi-jinks, okay. We're just going to show her that I have my own room, and my own bathroom, and very plainly show her that no one here is having any kind of sex!” She swings her arm like she’s axing that idea, which only calls attention to the soft-core calendar still clutched in her hand. She hastily stuff it in the trash bag.

Steve nods slowly at her and mimes taking a deep breath, she copies.

Billy silently goes backs to scrubbing the sink somewhat more aggressively than he had been.

Saturday, after her morning shift, Robin goes to the bus depot alone to collect her mom. Steve had offered to drive her, but the car is almost never worth the hassle honestly, they've been using it less and less the longer they've been in New York. He should maybe just sell it, like Billy sold his before the move, but she knows Steve feels better having it just in case. Anyway, it’s good for when they go back to Hawkins on breaks.

Honestly the main reason she says no to the lift is… she just wants a chance to see her mom alone for a second. Maybe she can prime her a little, really try to sell that everything is fine and dandy, but mostly… she just wants to see her mom just the two of them. She hasn't seen her since Christmas and she misses her. Sue her!

When her mom steps of the Greyhound it’s easy to forget for a second all the stress this visit dumped on her head. She’s got the same mousy brown hair as Robin, swept half up to keep it off her face, and she’s wearing the same pea-green puffy coat she’s had for a decade. Robin can’t help smiling.

It seems like Mom’s in the same boat, big reflexive smile that it takes her a second to lock down into Concerned Mom Mode as she drops her bag by Robin’s feet. “Let me get a look at you,” she squishes Robin's face between her palms and manually bobbles her head around, this way and that way, like maybe she’ll be able to see the debauchery if she catches it in the right light.

“Hi Mom. How was the bus?”

“Smelled like grass. I think it was that guy,” she lets go of one of Robin’s cheeks to point unsubtly at guy with a long gray ponytail, “Toking up at ever rest stop.”

Robin smacks her hand down, “Mom! You can’t just point at people.” she hisses, mortified. Some of those warm fuzzy mom’s here feelings instantly evaporating in the heat of her embarrassment.

“Oh, I can’t point out pot heads, but you can shack up with a bunch of boys? Is that how it is in the big city?”

So that lasted about thirty whole seconds.

“Mom,” she huffs, flapping her hands, “We are not ‘shacked up.’ We’re just four people in a house. It’s nothing scandalous.”

“Then why hide it from us?” Mom swipes.

“Because you would have been worried.” Robin parries.

“Because it’s worrying, sweetheart. We don’t want you throwing your life away for some boy. Three boys? It’s a minefield, this could derail you so easily.”

“I’m not going to throw my life away.” Robin rolls her eyes, grabs her mom’s bag and starts leading her to their subway stop, “They’re friends. Good ones! They support me. Billy’s at Columbia too!”

“Your education is not less important than your boyfriend’s-”

“Oh my God, I am not dating Billy!”

“-You can’t drop out, even if he-”

“Who the hell is dropping out?!”

“Robin Caroline Buckley, do not curse at me!”

It goes about like that the whole ride home.

It's bedlam in the middle of the living room when they get home. Because of course it is. Because that is the house she lives in.

Billy’s got Eddie by the arms and Steve’s got his ankles and they’re swinging him like a sack of potatoes between them. Steve and Billy are both obviously post run, sweaty and a little ripe. Eddie is screeching, “I’ll be Mick Jagger! I’m Mick Jagger!” over and over. He’s the only one of the three of them with a shirt on. It’s got a girl in a metal bikini on it.

“You are no Jagger, jack-ass,” Billy snorts.

Eddie notices the Buckleys in the entryway first, says, “Oh fuck, what time is it?”

When Steve looks their way his eyes go wide and he immediately drops Eddie’s legs, letting him thump down with an oof and enough force to nearly bring Billy down on top of him.

Steve gamely smiles his goodest good boy smile, as he hustles over, hand outstretched, “Mrs. Buckley, so good to see you again. How was your trip?”

Mom looks at his hand, looks over his shoulder at Eddie struggling to his feet and Billy climbing over the sofa instead of walking around it like a normal human being.

Steve forces a laugh, “We were just, uh…”

“Trying to entice Munson to join us in some calisthenics,” Billy cuts in, “Physical fitness is so important.” He thrusts out a hand same as Steve did, but a good boy smile is nowhere to be found. His smile is distinctly smarmy, Robin hates it on sight. “Hi, Mrs. Buckley, nice to meet you. Billy Hargrove.”

Climbing to his feet Eddie is out of breath, despite the fact that he was not the one hauling a whole person’s body weight around. “I successfully dodged gym class for six years I refuse to be pressganged into it now just because you two are masochistic, meatheads. Hello Mrs. Buckley, it is my sincere pleasure to meet you.” Robin thinks he might be aiming for good boy but the smile comes off a little… insane.

Rather than just sticking a hand out to be ignored, Eddie grabs one of her Mom's in both of his and gives it a very earnest looking shake. Then he gestures expansively with one hand, the other keeping hers trapped, “Welcome to our home.”

Her mom definitely doesn’t know what to make of Eddie, a common reaction. But she's got a long standing opinion of Steve: Risky. And she's clearly formed a quick opinion of Billy based on, just, everything about him: Risky Squared. She’s tightlipped, observing their bare chests like a pair of sweaty time bombs. The hand Eddie hasn’t claimed is wrapped tightly around Robin’s wrist like she's thinking about running all the way back to Indiana with her daughter in tow.

Robin turns big, doleful eyes over to Steve. He grimaces and mouths ‘ Sorry.’

“Mom-“

Ripping her hand out of Eddie's, her mom whirls on her, finger pointed firmly in Robin's face, “No, no. How can you possibly expect me to just leave it alone? I cannot just pretend that there’s nothing going on here.”

“Nothing is going on though, I swear,” Robin pleads.

Her mother scoffs, “I am not naïve, Robin. I am a nurse, I know what young people get up to, I see the fallout of it every single day.”

“Mrs. Buckley-“ Steve tries.

“Put a shirt on, for Christ sake!” she snaps at him.

Steve yelps, “Yep,” and hightail it to the laundry room. Comes back with a shirt on and a spare that he lobs at Billy’s head. All three of them are just standing there, looking so goddamn awkward, obviously wanting to help and with no idea how to.

They spent their whole Friday cleaning. Today’s the first day of spring break technically. They were planning to get drunk, watch a bunch of horror movies, and throw gummy bears at Steve every time he had a bad movie opinion.

Instead, this is happening.

“Sweetheart,” Mom entreats, “I know you never want to listen when I try to talk to you about boys and sex, because you think it’s icky,” and Robin tries desperately not to squirm or cringe, “But you can’t stick your head in the sand. Condoms can fail, and you're not on the pill, god knows I tried when you first got your period-”

Robin loses the battle and cringes away, but the boys are right there , shuffling around awkwardly. She’s pretty sure she heard Steve whisper a horrified, “They can?” when her mom mentioned condoms. She really doesn’t want to talk about any of this.

“-No! Listen to me! I know you want to just, la-la-la,” Mom sticks her fingers in her ears, just when Robin is embarrassingly close to doing that exact thing, “And not think about it, because it grosses you out. But you have to think about it! Because if you get pregnant-“

“I'm not going to get pregnant!” she protests.

“You might!”

“I won’t!”

“ Robin ,” her mom sighs, beyond exasperated.

“I'm a lesbian!”

Sharon Buckley is, for perhaps the first time in Robin's entire life, at a loss for words.

In the silence, Eddie gasps quietly, “A reverse-Tripper.”

Steve thumps the back of his hand into Eddies gut, hisses, “No, dumbass, she's just gay.”

“Oh shit, for real? Right on,” Eddie whispers.

Billy’s face is carefully blank again.

Steve clears his throat, “We should, uh,” he points to the ceiling and raises his eyebrows at her, asking silently if she wants them to clear out. She’s not sure she does, but she nods anyway.

Steve herds them up the stairs. He’ll probably lay down the law while they’re up there. Necessary or not.

Once they’re gone the first thing her mom says is, “What on earth is a reverse-Tripper?” eyes unfocused, sounding slightly perturbed.

“It’s not a thing,” Robin says, “Eddie makes up his own things a lot and they’re mostly, you know, nonsense.”

Her mom blinks, refocuses on her, searching her face like she’s looking for a sign of it. “Robin, are you- You're not just trying to shut me up, are you?”

Robin tucks her elbows in, folds her arms around herself tight. “No. Mom, I’m gay.”

“Okay, we should- let's sit down,” her mom says, gesturing to Robin’s own sofa like she’s the host and Robin’s the guest. They should sit, that’s a good idea.

But then once they’re seated, knees angled towards each other, Robin can barely look at her mom she’s so tense. She focuses on the green coat, she’s still wearing her coat. Robin is too, no wonder she feels overheated.

“Sweetheart,” they’ve been sitting in silence for... who knows how long, days maybe, when Mom speaks, “I hope you know that all I have ever wanted, all I have tried to do, is give you the best chance to make it. To get you to adulthood, to a point where you could go out into the world and have the opportunity to do... whatever you wanted to do.”

Robin nods, because it seems like she should.

Mom’s eyes are shiny when she takes Robin’s face between her hands, “So if you’re out in the world now, well, not if, you are, you’re out in the world now- and I am so proud of you, sweetheart- and if you’re telling me that what you want is a... a girlfriend?” Robin nods again, a tiny nod, barely a nod at all. “Then I am thrilled you have the opportunity to want that. I love you.”

Robin launches herself at her mother, smothering her and her puffy green coat in a hug, “I love you too, Mom.”

“It can’t be all you want though,” Mom keeps talking, even all choked up, “You have to finish school.”

“Mom!” Robin laughs.

They reset.

She calls the boys back downstairs, and they creep down all unsure until they see her mom smiling on the couch. Billy and Steve have both cleaned themselves up in the interim (Eddie has not changed his shirt). They all get real handshakes and a much more gracious intro, they give her a tour of the house.

She catches her mom having a quiet, concerningly earnest conversation with Steve at one point. When she asks him what it was about he says, “She asked me if I knew all last year, and then she wanted to thank me for having your back.” Then, after a pause, “Also she wanted to make sure i understood that even if condoms aren’t infallible I should still always use them. She had stats.”

“Well, she is a nurse,” Robin tells him.

Eddie snitches about the stuff hidden under the porch, so her mom gets a cup of coffee in a mug with a sunbathing pinup girl’s butt prominently displayed and Bottoms Up! in a cheerful font on it.

Billy waffles wildly all day between being weirdly flirty with her mom and being even more weirdly awkward and quiet, like he can’t figure out how to act. Robin corners him in the kitchen eventually and pokes his ribs until he snarls at her. “You’re being super weird,” she informs him.

“I know.” He tilts his head back against the cupboards, closes his eyes, and doesn’t elaborate.

Out in the living room Eddie’s telling some story, arms waving wildly and face gleeful. Her mom is laughing.

“She’s really nice,” Billy says eventually, eyes still closed.

“Yeah, she’s pretty okay,” Robin replies, leaning her head on his shoulder.

On Sunday Robin and her mom meet up with aunt Janine and April in Manhattan for lunch and a debrief. They also seem to have come to some kind of agreement. April apologizes to her about ninety times, and Robin lets her grovel a bit, even though it worked out alright in the end.

Aunt Janine tries to stir the pot at one point, says something about Robin’s living situation with pointedly raised eyebrows over her mimosa. Mom looks at Robin, pats her hand, and says mildly, “Well, they’re nice boys.”

Robin smiles so big her cheeks hurt.

After lunch Robin takes her to the bookshop, to show her where she works, and lets her terrorize Francis for a little while.

Monday morning Mom goes home. The boys all get big hugs at the bus stop, their reception ranging from enthusiastic to baffled with Steve falling somewhere in the middle. Robin gets the biggest hug, and her mom cradles her cheeks between her hands for a long moment. She says, “Be safe,” and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

They all wave until the Greyhound is out of sight.

And so ends the Mom Visit.

Monday night they get down to their briefly delayed spring break plans. Steve and Eddie aren’t students, of course, and all four of them still have work this week, so it’s not much of a break. But for tonight they have a stack of movies, a stock of adult beverages, and a pile of very childish snacks.

Robin, Billy, and Eddie are in the kitchen dumping various configurations of sugar and salt into many bowls, Steve is in the living room setting up the VCR.

“I can't believe you had us convinced your mom was a total prude, when, all along, t’was you.” Eddie pokes a finger right up in her face, which she slaps away. He does it again, and again, switching hands each time she smacks one down, and cooing, “You the prude,” each time.

“I'm not a prude,” she protests.

“Oh yeah? Then instead of Poltergeist you wanna watch some porn?”

She gives a heartfelt, “Ewwww,” to that thought.

Billy tosses a handful of skittles at Eddie as he leaves the kitchen, studding his dark hair with colorful little pellets.

Robin fiddles with a bag of chips, “It just- It was never relevant. It was never going to be relevant, even- even if there were girls like that around, it’s not like I would be, you know,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows as if to say prude because she can’t even say it, “It’s not like they’d be interested in me.” If she just keeps staring at this bag of chips she won’t have to see whatever stupid face Eddie is making.

“What are you talking about? Robin, you’re great!” he says.

“I’m not exactly a hot commodity,” she tells her bag of chips.

Eddie spins her around by the shoulders to make her face him, “Look, Buckles-“

“Don't call me that.”

“-Hawkins was a stupidly small pond. It was a puddle. No one’s thriving in a puddle, not many fish in a puddle. But we’re in the ocean now, baby! And when we do find some fish ladies of your persuasion-”

“Gross.” Robin interrupts again, because she has too.

“-When we do find them,” he continues on louder, “You will be an irresistible lure to them.”

“That metaphor was strained dude.”

“Yeah, yeah. You wanna talk problems?” He asks, leaning back against the counter beside her, “My actual, pretty much twenty-four-seven, standing right beside me competition is Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, and Billy ‘Hard-Body’ Hargrove. Okay? I am the one who is screwed.”

She just sips her beer and absolutely does not share her suspicions that Billy’s not in any kind of competition with Eddie for dates.

Robin can see Billy and Steve in the living room, sitting at opposite ends of the couch, chucking candy at each other's open mouths. They’re already getting competitive about it, she can tell. Someone’s going to end up with a corneal abrasion from a skittle tonight.

“But then again, who knows?” Eddie tilts his bottle towards hers, “It’s New York City, baby. Anything can happen.”

She’ll drink to that.

#robin buckley #steve harrington #billy hargrove #eddie munson #robin's mom #dishy writes #four's company au #crossposting this (which I really should have done in the first place not sure why i didn't)#i'll post the second one here too in a couple days probably

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queenslimeball · 9 months ago

Text

Living in a Bush

Kurt Kunkle x male!reader

Requested by; @batzfailz

Contents; Fluff

Summary; M/n gets in Kurt's spree before recognising his childhood bestfriend.

Kurt bobs his head along to the music in his car while he sits on his phone. He's been driving people around on spree all day, but just now he's started to get tired. One more. He keeps on telling himself. Just one more, then I'll go home. There's been seven one mores.

The wait for one more passenger seems to be forever. There's no shock to it, though. It's the middle of winter and it's almost 1am. Kurt puts his car into drive, about to give up and drive home, but he gets a notification from his phone. One more.

He instantly clicks on accepting the passenger and puts his phone down. He doesn't really care who he picks up. He's just excited to talk to one last person. He follows the directions, and pulls up to where he hopes the person he's getting is.

Kurt lowers the window and sticks his head out to look for who he's getting. Nobody around. Strange. Kurt jumps and almost yells when he hears the door open and close behind him. He twists around with a smile to see what kind of person he's picked up this time.

"Hey, my name's Kurt!" He introduces like usual. But something seems different. He feels like he knows the boy sitting in his backseat and he can't quite place it. He opens his mouth to ask if he knows him, but the boy has already started talking.

"Nice to meet you, man. I'm so glad you could pick me up, like– you would not believe the day I've had." The boy starts. Kurt turns around and looks at his phone. He starts to drive with the directions from the app.

"I went over to my friend's for a chat, right? And she ended up inviting every damn person she knew, so it ended up a fuckin' party when I was not after that. But then her dog ran out because someone left the door open and everyone went out to find it and..."

Kurt's mind channels out the boy's non-stop talking as he stares at the name on his phone. M/n. He knows this guy from somewhere. But he just can't figure out where. He dives real deep into his memory, but can't find anything.

He looks into the rear view mirror and stares at M/n for a moment. Not to be creepy, but as if trying to solve the puzzle. Solve the puzzle.

While their parent's chat away, incoherent to their little ears, the two boys sit on the floor, rummaging through a pile of puzzle pieces to try and complete it. There are only few pieces layed out already. Neither of them can seem to figure out what next.

"Kurt, seriously, kid? You got the right piece in your hand." His dad says, pointing at where it should go. All the parents look his way. A small Kurt looks at the piece in his hand and looks at the floor. He fits it in place, looking rather proud of himself after. The small M/n looks just as proud of him, like he's just changed the world.

M/n! Kurt smiles to himself as he remembers his childhood friend. He looks in the rear view mirror again. He wants to tell him about it, but M/n just keeps on going on. It's like he doesn't stop. Kurt hears a slight pause and quickly jumps in.

"Hey, uh! I think I know you." Kurt says quickly, not wanting to let M/n start rambling again. He glances over his shoulder at him with a smile, hoping he remembers.

"...I don't think so, man." M/n replies, looking directly at Kurt, as if to try and remember his face.

"I think so." Kurt replies. "When we were kids... we went to school together... our parents were friends.. but I moved away. Kurt!"

M/n's face changes very quickly. "Woah! Oh my god, Kurt? Like, Kunkle? No way!"

"See, I told you!"

"Wow, I couldn't even recognise you. Sorry about that, man." M/n laughs, more out of embarrassment. Kurt shrugs, not taking any offence to it. "I guess it's the hair..?"

"It's all good. I wouldn't recognise me either, so it's okay."

Kurt runs around the garden, searching every perimeter. He spots a bush rustle, and he narrows his eyes. He slowly approaches, grabbing a toy sword on the way to prod at the bush. It rustles again, and Kurt giggles.

"Are you in there?" Kurt asks, sticking the sword further in. The "ow!" That comes from the bush proves him right. Kurt lowers down and crawls into the bush. He finds M/n curled up inside. He playfully gives him a push.

"Found ya!" Kurt exclaims, curling up with M/n in the bush. "It's nice in here, isn't it?"

"I don't really wanna leave." M/n nods in agreement.

"We could stay here forever." Kurt suggests, confidence in his gentle voice. "My parents can have the house, it's fine."

"Really? That sounds so fun!" M/n replies excitedly. They both giggle, Kurt's dirty blond hair becoming ruffled by the lose twigs. "Boys! Dinner is ready!" It's Kurt's mother.

"Shh! shh! shh!" "Quiet!"

Kurt had pulled over somewhere, anywhere, it doesn't matter. He's climbed into the back so he can catch up with M/n after so long.

"So what brings you to Azusa?" Kurt asks.

"I moved out, but it's more affordable here, so..." M/n shrugs.

"You have your own place!? That's crazy, man. I'm still at my parents'." Kurt replies, scratching the back of his neck.

"It's crazy we're not living in a Bush together, right?" M/n jokes.

"Oh my god! You remember that?" Kurt laughs. "We were so sure we'd stay out there forever."

"The rain kinda put me off, to be honest." M/n chuckles.

The laughter dies down, and they're left with a silence. Not exactly awkward, but unreadable. Neither can quite tell what's going on as they stare into each other's eyes.

"I missed you." Kurt admits, breaking the silence. What he intended to say was "How's life treating you?" . But, his mouth has betrayed him.

M/n is flattered. He doesn't know how to react at first, just making sounds between a laugh and a heavy exhale. "I missed you, too."

Kurt stands by his family car as he stares into M/n's eyes. Tears have already escaped down his face. His parents are moving back and forth from the house to the trunk with bags.

"You're leaving?" M/n is crying now, too.

"I didn't know." Kurt admits, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"You can't leave.."

"I'm sorry!" Kurt cries out as they both dash into each other's arms, sobs escaping from both of them. Kurt's parents awkwardly try to step around them as they hug and cry for what seems to be a little too long.

"C'mon, kid. We're going." Kurt's dad says, opening the door and nodding towards it to try and get Kurt to hurry up.

Kurt looks back to M/n. It's the hardest decision of his life so far, even when it's not a decision that he can even make. He can't choose to stay, as much as he wants to. He slowly steps back from M/n, their arms falling limp from each other.

"I'll never forget you." Kurt promises.

"I won't forget you either."

"I'll find you. I know I will." He says, looking over his shoulder as he gets in the car. Kurt's dad slams the door shut, and gets in the car, too. The car gradually starts to drive into the distance, but M/n chases after as fast as his little legs can carry him. Which, ultimately, is not very fast. He trips over a pothole and hits the asphalt on his forearms and chest. He lifts his head in a whip, not caring about the physical pain, but the emotional.

He makes eye contact with Kurt through the back window as the car disappears from sight.

"I, uh– Really don't wanna say goodbye again, y'know. So I was wondering.." Kurt murmurs quietly, feeling too awkward to spit the words out he needs.

"Are you gonna ask for my number?" M/n said it for him, which is a huge relief. Kurt points and nods.

"Yeah, that!"

"I'd love for you go have it." M/n assures, making sure Kurt doesn't feel nervous about this. They exchange numbers and save their contacts, making sure they've got it right before anything else.

"Haha... uh... maybe we could go out sometime?" Kurt questions.

"Like a date?"

"Like a date, yeah!"

The boys had snuck into M/n's sister's room. It's much different to their usual hangout spots, but they're too young to care.

Kurt sits at the small, child's table, pushing a teddy bear out the way, and M/n sits opposite. They pretend to sip tea from the empty teacups, discussing all sorts of things that go on in their underdeveloped minds.

"I brought you to this restaurant to ask you something." M/n says, getting off the chair and standing by the table. He slowly sinks onto one knee. "Kurt, will you marry me?" He asks with a haribo ring.

Kurt feigns an overdramatic gasp. He nods. "Yes, yes, yes!" He stands from the table and M/n puts the ring on the wrong finger, but neither notice. They jump about, holding onto each other.

"What are you boys so happy about?" M/n's mother asks as she enters to put some clothes away into the sister's wardrobe.

"I'm gonna marry Kurt!" "We're getting married!"

"That's nice, boys."

#kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle x male reader #joe keery #Spotify

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transvampireboyfriend · 1 year ago

Text

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Steve and Jonathan go setup the cabin before they start unpacking.

Steve opens the windows, takes off the couch covers and dusts off the coffee tables while Jonathan takes care of toiletries and then they get the bed sets and start making the two bunks and the big bed in the main room.

Steve has mostly shaken off his freak out about Eddie saying all that stuff about him and Steve reacting by practically shoving his fingers in his mouth.

Robin helped. She always does.

She's been telling him to make a move on Eddie for months, but Steve keeps overthinking it.

He likes Eddie so much, it just feels impossible Eddie could like him that way too.

So, whenever Eddie says something like what he said in the car, Steve's head cannot compute it.

It doesn't make sense. Steve came out to them all ages ago. If Eddie thought of him like that, surely he'd have made a move by now, right?

He's the loudest, most unashamed person Steve has ever met, he's so unapologetically himself, he sticks by the stuff he likes no matter what, of course he would've made a move.

But he hasn't. And so he doesn't, Eddie doesn't like Steve like that. He's just nice.

He's so nice.

Of course he's not gonna make a big deal of what Steve did in the car. Steve's still a little embarrassed but he knows Eddie would never give him a hard time over something so silly.

Robin reminded him of that too, as soon as they got out of the car and Steve made mortified eyes at Eddie's back as he watched him go stand by the lake.

"You're kinda drowning in a glass of water there, man," Robin said, ruffling his hair.

Steve laughed, escaping her hand and glaring at her.

"I bet he didn't even think twice of it!" she offered, then when he didn't look convinced, she added "He said a bunch of stuff about you, did you think it was weird?"

Steve shook his head "Of course not. it doesn't have to mean anything"

"Exactly." Robin agreed then, rubbing his back. Steve sighed, leaning his head on her shoulder.

So, Steve is mostly over it now. Robin is right.

But, that doesn't stop Steve from stealing glances at the grill through the bedroom windows, where Eds and Nance are making hot dogs, as him and Jonathan make the beds.

Jon must notice, because when they switch to the second bunk, he comments "You know, you can let him down easy. it doesn't have to be a big deal"

Steve immediately drags his eyes away from Eddie and looks at Jonathan.

"What?" he asks,

"Eddie" Jonathan presses, Steve stammers,

"Wh-?"

"Oh come on, he obviously has a crush on you, man." Jon says, "And it's fine if you don't feel the same you know? you can talk to him as your friend, he's a cool dude- I don't think he'd be-"

Steve finally finds his words and interrupts Jonathan.

"Wait, no. Back up. Eddie doesn't have a crush on me." Steve states.

Jonathan scoffs but when he looks at Steve's face his half smile fades,

"Are you serious?" he asks,

Steve looks around them like his answer is written on the walls.

"Didn't you hear what he said in the car?" Jonathan demands "I thought that was the whole reason you were freaking out!"

"I'm not- I'm not freaking out." Steve excuses "And he doesn't have crush on me, if he did he would have made a move by now" he explains.

Jonathan gapes at him for a bit before he answers.

"Okay, one: you have not stopped looking at him since we got out of the car;" Jon notes, "And two: you flirt with all of us except him, you shut him down when he gives you a compliment and you always refuse to dance with him when we go out. Why would he make a move?"

Steve feels his eyes go wide and his stomach drop.

"Shit. Do I?" he asks "No, I don't flirt with you guys" he adds,

Jonathan snorts and gives him a non-plussed look.

Fuck. Okay maybe he does, it's a past-time of his, sue him.

"I-" Steve scrambles "How do I shut down his compliments? I don't do that" he tries,

"You cough and redirect or you laugh and deflect," Jonathan supplies, apparently had those at the ready, damn.

"I didn't do that in the car" Steve counters,

"Robin changed the topic. And you two share a brain" Jonathan states,

Steve covers his eyes with a hand. He hoped it hadn't been that obvious.

"Ohmygod. Fuck. And I do refuse to dance with him" Steve remembers, he's afraid Eddie will figure him out if that ever happens,

"Uh huh, but you dance with us," Jonathan reminds him,

So Eddie had made a move. Several, if Jon's to be believed.

"Fuck. Fuck. Eddie thinks I don't like him," Steve realizes, "Eddie might be attracted to me and he thinks I don't like him at all" Steve despairs,

"I mean," Jonathan placates, "you do spend a lot of time together, I'm sure he knows you like him"

With this realization, at the sight of the tiniest possibility, Steve feels his despair dissolve every excuse he's ever had to hide his feelings.

"No," Steve explains, dragging his hand down his face "No, he thinks I don't like him like that. He doesn't know I'm attracted to him!"

"Wait. You are?"

"Yeah!" Steve confirms, "It's the reason I freak out around him! I can't trust I won't throw myself at him if we dance and I'm always embarrassed of my reactions to him flirting or complimenting me cause I don't want him to find out. I don't wanna ruin our friendship" Steve explains

"Oh." is Jon's helpful reaction.

"Yeah, oh." Steve says,

"How are you so sure he has a crush on me?" he asks Jonathan after a bit,

"Well," Jonathan starts " First of all, who doesn't?"

Steve laughs despite himself "Shut. Up!" he says, balling up the sheet in his hands and throwing it at Jonathan's head, he dodges it easily and picks it back up.

"Second of all," Jon continues, like there was no interruption, "everything Eddie said in the car. And third, just how he generally acts with you." Jonathan shrugs, like it's so obvious, "He shares his songs with you first, he always lets you pick the movie, he cooks your favorite meals, he makes us buy your favorite dessert, I could go on, it's no very hard to tell,"

"And yet-" Steve interjects, laughing a tad bitterly.

"Give yourself a break, Steve." Jonathan tells him, "Nobody thinks straight when they have a crush,"

"Har har" Steve deadpans at the pun.

"That was completely unintended, I swear." Jonathan defends, "I meant it's not hard to tell from the outside. I bet if you really thought of it you could come up with signs you've missed too",

"I don't wanna assume-" Steve muses,

"Then don't." Jonathan tells him, "That was more or less what I was gonna tell you anyways, only now its the opposite"

Steve gives him a confused look.

"Just- You don't have to go ask him out this second," Jonathan explains, "you can just start letting him see that you find him attractive. You said your reactions embarrass you, you keep hiding them, I bet he'd love to see them if we're right about how he feels." Jonathan goes on,

Steve thinks about all the redirecting and hiding he does with Eddie, just so he doesn't find out Steve feels this way about him. If he has a chance to be with Eddie he knows exactly where to start.

"And if we're wrong he won't be an asshole about it." Jonathan says, "I'm 100% sure of that. You can have a big conversation if you want but I know that can be hard, so you can do easier stuff first"

"Like flirt with him" Steve supplies, maybe a little too excited by the prospect.

"Exactly." Jonathan smiles, "Helps that you're not bad at that",

"I'm not the only one" Steve shoots back with a wink.

Jonathan laughs, "There it is" he says, throwing the balled up sheet back at Steve.

Steve chuckles and catches it easily, "Okay. Alright, then. This- I can do this" he states.

"Yeah." Jonathan agrees, "Don't think of it like a huge change, just remember you're only letting him in a little bit, trying to figure out if he feels the same, and if he doesn't, that's cool," he reminds him.

"Yeah." Steve repeats, "Yeah you're right. That makes sense." he agrees,

"I mean it doesn't." Steve adds, "I can't believe he might be attracted to me but- thanks, man. I really appreciate it"

Jonathan smiles and reaches out to clap his shoulder "Anytime, dude. You're my friend, you can talk to me whenever, I'll be happy to listen." he says. Steve can't help thinking Will is so lucky to have him as a brother.

"You're really good at this." Steve tells him, "But, you know, I'm here for you too man, anytime." he offers.

"Thanks, Steve" Jonathan smiles,

Steve smiles back and untangles the bedsheet in his hands, and then they get back to work on the second bunk.

part 4

#steddie #steveddie #steddie headcanon #stranger things #platonic stonathan #not tagging stobin bc it's not that central here but you know they're always central in my heart.#we'll get more of them further down the road don't worry #anyways. I'll upload the next part later today :)#.#steddie lake fic

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daddymothxxx · 7 months ago

Text

For Basimah

Some things happen so fast.

He came out with his blue, raspberry flavored, slushy and box of loaded fries from a some hole in the wall hotdog joint with a logo that reminded him of a clown. Pep in his step.

Paying not a single bit of mind to the distant screech of tires down the block as he found a bench to sit at. Kicking loose a bum Sinner sleeping on it under a few sheafs of newspaper. Off you go. And off they went.

Dusted his spot off with a hand and had a seat. Popping box open with one set of hands and getting gold caps off with another, shortly pocketed. The roar of racing engines was getting closer, but he was busy eating his fries and indulging himself a few happy, quiet, squeaks about it. Though food down here didn't taste like more than a memory of the living world's version, it did still hit all the good brain spots like scratching under a dog's chin.

And drag racing wasn't at all illegal or uncommon.

Had no reason to think otherwise.

Didn't until well after the pain bloomed in his torso and the screaming started. Barely heard the gunshots that proceeded. Automatic gunfire that made Swiss cheese of the bricks and windows behind him--and likely his chest.

Though he didn't exactly have a starkly defined account of the number of holes there. He suspected many more than were good for him.

His vision was tunneling even as he found himself slumped on bench with his head tipped back. Red sky appearing, to him, to be a shade of murky burgundy--too dark and too gray. His first gasp since it happened made fireworks pop off in his vision. (Somewhere he heard breaks.)

A bleated and still functional part of his thoughts not currently overwhelmed by pain wondered if he'd been the target or just collateral. Either option seemed plausible. Drive-bys? They aren't particularly accurate. Only devastating and swift.

He got his answer when a hand yanked him by the open collar of his shit shirt. Some skunk looking Sinner that smirked into his face while driving a shard of some long broken blade into his side. Some tight space between his upper and lower arms. Kidneys? He didn't know what was where in his fucked up anatomy.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Angel steel by the way it had him whiting out each time it lanced into his flesh. Pulling a choked sound each time. There was already blood in his lungs from the mundane bullets that'd gotten in them.

"For Basimah." The Sinner told him, pat his face, and shoved him over to the side onto the bench. Sprinting off back to waiting car that immediately peeled away. Not dumb enough to stick around or dally.

Everyone knew Vox had eyes on Valentino and there was only a slight window of time to exploit in the Overlord's awareness. The job was done.

#ic #drabble #open maybe

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xdaddysprincessxx · 8 months ago

Note

Congrats on 800, Prinny!

my thot:

Joel is a truck driver and reader is a hitch hiker he picked up several states before. They get along well enough (no sex...yet) THEN! one day, another hitch hiker approaches Joel looking for a ride - Ezra. He wants to know if you're available for some fun, and Joel has to decide if it's just him who gets you or if he's got room in his bunk for a threesome...

I leave the rest in your ever capable and good hands, baby!

Beefro👌🥩💜

Ride

Joel x F!reader x Ezra

18+, this is grump x sunshine x2, we got ass eating, ass spanking, 1 face slap, double penetration, and more. Very barely edited, not beta’d all mistakes are mine, read at your own risk. Also again 18+ , minors fuck off thank you

Word count: 3,200 - “Drabble” lmaoooo yea it got away from me.

REO Speedwagon flowed through the truck speakers as you reach your hand out the open window, letting the wind move your hand up and down. You’ve kicked your bare feet up on the dash as you hum along quietly. Your companion, Joel, lets out a grunt as he gives you a side eyed glance. It’s been a couple of months since he picked you up on the side of the highway. Unhappy with how life was, you decided to say fuck this, packed a small bag and headed out for whatever adventure came your way. Unfortunately you didn’t plan on your car dying on you half way across the country. Which is how you found yourself stranded at a gas station in Nevada. There was a hotel next to it that you were able to get a room at. One morning you packed up and started walking down the highway. You didn’t go too far in case no one picked you up, you could still walk back to the hotel.

Wearing your shortest daisy duke shorts with an old white tshirt tied up in the front, you were determined to hitch a ride. Lo and behold here comes a semi truck just driving along. Quickly you stopped and stuck your thumb out to signal you needed a ride. At first the truck kept going but soon the driver pulled over. Smiling real big you started to run towards the truck.

Climbing up the side, you stuck your head in the window,

“Well hello there handsome. You got room for little ole me to join?”

The driver had a permanent scowl on his face it seemed. Very easy on the eyes, a soft belly that hung over his pants as he sat.

“Hop in darlin.” He said in a deep, gruff voice.

Something about the handsome, thick driver got you going. You could already feel yourself getting wet just from this small interaction.You couldn’t help but think of how much trouble you just found yourself in.

Present Day

It’s been a few weeks since Joel picked you up. A part of you is surprised he hasn’t dropped you off and left yet. Another part of you hopes he never does. For the most part Joel doesn’t talk a lot. He hasn’t really opened up about himself to you. But you are a talker, you love to chat and boy do you.

Leaned back with your bare feet on the dash with your hand outside the window, moving with the wind.

“I heard it from a friend whooo heard it from a friend who heard it from another you been messing around” you softly sang out loud. Turning your head to face Joel, giving him a big smile.

Joel returned your smile with a soft smile of his own.

Something about you has captivated him. Your beauty stunned him the first time he saw you. You had a pretty mouth he often daydreamed of but your little talking habit drove him crazy. As time went on though he found he actually enjoys hearing you go on and on about everything and nothing all at once. And now that’s he’s spent all this time with you, he’s not so willing to let you go. Ever. Whether you agreed or not, in Joel’s mind, you were his.

“Hey! Look! A hitchhiker! Can we help him Joel? Please? Like how you helped me?” You batted your eyelashes and gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

Joel saw a man walking down the highway, sticking his thumb out.

Looking at you, he rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Without saying anything Joel pulled the truck over and the two of you waited on the man to catch up to the truck.

Ezra was a traveler, always on the move. The past few weeks he’s been spending his time in this little town keeping this pretty lady’s bed warm. That was until her husband came home and chased him away. Now he finds himself walking down this almost deserted highway. He has given up hope of finding a ride when he heard a truck rumbling behind him. As soon as he heard the engine he stuck his thumb out hoping the driver would be a Good Samaritan. The truck drove on by making Ezra let out a huff as he kicked the gravel up with his boot. As he looked back up he saw the truck pull over.

‘Holy shit it’s my lucky day after all’, he thought to himself as he started into a light jog to get to the truck as soon as he could.

Stepping up on the side steps, he gets up to the window and sees the prettiest little thing sitting passenger and . . A handsome old grump behind the wheel.

“ Hey there, any way I can catch a ride with you fine folks today? Destination doesn’t matter, just somewhere far from here.”

“Yea! We can take you with us! Hop in!” You reply in a higher pitched tone, sounding extra excited than one should sound when picking up a hitchhiker. You couldn’t help it though. The man was gorgeous. He had this little blonde patch of hair, beautiful, dark brown eyes and the most sweet sounding voice you’ve ever heard. As much as you’ve wanted Joel, he’s never given you any hint that he wants you in that way. And you’ve been dying to itch a particular scratch that you feel this hitchhiker could really scratch for you.

Giving you a big smile, Ezra pulls the door handle, opening the door as you get up and move to sit on the bunk between the two seats.

“Names Ezra. Nice to meet ya,” he puts his hand out towards Joel to shake.

“Joel.”

He says in a flat tone as he shakes his hand.

Ezra quickly gets the feeling that Joel isn’t much of a people person. He can see why Joel has such a pretty little companion as yourself, Joel’s handsome. Gruff and firm, no nonsense kind of guy. He wonders if he’s the type to be dominant in bed. Manhandle his partner and just throw them around, mold them into any position he wants. His own cock twitch’s at the thought.

“And who might you be young lady?”

You tell him your name as you let out a soft giggle, smiling and give him a little flutter of your lashes.

“What brings you out here Ezra?” You ask in your best flirty voice.

“Bit of a traveler. A nomad if you will. Don’t like to stay in one place too long. Wanna see the world ya know?”

“That’s so . . Romantic. Always on the move, seeing what the world has to offer. I bet you’ve met some wonderful people. Seen a lot beautiful women huh?”

Ezra can’t help but give you a smirk, loving how forward you are.

“Haven’t met anyone as beautiful as you honey.”

Joel loudly clears his throat making the both of you startle slightly and look at him.

“What about you handsome? With a pretty little thing by your side I’m sure you never look twice at anyone else huh?”

Joel’s jaw ticks as he gives Ezra this mean stare.

“This “pretty little thing” over here is mine,” he says bluntly before looking back at you, “and I don’t appreciate you throwing yourself at the first man you see like a filthy fucking whore.”

Your mouth drops open, you’re stunned.

“Hey now no need to call her names. I get it, she’s off limits. No need to get mean buddy. I didn’t know.”

You turn your head giving Ezra a confused look before turning back to Joel.

“Excuse me but I am not yours. I am a free woman and on top of that you have never claimed me before now. I can do what I want with who I want thank you very much.”

Joel is pissed now, he pushes the arm rest back before swinging one of his legs to the side, opening his legs wide and then grabbing your upper arm and pulling you towards him. You stumble as you fall over his lap, his arm wrapping over your back holding you in place. His large hand covers the globes of your ass as he rubs it from the top down to the curve of your ass.

“You’re.” Smack. “Mine.” Smack.

He just spanked you. He actually spanked you. If you weren’t in shock over him claiming you, you definitely were now.

He gives you another smack and a whimper came tumbling out of your mouth. You didn’t even have a chance to try and conceal it. Joel stopped moving, hearing you whimper from his actions. He knew you’d be into some freaky shit. He looks over and sees Ezra sitting there, almost mesmerized by the display in front of him.

“Take your cock out.” Joel orders Ezra.

Stunned and very much turned on, he does what he says and takes his cock out of his pants. Spitting into his hand he brings it back down and slowly starts stroking himself.

Joel looks back down at you in his lap, the bottom of your ass spilling out of the little shorts you have on. He reaches down taking his fore and middle finger and rubs a long stripe up your pussy through your shorts.

“I guess I haven’t been taking care o’ ya. My girls pussy needs to be fucked don’t it? Poor thing. I’m sorry baby let’s fix that.”

His hand pulls back before he gives your clothed pussy a slap.

A wanton moan fills the cab of the truck.

He helps you up, sitting you on his lap. You see Ezra watching, touching himself. You can feel yourself begin to soak your shorts. You face Joel and lean in, your lips softly landing on his. You start to pull away when Joel kisses you back, grabbing the side of your face as he deepens the kiss. You allow his tongue to enter, licking around, tasting each other. All too soon Joel pulls back. He hand goes to your face, squishing your cheeks together between his thumb and fore finger. He rotates you to look at Ezra.

“Our guest looks like he needs some help baby. Be a good host, open up that pretty mouth.”

As soon as he releases your face, you get on your knees, in between the two seats, looking up at Ezra as you reach out and take him in your hand. You grip around the base, giving him a couple of tugs before leaning in and kissing the tip. You give it another kiss before you open your mouth, your tongue darting out to taste the precum leaking out. You slowly start to take him into your mouth. Lips wrapped around his cock as you take as much of him as you can. His cock is about 6 inches, rather average but very girthy. You keep reminding yourself in your head to breath and relax. The more you relax the more you can swallow his cock. You start bobbing your head up and down as he watches you, letting out soft moans that spur you on.

Soon you feel Joel pull your hips up and work quickly on taking your shorts off. You pull off of Ezra’s cock with a wet pop as you go to pull your shirt off, revealing your tits to the men.

“Fffuckk.” Ezra mutters before leaning forward and taking a nipple into his mouth. You moan as you tangle your fingers into his hair, holding the back of his head to your breast as he sucks. You hear Joel behind you unbuttoning his pants and lewdly spitting on his hand.

“Lean back down baby let me see those sweet holes.”

Ezra releases your tit so you can bend over for Joel. You bend over, keeping your ass in the air as you take Ezra’s cock back into your mouth. Giving it a few sucks and finding a decent rhythm, your hand lets go so you can reach back and spread your ass cheeks open for Joel.

“That’s it baby just like that.” Joel grunts. He spits on his forefinger and middle finger and swirling it around your puckered hole. He slowly pushes one finger in your ass making you choke on Ezra’s cock.

His finger stills inside, wiggling his finger around a few times before pulling back out. His other hand comes up and starts rubbing your wet pussy. Quickly finding your clit and giving it a few rubs before pushing his finger back into your ass. Joel finds a rhythm fast, rubbing your pussy as he fingers your ass. The sensation alone has you on edge, you begin to move faster on Ezra’s cock.

Joel starts to add a second finger in your ass causing you to let out a little welp.

“J-Joel! That’s too much! I can’t take it!”

“Shh baby you’re taking it. Taking it just fine. Let me kiss it better.”

Removing his fingers, Joel leans forward, holding your cheeks apart, licking a wide stripe up your ass. Your hands now on Ezra’s legs to keep yourself up right. You and Ezra lock eyes as you moan, feeling Joel swirl his tongue around your asshole, licking into it, making your pussy spasm around nothing.

Ezra cups your face, “That feel good sugar? You like feeling his tongue in such a forbidden hole? I bet your poor sweet pussy must be leaking by now.”

You can’t help but let out a sob. You need more, your neglected clit needs friction.

“Shh I know baby I know, let him French kiss that sweet hole. Let him make your sweet honey drip so we may feast.”

Joel pulls back, spit dripping down his chin,

“Get on the bed Ezra.”

He puts his arm under you, pulling you up. You fall back onto Joel, your legs shaking unable to hold you up.

Ezra makes quick work of taking his boots and pants off, pulling his shirt off as he slides by you to get on the bunk.

Once he’s settled on the bed laying on his back, Joel helps you get on the bunk next.

“Lay on top of him baby. You, hold her open for me.” He orders the two of you.

Ezra pulls you on top of him, your back against his chest. His hands holding the backs of your thighs, right behind your knee as your legs are bend. Holding you wide open. You can feel his cock in between your open cheeks.

Joel undresses and climbs on the bunk facing you.

“Goddamn. Never seen something more sinful or fucking beautiful than this.” He reaches down and grabs ahold of Ezra’s cock and starts pushing the tip towards your puckered hole.

“Joel! Nno! I- I can’t it won’t fit! Please!” You try to move but Ezra’s got a tight grip on you.

“Shh baby it’ll fit, I got you nice and ready back here. He’ll go slow baby.”

He watches your hole as the tip goes in, he takes his other hand and brings it to your pussy and starts rubbing circles on your clit.

You throw your head back and let out a moan, finally getting some friction on your cunt feels so good, you feel your whole body relax, momentarily forgetting about your asshole.

“That’s it baby let it happen,” he whispers before leaning forward and pulling your clit between his lips and sucking. His hand that guided the other man’s cock in you made its way down to his balls, giving them a soft squeeze. Hearing him moan with you is making Joel’s cock leak. Ezra’s cock is almost all of the way in your ass now and it feels so good. You feel stuffed just from him.

Joel sits back up and just admires the two of you.

Taking himself in his hand he moves closer and swipes his cock through your folds a few times before slowly pushing into your pussy.

Your mouth is hanging wide open, your chest heaving as you watch Joel push you past any limits you could’ve had. Having both men now inside of you is an indescribable feeling. It’s a fullness like no other.

“ Oh fuck you both feel utterly divine. This must be heaven.” Ezra says breathlessly as he lays there inside of you, able to feel the weight of Joel’s cock inside your pussy.

“Move Ezra, go on. Let’s make her feel good.”

“Yes sir.”

He gives an experimental thrust, bouncing you slightly making Joel sink deeper into you.

He starts to build up a tempo, thrusting up into you while Joel stays still above you.

Soon Joel moves, finding a rhythm with Ezra. As one moves out the other moves in.

You can’t help but close your eyes as you lean back in ecstasy.

Joel’s quick to grab your throat, squeezing just right to make your eyes fly open.

“Keep your eyes on me baby, you will watch when I’m fucking you. Do you understand?”

Joel slaps you, not hard but enough to leave a slight sting. Your face turns slightly, the hand around your throat not giving you much movement. A wanton moan spilling from your lips.

“Yes Joel I’m s-sorry baby I won’t take my eyes off you again nngh ohh oh fuck oh fuck you feel so good. So full.”

Joel starts pounding harder into you, still squeezing your throat. Ezra’s holding onto your legs for dear life, the friction of Joel’s dick rubbing against him has him ready to burst.

“F-fuck nngh take our cum baby take every fucking drop you hear me?” Joel groans, you can tell both men are close.

“Mhmm cum inside me baby cum inside my little whore cunt. Mark my ass Ezra, I wanna feel you leak out of my holes oooh oh fuck oh fuck please cum baby!”

You reach down and start rubbing furiously at your clit, sending right over the edge. You let out a scream as you start coming, vision going blurry as tears escape your eyes. Your orgasm hitting you like a truck.

Both men soon follow right behind you, spilling their seed deep inside both of your holes.

All three of you still, breathing heavy as Joel pulls out. Ezra’s soft cock slips out right after him as he lets go of your legs.

“Hold on baby don’t move.” Joel tells you before reaching down in between the bunk and the drivers seat, pulling out an old school Polaroid camera.

Aiming the camera at you and Ezra he snapped a shot and a Polaroid came spitting out. He grabbed the photo and sat it by his leg. Then he leaned forward and snapped another pic, this one a close up of your cunt and asshole leaking cum. Taking both photos and placing them on his seat before laying down next to Ezra as he pulls you into the middle.

No one really said a word. It was just the three of you, laying together, soft smiles shared, basking in the soft embrace of each other before falling asleep.

A/n: omg lmao so this was meant to be a drabble, this is one hell of a drabble 😂🤷🏻‍♀️ thank you so so much for such a beautiful thot my sweet beef baby @beefrobeefcal !! I hope you love this! I hope yall enjoy this! I really loved writing this and thank you again for following me, reading, interacting, all of it! You guys are the best!

#prinny’s 800 celebration 🎉#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #Joel x you x Ezra #pedro pascal characters #ezra prospect #ezra smut #grump x sunshine #follower milestone #follower celebration #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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idv-sunsxin3 · 9 months ago

Text

Pavia, Diggers // Car Ride

Note // Same prompt as the one with Horropedia except is with the other 2 glasses sillies (separately) this time/ lh

Warning// a bit suggestive on Pavia's part??? Maybe.

____

(When he's driving)

Guys, we should make a debate in where Pavia either drives on a Lamborghini or a Ferrari/j

There are times he drives normally for the sake of keeping a low profile at times... and there are time when he is a fast driver, not more said.

Would most likely get a speeding ticket... well, if the officers ever managed to catch him. 😭

Even if he doesn't put seatbelt on himself, he would be the type of lover who would nag you to put them on-

(not like you're complaining as you grip on something as if your life depends on you;;;/ih)

He likes to linger his hand on your thigh and give it a squeeze whenever he drives- crazy.

He would do the same when so much traffic happens, to at least subside his frustration on the road. Italian cursing at how long it's taking;;; definitely the grumpy driver type.

Sometimes, he likes to put bags underneath your legs during the ride, saying that "it's safe if it doesn't shake around"-

But no!!! In reality, he does that just so he can grab one of your legs and spread it open before reaching out, whatever he needs to take out - this man.... 😭

The good side of it is that Pavia's 5 wolves are often tagged along as they sit on the back seat--- Pavia for some reason helps them open the windows sometimes so they can stick their head and stick out their tongues while the car moves- its a very funny sight when it's 5 dogs in both windows of the car;;;;😭🤣

The wolves are at least trained enough to be careful- and they would know when to get their heads back in whenever Pavia warns them that he'll roll up the windows again with the power window switch.

"Hold on tight, baby~ this will be a pretty bumpy ride."😈

If you really appreciate your life a lot, you might as well ask if you both can just take a taxi./lh

Yet i feel like knowing him, he won't take no as an answer;;; <//3

____

(When he's a passenger)

Mmm if he ever is in a car ride with you along with other party members Vertin assigned, he probably wouldn't like the fact how close he is to touch other people during the entire ride---- even if he doesn't show it, I guess the menacing death smirk might give it away(it does).

As long as it's just you beside him, he won't be too salty about it--

He won't give you a break from how clingy he is tho- he wouldn't keep his hands to himself if he's not the one taking the wheel;;;;

Pulling you close, sneaking a hand on your knee, make you cuddle against him, have his chest touch your back as he whispers flirty Comments on your ear- technically trying to make others get third wheeled and calling them single in many different ways;;; 😭

Like Horropedia, he's most likely the "are we there yet" passenger....---- except in a more grumpy impatient vibe as if he doesn't want to stay in this vehicule any longer--- he's not burning it down just because you're here/ih

"Come on, little girl...- How long do we have to stay in this car?"

The Italian grumbles, trying to get his sly hands busy by playing with your hair a bit through his calloused fingers. His arm is resting heavily on your shoulder.

"Soon." That's what the young girl answers with a calm tone, already used to the intimidating energy the older one tends to bring.

Pavia ends up leaning his back into the cushion, sighing as you tiredly pat him by the shoulder. The small gesture of comfort is unknown if it is playful or sincere.

Suddenly, the other seems to have other plans. He catches you off guard by lifting you smoothly with his hands on your waist before placing you between his lap.

He whispers on your ear, a quiet voice with a hint of rasp and longing.

"Stay close to me for now, so I don't have to talk to these poor teammates here...-"

____

(When he's driving)

Diggers driving an old-fashioned volkswagen that has a lot of colorful graffiti paint all over it seems very in character, in my opinion. He even has this colorful van decorated with a lot of stuff in his insight 2-- Which was what most hippies drove before.

Not only is it affordable and durable, but it's also spacious in the back that he can make it as a comfy place to rest.... which is also where you usually nap together or have these quiet cuddling sessions.🥺♥️

He usually keeps the vehicule in a peaceful area where it's not near the city, like a grassfield or in the middle of a forest.

I'm not sure if he'll be a full licensed driver, but I feel like he would drive at a less extreme speed for the sake of stress--- prefers to drive and see how empty the road is and how peaceful the landscape would be- rural areas specifically.

And when he finds the perfect spot to settle, you would stay there for the night or even a couple of days.

Diggers probably like acoustic music or something that gives a "groovy" impression. Yet, he is very flexible enough to let you go crazy with the radio box- pick a song, or music, whatever hat interests you--- whether he knows the tune or not, he might try to sing along and enjoy the different kinds of vibes with you djdbdbdb-

You and Diggers plan to move the van out to another rural field within london- most likely a village your boyfriend seems to have known.

The moment you finished packing what you need at the back of the van, Diggers calls you back from the driver seats window.

"Darling! You're done?" The voice of your boyfriend resembles one of an ecstatic puppy.

"Yeah!"

"Come inside!"

As you were about to hop into the passenger seat- you got surprised by a.... big pile of flowers sitting on your seat???

Oop- some of them fell off the moment you opened the door.

"I- what??? What is this???" You laugh softly, already imagining the jolly grin Diggers might be wearing from the other side of the mountain of flowers.

The pile looks like they're 100 roses.

"Oops--- forgot to give you these. Surprise!" He bubbly says as he leans on the steering wheel lazily.

"...." You pause, sighing out after recovering from the laughter, "Oh g- thanks, baby-- but how can I even see your face like this??? Where do i sit???" 🤣

As if the option of the back seat was out of the window, Diggers responded:

"How about my lap?"

You both now started laughing again like the dorks you are,,,/lh

____

(When he's a passenger)

He's most likely the type to play some tunes on his guitar, entertaining and serenading those who surround him as he sits in the vehicle

Is actually very nice that he gets to go somewhere without worrying about the gasoline cost-- /ih

He'll be fine sitting anywhere- but he'll be more pleased if he gets to sit right next to you- where he believes he should be <33

He'll have an arm behind your neck while chilling, sometimes holding hands just to play with your fingers while talking to someone.

Maybe even spend the entire car ride trying to teach how to play the guitar- having you on his lap as he guides your hands on where to place the strings. 🤭🥰

He would be most likely a tolerable passenger, a pretty peaceful one. He'll even would try and nap the entire ride if he can.

Though, whenever he spots a police car passing by through the window- I can imagine him immediately crouching so he doesn't get spotted, very self-conscious by the fact there are some officers looking after him,,, maybe;;; <//3

He trusts any driver as long as it's anyone that is not Pavia.... Convince me otherwise--- 😭

He would freak out and scream when the speed is too high- even cling on to you.

His grip is firm that you don't even know whether he is trying to hold on to you so he doesn't get thrown off or because he wants to cover you from any incoming crashes---/ih

You'll have to comfort him a bit after that;;

I'll never forget about the drive thru headcanons <333

//Them ordering take out at a McDonald's drive thru with s/o. If you don't eat McDonald's, just imagine it/ih

___

//Pavia//

Arches eyebrow... and wearing this look of "pookie, out of other restaurants, you decide one of the most low-quality ones???"/ih

Also not him having beef by the fact the ice cream in McDonald's sucks- the machine is even broken in almost every restaurant--- sobs;;;

At the end, he brought you there anyways, because you made him/ih

The reason why he would buy you a happy meal is probably because you're baby--- you don't even know if it's sweet or insulting./ih 😭🫠

Whenever you want to order but the cashier cant hear you when he's the one who's in the driver seat- I can imagine you guys with this meme./ih

Pavia is creepily respectful enough to keep this funny straight look while technically facing your butt, it's crazy;;; 2x

Next time, Pavia will drag you to somewhere better now that you finished dragging him to such "monstrosity of creepy clowns, grimace shakes, and broken ice cream machines"/j. More better than Olive Garden even---;;;

___

//Diggers//

"Ehhhh-- what would you like to order, sweetie?" :)

"Anything is alright."

"...."

"....."

*turns back to the window* "1 hamburger, 2 French fries- and a milkshake, please." :)

Most hippies don't seem to like materialism- but food is food, he wouldn't even dare to say no to if you want to order food at places like McDonalds dbbdbdnd;;; Like, most prices there were like less than $1 (plus tax) back in the 1960s...- 🤔🤯

(I feel like you would boss out of this by paying for him at times- like this is probably better than the McDonald's from 2020s/ih)

Man, happy meals were only first introduced in 1979- so they weren't a thing yet for a while in Diggers' timeline. If they ever get premiered, He would buy you one for you whether or not you like it- he just likes how there are chicken nuggets and juice boxes inside colorful boxes that seem to be meant for children-- yet for him, it doesn't matter. You will have it anyway, even if he's broke;;😭🥺

The first boxes when they were first introduced were circus wagons. The first toys were tops, stencils, wallets, puzzles, and erasers. Initially, meals included a hamburger or cheeseburger, fries, a soft drink, and cookies.... yum.

Pampering you with food is one of the wholesome things I can imagine - even eating it while being inside his van at some parking lot. Feeding each other with these silly dorky grins,,,,

#pavia reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 #r1999 diggers #r1999 pavia #r1999 x reader #r1999 #reverse 1999 diggers #diggers x reader #pavia x reader #reverse: 1999 x reader

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