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twinklelilstarkey · 6 months ago

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Tutor: Unveil

Words: 9k+ Summary: Here comes another party organized by Rose, meaning you cannot have your parents near people who threaten your peace. You can't even go to the bathroom, for goodness sake! Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of secret relationships and hiding things from friends and family (and finally, their consequences). SMUT (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! Very quick, literally a quickie, because I am so rusty at smut now. It will include some rough manhandling and clawing at the skin, but nothing too bad). Insults. Slut shaming. A/N.: I'm back!! Please know that I want to keep writing, I really do. But my professors absolutely hate me, because I have so much to do. This is like no other semester. Hope you enjoy this!

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I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

With your hands constantly smoothing down your silk dress, you can’t take your eyes off your reflection. You have touched up your make-up maybe three times since you’ve ‘finished’ getting ready and adjusted the more than adjusted dress for the, hopefully, last time.

You have no idea what it is. You feel weird. You feel nervous. Or maybe just anxious. There is something about going to a party with your parents after everything that has happened that makes you want to crawl into bed and only come out when everything has already happened.

Another sole reason your blood pressure has been sky high lately has to do with the conversation you’ve had with your mother in the car about planning something with ‘the girls’. For the last few days, she always remembered it at the worst moments. You have always found a good enough reason for her to not reach out to Kristy or her mother for said plans, but you’re not so sure that today will be possible to do it, given that they will see each other in person. Your mom and her mom have always been friendly to each other and have always liked each other’s company. They will surely plan something like an evening altogether. That is, of course, if her mother hasn’t heard anything about you yet. She too has never been too enthusiastic with Cameron & Co.

A knock on your bedroom door makes you look over your shoulder, and your father walks in. He gives you a sweet smile once he sees you by the mirror and holds his hand in your direction.

“Got to go. Mom is getting impatient.” He says while you take his hand.

You grab your purse on your way out of the bedroom, reaching for it at the last second as you can already hear your mother pacing around the house. You check the time before reaching her, making sure you are not the reason why she is like that, but, as expected, the scheduled time isn't for another 20 minutes. Therefore, you will get there before everyone else.

Your mother is still pacing when you reach her. She has a cream-colored dress, make-up, and hair done with way too much precision, but the look on her face would be enough to make you run to a mirror again.

“Finally!” she says, waving her arms in the air with a sigh.

Her eyes make sure to look you up and down, and her lack of criticism almost makes you cheer out loud. You know you won’t get a compliment with her bubbling with so much stress, so the fact that she has nothing bad to say about you is enough to let out a breath.

After your mother does her last walk around the house to make sure everything is in her purse and everything is locked, you all start to walk out to get into the car. You reach for your phone when you take your seat at the back of the car, and your father begins to back out of the driveway. The car is in complete silence, just as it usually is.

Now that you are officially done with classes, the graduation ceremony is just days away. Meaning, that not only will you soon be far, far away from certain people without school forcing you to be in their presence, but you also have been bombarded with texts from Patty and Topper, who have shared with you all sorts of ideas for the parties that they will be attending. All those texts are in the weird group chat that you have been added to, but Rafe, much to his confusion, was not.

You smile down at some of the messages and make sure to not leave them on read for too long before answering them quickly. These moments of calmness and smiles don't last too long, given that you get a message from Kristy, making you put down your phone to hopefully not let it mess up with your mood again. But, yet again, you were too late.

The trip to the location of the party is a little over 15 minutes, and you try not to pay any mind to any anxious thoughts after that. Because, maybe, just maybe, there is nothing to worry about. Nothing to be scared of, and no reason to want to lock your parents in a room for the entirety of the night.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. You got this under control.

After some time, and a little traffic, the car finally comes to a stop. Your dad helps you out of the car, and as soon as you all stand outside, you can tell that you were some of the firsts to get there. There are almost no cars in the parking lot, and that would be with counting the workers’ cars too.

Before you can even walk all the way to the front door of the building, Rose has already pushed the door open and smiled to greet you. Rose and your mother exchange the classic two kisses on their cheeks – or better, the air close to their cheeks. A handshake with your father. Yet when she reaches you, she pulls you into a hug. Your mother didn’t seem to be able to look away.

“I am so happy that you could make it,” Rose says to you when you two pull away from the hug. “Seriously, it was so hard making all these teenagers want to go to an event with their families.” She turns to your mother to include her in the conversation with a quick roll of her eyes, but she simply smiles dryly at her. “Anything that just doesn’t include alcohol makes everyone want to stay home, these days.”

“Oh,” your mom exclaims, surprised. “Yes, that is true. Youth, these days. But I do not believe that it would be my little girl’s” and, while still talking, she puts her arm around you in a side hug that is so out of character that it feels nearly comical, “style to do anything like that. These types of events are so much better.”

You offer her a small smile in return, and Rose doesn’t seem to notice how tense everything just seemed to get.

The two women begin a conversation in front of you not too long after. They talk about how good you did in your finals and even how Wheezie was so good in hers. All due to your hard work, of course. They talked and talked, and your mother’s arm did, eventually, come down back to her side. You walk over to stand by your dad as they continue their discussion, all while everyone still stands by the door.

“Is your whole family here, already?” Your mother asks her, making your ears perk up.

“Except for Ward, yes. He had to leave to get something at home. But the kids are all here. Well, except for Rafe, of course,” she chuckles dryly, “He’ll get here in his own time.” Rose says with a shrug before turning back to you and offering you a smile, “And I do believe some of your friends from school have gotten here as well.”

Great.

You fake a smile of excitement, and Rose takes that as her ticket to take you all inside the building. The warm breeze from outside is quickly substituted by the cold AC as soon as you get in, and, only after a few hallways, do you step into the massive room of tonight’s event. One with a tall ceiling and a wall made of windows, all of them facing the sea not too far from the building’s garden in the back. One of the windows is open and some people stand outside, some of them smoking, while others just enjoy the view while talking.

Even so, the room is quite empty. The ones inside stand on the sides and corners of the room, but, due to its size, the room feels empty still.

Your eyes scan the room, looking at each person carefully, trying to see how much damage could be made in the first few minutes already.

A little polite conversation later, Rose steps away with a soft ‘talk to you later’. Having looked around enough, relief washes over you when you notice that the friends that she had mentioned had only been one of the girls and some somewhat known faces from school. Nothing like Kristy, or the rest of the group. You know they won't do a thing when alone, that is, of course, if they aren't Kristy.

Your parents walk over to the table with the drinks, and you follow them, only listening to their conversations to keep you entertained.

The room is indeed fabulously decorated. The walls are decorated with amazing and grand pieces of art. Certainly replicas of sorts, expensive looking, nonetheless. Rose, as she tends to do, filled the room with all sorts of flowers and large tables with white tablecloths and glass dishware. At some tables, there are all sorts of mocktails, juices, and fancy herbal and fruitful waters. Other tables have food with all sorts of snacks, which the younger family members seem to have no shame in already having their fill.

You can see the people out in the garden from the drinks table. You can see Wheezie out with her friends, as well as Sarah being annoyed by Topper, who is beginning to be pulled away by one of her friends. They all are dressed formally. Wheezie in soft pink and Sarah in yellow. You look over to check on Rose which is in a light purple. What kind of color would they make Rafe wear?

You smile down at your own thoughts and hide it by looking around, purposefully ignoring a stare from a family that you do not want to interact with – the only girl and her parents, who might as well just call you a devil from where they stand in the room, given the distaste in their faces.

By the time an hour passes, you notice how slowly time goes by. You sure are in for a night.

(…)

It has been three hours, and you've finally decided that you need to walk away from your parents. You have shaken so many hands of coworkers and possible business partners of both your parents, that your mind has begun to blur their faces into one ever since you’ve met the seventh person. Their conversations have been about business and sales, and you swear that if you hear any sort of vocabulary from their field again, you will begin to rip your hair out in chunks.

So, a walk it is.

Your heels click on the tiled floors as you look for a bathroom. No one is in the hallways, most people just stay in the main room or the outside, where younger socialization is seemingly kept. None which you’ll be able to make today, for the looks of it.

You have thought about talking to someone other than your parents, but the possibility of it upsetting them, given your new crowd, always made you take a step back. There aren’t many people you could speak to. Rafe’s friends, who have naturally become yours too, have all gotten here in the last hour. Most who noticed gave you a simple wave, which you could only nod to because you knew you couldn’t be caught waving at Topper Thorthon by your own mother. You might as well just walk right back into the room nude, and you’ll get the same reaction - in other words, complete horror. Patty, on the other hand, had walked over to you to greet you as she normally would, with a hug, and that sparked the curiosity of your mother a bit too much. That is, of course, because she has no idea who she is.

Other sorts of company, also known as your past best friends, have also gotten here, and each time you notice them walking in the room, you would simply spark a conversation with your parents so they wouldn’t look at the newcomer. But you know it, you’re running out of things to talk about. Especially since some of the girls haven’t gone outside and are still standing by their parents, talking amongst themselves. One is easy to hide from your parents, but a group, not so much. The idea of them already talking to them is making chills run down your spine.

Truly, the only thing keeping you sane is the fact that Kristy hasn't arrived. Therefore, there is nothing that can truly hurt you while she isn't here... right?

You walk through the hallways, letting out a sigh, still looking for a more distant bathroom that doesn’t have a line of women you could possibly very well know at the door.

After looking at many lines, you decide to try upstairs instead, because, realistically, you will need at least five minutes of silence in that room to get back into the right mentality to handle the rest of the night, and you will not be able to do that with a group of women ready to break down a door and run in to pee.

You begin to walk towards the front of the building, where you spot even more people who have begun to arrive at the party and are following Rose as she continues to be her pleasant self to her guests. You spot the two big staircases at the front, and you grab onto the railing before beginning to go up.

Suddenly, a whistle echoes down the hallways and up your staircase and you freeze.

“The party is down here, miss.” The voice says.

If only you hadn’t recognized it, you would’ve actually listened to the observation and made your way down the staircase, hiding your embarrassment and complete horror of being caught. But the fact that you did recognize it only made you want to throw a shoe at your boyfriend for scaring you the way he did.

“What am I, a dog, for you to be whistling at?” You say while turning around to face him, while he stands by the front door, meters away from you and down a few steps.

Rafe tilts his head up at you, and you know the comment is eating at him. You're teasing him. You smile as you see him peek into the hallway Rose disappeared into, and you can’t help but let out a shriek when he starts running up the steps to grab you.

Rose must already be on her way back to the door to welcome the new family coming inside, and you have her stepson ready to tackle you to the ground, so you have double the motivation to grab onto your dress and the railing and try to get away from your man.

You laugh your way up the stairs, but you don’t even get to the last step before he’s able to grab onto you. Now, do you think it was a fair fight? With you in heels and a long dress? Absolutely not, and you make sure to let him know that as he casually puts you over his shoulder and gets you both off the stairs - all while basically making you think you’re going to die for being upside down on the last step. You have screamed twice since he's gotten here. Rose would kill you if she knew.

“Please put me down.” You say, defeated and seriously out of breath from both running and laughing.

You know that Rose must have heard the both of you, you just hope she doesn’t know it is you who was just laughing hysterically. You’re sure she heard the damned loud whistle and rolled her eyes to the back of her head in response, knowing very well whose it was – the only son that is almost 4 hours late to a party his own family is organizing. And now that same man is kidnapping a girl into the upper floor, how nice. You wouldn't blame her if she stopped inviting him. Not at all.

Halfway through a hallway and during your millionth plea, Rafe finally puts you down, making your hair fall in all sorts of directions over your face, getting a genuine laugh out of him. Your hands begin to try and smooth down the strands back into their original place, but Rafe continues to smile down at you.

“Don’t you look beautiful today, baby?” He says in a dramatic tone, making your hands stop working through your mess of hair and giving him a glare, which in his eyes seems more like a pout.

Taking pity on you, Rafe helps you with your hair to the best of his ability, and you begin to look around for a bathroom.

Leaving Rafe behind and knowing fully well that he will follow you without hesitation, you walk over to a door that, thankfully, is unlocked, and the room is empty. Rafe walks in with you, and you only let out a breath when you hear close the door behind him.

Rafe watches you through the reflection as you fix your hair further and then check on your makeup. It takes quite a few moments of silence before you turn and lean back on the counter. With your back to the mirror, and the temperature of the cold stone going through the fabric of your dress, Rafe steps in front of you, and the warmth of his hands on your hips adds a nice contrast.

You look up at him, analyzing his face, but you notice how he leans in for a kiss, making you turn your head at the last second, forcing him to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth instead.

“I have lipstick on.” You whisper at him, “Don’t you dare ruin it.”

“I would never.” He whispers back but kisses your cheek again instead and then continues to go down your jaw, neck, and then shoulder.

You fight the urge to close your eyes to the feeling of his lips and look at him while he moves, you haven’t taken a good look at him yet. He looks good, like he always does, in a dark blue suit with no tie and a pristine white dress shirt underneath, his hand has his usual gold ring, and his buzzcut looks just made.

“We’re matching.” You tell him, a smile more than evident in your voice, making him raise his head up to look at you. “Why blue?”

“Ask Sarah, she was the one that chose my suit.” He says, creating a slightly bigger distance between your faces.

You lay your hands over his shoulders, but they eventually find their way to his cheeks. Your thumbs caress his skin, and he continues to stare down at your face.

“You look really handsome tonight.” You whisper to him again.

“I do?” He asks, and you nod, making him lean into you again, threatening to ruin your lipstick yet again.

“And incredibly needy too.”

Even Rafe couldn’t hold in his chuckle at your observation.

“Someone ignored my texts for-”

“We texted this morning, Rafe!” You say a little louder this time, with a smile that almost made Rafe’s heart jump out of his chest. “Since when did you become such a sappy boyfriend?”

Rafe did not even have to say a single word, the expression on his face of complete repulse for your choice of adjective is enough to make you smile widely at him. He sends you a glare as a response which only makes you laugh harder. Your hands come down to his shoulders again, and you give him a kiss on his cheek before leaning away from the counter.

“I have to go back down soon.” You tell him.

Rafe leans in closer to you, his hands forcing your body glued to his, making you lose all idea of cold from before. You are warm all over. “Why?”

“My parents are here, can’t have them talk to a certain someone just yet.”

Rafe doesn’t answer out loud, he just continues to look through your face, deep in thought. You watch him as he does it, memorizing every inch of his skin in return. Rafe had noticed your mood while watching you walk the hallway downstairs. You are deep in thought and visibly buzzing with anxiety. Knowing now that the root of all your problems is just a floor down from yours, makes a lot more sense than whatever he had thought of.

“They’re here?” You only nod, kissing his jaw and pulling back to look him in the eyes, “Have they said anything?”

“Not a single thing, only stared for a while.” Rafe pulls you impossibly closer to him, and you let him. “They might already be doing it right now.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I was driving myself insane. Had to talk to way too many people, and I can’t even remember a single name.” Rafe grins at your words, but you sigh before continuing, “I want to go home already.”

“But the party just started.”

You roll your eyes at him and his audacity, and he smiles down at you. Your lips crack a small grin too, and you feel one of his warm hands move from your back to your hip, squeezing it through the thin fabric and holding onto you tightly. Your entire body sizzles at his touch, and you lean closer, completely forgetting your own promise to not smudge your lipstick.

“We shouldn’t.” You whisper against his mouth.

“We really shouldn’t,” Rafe emphasizes with a shake of his head and a big smile, but that is just before he closes the gap between the two of you. Your lips touch, and your hands smooth over to his head, smoothing over his short hair.

Rafe lifts you up to the counter and pulls your dress upwards to your waist to help him stand between your legs with the slit of the fabric. You sigh against his lips at his touch over your smooth thighs, and, under the dress, Rafe grips onto your skin and pulls you directly into his hips, making you moan against his mouth.

His hands look for a certain piece of fabric, your panties, under your dress as he pulls you against him, but all he feels is skin. He brings his hand up and grips your face with the same force as he did your hips, thumb digging into your cheek as he held your jaw.

He pulls you back, noticing just a slight smudge of your lipstick, and you smile maliciously at him, knowing exactly why he’s behaving the way he is. He lets out a dry laugh, not finding any sort of humor like you did, and kisses you a single time before whispering directly into your lips, “You’re such a—”

“Panty lines, Rafe, panty lines!” You interrupt him without being able to contain your smile.

Your lips melt into a kiss again, more aggressive this time due to Rafe’s discovery, and you can’t help but continue to smile into the kiss, moving your shoulders until you feel the dress’ strap slide down your skin. Rafe’s hands slide from your jaw to your neck, and your hands slide down his torso all the way to his belt, currently almost glued to you too because of how tightly Rafe holds you to him.

You pull his belt to get him closer to you and finally pull at the buckle to undo it. Rafe’s hands let you go for a second, he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, only separating your lips for those seconds and coming back to you.

You finish undoing his belt and move onto the button and zipper, while Rafe’s hands move back to hold your hips. Rafe groans against your mouth, and you grab onto his boxers, dragging your nail over the elastic band. You smile at the way he responds, pulling you roughly towards him and grabbing onto your skin as if it’s his lifeline.

Your hands pull his clothing down, and Rafe is quick to lift a hand and push yours away from him. Your lips don’t separate through it all, and Rafe brings his hand in between your legs. His touch immediately rips a reaction out of you, making you moan louder against his lips while your back stretches with pleasure.

Rafe’s fingers drag from your clit to your entrance, not ever stimulating you on purpose, just moving so, so slow that you consider biting him in response. You turn your head to break the kiss, and Rafe just continues kissing down your jaw and neck, as if unphased. Your breathing is heavy, and your heart is beginning to seem to want to beat out of your chest, but your lips are only able to whisper a single plea, “Rafe, please, we have to be quick.”

“Please, what?” He teases like he always does.

You groan, naturally, and he smiles, “Please, Rafe, just fuck me”

In response to your words, Rafe did not hold back. He glues back your lips to his, and the finger over your clit pulls away, leaving you cold and waiting. His hand goes back to your hip to hold you in the exact position he wants you in, and, right after pulling his hand away again, you just feel his dick lining up with your entrance and sliding into you.

The sensation almost feels like too much, making you pull away from the kiss and bring your hands to his shoulders. Your hands hold onto his skin, underneath the opened suit, and Rafe groans at the feeling of your nails on his skin. He doesn’t move, once he’s able to slide entirely into you, and all you hear for those seconds of no movement is both of your elaborate breathings.

Rafe breaks the silence, “Fuck, you feel so good.” making you chuckle and pull him into a kiss.

As soon as he begins to move, you almost feel as if your body is not your own. The pleasure is too much, and you can’t help but pull Rafe closer to you. His movements are steady and slow at first, but, at this moment, it almost feels like enough. Something about being worried and anxious throughout the night made you feel as if your body is now overly sensitive to everything that Rafe touches.

Your moans aren’t words, just whimpers and sounds of pleasure, never too loud and even sometimes a whisper. Rafe looks down at you, as one of his hands moves to wrap his arm around your back to support your body close to his. Your hair looks perfect again, and your lips only have a slight smudge at a corner, almost unnoticeable. One of your dress’ straps has slid off your shoulder, making his half-closed eyes stare at your jiggling flesh. He pulls you in closer and speeds up ever so slightly, letting the sound of skin slapping and your wet pussy fill his ears and consume him.

You lean your forehead on his shoulder, as one of your hands slides out of his suit and wraps around his bicep. His cock, moving back and forth, his tight hold on your body, your naked chest now glued to his, it seems like too much for you to even open your eyes. It is as if flames consume your body, from your legs to your head, centering around your stomach. It burns at your insides, and all you can think of is how good it feels.

You know you have to be quick about it. Your biggest worries are just a few steps away, so possibly able to find you and what you’re doing, bringing to absolute ruin. But, now, you can't bring yourself to care. And especially not when Rafe moves to grab onto your face and brings your lips to his, making your mind go fuzzy, and your heart flip with love and pleasure for this man.

The kiss starts with form, but it loses it within seconds with some of your moans and Rafe’s groans. Both of you are lost, and getting worse with each stroke and each kiss. You have obviously gotten wetter, you both can hear it, and Rafe can’t help but reach underneath your dress to touch you.

You let out a gasp, which turns into a moan when he touches your clit, and he simply holds your face in place, unwrapping his arm from your body. Your hands reach to hold onto the counter of the bathroom, and the cold stone bites at your skin once you touch it.

Rafe kisses you slowly one last time and lets go of your face before he speeds up his thrusts a last time, making his movements fast and rough, but sloppy. Yet you swear that you have never felt better. His cock reaches deep into you and with each stroke, it touches where it should. His finger slides with ease over your swollen clit, and your pussy squeezes him in response to all of it.

Rafe’s fist closes with all its might as he keeps going and you moan his name, close to his ear. Both of you are beginning to break your first sweat as the peak of your pleasure gets closer and closer. You can almost taste it. Rafe pulls you back to him, maybe a bit too forcefully, but you couldn't care less. You moan into his skin as he gets you closer and closer to your orgasm, and your hands claw at his skin for it.

He leans in close to your ear and whispers, “Come on, baby, come for me.”

After just another two thrusts, you sob out a moan into his neck and Rafe puts your mouth to his in a kiss. Your hands reach for his face, even while still reacting to your too-powerful orgasm, and he follows you right after, pounding into you with a force you know will leave you sore, but for a cost that you could accept any day.

As both your heart rates slow down and your breathing calms, your mouths go back into a normal kiss, your usual slow and loving. Rafe wraps both of his arms around you, pulling your flesh impossibly closer to his, and you relax close to him, ignoring what could possibly await downstairs.

(…)

It took you embarrassingly long to fix your makeup before you got down the stairs with Rafe. No one is walking in anymore, which can only mean that it is finally late enough for anyone else to come in fashionably late.

Your heels click as you walk a little too fast due to your anxiety, Rafe stays a little behind, letting you in the room before he does. You push the door open, and the sound of all the conversations around the room hits you all at once. You look over at Rafe before you walk in, and he nods at you to go.

You walk through a few groups of people and look over at where you left your parents, only to find them in the same place - your father just a few steps behind. You fight the urge to smile a bit and begin to walk towards them, but your legs stop moving when noticing Kristy with her arm crossed with your mother, as her mother stands right next to her too.

All three of them are in a deep conversation, but smiles are all around, which only soothes your soul a slight bit.

Kristy’s mother, Natasha, is another type of woman entirely. In all the years of your friendship, you had only seen her a few times, always out in business. She is a hauntingly beautiful woman. And, yes, even after so many years, you too are scared of her, while your mother never seems to get enough of her.

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother says, noticing you right away. You walk closer to them, trying to hide how stiff your body feels due to the adrenaline coursing through you, “Are you feeling alright? You were gone for a bit.”

“Yeah, just a stomachache, I think.” You tell her, “But I’m feeling much better now.”

“Do you think it’s something you could’ve eaten?” She asks, and your eyes move over to Kristy who is obviously staring at you, hard.

“Maybe.” You shrug at your mom, ready to change the topic of conversation.

“I told you to put the leftovers in the fridge yesterday, but, no, you just had to do it when you felt like it, right, missy?” She teases, looking over at Natasha to make her join in on the motherly teasing session.

But, when you look over at her, you would have to be blind to not notice the way she is looking at you. Different from the way she used to, which could only mean one thing.

“Oh,” She plays along, hiding her staring slightly better, this time. “Kristy is just the same, you know? Always does things on her own time, no matter what I tell her.”

Kristy would’ve rolled her eyes at her mother’s words if she wasn’t occupied staring at someone in the distance. Her silence was so out of character that you weren’t the only one to notice her distraction, because your mother looked faster, and her mouth followed at light speed.

“How can a son arrive so late to an event organized by his own family? A shame, really.” You tense further as she shakes her head.

Kristy tenses too at her words, quickly looking away and down at her feet for a few seconds in shame. Having had enough of her shit, you can't help but continue to glare at her.

Your mother, oblivious, does not notice the tension building up, but you’re thankful for that as she keeps herself busy by bad-mouthing your boyfriend instead.

“No surprise that Rose doesn’t bring him to so many of her parties,” She says, “I would do the same.”

“What a disgrace of a boy...” Natasha says but while directly facing you, almost as if trying to talk to you about him. “Do you know him?”

“What?” You ask her, trying to hold back your defensive tone.

“Rafe Cameron,” She reminds you, “Do you know him?”

Your mother looks at you, intrigued by the conversation. “Oh, no, not at all.” She answers for you.

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks you with a dip of her chin, making Kristy turn her head to her in shock. “He’s not too far from your age.”

“A year.” You tell her, and she nods, beginning to grin at your response. Your mother looks at you in interest but, of course, nothing malicious is crossing her mind, “I’ve talked to him before, yes.”

You can come to very much regret saying such a thing in a few seconds but, at the end of the day, if you ever want your mom to know of your relationship, she better start warming up to the idea that you at least know the guy.

“You have?” Your mother’s interest could not have been more peaked.

“Yeah,” You nod, noticing that Kristy’s shocked eyes have now come to face you too, “Not as bad as everyone says.” You shrug.

“Really?” Natasha asks, humor thick in her voice, but you ignore it and simply nod. “Oh, I’ve heard the opposite, that he and his friends are an absolute horror to talk to. Very rude, weren’t they, Kristy?”

Kristy’s eyes almost pop out of her head once her mother mentions her name and her experiences.

“Oh-oh, uhm…” She hesitates, making your mom almost want to shake her to spit it out. “I didn’t have the greatest conversations, no.”

“How come?” Your mom pressures her, pulling at their crossed arms, urging her to tell all, but Kristy is nowhere near ready to let it out.

“Just some parties, you know.” She shrugs, “He must have been drunk a few of those times, so he wasn’t the nicest.”

“What kind of things did he say to you?” Your mom asks.

“Oh, not to me. But my friends, for example… One day, they were looking for someone.” You fight the urge to punch her, this time, “And asked him- because he is… friends... with her.” She takes a deep breath, “They asked him about her, but he just told them to ‘f’ off and all that.”

“Who were they looking for again, sweetheart? His girlfriend, was it?” Her mother asks, only looking at her daughter in fake curiosity.

Your mother could not even contain her shock, letting out a gasp so loud that some people around you turned to look at her. You, on the other hand, feel as if someone had just thrown you into an iced lake. “He has a girlfriend?!”

“Oh, yes, he does.” Natasha says, “Quite a shock to me too when I heard.”

“Do you happen to know who it is?” She says, leaning in as if to know a secret.

You physically butt in by putting your hand in between them, stopping Natasha from opening her mouth any further and making the two of them look at you.

“It’s his private life, we shouldn’t talk about it.” You say, with a tone so serious that it made your mom notice some of the attention you all were gathering around you.

She smiles at the people, who turn away right after, and, with a lower tone of voice, she says, “Oh, honey, please. That boy has never been private a day in his life.” Your mother insists, “It’s nice of you to try and be civil but with Rafe Cameron?”

“You’re not being fair, mom.” You tell her, letting her continue to think of you as just a nice person trying not to dirty her pure and innocent ears with gossip. “You don’t know him.” You look at the other two women.

Kristy listens to your words and notices her mother’s silence. She did not expect her mother to try and provoke you as much as she did, but Kristy can only blame herself for that. She shouldn’t have told her everything she knew, but it had been a bad day, and she thought she could trust her mother to stay quiet. After all, she had always seemed to like you. Yet, there was something about your words just now that sounded like they were meant for her too.

After all, you were defending Rafe from her. Again.

“You know him that well?” Kristy asks you, after the seconds of silence – and delusion from you, since you thought it had been enough to calm down the conversation and delay it for another time.

You look at her with eyes that could only mean two things to any onlooker, either that you were offended by her words or the complete opposite, that you were pleading with her to just stop whatever she and her mother were doing.

“I wouldn’t say that well.” You say, slowly, trying to measure your every word, so it wouldn’t lead to any misunderstandings. “But I have talked to him and seen him a lot of times. I’m at his home for a lot of hours, remember?”

“That’s right, you tutor the Wheezie girl.” Your mother suddenly remembers, “But, the rumors about him can’t be all that big of a lie. So many people tell them. A new one each week.”

“But... Like you just heard, he just got himself a girlfriend. Even you were surprised.” She nods, not understanding where you’re going with this. “If he can get himself a girl to date after all the rumors about him, maybe he’s not that bad.” You shrug.

You continue to look at your mom, in silence, watching as she slowly bites the bait towards a more open-minded and not-so-horrible mental image of Rafe, but you watch it all burn down in front of your eyes, right as Kristy starts to speak.

“That really depends on what type of girl you imagine him dating,” She says with a chuckle as if finding what you said cute or amusing. Deep down she is boiling in anger with the way you dodge every question with ease, like you've been hiding for so long, you already became accustomed to it all. “You’re imagining him with a well-mannered girl, about his age, a great student, and with great friends that can only be a good influence on him—”

“Kristy,” You warn her.

“But the reality is that we don’t know who the girl is.” She continues in a tone that not even a saint would believe to be truthful, “His girlfriend can very much be like any other slut. Someone who can only match his energy, someone who can only ruin herself further than she has already ruined.”

She looks you in the eyes as she says those exact words, fueled with rage after hearing you say all those things about how everyone just misunderstands Rafe.

“That is…” Your mother says and hesitates, not loving the words used to describe the hypothetical girl just now.

“What’s wrong?” Kristy asks you, not even hiding her tone this time, “Stomachache, again?”

Your breathing is uncontrollable, and your heart is beating rapidly. You’re not sure if it’s adrenaline, anger, heartbreak, anxiety, or everything all at once. All of what is being unsaid is being left in the air, like a toxic cloud, which everyone just watches you seem to be the only one in the conversation to be able to breathe it in.

“Something like that.” You say with gritted teeth with a short smile.

Your mother’s face twists with worry and Rafe is quickly forgotten. She turns to you, but you can’t take your eyes off the two women who appear to be practically orgasming with how they are loving to threaten to ruin your life with casual banter.

“We can go ask Rose if she has something for a stomachache, honey, would you like me to do that?” You don’t answer but try to shake your head, which goes unnoticed. “Or maybe in our car, maybe I have something for you to take.”

“I’m fine, mom, really.”

“What’s happening over here?” You hear your father’s worried voice behind you, which makes you turn to face him.

“She’s feeling sick—” Your mom tries to tell him.

“Sick? Did you eat something you shouldn’t?” He asks you, “Was it those leftovers? Honey, we’ve told you that you should put them in the fridge—”

“You should tell them the truth,” A voice interrupts your father, making you look at the two women again, your heart now at your stomach making you even more nauseous.

“What?” Your mother asks with pure confusion over her features, “What are you talking about?”

You look at the two mothers, both looking at each other, one with a know-it-all look, while the other is lost in absolute confusion.

“If it was my Kristy, I would’ve wanted her to tell me everything since day one.” She says, facing me again.

“Shut the fuck up.” You say to her, your volume low so as to not get any attention from anyone outside of this conversation, but your mother’s gasp might have gotten some looks right after, again.

“Apologize!” Your mother says to you, “You cannot speak to her this way, she’s your friend’s—”

“No,” Kristy says, only making your mother’s frown deepen. “Actually, you might not even know but we haven’t been friends for quite a few weeks, isn’t that right?” She smiles at you.

“What?” Your father asks, shocked to know that the once inseparable childhood best friends are no more.

“Tell them.” She tells you, making your eyes water, from anger, embarrassment, or complete horror that this is finally happening, but you fight the tears. “They deserve to know.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to hold in your need to gasp for a sob that you are holding in.

“Could either of you two just tell us what is going on, already?” Your father asks, leaning his hand on your back to try and offer you comfort, but his touch only repulses you, given what you are being forced to say.

Your panic rises as you’re unable to scream hysterically at the women in front of you to just disappear and mind their own business due to how many people surround you. How many of your parents’ friends and coworkers surround you, and how you would just embarrass them if you even dared to say half of what this woman and her daughter deserve to hear.

“Maybe we should go home,” You tell your dad, “I’m not feeling good.”

Your mother can’t even help but look at the two women in front of you sideways. She has known the women for years and has never seen them behave the way that they are behaving. But, again, she also has known you since you were born. You’re half of her. And she hasn’t seen you talk or act the way you are, right now.

“What is it that she’s talking about, honey?” Your mother pulls at you, worried but frightened too with what could be about to come out of your mouth.

“Let’s just go.” You tell your mom, feeling your entire burn in horror. They will know everything after today. There is no other way around it. “I'll tell you at home, please.”

Kristy's mother speaks again. “Just say it.”

She opens her mouth, but you make sure to speak over her, “You don’t know nothing about me or my life, you have no right—”

“Just like I don’t know your boyfriend, right?” She asks, and everything around you goes silent, “There... See? Not so hard.”

“Wha-what? What do you mean by that?” Your mom says, taking a step closer to her, hoping that she had misheard her.

Natasha does a short smile at your mother, and your father, having not been present during the past conversation, simply brushes his hand up and down on your back. He still does not understand a single thing of what they are saying, but he is worried about you.

No one says another word, and Natasha and her daughter walk out of the conversation. You recoil from your father’s touch and take a step back from both of your parents. Your breathing is beginning to sound strange to you, and your skin feels too hot to the touch even though chills run down your body. Your heart is breaking and being ripped out at the same time, and the world has begun to lose its center of gravity because it is suddenly too hard to stand.

Your mother continues to stand a step away from you, not moving, thinking to herself about how she and her own mind can be wrong. How this is not her reality, and how when she turns to face you, she will find you and Kristy, still as best friends, laughing at her face for being so dumb to even believe all of this. But she doesn’t. She turns, and she finds you pulling away from your father and walking away, ready to get out of the building.

She stands there, watching you walk out of the room, and notices that Kristy is following right behind. She can’t move or speak for a few seconds. Her husband stands beside her, asking her what the hell is going on, and in the corner of her eye, she sees him. She turns her head to him and watches him, with his blue suit just like her daughter’s dress and hair cut short. He has a charming smile on his face as he speaks to a group of men with his father on his side. He is acting unbothered and calm like he always does in these events.

As her heart continues to pound, her husband follows her eyes and stares confusingly at Rafe Cameron, trying to decipher what could be going on, but to no avail.

You forcefully clean your tears with your shaking hands and walk quickly down the hall towards the door to the outside. Right next to the door, you notice three people talking, but before you can even get close to them, a voice stops you.

“I didn’t mean for this to be like this,” Kristy says to you, and your blood boils at the sound of her voice,

“Oh, fuck you.” You exhale out the words at her, knowing the people in the room of the event won’t hear a thing, turning to face her. “You and your mother knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I didn’t want it to be today.” She shakes her head, not exactly sure what she should say to you first, “I just thought that your parents deserved the truth.”

“Oh my god, Kristy, shut up! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP with your 'could do no evil' attitude!! No one asked you for anything! I was going to tell my parents when it was safe for me to do so.” You try to hold in your tears, even when you know you have every right to cry, “You bitch, I probably don’t even have a house to live in right now, and all you care about is how you could justify your own stupid actions? Fuck you!” You try to turn to walk away again.

“I—” She tries to walk with you.

“No! Stop!” You tell her, holding out your hand, “You have said and done enough today, Kristy. I do not want to ever see you again. I will never forgive you for anything that you and your mother have done today.” You can’t even hold yourself back from both continuing and letting out some tears, “I am an adult, I have been an adult this entire time. I choose my own relationships, and you have nothing to do with it.”

“You know that is not why I don’t approve…”

“Exactly! Because I don’t need you to approve, Kristy. You are not my mother and you sure as hell aren’t my friend anymore. Your approval means absolutely nothing to me, right now. Maybe before you fucked up, absolutely, that is why I didn’t say anything before, but now?” You run your hands through your hair in frustration as you snicker at your own words, “And you called me a slut, for Christ’s sake. In front of my own fucking mother.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t give a shit, Kristy!” You wave your arms in the air for emphasis, “I do not give a single shit about what you meant or even still want to mean. You have officially and royally fucked me for life, and you think you have the right to run after me?” You ask as you angrily wipe away your tears.

Kristy bites down her tongue and looks at you, “I just don’t understand how you think that what I did was so wrong. I get it, I should’ve let you have the conversation with your parents at your own time, but also look at my side. Why did you hide him? If he is so great, as you say, why did you hide him from us? From me?” She pauses, “We were best friends. I only wanted what was best for you. Of course, I wouldn’t like to hear that you were with him, but I would’ve still preferred to have you tell me the truth.” You turn your back to her and start walking again, “That is why I will never understand this relationship.”

“Do you really want to know, Kristy?” You say out loud, turning to face her again, noticing how she hasn’t moved closer, “Because it was fun. In the beginning, all of this was for fun. I had fun with him. I felt like I could do whatever the hell I wanted with my life without anyone judging me or thinking less of me. And it was a secret because it was all there was to it: fun! And, after everything, he was nice to me, and he was gentle with me.” You take a breath, “And since that moment on, I gave him more of me and, even when he royally fucked up too, he made sure to make up for it and stay by me.”

Kristy opens her mouth to twist your words, but you don’t let her.

“And before you even say. I do not give a shit if he drinks or if he fights, or if he does fucking coke every single day in his life, you know why? Because at the end of the day, he will come back to me and love me, and let me love him like he deserves to be loved.” You sniffle, “Rafe has not mistreated me a day in his life. He takes care of me, and he loves me, and that is all I could ever ask of him… And the fact that you couldn’t even try and get to know him- It really shows who I must choose to include in my life from now on.”

You take a breath and hear the door to the event open again, so you decide to end the conversation.

“Goodbye, Kristy.”

You turn again and walk over to the front door. When you walk closer, you notice that the three people who used to stand by the door have stopped talking, pretty sure right after you started screaming. You almost apologize as you walk past them, but you notice that one of them is Rose. You almost freeze once you realize that now she too knew of your relationship with Rafe, but your body is too locked into the idea of getting the hell out of there, so you simply look away and walk right off into the cold night’s breeze.

What the fuck are you going to do now?

I finally did it! I honestly believe that this was the hardest chapter to edit. Everything just felt so cartoonishly evil, I hated it and had to basically rewrite it. I was so stressed, I really wanted it to be good. Hopefully, it was worth the wait!!

If you're wondering where I've been or if I'm okay, I'm more than okay. I'm just really busy with uni since my professors seem to hate me, and I had no inspiration for the entirety of my summer vacation. So, now, when my life is at the peak of stress, I decided to post this (just to add more stress, but anyway).

I really hope you enjoyed this! I am so sorry that it took me this long <3

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #tutor series #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #obx #obx season 4 #obx netflix

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kuttesandknives · 7 days ago

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warning(s): SMUT. jax in a fractured emotional state, parental death mention. 18+ readers ONLY. words: 2.3k a/n: set smack dab in the middle of season two, so spoilers are within. truthfully, this is my first x reader fic, so go easy on me with the reviews. 🥺✨

The clubhouse still smelled like stale beer when Jax stormed out, jaw tight, rings and fingers stained with blood, knuckles raw. The fight with Clay wasn’t just another blow up over miscommunication. It’d been building for months now, ever since Donna. Jax had been extra volatile lately, more so since Tara left Charming again. He saw that coming, as much as it rested bitterly on his tongue and ached in his chest. It was almost worse the second time around.

“You wanna lead, son? Start actin’ like it. Stop hiding behind your dead daddy’s words.”

That was the last thing Clay said before Jax swung. Now, those words echoed at the forefront of his mind, incapacitating any other possible thought to come to the forefront.

By the time he showed up at your place, it was well past midnight. You recognized the distant growl of his bike pulling into the parking space outside your apartment's patio–surely Patty next door would complain to the landlord about that. Not that you gave a damn.

“Can I come in?” Jax asked, his voice low and hoarse.

You stepped aside to let him inside, the porch light highlighting the raw knuckles and split lip, but you didn’t ask. Not yet. And just like that, you became the one person he could run to when shit got too damn chaotic.

The door clicked softly behind him. He was quiet for the first thirty seconds, removing his kutte and putting it on the back of your dining chair. You watched him cross the room again, taking in the blood dotted along the front of his white shirt. He plopped down on the couch and leaned back, closing his eyes as his head was facing upward.

Silence stretched between you two again as you walked into the kitchen, clicked on the dim light above the stove, and grabbed the ice pack you kept in the freezer. Part of you hated how automatic it had become, tending to Jax’s wounds like this. But tonight felt different. The fight had dug deeper.

You returned into the living room, crouching in front of him as he leaned forward now with his forearms resting on his knees, pressing the ice pack against his jaw and giving him a soft smile of reassurance. He flinched slightly, not from the cold but from the touch, like he wasn’t used to something so domestic such as this.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” You finally asked, holding the ice pack firmly against his jaw.

He didn’t look at you. Just past your shoulder, like if he’d meet your eyes, the dam would break.

“Clay.” One word. Heavy and unmistaken.

You nodded. “That bad?”

“Worse,” he muttered, finally sparing you a glance with that signature smirk for just a second.

You moved the ice pack a little, brushing his blond hair back with your free hand to get a better look at the cut on his brow. It had stopped bleeding, but it’d bruise considerably by morning. You could already see the purple blooming beneath his skin.

“Did he say something, or did you finally throw the first punch?”

A dry, humorless laugh escaped him. “Both.”

He went quiet after that. You knew better than to push. You just stayed close and allowed the silence to seep in between the two of you again. Your hand brushed against his knee as you adjusted your knelt position a fraction, your head cocking to the side ever so slightly.

He leaned back against the couch now, taking control of the ice pack with his own hand and holding it there. He looked at you–really looked. “He said I was weak. That if I wanted the goddamn gavel, I needed to grow some balls first.”

You could see his jaw tick, like he was holding something back on purpose. “Well… did you?”

Jax’s tongue darted over his split lip. “Yeah. I swung. First time in front of the table. I knocked him on his ass.”

You let out a slow breath. “Jesus…”

He shook his head, tossing the ice pack on the side table. “He deserved it. He’s been throwing his weight around, becoming so goddamn full of himself and his vision–” His jaw ticked once again, like he wanted to elaborate but knew he couldn’t, nor would he. “Greed. Power. Lies. Everything that SAMCRO is supposed to be against, he’s gunning for everything that’s in the wrong direction on purpose.” You took his hand and held it, noticing the smear of Clay’s blood under his fingernails. “I’m scared I’m gonna become him. Or worse. I feel like everything is falling apart and I can’t get a fuckin’ grip on any of it.”

You felt your chest tighten. “You won’t.” He looked at you like he wanted to believe you if just for a second. “Every time you’ve come here, Jax, bleeding or not, you’re still fighting to be something better.”

He let out a shaky breath and leaned forward, the hand that you were holding coming up to cup your face as he spoke, “This is the only place I can breathe.” Jax’s thumb grazed against your cheek a few times as he held it while your hand came up to gently brush his hair back.

“I don’t know who the hell I am anymore,” he admitted, and it came out like a confession. “I thought I did. I thought the manuscript, my dad’s vision, all that… thought it would show me the way, but every time I try to steer this thing differently, I end up right back where he was. Drowning in the same fuckin’ shit.”

You reached up, fingers brushing against the bruise above his eye, “He didn’t drown, Jax. He was pulled under. There’s a difference.”

One hand rested on your wrist now while the other cupped the back of your neck. His touch wasn’t rough, but it held a considerable amount of weight. The pad of his thumb traced your skin, like he was trying to ground himself and like your heartbeat was the only constant left. The only thing that grounded him, tethering him to reality.

“I didn’t come here for this.” Jax admitted, his forehead resting against yours now. “I just–I couldn’t go home, you know? Not right now.”

“I know.” You reassured him in a whisper. “You don’t have to elaborate if you don’t want to.”

“But I want to.” His voice cracked on the edge of it. “You’re the only person who doesn’t look at me like I’m supposed to have all the answers. Like I’m not already burning at both ends.”

You forced down the knot rising in your throat, your gaze undeniably locking with Jax’s, quietly pleading, quietly saying all the things you couldn’t put into words. He looked back, his eyes never moving from your face; they never did, even if he’d deny it.

He moved first, deliberate and slow as he leaned in, like he was expecting you to back out but you didn’t. His lips captured yours as your breath was caught, but not out of surprise but rather relief. The kiss started carefully, loaded with a question he wasn’t sure neither of you wanted answered.

Still, you answered without hesitation, returning the same urgency.

Jax kissed you like a man starved, like he was desperate to feel something that didn’t rip him apart. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. Your mouth opened for him, lips parting, and he groaned low and guttural, like the sound had been stuck under lock and key for days.

You climbed into his lap without asking, straddling him where he sat on the couch. Your knees bracketed his hips as your fingers traced up under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his chest, tracing warm skin and hard muscle. Jax’s breath hitched when your hands rested against the top of his chest, fingers curling into soft fists.

“Jesus.” He murmured against your mouth, his forehead resting against yours, “You sure about this?”

“Yes.” You whispered faintly, “I want this.” A beat of silence filled the void and then, “I want you, Jax.”

That did it, snapping the lingering tension like a bowstring.

He surged up, wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying you toward the bedroom like he couldn’t bear to waste another second. Your fingers fumbled with his shirt the second the door shut, but he beat you to it. He set you down right in front of the side of your bed, removing his own shirt as you undid his belt and zipper, letting each item fall to his ankles. He stepped out of them as he kissed you and helped you out of your sleepwear, conveniently a pair of shorts and a threadbare t-shirt far too baggy.

He gently held you in his arms and guided you onto the bed, gently laying your back against the mattress like you were something sacred; like this wasn’t just about fucking anymore, no, this was about remember what it felt like to just be human.

When Jax’s body lowered onto yours, his left hand trailed against your sides while his right held your face. His lips found yours again, his teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip. Then he pulled away just enough to study you despite the darkness in the room, as the only light that was present was the streetlight outside your bedroom window.

“You always look at me like that.” He hissed out in a hushed tone, now lapping his tongue against your neck.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m not me. Like… I’m worth a damn.” Like I’m not just another fuck, he thought.

“Because you are.” You declared once his eyes met yours seconds later.

He didn’t respond with words, but he did kiss you again. This time more urgent. Rougher, to the point where his scruff scraped against your skin with every pass. He cupped your breast, and his thumb brushed against your nipple, causing it to pebble underneath, and your back arched into him. You felt his cock against your thigh as he ground his hips into you, but he didn’t rush. He took his time, savoring the feel of your tongue against his.

Your hands explored him in return, grazing fingertips along his shoulders and cupping around his biceps with one hand while the other dipped low, gliding against the low dip of his spine.

Jax pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes soft, “I need you to see me tonight. Not the kutte. Not the club. Just… me, babe, can you do that for me?” God, the way he looked at you sent a shudder down your spine. He was the farthest thing from innocent, but that look could feed patrons for hundreds of years.

You reached up, cupping his jaw, “I already do, Jackson.”

He pressed his forehead against yours with a ragged breath. Then, slowly, he reached between you and guided himself to your entrance. He slid in with a quiet groan against your lips as your walls stretched to welcome him.

Fuck. You gasped at the feel of him; heavy, warm, perfect.

He didn’t move right away once he was fully sheathed. He bracketed both his forearms beside your head to hold himself up as your body fully adjusted. He made sure to study each subtle micro expression and leaned down to kiss you again, more meaningful and sweeter, a far cry from the first batch of kisses you’d shared tonight.

He started to move now, slow and steady, hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that was all need and reverence. Every thrust was deliberate, dragging across your walls and pushing you toward something deeper than just pleasure. You clung to him, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close and unambiguously inside.

��Fuck.” He cursed against your lips.

“Jax–,” you sighed in a whisper. He buried his face in your neck in almost a pathetic attempt to keep it together. You felt him tremble, his biceps twitching as you held him there and the unmistakably twitch of his jaw. He was close. “Jax, baby, you can fall apart here. It’s okay.”

That cracked something open.

His thrusts became uneven now, heavier, as if your permission had granted him the space to unravel. He held you tighter, his fingers digging into your hips and his breath turned ragged.

The build in your core grew hot and insistent. Each grind of his hips pulled a breathless moan from your lips. The weight of him, the way he moved inside you, the emotion… it was too much and not enough all at once.

Your climax crept in slowly, like a tide rising. Your body tensed under him, and he felt it, slipping a hand between your legs to circle your clit with practiced fingers. “Come for me.” He muttered against your ear, “Come while I’m inside you.”

Your mind protested for a moment before caving, your body obeying after the third pass of his cock following his request. Your walls clenched around him as your release hit. You cried out his name, fingers splaying his shoulder blades as you clung to him as he wrung out every bit of what you could give him.

“Shit,” he groaned, his hips sputtering. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

He came with a broken sound, burying himself deep one last time, his whole body going rigid for a few seconds before he slumped over you, chest heaving.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You just held each other, hearts thudding in sync, sweat cooling on your skin. Eventually, he rolled onto his side, pulling you into him so you were tucked against his chest. He wrapped an arm around you, his thumb tracing circles on your back.

“I didn’t come here to do this.” Jax admitted, staring at the ceiling like he regretted what transpired. He didn’t, but he did at the same time.

“I know.” You said in a whisper.

Then… “But I’m glad I did.”

You tilted your head upward and smiled, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Me too.”

He didn’t say anything else. He just held you closer, tightening his arms around your frame.

#jax teller x you #jax teller x reader #jax teller #sons of anarchy #soa #samcro #jax teller fic #jax teller fanfic #samcro fic #soa fic #jax teller smut #jackson teller #one shot #jax teller one shot #wrote this in less than 24 hours who is SHE???

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ddejavvu · 5 months ago

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Can I be the controversially young-new in town-girl luke danes fucks in secret any time he wants or it's that too much

send me requests for the men of gilmore girls!

he wants to be all grumpy about it too like he's not the one locking the door behind you when you come in for a late-night cup of cocoa... he wants to scoff at you when you knock on the door of the diner despite the CLOSED sign blinking in your face. he's already grumbling when he unlocks the door and lets you inside, but his thick fingers twist the lock back into place and he yanks the blinds on the door back down from where he'd raised them to see who was knocking.

'you know the hours are on the window, right? 6:30-9. it's eleven.' he drawls at you, entirely unimpressed even as he lets you inside, 'i'm closed.'

'come on,' you plead, shucking your coat to reveal a slim shirt that isn't helping him resist you, "please? you're the only one i know around here, I'm still settling in, and- and I just don't know who else to go to. you're the only one who's nice to me.'

and he thinks he's a little more than nice as he takes hold of your hips, scoffing under his breath as he drags you closer, 'right. i'm nice to you.'

but he understands. miss patty has probably already started in on you, and even if she's not mean-spirited she's overwhelming and her teasing can come off a bit harsh. taylor has definitely been mean to you, and kirk threw a fit just yesterday because you were in his spot in the diner. so he can't blame you- you probably are feeling a little lost.

'i love you' you gasp out, in all of your starry-eyed adoration of the man whose stubbly cheeks you're cupping, the words tumbling from your lips as you lean in to kiss desperately at his frown, 'luke please, just one more time?'

#luke danes x reader #luke danes imagine #luke danes smut #luke danes fanfiction #luke danes fluff #luke danes oneshot #luke danes headcanons #luke danes headcanon #luke danes x you #luke danes x y/n

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sweetyyhippyy · 7 months ago

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Diner Girl. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *Fluff*

Summary: Eddie stops by a diner after a gig at The Hideout. His waitress catches his eye and he's head over heels immediately.

Word Count: 1.9k

TW: Eddie being in love and flirty. Reader has one very specific description of having a dimple. Mentions of food and eating. Reader is witty and just as flirty as Eddie. Eddie being a total music snob. Love sick idiots.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie felt like he was going to knock out any minute. All of the adrenaline from performing at The Hideout tonight was wearing out, and he needed some sort of fuel fast, there was no way he was going to make it back home without falling asleep at the wheel.

He knew of a little dinky diner on the way back to the trailer park, Sunny’s Diner, that would be open at this hour.

The entire diner was empty other than a few of the workers back in the kitchen and a waitress cleaning one of the tables. Shitty disco music blasting from the jukebox in the front of the restaurant.

“Be with you in a second, honey!” A girl calls out from across the diner, quickly looking up to acknowledge him but looking back down quickly to go back to cleaning. “Take a seat wherever.”

Eddie slides into a booth at the front of the restaurant, grabbing the menu from the holder and scanning through it while he decides if he wanted waffles or a burger.

“Hi there, I’ll be your waitress for the night. Is there anything that I can get you right now, hon?”

Eddie looks up at the girl standing by him quickly, doing a double take once he saw how cute she was. “Uh, um.” He fumbles with the menu as he stares at her with, what he had no doubt, the stupidest look on his face.

She huffs out a small laugh. “Do you need a second?”

“No, no. Um, can I just get a coffee for now, please?” He smiles up at her, all of his teeth showing.

“Coffee hasn’t been fresh in hours, you sure?” She raises a worrisome eyebrow at him.

“Yeah it’ll be fine. Nothing that some sugar can’t fix.” Eddie watches as she walks away toward the kitchen, the cute little yellow uniform she was wearing catching his eye because of how nice her legs looked.

She had the cutest smile he had seen, a deep dimple on the left side of her face. Her hair covered her nametag and she hadn’t introduced herself when she walked up to take his order, so he had no idea what her name was, but whatever it was, he was sure it was as cute as she was.

A plain white coffee cup appears in front of him, waking him from his train of thought.

“Sugar is there in that little container. Do you want any creamer or anything?”

“No, that's okay. But I’m ready to order. Would you recommend the waffle breakfast plate or the cheeseburger?” He tries his best to sound smooth and suave.

She grimaces, biting back a smile. “Not going to lie, those hamburger patties are frozen, and probably have been since 1955.” She giggles. “Don’t tell anyone I told you that though.” She whispers to him.

Eddie laughs back, nodding his head and folds his menu back up. “Waffle breakfast plate it is then. Unless those waffles are from 1955 too, then we might have some issues.”

She finishes writing on her notepad, that cute little dimple showing. “No, the waffles are a lot better. We got those shipped back in ‘72. A lot more fresh.” She jokes before walking away again.

Eddie’s heart was fluttering in his chest, her eyes were just as sweet as the rest of her face and her voice. He absentmindedly reaches for the sugar packets on the other side of the table, taking 3 of the pink packets and sprinkling the sugar into the cup.

His mind was swimming with ideas on how he was going to ask her for her number, hoping by whatever higher power there was out there that she was interested in him. And hoping that she was single, although there was going to be no way in hell that someone as beautiful and sweet as her wouldn’t have someone at home waiting for her.

He takes a big swig from the cup, immediately gagging on the stale coffee and spitting it back out into the cup. “Fucking christ.”

From the counter he hears a loud giggle. He turns to look at the source of the laugh, finding the cute waitress hiding her smile behind her hand and a fit of giggles coming from her.

Eddie grabs the napkin from the table, wiping his mouth off. “Oh, is that funny to you? What kind of poison did you put in that cup?”

She comes from behind the counter, a steaming pot of newly brewed coffee in her hand. “I told you the pot hadn’t been fresh in hours. Not many people come in here after 8pm wanting coffee.” She swaps his tainted cup out for a new one, pouring new coffee into it. “Most people are sleeping at this hour.”

“Did you make that new pot just for me?” Eddie winks at her, getting more sugar packets and sprinkling them in.

She rolls her eyes at him, biting a smirk back. “Actually, I wanted some coffee too. I still have 3 more hours at this place and I need something to keep me awake.”

“You mean all these customers in here aren’t enough to keep you busy? Shit, you’re swimming right now.” He fidgets with the handle of the cup the longer she looks at him, feeling nerves in his stomach.

“A comedian.” She teases, making herself laugh. “I’m going to go check on your food, I’ll be right back.” She smiles again.

Eddie blows out a breath, rubbing his cheeks. He hadn’t felt this way about a girl in years, someone who was sweet, but could banter back with him and take a joke. He watches her at the pickup window, unintelligibly talking with the cook on the other side.

He had already planned in his head where he wanted to take her on their first date, that he would try to hold her hand - if she would let him.

“A waffle breakfast plate. I sweet talked the chef into putting some chocolate chips on top.”

“Oh, thank you.” He smirks at her. “You know, these waffles are huge, I might not be able to finish all of this by myself. Why don’t you sit with me and have a bite to eat? Maybe I can get to know you better?”

“Wow.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Does this whole cute puppy dog eyes and sweet smile thing usually work for you?”

“I don’t know, you let me know. Is it working?”

She stands next to the table for a few seconds before finally sliding in across from him. “Might have worked a little bit.” She responds, taking one of his forks and picking at one of the strawberries on the plate and popping it in her mouth.

Eddie drops his jaw dramatically, pretending to be shocked. “Hey! I wanted that one.” Eddie jokes.

***

“Don’t be a snob!” She laughs loudly. “Saturday Night Fever wasn’t a bad movie!”

Eddie rolls his eyes sarcastically before groaning. “Oh, please! The soundtrack alone was god awful. Add John Travolta in those ugly ass white bell bottoms.” He fake gags.

“You’re telling me you weren’t down with the disco fever? The Bee Gees? Earth, Wind, and Fire? Donna Summer?! Come on Donna Summer is a legend already. You never watched Soul Train?”

“Oh my god I should walk out of here right now.” He jokes. “You haven’t heard real music have you? Van Halen, Judas Priest, Skid Row, and the god of music himself, Ozzy Osborne. That’s real music sweetheart.” Eddie says matter of factly.

“Well Mr. Headbanger’s Bash, you’ll have to show me real music then since I’m so uneducated.”

Eddie all but jumped out of his seat at her bringing up seeing him again.

She turns her wrist to look at her watch, her face turning down. “My manager will be here in 10 minutes and will kill me if I’m sitting down eating with a customer. I gotta start cleaning up.”

“Oh. Well, do you get off soon then? Maybe I can give you a ride home, if you don’t have one?”

As she slides out of the booth, she smirks at him. “How do I know you’re not a serial killer?”

“Does this look like the face of a serial killer?” Eddie puts in his best smile for her, batting his dark eyelashes at her.

Her eyes roll in the back of her head at his cheesy line. “My car is parked in the parking lot. You can walk me to my car. I’ll come find you when I’m off.”

Eddie practically melts into the booth, his cheeks getting hot and flutters in his stomach.

***

“Alright, you Eddie Van Halen lookalike, you wanna walk me to my car?”

Eddie snorts out a laugh as he slides out of the booth. “Ah, so you do know Van Halen? You do have taste.” He follows her out the door, shivering when the crisp fall breeze hits his face.

"Yeah, Van Halen is hot.” She says purposely, hoping he got the hint. “So I have to ask you, you spent 4 hours drinking shitty coffee and eating waffles that came from a box. Our food and coffee aren’t that good, so what do you really want?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.” Eddie says shyly.

“No, no because I’ve been wrong about this type of thing before. Men come in flirting with me in hopes they don’t have to pay for their food. I want to be sure. I’m not falling for a pair of pretty eyes again.”

"She thinks I have pretty eyes." Eddie thinks to himself.

They walk up to her beat up black car, both of them leaning against the side of it.

“I want to take you on a date, if you’re interested. I think you’re beautiful, you’re funny. I want to get to know you more.” Eddie’s confidence is long gone from his body. It was like he was 14 again and asking a girl out for the first time.

She leans forward and kisses his cheek softly, internally giggling like a little girl that she had the guts to kiss him.

It took everything in Eddie not to melt onto the parking lot asphalt at the peck on his cheek. “I’ll uh, take it you’re interested.”

“Very interested.” She digs into the pocket of her apron and pulls out a piece of paper. “I’m expecting to hear from you by the time I have to come back to this dump tonight… But not before noon, I need to sleep.” She smirks to him.

Eddie unfolds the paper, seeing her phone number and address scribbled on one of the ticket she takes orders on.

“Yeah, I promise. I’ll call you. Scouts honor.” He holds up his hand, giving her the Vulcan hand gesture.

She furrows her brows at him, confused by the hand gesture. “You know that… you know what, never mind.” She shakes her head at him, grabbing her keys from her purse. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” She slides her key into her car, unlocking it.

Eddie reaches for the door handle and opens it for her, pulling the door back to let her in. “Ma’am.” He says with his thickest southern accent he could muster up.

She gets into her car, throwing her bag into the passenger side. “Well I’ll be waiting for your call then Van Halen.”

Eddie gently shuts her door, stepping back while she pulls out of her parking spot, giving him a small wave before she drives off.

“Holy shit.” Eddie laughs in disbelief that she was actually interested in him. He looks at the paper in his hand, pink ink scribbled onto the paper with the words:

Thank you for actually being sweet and making me laugh all night. I can’t wait to show you disco isn’t as bad as you think. xoxo ♡

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x fem reader #Eddie Munson x fem! reader #Eddie Munson x reader fluff #Eddie Munson x fem! reader fluff #Eddie Munson x fem reader fluff #Eddie Munson x reader fan fiction #Eddie Munson x fem reader fan fiction #Eddie Munson x fem! reader fan fiction #Eddie Munson fan fic #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 days ago

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Give and Take 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Steve and Charity

Summary: the women’s shelter harbours a particularly suspicious character.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Another dull day. Steve’s tired. He never sleeps well, but lately, he’s been kept up not only by the pesky feline that shares his space, but its owner. His roommate is even more restless than him. He didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be more addled than himself.

He yawns and pushes back a stray blond lock as it falls down his forehead. As he does, the tip tickles his too big nose. If only the rest of him had caught up to that beak.

He mills by the fourteenth-century altar pieces and ponders a coffee. The break room pods give him heart burn and caffeine makes him jitter. Still, that cafe down the block is pretty popular. He hears a lot of patrons talking about it.

The silence is punctuated by a steady cadence of steps. Little taps that pluck at his brain. He recognises the footfalls. As he turns, Charity sweeps around in a shade of yellow that would put a canary to shame. She wears it well; a wrap dress with a bow on one hip, a pair of white mary jane heels, and a white purse decorated with lilacs.

He hesitates and thinks of hiding. His mind is racing. How did she get there? Why is she there? Is this some coincidence? He’s not stupid. It’s not for him. He’s not ready for her.

“Steve!” She waves as she flits towards him, “hi. It’s me.”

Her excitement startles him. He doesn’t know what to do. Did he fall asleep? Is this a dream?

“Uh, h-hey, what are you doing here?” He clears his throat as his voice turns creaky.

“You said you worked at the museum and it reminded me how I’ve been meaning to come down. I have the day off so...” she pauses and looks around. “Oh, gee, it’s so quiet around here.” She flutters her fingers along her chin bashfully, “I’ve just come in here squawking like a bird.” She glances down, “looking like one too.”

She giggles. His cheeks burn. Can she see?

“I-- I like the dress. Pretty colour. Pretty on you,” he stutters and swallows a cringe, giving a heavy blink. “Er. Uh. A tour?”

“Oh, you are so nice. Thank you. Patti at work said the dress was like Sesame Street,” she trills. “And I would love a tour around. I have to be honest, I wandered into the dinosaur room.”

He chuckles. She has a way of easing him even as she makes his heart pound. That’s what he likes about her. The way she talks to the women at the shelter, listens to them, and cheers up the kids with her finger puppets. She’s just a natural at everything.

“I’ll try not to knock anything over,” she moves clear of triptych, pressing her skirt smooth to flatten the volume. It only enhances the curve of her hips. His mouth fills with saliva. He thinks of her sitting on the floor with him and how she didn’t realise her panties peeked out when she shifted around.

“We’ll go slow,” he says and spins, shakily brushing his palms over his hair.

“So, er, what’s your specialty? Do you have one of those?” She catches up to him, walking shoulder to shoulder. Like a friend. No, he wants more. “I don’t know much about the academ—academ-i-a,” she struggles with the word, “but I like to read about history.”

“Hm, I my undergrad, I focused on art masters, I focused on revolutionary depictions...” he explains, “but I dabble around. Medieval stuff was always more interesting but oversaturated.”

She does that. She makes you talk without thinking. And he knows what he’s talking about. That makes it easy. Even with her.

“Oh, wow, I just got a book on the War of the Roses... Wars. Plural, I forget,” she chimes. “It was on sale. I’ve never read much about that.”

“I think it’s interesting, as long as you can keep your kings straight,” he says. He pauses at the picture of a plump Venus. Her eyes stray over and she gasps. “Oh, she’s so pretty. Look... the way the paint is textured...”

She steps closer to admire the strokes. He tends to focus on something else. He watches her eyes as she fawns over the centuries-old art. The delicate hours, days, weeks, even years of someone’s life. He glances at the Venus then at Charity. If she thinks the deity is gorgeous, she should look in the mirror.

“Barely escaped the Bonfires,” he intones. “They burned art at the orders of the Pope. Blasphemy and all that. Strange how iconoclasm has such nuance.”

She nods and turns to smile at him, “you’re so smart. You must know everything.”

He gives a bashful grin. “Not really.” He doesn’t know how to talk to women. Especially her. He doesn’t know how to be taller, stronger, or handsome. He doesn’t even know what else to say.

“You know, I’m getting such good ideas.” She says.

“Ideas?” He wonders.

“Oh, yes, I have some scarves,” she slithers her hand down her figure, “I could bring some draping back into style.”

She giggles. He laughs at her joke. If she really wanted to recreate the paintings, he’d have them request a showing of The Sleeping Venus...

“This one...” he distracts himself as he turns to another painting, “uses a sfumato. See how the shading is so soft--”

She listens intently and marvels at the next piece. She nods along with his explanation as he goes on, pointing out the tiny little error he always fixated on.

“I would’ve never noticed,” she tilts her head. “You have a good eye.”

“Well, I could never paint something as nice as that, flaws and all,” he shrugs.

“You paint?” She asks.

He winces. He shrugs. “Sometimes. Just a hobby. I prefer pencil and paper.”

“Wow. That’s so cool. They’re having painting classes down at this studio across town. I’ve done a bit of work for their promotions... which don’t launch until next week so don’t tell anyone.” She smiles guiltily. “But yeah, I was thinking of it.”

“That’s... fun,” he says. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Really? Well, let me know if you’re interested. I feel a bit ridiculous going alone.” She sweeps around to look at a statue of the archangel. “Wow, all these things... to think they’ve been around so long.”

As she dotes over the art, he is transfixed by her. She is the art. She is made exactly for him.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #give and take #mcu #marvel #au #watchers anonymous #Captain america #avengers

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roryslipgloss · 11 days ago

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helping jess destress after being picked on by the whole town <3

| gender neutral reader reader, boyfriend!jess, fluff, suggestive content. 1.2k words.

jess can never seem to catch a break. you'd swear there were cameras covering every inch of stars hollow and watching his every move with the way someone would pounce on him if he so much as littered.

he can't go anywhere in this crazy town without being stalked. it's really beginning to piss him off.

at first, it was almost tolerable. he's the new kid, the weirdo from out of town, jess knew he'd get some looks here and there. and when he started to learn more and more about the townsfolk and taylor in particular, he knew he had his work cut out for him.

but seriously, this is getting a bit insane. someone's flower bed gets trampled on? must be jess' fault. mrs. patty misplaces a baton in the dance studio? duh, jess stole it. a bird poops on taylor's car? it must be one of those city pigeons that followed jess all the way from new york.

jess is one snippy comment from taylor ─ or anybody for that matter ─ away from packing his things and leaving.

although jess puts up this stoic, uncaring front, he does care about what people think of him ─ to a certain extent. he really cares about what you think, and you care about the loopy people in this town, so he has to care.

he just wants people to quit dogging on him and assuming that when something goes wrong, it must be his fault.

and on this day, jess has reached his boiling point. he walks to your house, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone. he knows you'll be home alone today, perfect for relaxing and snuggling up with you on the couch, and also for... other things.

his knocks twice on your front door, bruised and scabbed knuckles tapping against the wood. when you open the door, he catches you in a kiss before you can speak, melting against you with one hand on your hip and the other on your lower back, keeping you close to him.

"missed you." jess breathes out as he walks you backwards 'til you're pressed against the couch.

"i saw you- mmm- yesterday," you can hardly get your words out with how intensely jess is kissing you. "what's going on, jess?"

he ignores you. keeping you trapped between him and the couch with nowhere to go, jess runs his hands over you, possibly trying to distract you, but more likely trying to distract himself.

"nothing." jess mumbles, though he knows you can tell he's lying, you always know, so he pulls back slightly and lets out a long sigh. "i don't like this town. everybody here is crazy."

"what happened?" you ask softly as your run your hands up jess' chest, feeling his heart beating under your fingertips.

he shivers slightly at your touch, still not used to someone touching him so gently and lovingly. when you run your hands through jess' hair, it's like he melts, leaning against you and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"nothing happened. it just feels like i can't do anything around here," jess admits and his eyes flutter shut as he relaxes into you. "it's like whenever something goes wrong, it's gotta be my fault. luke doesn't even believe me anymore when i tell him i didn't do anything wrong."

"oh, baby." you coo ever so sweetly at him, fingers toying with the hairs at jess' nape. "let's go lie down, 'kay? c'mon."

you grab hold of jess' hand and lead him to your bedroom. you gently push him down on the bed and get right back to kissing. it's not as quick and needy as the first one, this one is slower and more loving, you can feel jess' appreciation for your kindness just radiating off of him.

"do you want a massage? to help you take your mind off things." you always offer jess a massage when he shows up at your house all stressed and grumpy. and he always accepts.

you have him take his shirt off and lay on his front while you sit on his backside and lather baby oil onto his skin, applying just the right amount of pressure as you work out the knots.

jess is completely relaxed and pliant under you in no time , grunting and groaning each time your palm rubs at his tense shoulders.

"fuck, angel," jess moans, damn near drooling on your bedsheets from how relaxed he is. "your hands... god, they're great. you're great. i love you."

"love you too, babe." you laughs and press a kiss to jess' back, right between his shoulder blades. he's surprisingly sensitive there.

once you're done with his back, you have him flip 'round and you perch yourself onto his lap, getting right back to massaging his lean body.

though as you get deeper into the massage, you can't help but get distracted. every time you dig the heel of your palm into one of jess' tense muscles, he lets out the most gorgeous noises.

sometimes if you press hard enough, you're even rewarded with a tiny whine, which jess quickly covers with an awkward cough. god forbid he gets caught whining at your touch, it's already embarrassing enough that he can't hold back all the other noises.

you're only human at the end of the day, so hearing your very attractive boyfriend letting out even more attractive sounds makes it hard for you to focus.

you press down on a sore spot on jess' chest and he lets out a loud, drawn out moan, a noise that can only be described as delectable. it seems that you’re not the only one getting a little distracted and carried away as you adjust yourself on jess’ lap, causing him to inhale sharply and grip your sheets.

“babe,” jess says, his tone of voice teetering on whiny. “careful.”

the thing is, he’s so pliant and relaxed under you, you’re fairly certain that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it if you weren’t careful. putting your hypothesis to the test, you tentatively scoot on jess’ lap again, rubbing your butt against his crotch.

a hiss escapes jess’ lips and his legs twitch under you.

“babe, seriously, watch it." jess warns again, though it's clear he's not serious.

another roll of your hips has jess reaching up to hold your waist, struggling to lift his heavy arms up. you've clearly worked some kind of black magic on him with the way he can hardly move, whole body limp as a noodle.

"i have a suggestion." you hum, slowly running a finger down jess' torso, between his pecs and all the way down to his abdomen where there's a thin trail of hair leading below his jeans.

"you know i love giving you massages and all, but i know a much more effective way of destressing. you know what i'm talking about, don't you?"

his fingers tighten slightly on your waist at your words. jess knows exactly what you're talking about.

"okay. but you're gonna have to do all the work, i don't think i can move anymore."

just a few hours later and jess is completely relaxed, all of his stress and annoyance has been coaxed out of him. there's a blissed expression on his face as he slumbers in your bed, snoring not so softly with his face squished against your shoulder.

jess now knows that whenever this town and its people are giving him crap, he can come to you and you'll fix him right up.

#gender neutral reader #boyfriend!jess #jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x you #gilmore girls #tv show #tv series #tv characters #i bet u the second i post this im gonna see 5000 typos #thats usually how it goes #also can u tell i love em dashes #theyre like commas but better #love em #cici writes ✦

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throatgoat4u · 2 months ago

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will you be my valentine?

word count: 1.5k

summary: matt's made a valentine, but for who?

warnings: none!

a/n: happy valentine's day lovelies! hope you guys are having an amazing, amazing day! this one is actually surprisingly proofread and so it's probably better than most fiics i put out cause like i don’t proofread…. this is based of this comic. um so yeah… enjoy!

toodles {lovers} ♡

today was valentine’s day and just like every other year, you didn’t have a valentine. it wasn’t that nobody had asked you—plenty of people did—but you turned them all down because you were convinced that this was going to be the year. matt was going to ask you to be his valentine.

“this is the year, guys. i can feel it,” you declare, beaming with excitement.

“i don’t know cutie. you’ve been saying that ever since we were in pre-school. we’re in college now,” violet says with a sigh, earning a nod from patty.

“well… well, this year is different. this year, my gut is telling me.” you insist as you run around the room, trying to find your lucky blue ribbon. of course, you had plenty of blue ribbons to choose from, but this one was special—it was the ribbon matt gave you on your eighth birthday. ever since then, you have worn it on the most important days—birthdays, exams, finals—and it never failed to bring you good luck. you can’t recall a single time that you’ve failed an exam while wearing it (though, to be fair, you’re really smart… but the ribbon makes more sense).

“what are you looking for?” patty asks, a bit concerned as you toss things around in search for the object.

“my ribbon.”

“cutie… this one?” patty sighs, holding up your lucky ribbon from the vanity.

“oh… yeah… that one.” you mumble, snatching it from patty’s hand and tying it into a bow at the end of your braid.

after your classes, you head over to the sturniolo house, like always. at this point, it’s a ritual—for (both) you (and matt)—that you show up and yap about absolute nonsense. you skip up to the door and give it a quick knock. commotion erupts from inside, making your eyebrows knit together in confusion. what the hell is going on? you wait for a moment, until their mother—mary lou—opens the door. she wipes her hands over her apron as she greets you with a hug.

“cutie! i’m so glad you could make it. come inside,” she says quickly, ushering you inside and closing the door behind you. “please excuse the mess—i was making cookies, but someone decided it was a good idea to start a food fight,” she mutters, hooting a stern look at her youngest son, chris.

“hey! i didn’t start it! nick hit me first and i just hit him back with food.”

“don’t put the blame on me! you started it and don’t you even dare lie.”

“nuh uh.” chris says sassily, his hand on his hip, shaking his pointer finger. this definitely set nick off as he began to chase chris around the kitchen. you turn to mary lou, absolutely astonished. you’d seen the boys like this—considering you grew up with them—but the amount of things that just happened barely even rendered through your brain. the kitchen looks like it got invaded by the pillsbury doughboy. nick is covered in flour, chris is drenched in some sort of mystery jam, and mary lou is a mixture of both. to top it all off, they’re running around like feral animals. it feels like you’re watching a live action tom and jerry episode before your eyes right now.

“i- wha- am i- did you- huh!?!” is all you manage to stutter out. mary lou just smiles and shakes her head.

“they must have eaten something different because i swear they’ve been off their rockers all day. even matt. i saw him making a valentine card for someone. cutie, when i tell you i was beyond shocked. matt has never once in his life done anything romantic for any girl and swore he would never. i just feel like he’s finally found someone and i can’t be more happy.”

“pardon?!?!” you exclaim, a hint of excitement but also nervousness. that valentine could be for you, but it could also be for another girl. well, it can’t be for another girl, it has to be for you. you are his future wife after all.

“yeah, i mean he even looked excited,” she says, a twinkle in her eyes. she’s never ever expected matt to find someone since he was so obsessed with his piano, but she couldn’t be happier that he did. “ hey, why don’t you go check on him now? i bet you could find out who his secret valentine is?” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows and nudging your side slightly.

you shrug softly, thinking about it, though you knew what your answer was going to be. “yeah… maybe i should.” you turn on the balls of your feet and made your way upstairs. you get to the door of the piano room and knock softly. from the other side, you can hear matt playing a soft melody, one you recognize to be the moonlight sonata. not that you genuinely care to remember, but because matt always gets mad at you for mislabeling it and is always screaming at you about it. gosh, the anger issues that kid has could make the hulk look like a meditation instructor. when he doesn’t answer the door, you knock harder, starting to lose your patience with the kid. but to your dismay, he starts to play louder.

at this point you’re frustrated. you know he hears you knocking. it’s rude to ignore your future wife when she’s knocking at the door, it’s like… common knowledge. you knock a little louder and he starts playing a little louder. you huff, finally at your wits end, and open the door, letting yourself in. you make you way to the piano, your little kitten heels clicking against the floor. matt glances at you, drinking you in for a second. your little blue dress, you white kitten heels, and the way your hair was done—just the way he liked. the loose braid that always made him go feral, the way the front pieces of your hair fell in front of your face. his eyes drift down to the end of your braid, where your lucky ribbon—the one he gave you—rests, its lace slightly frayed from years of wear. | he drinks you in for a moment before turning his attention back onto his piano.

you roll your eyes and huff. you know he knows you’re here—he looked at you! so why won’t he acknowledge you? you walk up to the piano, propping yourself on your forearms. “hey matt,” you say innocently.

“hello,” he mumbles.

“whatcha doin’?” you hum, leaning in closer to matt, resting on the piano

“playing the piano,” he mutters.

“whatcha playin’?”

“fur elise by beethoven. not only is this one of his most famous pieces, but also it’s my favorite.” he says matter-of-factly.

elise? who’s elise?

“who’s elise?” you huff, pulling back and folding your arms.

matt stops playing the piano and looks up at you, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “you… don’t know… fur elise? why it is only one of the best pieces of classical music written on planet earth,” he snaps, standing up from his seat, causing it to push back creating a loud screech. “how is that even possible? it’s one of the most famous pieces ever composed! beethoven—beethoven—wrote it! it’s legendary!” he throws his hands up in the air, his frustration palpable.

you look at him with a dumbfounded expression, “it’s a song…?”

“no, it’s not just a song, it’s ART! ART! ART! ART! ART! ART! something you would never understand!” he shouts

“right… got it,” you say, watching as matt sits back down all proper and poised—as if he didn’t just scream his lungs off bouncing on beethoven’s wood—and picks up right where he left off. “so ummm, do you know what today is?” you ask, leaning back onto the piano again

“yes. it is february 14th which also happens to be valentine’s day. the day that everyone pretends they care about each other because society says so.” he states, pausing for dramatic effect, “i’d rather celebrate fur elise—now that’s real love.”

you scoff, shaking your head. “i still don’t understand what’s so great about elise and not me?” you mutter. you shake your head a bit, as if you were shaking off that thought. you needed to know who the valentine was for. was it for you? was it for tessa? was it for elise? fuck elise and tessa. that’s your valentine.

you sigh, twiddling your thumbs in thought until you get an idea, “you know, i find that there is a very big misconception on what and who valentine's day is about,” you say, turning over to your side, “i mean, people make the mistake of thinking you have to be madly in love with someone for them to be your valentine”

“oh. so does this mean that you’d have to love her a little?”

“well no, not necessarily.”

“sooo what if you only like her and not love her?”

“that works.”

“and if you are just barely being able to tolerate her?”

you turn around once again, finally facing him and his gorgeous face as you rest your arms on the piano. “well that could work but-”

he grabs a card and hands it over to you, “happy valentines day!” he says with the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face.

your face drops as you look at the card and then back up at him, slumping down into your arms, “rats...”

taglist ♡

@sturns-mermaid. @chonicallyalone. @storyteller32. @mattscoquette. @55sturn. @queen-of-beees. @xoxopetalzblog. @lilysturn. @ilavlilpeep. @weepingdelusionobject. @ju2tm30. @funkybananas101. @xxkylie906xx. @courta13. @p3r3j1l. @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan. @ireadtoofast. @rippeanuts1950-2000. @reigengyattataka. @a-s-h-t-o-n. @anime-4-u. @maggot3647. @watercolorskyy. @matthewsturnsgf. @lemonhoney2460. @snoopychris. @oopsiedaisydeer

nini’s stamp of approval ♡

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paulic · 10 months ago

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Ok this is what I think the biopics will be like for each Beatle:

John will be so troubled but in a really charming way and Julian will be mentioned but briefly and they’ll make it seem like John was just too busy to be a present father (Paul will make up for it in a vomit inducingly cheesy way). His eating disorder, heroin addiction and other internal struggles (self-esteem, sexuality, maybe even gender,…) will go unmentioned or brushed over jokingly like haha he tossed Brian off, don’t we all at that age. He’ll be the cool and funny older brother & later genius who just couldn’t be confined within a band. They won’t have the guts to call his bullshit and therefore will automatically brush over his kinder and vulnerable sides. He’ll be reduced to a knock off version of the tortured artist blueprint. They’ll never pick up on his pathetic wet dog vibe

Paul will be the charming good guy who’s all in with the band. No mention of how he fucked over Jane and every other girl until Linda; he’ll be a musical genius, too, but in a prince of the people sort of way. They’ll loooove that he stopped eating meat, woke king!!!! Linda will be brushed over by making her into his soulmate wifey who finally helps the charming playboy with a heart of gold settle down. His depression and alcohol problem won’t be mentioned/reduced to feeling a little sad. He’ll be a little bossy sometimes but they won’t ever get it right how fucking annoying he could be. Straighter than a ruler. John’s brother, almost biologically. No homo. They’ll find a way to make the twink who fucked the entire population and had an ego bigger than Neptune into a straight feminist

George will be the indie underground smart Beatle and people on tik tok will start posting thirst traps of the actor with the caption “they don’t make em like this anymore” and then complain about real-George’s teeth. He’ll be so spiritual and smart and he won’t have an affair with his best friend’s wife at all and if he does it’ll be because of some spiritual insight, not because that man couldn’t keep it in his pants for 5 seconds. I’m deadly afraid of the colourful drug scenes where he’ll hallucinate god. He’ll be the perfect boyfriend and Pattie will be played by Sidney sweeney or something. They won’t take a side with the whole George Or Paul debate during the breakup, but George will be too focused on other things to want to stay in the Beatles. They won’t mention the three billion songs John&Paul deemed unworthy. They’ll never do the grudges my man held justice. No one could

Ringo will be the funny guy who luckily survived his childhood and found his passion through a kind nurse giving him his drumsticks. He’ll play an incredible drum solo at 8 years old on his hospital bed frame the first time he ever holds those sticks. He won’t be in gangs, he won’t beat his wife half to death, he won’t have drugs and alcohol problems. He’ll be peace and love from age 0. He’ll be slightly stupid and he’ll mention octopuses too much. They’ll never get it right how he was truly the eldest and how much his vote and opinion actually counted within the band and how much the boys wanted him in the band and admired him. He won’t be a sort of glue to the band. He won’t marry a teenager he met when she was 16 and he 22. He’ll be a weird version of Ken from the Barbie movie, his job will be Drum. They’ll flatten a severely nuanced and layered man to a sheet of paper with the word ‘beat’ on it

I am too afraid to even think about what they will do to Eppy

Oh and each and every one of them will have way too pretty teeth and I am already furious. I want them to have British men in the 1960s teeth. Give me British teeth and jerking off together

#mark my words people.#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #classic rock #beatles #richard starkey #brian epstein #beatles biopics #emmys thoughts

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fanaticsnail · 1 year ago

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Your Flirty Chef

(Image Source)

Masterlist Here.

Word Count: 4,267

Synopsis: Sanji has been working hard lately, your flirty chef no longer as present as you’d like him to be. You both have some unspoken flirtation between you, hopefully something to shatter by molding him beneath the touch of your hands.

Themes: Sanji x reader, mutual pining, idiots in love, flirtation, cooking, kissing, touching, massage, moaning, Sanji is a whimpering mess, suggestive themes, Baratie.

Notes: This was a gift created for the lovely @vespidphoenix who adores my 'Bar Shift' series. We're back home at Baratie! I hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @sordidmusings @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry

The light danced from the open bay windows across the circular polished floorboards, the wax allowing for a wonderful grip beneath your black, closed toe work-shoes. The handles of the porcelain tray began to heat beneath your palms and fingertips, the foamed milk and cream jiggling with each careful footstep you placed on the ground.

You noticed first the depiction of the business of the kitchen staff through the circular windows attached to the doors, the smoke and flames rising to char the dish within the pans. You caught the eyeroll of your favorite blonde coworker as he shook his head, refusing to take direction from your boss and head chef of Baratie.

“Alright boys, coffee time. Take a break!” you called after making your way through the swinging double doors to the kitchen. Immediately, pre-service was paused as a pile of hardened ex-pirates enthusiastically made their way to the pass.

Echoes of praise rang from the kitchen upon your utterances, all occurring simultaneously as grabbing hands eagerly pried the dishes within your tray as you placed it down.

“Truly a lifesaver, Doll,” Carne praised, claiming his piccolo-latte from the tray and raising it to his lips in one quick swig.

“Oh, my sweetheart. Thank you, Love,” Patty shot you a winning smile, raising his extra strong flat-white from the tray and scuttling back over to his patisserie station.

“Something there for me, Honey?” Zeff asked, the click and scrape of his pegleg and boot heel knocking against the floor prompted you to gather his long-black coffee and hand it off to him personally with a small bow.

“Of course, Chef,” you smiled at him, handing it over and turning back to the tray to witness the depletion of the amassment of coffees you’d prepared; only two now remaining. Sanji was in the middle of temperature controlling whisked egg whites and scorching sugar, unable to halt his whipping to claim his regular hit of caffeine from you.

“Just leave it on the table, Dove. I’ll be over in a second, okay?” Sanji’s brows were furrowed in concentration, the stainless steel bowl held firmly in his left hand and cradled against his chest. Soft peaks of white, fluffy meringue began to form within the bowl, his right hand continuing to beat in absolute concentration in a rotational way.

“You want to take it outside when you're done, Ji? Have smoko?” you asked him, removing the two mugs and placing it on the tray. Sanji scoffed back a small chuckle, flicking his hair away from his eyes as he continued whisking.

“Please, and thank you. I’ll be out in about a minute thirty? Just gotta start on the macaroons, then I’m on my quarter,” He broke his concentration on the bowl below him, flicking his cool-gray eyes over to you and watching as you began wiping down the tray, and claiming the emptied cups within to return to the bar.

As you left the kitchen, Sanji continued to watch your departure through his peripherals while meeting optimum temperature for the egg whites. He paddled the mixture with a silicone spatula into a plastic piping bag and rotated the end to hold the pressure in place, leaving it neatly to the side of his workstation to complete forming the macaroons after his break.

“On your quarter, Little Eggplant?” Zeff asked, brow raising as he took a sip from his strong coffee. Eyeing his apprentice suspiciously, he looked him over as Sanji removed his apron and neckerchief to relax on his break.

“Oui, chef,” he smirked, hanging his apron on his designated hook and halting once more at the door, “that alright with you, old man?”

“Fine by me, boy. Just-,” Zeff had an almost sly twinkle in his eye, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, “-Just be kind to our bartender, alright?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always kind,” Sanji retorted, taken aback with his lip curling into a small snarl. A small echo of teetered laughter and snickers reverberated within the walls of the kitchen amongst the clanging of pots and pans.

“You know what I mean, lad,” Zeff grunted, placing his empty coffee cup on the sink beside Carne who had begun washing the crockery, “Off you pop. When you get back, we’re doing Before Service. Start gettin’ it ready, lads! Family Meal in a quarter.”

“Oui Chef!” Echoed in the kitchen, each chef springing to their station to begin getting the elements of their dishes together to present to each other before the rush of the dining service.

Sanji huffed a small sigh, exiting the kitchen and walking over to the fishmouth of the bar where you were waiting for him. Sanji had a small circle of thoughts swirling within his mind, echoing and reverberating the words Zeff had commanded of him. ‘Be kind’? What does ‘be kind’ even mean? Was he not kind? Had he not been kind to you in your interactions prior?

There was never a doubt in Sanji’s mind that he adored you. His affections were showcased in how he regularly sought you out on advice when conflicting with your boss and his mentor, Zeff. You were the one he came to when he had a rush of inspiration in the kitchen, spoon feeding you samples of his amazing cuisine for your constructive criticism or your unwithheld praise.

Just a simple hum and a nod of your head in response to his food had his heart swelling, but when you closed your eyes and a moan was siphoned from your breath had his pupils darkening, and thoughts of lustful interactions with you plagued him. He would lie awake at night thinking about how your lips wrapped around the spoon he presented you, your eyelashes fluttering shut and a small gasp fled from your lips as you reopened them in glee.

And that is when it hit him. As he watched the sun dance on your skin, your fingertips casually dancing along the ropes beneath the hard surface of the bar; he realized what Zeff meant by his suggestion.

Sanji was in love with you.

He was so desperately in love with you, he would do anything to see you smile, to hear your laugh, or to collect one of those hummed moans you’d save only for him when sampling his dishes. He was mad for you, so much so that he charged right through the feeling itself and bypassed all of the warning signs screaming at him to not fall in love with his coworker.

He halted his steps, the spell shattering within him as he came to terms with the feeling swelling within his chest. Sanji was a perpetual flirt, and you would reciprocate his advances in a way that had you both giggling and teetering like idiots. Your natural rapport with one another, the way you bounced off each other on the pass when you worked floor shift, or when you’d fetch him coffees and trial new designs within the foam just for him. The way he would present a meal he had created for Family Meal for everyone, but alter yours in a way that showed how much he truly adored you with its careful assembly.

Sanji was in love with you.

Looking over your shoulder, your body remaining presented to the water and the docks, you noticed Sanji staggering in the shadows of the fishmouth bar with his footsteps halting. You furrowed your brows, turning completely around and arching your back against the railing of the external bar surrounding the perimeter of the side-bar.

“That you, Ji? Here for your quarter and a smoke?” you asked him, a warm smile pulling at your mouth to welcome him into the area. You thought you heard Sanji cough, a choked sound within the shadows indicating his presence. Your furrow began to descend into a frown while cocking your head to the side, “Coffee’s getting cold, Sweetheart. Come over here and keep me company.”

You were unsure how more obvious you could be regarding your affections for the blonde suis-chef of Baratie. You were a flirt by nature, a job you were hired and paid to complete to build a successful interaction with your clientele. But Sanji. Sanji you got to flirt with for free.

Flirting with Sanji was a competitive sport, and one you championed as the captain of the team and the cheer squad.

It started with a game of chicken; food related innuendos and outrageously crass flirtations offered to fluster one another for entertainment, while completing a particularly grueling shift. It had you both laughing and in high spirits regardless of how little the guests respected you or physically fought with one another during the shift. You adored spending time together, building rapport and learning from one another through your flirtatious nature.

Your favorite pastime was watching Sanji work. The way he rolled his sleeves up slowly to pin by his elbows, the way his forearms stretched and flexed as he julienned vegetables, the concentrated expression of his eyes as he tweezed a piece of gold leaf atop a caramel fudge, with a careful scoop of vanilla ice cream melting on the rim.

And then it hit you. The arrow of the winged cupid struck your heart with the pierce of iron as he offered you the first spoonful of a dish he had prepared, and meticulously cared for, specifically for you. Apprehensively wrapping your lips around the spoon and flicking your tongue over the curved edge, you couldn’t help but to moan at both the flavor presented to you, and the expression of complete devotion and the eagerness to please you written all over his face.

You were in love with Sanji.

You couldn’t help the way you felt for him, always aiming to task him with something simple: “Ji, be a sweetheart and hand me that steel jug, please?” to something a little more complex: “Sanji, would you cook that dish for me for Family Meal? The one with the brie and the rillette de canard? I adore that one.” He was a puppy, following your direction and orders with glee, and you were absolutely smitten with him.

Sanji danced his body into the light of the bar, sheepishly not meeting your gaze as he fished out his tobacco pouch from within his trouser pocket. He opened the bag, noticing a small quake in his fingers at the knowledge that now plagued him. What was he meant to do now? Act like he didn’t worship the ground you walked on?

“Sweetheart, why don’t you give that to me and you take a sip of your coffee? I’ll roll you one,” you asked him, reaching your hand over and claiming his right wrist beneath your hand, “You must be tired after all that hand-whisking. You just sit back and enjoy your quarter. I’m on my halfa, and you deserve more time off your feet before we get absolutely railed by the service shift.”

At the term ‘absolutely railed’, Sanji’s mind was racing beyond its capacity. He couldn’t find an appropriate word in his mind to relay onto you in return, simply nodding in confirmation as he handed over his tobacco pouch before standing beside you and watching the ocean dance against the hull of the floating restaurant.

As the sun hit his golden hair, dancing along the glow of his tired and overworked features, you couldn’t help but look at him in awe. The way his eyes closed with his smile as he took the first look at the design you had created for him with the foam, before pressing it to his lips and sipping at it.

You were in love with Sanji.

Setting to work on rolling the cigarette with the wafer thin paper and setting the filter within the side, you placed some of the brown, dried leaves into the fold and rolled it. From the corner of your eye, you watched Sanji’s eyes float down to your lips as you darted your tongue out to dampen the paper. You could’ve sworn you heard a catch in his breath, and a small strangled groan halted within his throat; but surely you were mistaken.

You presented him with the cigarette, placing the filter end within his lips for him and wordlessly asking if you could ignite the tip with your lighter. Sanji’s eyes watched you carefully, nodding his head to give you confirmation to flick your flint and ignite the flame for him. Your eyes softened, cradling the flame as you elevated it to his lips and doused the end with its light to burn through the paper tip at the end.

“You work too hard, Ji,” you commented, a flick of the corner of your lip in a small smirk captivated his gaze further, “It’s made you silent. C’mon now,” you placed the lighter back within your pant pocket, “Where’s that flirty chef I love so much?” Sanji smiled, inhaling the nicotine-riddled smoke as he extended his lungs to capacity.

“I dunno, Dove,” He began on his exhale, eyes closed and head lulling as he savored the feeling, “Your flirty chef might need some convincing to come out and play. I have been pushing myself a bit more today, and I’m beginning to feel it in my bones.” You half-smiled at him, watching as he removed the cigarette and threw back the remainder of his coffee in his mouth and swigging it with one fell gulp.

“Oh, you poor dear,” you pouted, raising your hand up and pressing it gently on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze, “What can I do to bring him back?” Sanji groaned at the feeling of contact on his aching muscles, unsure of what came over him to elicit such a wanton sound. Your eyes widened, watching as his face began to contort as he hung his head low, relishing in the contact.

“Let me take some of the weight off?” you suggested, bringing up your other hand to cup his shoulders, maneuvering your body behind him and firmly rotating your thumbs against the meat of his shoulders, “Maybe then my flirty chef will come out to play.” More of those beautiful groans escaped his lips as he succumbed to the ministrations of your fingers, molding and bending his hardened flesh within your hands.

Sanji’s sweet cries of bliss were addictive, more addictive to you than any meal he had presented to you in the months you had worked closely together. The way he cried out in bliss as you found a particularly tender point in the center of his shoulder blade had you gasp out breathily in response. He was a slave to your touch, leaning in as a stray cat would to an affectionate caress.

His cigarette fell from his lips to litter the ground by his shoes, the light extinguishing upon impact and rolling beneath the deck chairs surrounding you. He curved and arched his back into your touch, moaning and crying out as quietly as he could muster, with his mouth agape and a small amount of saliva collecting at the corners of his rapidly drying lips. Sanji’s body was responding a little too well to the simple touch of your hands on his shoulders and back.

“Y-You’re so good-... mmff-... at this. W-Where did you-... oh-h merde-... where did you learn it?” He asked, lulling his head back and inadvertently rested the back of his head against your shoulder while holding onto the railing firmly in his grasp. You giggled, moving your hands beneath his shoulders and coaxing him from the railing to one of the lounging chairs, secluded in the shade of the sails of the wide umbrellas. Although this area was a public space, the lounges were private enough to shield Sanji as he rapidly fell apart in your arms from prying eyes.

“I just know how hard the muscles work to produce the food you do, Ji,” you shrugged, sitting down on the lounge chair and ushering him to sit between your legs with his back to you. Initially, Sanji desired to sit up, his back convexing in a perfect arch to experience more of your touch. But his body had other plans beneath your skilled hands.

He immediately found a more relaxed version of his former position: his head lulling back into your right shoulder as his eyes fluttered shut, your hands now finding rest against his biceps and rotating them beneath your firm grip to work out the kinks.

Sanji had no idea what had come over him. The sounds falling from his lips were desperate, his body pleading and crying for more of your touch as he fell apart from the simple strokes of your hands now trailing up to his chest. You couldn’t get enough, your hands responding faster than your mind could tell it not to in order to find places on his body to have the sweeter sounds of your name rolling off his tongue between gasps and groans.

“Y-You’re-... fuck Dove-... Th-This is really good,” his breathy gasp complimented you, ending with the small pull of a whine within his throat. You tried your hardest to stop the rising heat from flooding to your cheeks at his voice, opting to giggle to relieve some of the tension surfacing.

“You’ve got maybe three minutes before you have to go back, Sanji,” you said, patting him politely on the chest to indicate you were done assaulting him with your affectionate caress. At the small pat, he groaned, chasing the weight of your palm atop his chest by arching his back and pleading with you to continue.

“Just a bit more?” he whined, opening his eyes and lulling his head further into your shoulder to gaze up at you with wide eyes, “Your flirty chef will come back if you do it just a little bit longer, I’m certain.” He smiled with his lips in a tight line, eyes twinkling in hope up at you. You scrunched your nose up at him, your own eyes reflecting his playful twinkle back at him.

“Maybe after the rush?” You suggested with a shrug of your shoulders and another curt tap of his chest. He groaned, slouching down and melting into your torso with the drag of his head. You laughed at him as he continued slinking lower and finally settled his head against your thigh, feet brushing against the ground over the side of the lengthy deck chair you were sharing.

“But that’s so far away,” he groaned, a raspy growl rumbling against his tone. He clapped his hand over his eyes, squeezing his palm and fingertips in the pinch of his eyes before having it fall away from his face and down to his side with a small gasp.

“Makes the waiting all the sweeter,” you cooed down at him. At this, he immediately rose to a sitting position, turning within your lap and gazing at you. His irises were blown, the small tint of pink dusting his cheeks and his lips were slightly parted. There were a thousand unspoken words dancing behind his eyes. The mystery surrounding such a look had you hooked and leaning in to see if a closer proximity would grant you further insight.

At the small lean of your body from the back of the deck chair, Sanji reached his palm up and cupped your cheek, his fingers lacing in your hair, as he guided your lips to be claimed beneath his. A small squeak exited your lips in shock at the gentleness of his touch, eyes wide and watching him as his brows furrowed. A small hum of his lips against yours informed you that he was as shocked about this as you were, but not shocked enough to end the kiss just yet.

He pried your lips apart with his own, tilting his head to nudge you with his chin. You hooked your arms around his neck, pulling him against yourself and reciprocated with enthusiasm; your tongue darting out to meet his own. He chuckled against your lips once he felt you relax into it, flicking his tongue against yours with a groan of appreciation. You nudged him away from you, breaking the meeting of his lips on yours and unhooked your arm from his neck.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you commented, raising your arms up and fixing his ruffled hair. His eyes widened, brows peaking at the center as his lips parted. Focusing on redressing him and straightening up his uniform had your gaze pulled from his, unable to read the absolute heartbreak written all over his face.

Nodding in appreciation at the straightening of his chefs jacket, you finally drew your smiling eyes up to meet his; immediately having your grin fall from your face once meeting with the sorrowful expression painted atop his features.

“Ji, are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked, cupping his cheek and darting your gaze between his two gray orbs.

“We shouldn’t be doing this?” he whispered quietly, tilting his head down and gazing up at you through his eyelashes. Your eyes widened, smiling lips now falling open with a small shake of your head.

Scrunching your nose, you leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips which ended with as much haste as it began. You giggled as you felt him chase his lips forward to halt your retraction, but ultimately got away from his approach.

“I meant, you’ve only got about a minute left of your quarter,” you restated, confirming your words while elevating your hand to his chin. You brushed your thumb over his lower lip, dancing over his kiss-swollen lip with your digit. “We shouldn’t be doing this while we have so little time available for us to do so.”

“O-Oh,” Sanji stuttered, the blush once again rising to dance over the apples of his cheeks, tips of his ears and button of his nose. You had never seen such a pretty color gracing his features, your heart swooning at the chef as he attempted to stifle his rising blush.

“Has my flirty chef come back yet?” You asked him with a sly smile, retracting your hand from his face only to be caught within his own.

“Your flirty chef,” he whispered, eyes holding firm to your own as he elevated your knuckles below his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against your skin, “Is going to be flirting with you for the rest of this shift,” he pressed another kiss against the back of your hand, slightly further up than the last, “And hopefully all through Before Service, Family Meal, and Knock Offs,” he uttered between a flurry of pecks and grazes of his lips further up your arm.

Now it was your turn for the hues of warmth to swell beneath your cheeks, ears and nose at his words; becoming flustered further by the animal poised behind his eyes, threatening to ravish you with the intensity depicted beneath. He chuckled as he began showering your cheek with a further flutter of his lips grazing your skin. He halted just before meeting your lips with his, choosing to tease you with a small brush of his own.

“I’m going to cook you something,” he whispered, his breath dancing against your lips, “And you’re going to make those pretty sounds you do so well, hm?” He nodded, pouting his lips and widening his eyes with that innocent yet mischievous twinkle you have come to enjoy him wearing. You couldn’t help but nod in response, mesmerized by the enchantment held within his eyes.

“And then,” he ushered you against the beck of the chair, pressing his torso against yours and continuing to hold his lips an eyelash’s width away from your own, “I’m going show you how flirty your flirty chef can really be.” As you attempted to chase his lips to plant another kiss against his own, he quickly stood to his feet at the call of his name.

“Sanji!” Patty called, “Your macarons are portioned and ready for the oven. Take care of ‘em, would you?” Your breath caught in your throat, Sanji’s blush dissipating at the interruption and his face paling.

“Alright, I’ll be there Patty! Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” he shouted in return, frustration written over his expression.

“C’mon kid, we all know the only knickers you’re keen on seeing are the bartender’s!” He shouted in return, turning and stomping down the hallway towards the kitchen, “Get to it, Chef Zeff’s waiting.” Your eyes widened at the thought, your smirk withholding a small scream of bashful laughter from parting from your lips as your face drew a further flaming heat to it.

Sanji waited a brief moment, inhaling a deep breath through his nose before removing his finger from your lips, tracing it down your chin and tilting your face to meet his eyes. His gaze was doing its best to disguise the horror of having the secret he thought he’d been withholding from surfacing.

“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly stuttered, turning and immediately walking back to the kitchen with haste, the steam almost tangibly falling pouring from his ears as he stampeded away. You were too shocked to laugh, but a small giggle fell regardless.

You could not wait until the rush of service was completed to get to experience the flirtatious fluster of the blond chef after shift hours. Perhaps to even continue what began against the deck chairs in a more quiet and intimate setting.

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #baratie fic #chef!sanji x bartender!reader #flustered sanji #whimpering sanji #op x reader #one piece x reader

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eppysboys · 2 months ago

Text

Interview with Nancy Lee Andrews, March 2008 for 'Daytrippin'.

Daytrippin’: Let’s start from the beginning. When did you first meet Ringo Starr?

Nancy Lee Andrews: I met Ringo on a Monday afternoon in May 27, 1974. John had rented actor Peter Lawford’s infamous Santa Monica beach home where he and May Pang hosted many get-togethers. Girlfriends and wives were cooking in the kitchen and kids were swimming in the pool. It was a family get-together, rock ‘n’ roll style. A seat was offered to me at the poker table and I found myself next to Ringo. He was so charming, playful, witty and cute as hell. He might have had sad eyes, but they were twinkling at me that day.

Two months later, I got a call from May, who announced she and John were back in town. They shuttled back and forth between New York and Los Angeles so I kept their funky ’68 Barracuda in my garage. She asked me to bring the car to the Beverly Wilshire Hotel and we would hang out and have some dinner. I knocked on the door to the suite expecting to see John or May, but Ringo answered instead. It took me by surprise and I said, “Oh, hello.” Ringo smiled and said, “I remember you… you’re my poker partner!”

After we exchanged flirtatious pleasantries, we headed down to Sunset Sound Studios where Ringo was working on Goodnight Vienna. John, May and I spent hours encouraging Ringo as he laid down vocals. When he finished we ventured to The Fiddler, a favorite Sunset Strip hangout that stayed open late and served delicious fried fish and chips. It had an old Wurlitzer jukebox. The two boys drank, dropped quarters in the jukebox, singing and discussing women, wives and life while May and I chatted, watching them.

Ringo turned more melancholy as we approached two in the morning, holding my hand, touching my face, and looking at me with those big blue watery eyes. He weaved his way to the jukebox and punched in Charlie Rich’s “The Most Beautiful Girl In The World” over and over again. At one point he was on his knees, resting his head against the speaker, which was at the bottom of the Wurlitzer.

“That poor guy,” I said to John and May. “He’s still in love with his wife. Look at him, his heart is broken.” John said softly, “Nancy, he’s a good lad… give him a chance… you two will be good together.” At that moment I didn’t realize just how prophetic John’s statement would be.

Daytrippin’: So you knew John Lennon before you actually met Ringo?

Nancy Lee Andrews: Yes. I met John through my old boyfriend and legendary bass player, Carl Radle. Carl played bass for Leon Russell and Eric Clapton and did many sessions in LA. So I met John at a recording studio. I can’t recall exactly what session it was but May and I instantly became friends that night and John gave me the thumbs up.

Daytrippin’: So what was John like as a person?

Nancy Lee Andrews: He was high energy. He loved a good conversation. He liked facts about a subject. And he was simple when it came to his needs, music, food and friends. He was a night owl and liked to go to the movies after midnight. One night we went downtown to a funky theater with Bob Dylan to see a Bruce Lee marathon. Those were the days when a Beatle could make a run in the middle of the night to Pinks for a pig out on hot dogs. He would get so excited in the recording studio and start sort of dancing when he was hearing what he wanted. He just loved to get groups of us at the microphone for backup vocals. We had a lot of fun.

Daytrippin’: And you met George Harrison before all of them. (Her boyfriend at the time, Carl Radle, played bass on All Things Must Pass and The Concert for Bangla Desh.) What was George like?

Nancy Lee Andrews: George was quiet but had this intensity when he talked to you. Again, this guy loved music and it was all about the music. His wife at the time, Pattie Boyd, was great to hang out with. She’s a creative woman and a wonderful person. A few years later Ringo and I went to visit him and Olivia at Friar Park in 1979. They were so happy. Olivia cooked a delicious dinner, he played the guitar and we wandered around that huge mansion while he told us its history. He opened a door, I think it was in the kitchen and handed us candles and told us to follow him. I thought, Oh, we’re going to the spooky cellar but the stairs kept going down and down and finally we landed on a flat surface. I looked, and couldn’t believe what I saw… it was a cave complete with stylolites. Walkways through a cavern. There was even a stream running through it! I had my camera with me and we had a hilarious time shooting with and without the flash. I have so many incredible pictures of us in that cave.

After that we settled in his study/music room and he handed me a bowl of rubies… big ones, small ones that were all cabachons. It was days before my birthday and he said to pick what ever I want and have something made. While he and Ringo talked and played the guitar I settled in front of the fireplace and designed a necklace with lots of hanging rubies. One of those nights I’ll never forget.

Daytrippin’: So after John set you up with Ringo, how did your relationship develop?

Nancy Lee Andrews: After our first date we were hooked on each other. We just continued until one day we were looking for a house together and we were a couple. Our world was fast and on the move all over the world. We had a place in Monte Carlo, England, Amsterdam and LA. Between the recording studios, movie premieres, promotion tours, traveling nine months a year and juggling the children, friends and family we were gypsies — elegant gypsies. Sometimes we would unplug the phones and hide out in our own house not letting anybody know we were in town. Just a few days of old movies, some home made popcorn and our favorite meals. Those days were some of our best times.

Daytrippin’: Your new photo book, A Dose of Rock ‘n’ Roll, chronicles your life with Ringo (1974-1980) as well as the decade of the 1970s. How did you go from an Eileen Ford Model to becoming a rock photographer?

Nancy Lee Andrews: I always had a camera in my hand and recorded what was happening in front of me. Thinking back, there are so many times I wish I had clicked the shutter instead of feeling the moment was too personal and awkward to take a picture. But you know there are thousands of images from our life and the people who just happened to be there and I would click. Like the great images of George at the Grand Prix in Monte Carlo… click, click… they’re in the book. But not all of them, so I’m going to introduce many new images in the gallery shows. If I used half of what I have the book would be many, many volumes. You know looking back I had the ultimate all access pass and nobody ever told me to put my camera down.

Daytrippin’: How did the camera figure into your relationship with Ringo and how did he help boost your career?

Nancy Lee Andrews: The camera was a huge part of our lives. We were both posers and loved to give it up for the camera. He loved the way I saw things and encouraged me to shoot. One day he said he needed a new head shot for the new album and said, “You shoot it.” We went out by the side of our house where the light reflected beautifully and we did our little session. After that we did his next two album covers — Ringo the 4th and Bad Boy, the “Ringo” TV Special and various other publicity images. He is a natural in front of the camera. There are images I took of him while in Morocco that are breathtaking. He actually looked like he could be a Bedouin lord… a flowing Black cape with a long hood… he merged with the culture and they accepted him as one of their own as we strolled through the Medina. We were living in our own personal movie in a foreign world and I was shooting it. What a trip!

Daytrippin’: You also helped Ringo write a song, the lovely “Las Brisas” on Ringo’s Rotogravure. How did that come about?

Nancy Lee Andrews: We were in Acapulco, I think it was the first year of our relationship, and it was so romantic at the Las Brisas Hotel. Everything was pink — pink jeeps, pink flowers floating in the pool, etc. I was fascinated with the language and was asking someone to translate words for me and writing them down on a napkin in a poem form. A band was playing and Ringo picked up the napkin and stared singing the words. We worked on it over the next few days and it became our little song.

Daytrippin’: You also took the cover and back shot of Ringo’s next album, Ringo the 4th. What inspired you?

Nancy Lee Andrews: Fantasy, fairy tales, sword and sorcery, not sure but evolved from a nice bottle of champagne and maybe a book we had been reading. I think I put that sword in his hands to represent him slaying his demons. There was this big empty closet in our suite at the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan. I mean, it would have been a bedroom in some apartments. Any way it was the perfect light box when the flash went off. We had the best time shooting in that closet with my girlfriend, Rita, on his shoulders.

Daytrippin’: There’s a famous shot of you, Ringo and Paul and Linda McCartney on 5th Avenue in New York. What was Paul like and how did that photo come about?

Nancy Lee Andrews: We were strolling down 5th Avenue back to the Plaza Hotel and we hear someone calling Ringo’s name. I turned and saw Paul and Linda across the street. I mean what is the chance of that? Paul had a photographer following him so when he caught up with us the photographer snapped away. Paul and Linda came back to the hotel with us and we ordered some tea up to the suite. I found Paul very charming and down to earth. He and Linda were a real couple; you know, they were a unit. Linda had a wonderful sense of humor. We never hung out with them. They were always on the farm and Paul had his own music. He did write a song for Ringo’s Rotogravure, Pure Gold. Paul said it was about me for Ringo, so he recorded it.

Daytrippin’: Ringo once again called upon you to take publicity photos for the “Ringo TV Special” in 1978. What do you recall about that shoot and how did Ringo approach the project?

Nancy Lee Andrews: He took the role seriously because it was the first vehicle that revolved around him. American TV was a very important vehicle to promote his music. We had just acquired a house in the Hollywood Hills and it was empty, so we decided to use the living room as our studio. It was great fun working with an art director and director. Ringo was surrounded by some great performers who just loved him.

Daytrippin’: You met a lot of famous people through Ringo. Who was the most memorable?

Nancy Lee Andrews: The Duke! We were having dinner one night at the El Padrino Room at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel and I was beside myself because John Wayne was sitting a table away. He was in my line of sight, but not Ringo’s. I was fidgeting and terribly distracted. Ringo finally asked me what was wrong with me and I gushed, “I can’t believe this but John Wayne is sitting right over there.” Ringo’s eyes lit up and we sat there like two starstruck kids. When John Wayne was leaving he walked right by our table and Ringo stopped him to say hello. He was so nice and very tall. Ringo asked him if he would give me a kiss and he said sure. He put out his hand and pulled me up from the table and laid a Maureen O’Hara big one right on my lips. I was a puddle with a stupid grin on my face as Ringo laughed and the other diners smiled at me. Now that was a man and a legend!

Daytrippin’: You’ve got some great photos of Ringo and Keith Moon at Trancas Beach in Malibu. What was your relationship with “Moonie” and was he as crazy as he has been portrayed in the past?

Nancy Lee Andrews: Keith had two sides. Some of those pictures in Malibu capture the soft cuddly side of him. The other side was the Mad Hatter who could make any tea party interesting.

Daytrippin’: You also developed close friendships with other Beatle cohorts such as Harry Nillson, Dr. John and Donovan. Give me a brief thumbnail of each person.

Nancy Lee Andrews: I loved Harry Nilsson like a brother. One of the most brilliant and fascinating men I have ever met. Dr. John was all about the music, too. He loved his kids, a southern gentleman. Donovan is very impish and fun. He loves to entertain and gets everyone involved when he knows he has your attention. A great subject to shoot.

Daytrippin’: The book portrays a very fast-paced, jet-set lifestyle that you shared with Ringo, including trips to England, Japan, Monte Carlo, Morocco, Mexico and the Yucatan. Didn’t you nearly die in a plane crash in the jungle in the Yucatan?

Nancy Lee Andrews: Here’s what happened: we were having a nice time in the Yucatan for about a week until Ringo suddenly became restless. He woke up one morning and said, “Get me off this island. I don’t care how you do it, but get me outta here.” In a matter of hours I managed to book a twin-engine plane to Merida that seated six people. Our party of four, the two pilots and our embarrassing amount of luggage put us well over the plane’s weight capacity. Despite that and a looming tropical storm, no one could talk Ringo into staying another day. The pounding storm forced us to fly so low that the bottom of the plane was brushing against the tops of the trees. I was trying to calm my friend Susan S. Fair down, who was sure that our plane was going to go crash in the jungle and our remains would never be found. Hilary Gerard, Ringo’s manager, was holding Tibetan prayer beads up against his third eye, furiously chanting and wishing for a cigarette. While everyone was frantic and on the verge of breaking down, Ringo was as calm as could be. He said very matter-of-factly, “Don’t worry, it’s not my time to go, so we’ll all be fine.”

Daytrippin’: You went out with Ringo during the height of the disco era. I have it on good account that he took ballroom dancing as a kid and is pretty light on his feet?

Nancy Lee Andrews: Oh my god, he was a fabulous dancer. We loved to go to the discos in Monte Carlo and Regine’s was our favorite. The DJ knew that we loved “I Heard It Through The Grapevine” by Marvin Gaye and would play it at least twice while we were there. Ringo would jump up and pull me to the dance floor. He had moves that were so simple but looked so good. Also we loved to go to Tramps in London… they had the best bangers and mash (sausage and mashed potatoes). We would gobble it down around 2 a.m. before we went home. If other women wanted to dance with Ringo they didn’t ask — they knew I would scratch their eyes out. As far as ballroom dancing I honestly did not know that about him. Hmmm, maybe that’s where he got such good timing.

Daytrippin’: Your relationship with Ringo came to an abrupt end when he met Barbara Bach on the set of Caveman in 1980. You were actually engaged to Ringo at the time. How did you find closure?

Nancy Lee Andrews: It took time. I thought he would come home to me but he fell hard for Barbara Bach. I put my focus on photography. I had a business called Headshots for Women and advertised in Variety. My beauty lighting had the girls lined up. This was before photoshop. I had an air brusher and he would wipe the lines away and the women loved it! Love my computer. I had a couple of committed relationships over the next ten years and finally gave up. That’s when I met my husband and we are now coming up to our 15th anniversary… not to mention the few years of courting.

Daytrippin’: Tell us about your life today and what are your future plans?

Nancy Lee Andrews: Well, life is very exciting these days. The book is coming out and will show my photography, even though it’s a flashback to the ’70s. My friend, May Pang, is also coming out with a book of never before seen photos of John. We’re going to be doing gallery exhibits and book singings together this spring in Scottsdale, Arizona; Palm Springs, California and NYC. I have a wonderful exhibit at the Tennessee State Museum this summer, a combination of A Dose of Rock ‘n’ Roll and a dash of country. I also head up IconicPhotos.com, a Web gallery showcasing some fine photographers work at prices that won’t dent your wallet. I’m currently negotiating gallery exhibits in London, Paris, Amsterdam and San Francisco. Whew, this is only a few months into the year and everything seems to have just taken off.

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henrysglock · 19 days ago

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soo what were the most noticeable changes from westend to broadway 👀

They toned down the remaining Henry/Patty romance—by which I mean there are fewer strictly romantic scenes, that’s all.

They doubled down on Henry being like…really gay.

They really did add a huge animatronic Mindflayer!!

They scrapped the Patty, Joyce, Jim, and Bob first day of school scenes and combined that straight into picture day

Our first NINA-ism: Henry’s move-in scene (now in the foyer rather than the attic) cuts directly to picture day. No transition with the lunchbox bit, just Straight into school. Even Henry looks a little flabbergasted.

Lonnie is now a high schooler, but don’t worry. They just gave his pedo shit to Patty’s dad.

Mr. Newby is Patty’s biological father, and her mother was one of his teenage students (yuck!) who wanted to keep Patty, but who Mr. Newby had declared unfit to cover up his crimes.

Sue shows Henry around instead of Walter, now, but Walter’s presence overall in the show is much greater. Also, Walter does this funky little gay-vibes finger wave at Henry on picture day? And then bro straight up plays with Henry’s hair when he’s not looking. Wild times.

Walter also says that Henry uses his radio to communicate with “the MOTHERship” like okayyyyyy

Bob’s mom isn’t mentioned, but that means she also didn’t run off with Ted’s father. They scrapped that whole thing.

Both Mr. Newby and Victor are way meaner. Mr. Newby gets physical with Patty/yanks her around/tells her she looks like a streetwalker for wearing lipstick. Victor rips into Virginia about her pill use, and he lowkey talks shit about Henry being stuck to his Captain Midnight radio.

Which…he’s not wrong when he says “that thing is rotting Henry’s brain”, because the Mindflayer uses the radio at times, but still. Let your boy have his tumblr time, Victor.

Also nothing sus about really tying the Mindflayer to Henry’s radio and then keeping the “is that my mom? is that her voice?” bit while also adding in a good DALDOM bit out of that same radio while Henry’s in the church. Like. Okay.

Did I mention: they scrapped the cipher journal bit at the lockers? Henry’s got a radio now, and he carries it around everywhere/he’s very protective of it. He still mentions writing in code so Virginia can’t read his stuff and that he cracked a Captain Midnight code to get the radio, but yeah. The journal was scrapped!

They really doubled down on the Ella Fitzgerald stuff, but they scrapped Patty singing in the church Vegas scene entirely/it was just her mom, and she was never able to reach her. It was never presented as a mother-daughter show like it supposedly is with the new London cast. (Staring at the piece of Mindflayer trapped in the RSU in ST3. I mean what? Who said that…)

They scrapped all of Patty’s Wonder Woman stuff, aside from the one “Wonder Woman was made out of clay” line in the church.

The Vegas dance scene is Henry’s idea in this version!! He created a whole troupe of dancing boys, too, and he pitched them to Patty like “okay, but you haven’t seen ~the boys~” when she tells him to knock it off and show her her mother. He and Patty do a little bit of sibling behavior wherein she tells him to show her her mother, and he goes to do it for a couple seconds, and then he flips back to Vegas dancers as soon as she’s not looking at him (very much “I want to watch this TV show” and the other sibling repeatedly swapping back to their preferred show)

Henry makes up an idealized mother for Patty in the church scene, both of them acknowledge that it wasn’t real/it was just a dream…and that’s the version of Patty’s mother that we see for the rest of the show (nothing sus there…)

They projected the Stardust Casion sign in the background during the church scene! And Henry most definitely says Stardust Spider.

They overhauled the attic and DOTM rehearsal scenes (it somehow got better And worse at the same time, in terms of vibes)

Henry legit trots after Jim and tugs on his coat to introduce himself. Bro was asking for Jim’s attention, rather than kind of being cornered into it the way he was originally.

Henry hits Vision!Patty with an axe in the bathroom scene!!!! Reminded me of Joyce’s running axe gag, i.e. the “why am i holding an axe?” bit in Act 2 and her with the hatchet in ST1.

Instead of a zombie mask, Vision!Patty’s face opens up into a demogorgon!!! It was wild.

They changed the choreography there, too. Now, instead of the “real” Patty walking in from off-stage, she just kind of…materializes? Wild.

The rehearsal scene kiss is now “Henry’s terrified, curled up in a ball and Patty kisses him like she’s doing mouth-to-mouth, paralleling them both directly to the Mr. Newby and Joyce mouth to mouth scene” but he’s still very much not angling to be kissed/telling her to stay away

The Bob-Patty John-Barbara incest plot hole is embraced. Multiple times. Blatantly. Joyce, at one point, says “it’s okay, incest is edgy!”, which makes Henry and Patty’s sibling behavior that much funnier. #Melvald’sIsAFamilyEstablishment. Like…okay, MiIeven 2.0!! That Ship ™ was bones within the first act.

During Melvald’s, Henry gets a new outfit! He loses his button-down (which got blood from his nose all over it), and he reveals to Patty that Virginia taught him how to waltz (hello Joyce!) and that he practices in his attic 😭

Henry coughs up D’art-style slugs and collects them/puts them in his pocket after the altercation with Virginia in the attic 😭

There were no more tentacles holding Henry aloft in the attic, it was purely Max-style this time. It was all bad memories, too, rather than one singular good one. Patty ends up stuck seeing these memories and she pulls out the El-NINA line: “These are…Memories?”

We got info on the boy from Nevada, whose eyes Henry evidently put out! He was a black boy on the baseball team, and the vibe was that he’d been at least a friend of Henry’s until the animal killings started (but the Will-Billy-Baseball parallels…hewwo…)

There were no more Henry/Patty “I love you”s and Patty’s mom’s love for her was what made Patty no longer afraid of Henry/the Mindflayer

Henry is 8 now instead of 7!! Maybe because just over a year has passed since the show was frozen in London? But also, maybe, in reference to Lucas being number 8 on the basketball team and being the unexpected, last-ditch-effort benchwarmer hero? I genuinely don’t know.

The whole police station fight was totally scrapped in favor of Jim getting his ass whooped offstage for trying to pitch the investigation by himself.

CAPTAIN BRENNER WAS ALIVE?? and the Mindflayer spoke to Henry through him as a vessel, lowkey proving that someone will eventually be totally consumed by the Mindflayer (with the vibe of “Henry’s powers and mental fortitude are what’s saving him, and anyone without those two things can’t really fight off the Mindflayer OR the Mindflayer doesn’t see them as worth preserving so it consumes them entirely”…Goodbye “Will has powers” theories…)

Brenner now insists multiple times over that he’s trying to help Henry specifically so that Henry isn’t consumed/brainrotted by the mindflayer the way his father was, which ties in way more nicely to filmed canon and Brenner’s “I failed Henry” bit.

They scrapped the footage of Brenner and his father on the TV screens, and when Henry projects stuff up there, they showed us recycled footage from Henry’s 1979 fall into Dimension X!

HENRY OPENED A GATE!! Gave us a nice “creation of Adam” moment with a demogorgon

The hospital bit was completely overhauled. Mr. Newby was deemed “infected” and Brenner was involved in overseeing him.

They scrapped Patty holding up the red Mindflayer drawing and it being cast back on her by the spotlights

They scrapped that specifically in favor of having her use Bob’s radio to get Henry’s attention so that she can talk to him, but they still maintained the slight plot hole of…girl how are you There/seeing where Henry is.

They also kept Patty centered under the Mindflayer waaaaay more often in that scene.

The stupid girl line remains unchanged. Just thought you should know.

Karen’s edited outfit for DOTM? Now it’s a cauldron as a skirt and black widow spider nipple pasties.

On the catwalk, Brenner openly leverages accusations at Patty that she’s just using Henry for his powers (hello Mike-Max isms re: El…)

They make it so much more clear that all of this is within the grasp of the Mindflayer, particularly in the catwalk scene. You can see the red lightning storm outside the windows of the high school (which is still an omnipresent backdrop) instead of the Mindflayer manifesting as that kind-of 3D projection, which tells me all of it is bubbled inside Henry’s head/part of some kind of Shadow-NINA.

Patty’s reunion with her mother is far longer than before, they have a little duet wherein they realize that they’re mother and daughter. It was actually way, way better than the original. More touching!

A band of showgirls—also still styled the way Henry idealized them in the church scene—joins in their duet, too (Patty…step away from the “rejoining the hive” imagery…)

Speaking of touching: Holy shit?? The Brenner and Henry scenes?? My dumb ass actually covered crochet!Henry’s eyes at one point. Like…in front of my salad??? For example, in the DOTM audition scene Karen jumps on Ted and koala-hugs him to make out with him…and then after the rat scene, Henry does the same. Fucking. Thing. He doesn’t just collapse on Brenner like he did in London, he fucking jumps on him. Brenner also straight up scruffs Henry at one point, he carries him bridal-style like El, too, and he also kisses him on the forehead. The man (me) was too stunned to speak!

Henry was also wayyyyy bloodier. Like the nosebleeds were way worse.

Also there was one part with Victor begging that he didn’t mean to kill the family in France where he specifically focuses on being regretful that he killed children/that their deaths were out of his control that made me think of the VR game telling us that the massacre was Henry’s worst memory because of how often Henry and Victor are conflated. Like okay, okay. I get it. I see what you guys are doing. [Brenner voice] You’re as much a father to this family as I am.

^^ and the kids are still referred to as Henry’s siblings btw. [Joyce voice] It’s okay, incest is edgy!

#if i think of more I’ll tell you!#tfs broadway #asks

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aspiringtrashpanda · 11 months ago

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Beel and mc first date short fic ✨

Our sweet boy Beel deserves all the love <3 Let's gooooo!

Characters: Beel x MC Sharing food as a love language, pure fluff. Did first kiss too, I hope that's okay! No warnings apply

This was a joke, right?

You were seeing things. You had to be seeing things.

There was in no way in all the three realms that Beelzebub, Avatar of Gluttony and Ruler of the Underworld, had just placed half of his gigadeath burger on your plate.

Half. 0.5. ½.

You weren’t sure his stomach could handle such deprivation! He was a growing demon! He needed his nutrients!

“What?” Beel paused his chewing, burger grease dripping down his fingers and onto the checkered parchment paper on the tray before him. “You’re not hungry?”

Eyes flitting from the burger - the frankly delicious burger oozing premium molten mozzarella, the cheese mingling with the juice pooling from the sizzling meat patty - to his concerned gaze, you wiped the drool from the corner of your lip and shook your head. “It’s not that. It’s just… Don’t you want your whole burger?”

It was cute, the way he cocked his head to the side. His fiery hair fell into his eyes for a moment, his slow blink drawing your attention to his dark eyelashes. Your heart stuttered in your chest when he lifted his shoulder in a lopsided shrug. “I want you to try it. It’s really good.”

“Are you sure?” Your devil nuggets called your name from their carton next to your soda. They were tasty, sure, but that burger looked like something else.

“Yeah,” He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Did you think we were only coming here tonight?”

The taste flooding your tongue - savory and salty with a crunch from the fixings cradled between two soft buns - was so overwhelming, you didn’t register his words. You were too busy relishing in the richness of the burger as it traveled down your throat and to your stomach, warming you from the inside out. It didn’t even bother you that the patty was probably made from some weird Devildom animal that you would usually find unappetizing. The burger was too good to care.

Realization struck you like lightning from above. “Wait, what?”

It was not lost on you how Beel’s indigo gaze traced the tip of your tongue as you licked at the residual taste on your lips. Something unreadable lanced through his irises. Suddenly, it was awfully hard to meet his eyes, your heart firmly lodging itself in your throat.

Lazily nibbling on his last acidic hell fry, he suggested, “Want to have a campfire?”

“A campfire?” You echoed, ducking your head when you became self-conscious of your dumb expression.

His mind made up, he toweled off his greasy fingers and stood, the stool screeching against the wooden floors of Hell’s Kitchen. “Yeah,” Determination as sharp as his jaw set his brow into a deep furrow. “Come with me.”

Keeping up with Beelzebub on the hunt for food was easier than you had expected. Looming over most demons, his long legs gave him the ability to cover impressive distance with each step. However, you found it wasn’t difficult to wander the streets of the Devildom at his side. Maybe it was the way he moved slowly, with intention, as if he was trying to commit every second of this night to his memory. Maybe it was his big heart, always so considerate of those he cared about.

Maybe he was looking out for you, just as you always looked out for him. There was a reason you kept snacks on your person at all times, after all.

It had come as a surprise when Beel had requested your attendance for an impromptu dinner at Hell’s Kitchen. You had been drowning in homework, the sharp knock on your bedroom door startling you from your third attempt to actually absorb the words on the page in front of you.

“Hey, dinner tonight?” He had asked, so casually as if it was any other day.

“Sure,” You had smiled.

“Cool,” He had beamed that dazzling Beelzebub grin that stretched wide across his face. The one where you could count all of his sharp teeth. The one that creased his eyes into crescent moons and made your stomach twist into a pretzel. “It’s a date.”

You were pretty sure it had taken you at least five minutes to process the bomb he had dropped on you upon his exit. Another fifteen to find a suitable outfit - casual and comfortable, but also nice, you know? And you couldn’t possibly discount the solid forty minutes spent worrying over whether he was joking or being serious.

When he had met you in the entrance hall clad in his best jeans and a flattering, nice sweater, you felt the relief inflate your chest like a helium balloon.

And really, you still felt like you were walking on air. Even as you stood in the snacks aisle of a Devildom bodega, shying away from the unflattering glare of overhead fluorescent lights as Beel rifled through foil packaging with an intensity that you long learned accompanied his hunger.

He fought you tooth and nail at the register, amusement dancing upon his lips. “Why should you pay?”

“Because you bought dinner,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest as if it would possibly make you more intimidating in the eyes of the 6’4” demon.

“Hmmm,” he mulled over your argument for a millisecond, just to lean down and blow a raspberry in your face. He smirked, “Nope.”

It caught you off guard, your face burning as bright as a screaming tomato. Brattiness was usually Belphie’s expertise.

Mischief melting into soft affection in his indigo gaze, fixed to you as the bodega clerk processed his payment, he ventured, “What if… you cover our next date?”

You liked the way the tips of his ears flushed, the way he rubbed the back of his neck and shot you a sheepish, albeit genuine, smile.

“I think that would be fair.” A tickle spread across your cheeks, scrunching your nose and burning your skin.

Though, the heat from your flush had nothing on the warmth of the flames lapping at the inky Devildom sky. The embers shot like fireflies reaching for the stars, the campfire crackling within the confines of the pit, lined by rocks that would dwarf even Beelzebub’s palm. It had come as a surprise when Beel had led you off the beaten path, guiding you to a clearing in a forest not too far from the House of Lamentation. However, the secret fire pit made a lot more sense when he explained that it was typically reserved for stargazing with Belphie.

“Are those… rice krispie squares?” You asked, the pop of an adhesive seam wafting vanilla your way.

“They’re crackling mallow bars,” Beel corrected, though there was no judgment in his tone. He had this way of introducing you to Devildom cuisine in a manner that felt familiar, like he understood that there were a lot of similarities between the dishes you knew. “They’re made up of marshmallows and these crispy marrow bits that are caramelized and -”

“Do they taste sweet?” You suppressed a grimace at the unappetizing description.

He chucked, the sound oozing reassurance, “Yes.”

“Okay, cool.” As he retrieved two long sticks, splitting into sharp prongs at the tip, nostalgia hit you like a truck. You hummed, “I used to eat something like this all the time when I was little.”

He raised a brow. “You’re still little.”

“Very funny.”

He laughed. Peeling the wrapper from two treats, he secured both on the ends of the sticks. “Have you ever roasted them over a campfire?”

“I never considered that. They would melt pretty fast, wouldn’t they?”

“You would think so,” He passed you a stick, eyes warm with encouragement and something akin to childlike awe, “But they actually hold up for a while.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Just you and Beel and the chirps of the hell crickets in the undergrowth. It was hard to pay attention to the way the sweet bars darkened, a char climbing up the chunks of… marrow, or whatever… when you could feel Beel’s eyes on you.

When you met his gaze, he was ready, already pulling the snack from his stick. “Here, try this.”

The marshmallow near compromised, the dessert fell apart in his large hands. Beel’s fingers tangled in sticky sweetness, you gasped in delight as strings of sugar stretched towards you with his gesture. “Oh, it’s so gooey!”

His smile was so big, so warm, and you had the sudden thought that if you were in Icarus’s shoes, you too would fly too close to the sun. He went to feed you the treat, laughing, “Open wide!”

The explosion of flavor on your tongue - hot and sweet with that smoky campfire accent - had you squirming in delight, a thrilled hum vibrating in your throat. You were grateful that Beel thought to remove your stick from the fire. You were far too occupied with your new favorite snack to notice it about to ignite.

Beel’s laughter died, his brow furrowing as conflict eclipsed the joy in his gaze. You looked to him, confused. “What?”

Had he always been that close? Had he been watching you with such longing this entire time?

“You’ve got a bit of marshmallow…” His adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, eyes zeroing in on your lips. “Can I?”

You nodded. Your mouth was so dry, your pulse in your ears. With his nose nudging yours, you could taste the sweetness of the marshmallow treat on his breath, feel the way you were drawn closer like sticky sugar insistent on holding you together.

His lips brushed yours - soft and chaste. It was funny how a kiss so gentle could hold so much weight. Featherlight, a tender brush, and yet you felt as though the prints of his lips were engraved on yours forevermore.

“Mmm, tastes extra good,” he breathed, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs smoothed over your skin, his eyes reading your soul as you leaned in to kiss him again. A peck to his lips, to his nose, to the apples of his cheeks.

“What are you thinking about?” You murmured, reveling in his proximity, his radiant warmth.

“Trying all my favorite foods off your lips,” He smiled, the twitch of his lips slotting against yours with such ease. “Think we could try that?”

“Sure,” You laughed, “It’s a date.”

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

this is low-key a love letter to burgers. My requests are open! Find more info HERE. Banner by @4laurus. Check out her work - and also her Beel.

#obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me beel x mc #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #my writing #aspiringtrashpanda #drabbles open #obey me fanfic

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