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roosterforme · 2 years ago

Text

Stiff Competition | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: After visiting your bakery one time, Bob has a crush on you. The only problem is, so do all of the other guys.

Warnings: Fluff and some swears

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader

Check my profile for my masterlist

Bob quietly followed his friends inside the trendy, new bakery that opened near base. He had become so accustomed to the bickering between Hangman and Rooster, he found it almost soothing, even early on a Monday morning.

"No way," Bradley said, shaking his head at Jake. "You're wrong, and now you're just being stubborn."

Jake sighed calmly. "I'm just saying, there's no way anyone, Fred included, would pick Velma over Daphne. It's unrealistic."

Bradley grunted in response. "Whatever. Smart girls are always hot."

Bob just cradled his forehead in his hand and let the rich smell of fresh coffee and baked goods wash over his senses. All three men in their khaki uniforms shuffled forward as the line moved.

"Holy shit," Bradley and Jake muttered softly and in perfect unison.

"Do you see what I see?" Bradley asked, staring entranced at the sight before him.

"Oh hell yes, I do," Jake confirmed with a nod.

Bob immediately looked in the direction they were staring, and his breath caught in his throat. All three of them were now eyeing you up where you stood behind the counter. You were smiling at one of the patrons and filling a pastry box with donuts.

"She's kinda hot," Bradley whispered.

"Better than that. She's fucking gorgeous," Jake replied.

Bob silently agreed with them, noting the adorable smudge of flour on your cheek. He had always been a little shy, a little timid around women. And he was not about to get into a dick measuring contest with Bradley and Jake. He would just let the two of them fight it out, because Bob was never the one to get the stunning girl.

When it was their turn to order, Bob watched the other two men trip over each other to get to the counter first. You smiled at each of them in turn, your gaze lingering on Bob and making him blush.

"Hi! What can I get for you fellas?" you asked the three of them, and Bob completely forgot what he was going to order.

"Hey, gorgeous. What would you recommend?" Bradley asked in a deep and raspy voice as he leaned against the counter and peered at you over his aviators.

You chuckled and shook your head. "I would recommend the citrus muffin with orange zest."

"Perfect, I'll get six of those," he said, his smile twitching below his mustache. "I'm Bradley, by the way."

"And I'm Jake! And I'll get a dozen muffins." Bob watched Jake flash you a megawatt smile, and he wished he could be half as charming.

"A dozen muffins?" you asked Jake. Your eyes skimmed back over Bob's face with an amused glint in your eye.

"Actually, I'll take two dozen," Bradley said, changing his order and glaring at Jake.

"So you want a total of three dozen muffins?" you asked before turning toward the bakery case. "Okay.... seems excessive," you muttered.

Bob watched you intently as you packed up bakery boxes of muffins and entered them into the register. You must have known what was going on here, but you just smiled at the three of them as you worked.

"Anything for you?" you asked, flashing Bob a smile that made him feel a little nervous. "You're awfully quiet back there."

"Uh, just a small coffee, please," he muttered, getting out his wallet and trying to stay cool.

"One hundred and twenty eight dollars is your total," you announced, and Jake and Bradley both tried to get you to take their credit cards at the same time.

"I've got it, I insist," Bradley said.

"Use my platinum card," Jake announced loudly.

"Use mine. His will definitely be declined," Bradley replied, trying to nudge Jake out of the way.

You carefully took one in each hand and said, "Um... I'm just going to split it between both cards. How does that sound?"

When the enormous quantity of muffins had been collected, and you handed Bob his coffee, he forced himself to meet your eyes. "Thank you, miss," he said softly, as your fingers grazed against his. "You have a lovely day."

Bob watched you bite your lip as he tucked five dollars into the tip jar and nodded his head at you.

"Thanks. See you soon, I hope," you called as he turned to leave. Bob glanced back one last time as he exited the bakery, and you were still looking at him.

------------------------------

On Tuesday at lunchtime, Bob was about to eat the sandwich he had packed, but Jake suggested going back to the bakery.

"I hope she's working again today," Bradley said, grabbing his car keys.

Jake nodded enthusiastically. "Hot little piece like that, she's gotta have a boyfriend."

Bradley snorted. "Wouldn't be the first time I've stolen a girl from another guy."

"What makes you think she'd pick you when I'm available?" Jake asked.

Bob just tuned them out until they all arrived at the bakery. He was hoping to see you again too, but he just wanted to listen to your voice and watch you smile. He'd let the other two do most of the talking. They were good at that sort of thing.

"Gorgeous," Bradley called you. "How've you been?"

"Fine," you replied, once again smiling at the three of them. "What can I get for you today? Another coffee for you?" you asked Bob, and he just nodded in reply. He didn't need more caffeine today, but he wanted you to hand him the cup again. He'd just give it to Phoenix when he got back on base.

Bob listened to the other two men once again order more pastries than anyone could ever need, and this time Jake pulled a massive wad of cash out of his wallet and insisted on paying for everything. Bradley had a sour look on his face that he tried to hide when you smiled at him and handed him two bags of food.

Then he stood to his full height, chest puffed out. "Thanks, gorgeous," Bradley said, sliding his aviators back into place. Bob watched Jake try to stand as tall as Bradley, failing and looking ridiculous in the process. Bob just closed in on himself a little more, trying to blend his tall frame into the background.

"And your coffee," you said, handing the disposable cup to Bob with another beautiful smile. His hand shook when he accepted the cup, and a little bit of the beverage sloshed down the sleeve of his flight suit and splashed onto the counter.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Bob muttered, setting down the cup and reaching for the napkins.

"No, it was my fault," you assured him. "I'll clean it up, you don't have to."

"Bob!" Jake called from the doorway. "What's the holdup, man? You coming?"

"Uh, I'll meet you at the car," he replied, mopping up the drink and drying his sleeve.

"Your name's Bob?" you asked him softly.

He glanced up to meet your warm gaze and nodded once. "Yes. I'm Lieutenant Robert Floyd, but everyone calls me Bob," he said quietly.

You smiled and told him your name. "Here you go, Bob. These are on the house. Sorry I spilled your coffee."

Bob took a small paper bag from you and picked up his coffee cup once more. "Oh, that's not necessary. It was my fault."

"I insist," you told him. "See you again soon?"

He looked down at his feet and smiled. "Yes. See you again soon."

"I can't wait."

---------------------------------

On Friday morning, Bob was a nervous wreck. He'd been thinking about you all week, but he knew the other guys had been, too. They had been talking about you a lot, but Bob was too shy to tell them he was also interested in you.

He'd given the coffee to Phoenix the other day, but he smiled when he opened the bag and found a croissant. His favorite. It seemed like you knew. And it was flaky and perfect, and he couldn't wait to see you again and get another one.

"Bakery time!" Bradley announced. "Time to visit the hottie. You coming, Bob?"

Bob fell into step behind him and Jake, but then Reuben and Javy were joining as well. "Everyone's coming today?" Bob asked, squeezing into Reuben's car along with the other four.

"Yeah, can't wait to see this girl," Javy said.

"Heard she's sexy," Reuben agreed.

Bob just stared out the window and sighed. He was just going to have to get over his crush on you. It was the only way to keep his heart from breaking. He wouldn't look at you, and he wouldn't talk to you. And he definitely wouldn't eat another croissant.

He shuffled into the bakery behind the others, and there you were. He tried to look at all of the baked goods in the case, but you greeted him by name. You greeted only him by name.

"Hi," he managed, and the other four guys turned to glare at him.

"Gorgeous, what would you recommend today?" Bradley asked you.

"Blueberry muffins are good today," you replied, and you started packing up a box full at Javy's request.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Reuben asked, leaning so far across the counter, he may as well have just jumped over.

"I'm the owner and primary baker," you told them, and Bob was so impressed.

"Wow, gorgeous. Your muffins are really famous around here. We can't stop coming back for more," Bradley said, smirking at you. But you were looking at Bob again as he inched forward.

"Did you make the croissant? It was very good," he told you, unable to look away.

You beamed at him. "I did. They're my specialty."

Bob swallowed hard, all four guys looking at him in surprise now. "Could... uh, could I have another one? I'll pay for it this time though, if you don't mind. It was delicious."

"Of course, Bob. Anything you want." You turned to get a bag ready, and Bob thought he might faint.

Jake turned and mouthed at him, "Anything you want?"

Bob just shrugged and made his way toward the register. He was pouring sweat in his flight suit, trying to stay as calm as possible. You met him at the other end of the counter and smiled as you slid a bag and a small coffee his way.

"Three dollars," you told him softly, as if you could tell he was nervous, but you didn't seem to mind.

"What about the coffee?" he asked as he adjusted his glasses.

"On the house."

Bob quickly paid you for the croissant, as he could already hear Jake and the others getting restless.

Jake leaned across the counter as you ran his credit card. "You interested in pilots?" he asked with a smirk.

You just swiped the card and handed it back to him. "You're all pilots?" you asked, smiling at all of them.

"Nah, Bob here is just a backseater," Reuben said loudly, slapping Bob on the back and nearly spilling his coffee.

"Oh, so Bob's the brains of the operation? Sounds about right," you said, sending a subtle wink in his direction.

Bob's ears felt a little fuzzy and his collar felt a little too tight. Maybe he had imagined the wink. Yes, that must be it.

The guys all hooted, and Jake said, "Well sure, Bob's smart and organized, but that's not as exciting."

You just shrugged. "Still sounds exciting to me. Hope you guys all have a safe flight this afternoon. Enjoy your croissant, Bob."

He floated out onto the sidewalk with the others, still in a daze.

"What the fuck, guys? She likes Bob the best?" Javy said in disbelief as they all walked back to the car. "Hangman and Rooster, you two really dropped the ball."

"Does she?" Bob asked quietly. "She likes me?"

Reuben shoved half a muffin into his mouth and grinned. "You should ask her out, man."

Bob thought about asking you out the whole drive back to base and as he walked to meet up with Phoenix. When he finally opened the bag to eat his croissant, he saw that you had put three inside.

--------------------------

Late Saturday morning, Bob paced around outside of the bakery with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He'd peeked in through the window and saw that you and another girl were working, but he'd lost his nerve. He was on the verge of heading back to his car and calling it a day when the door opened, and he could smell the croissants.

"You can do it," he told himself and rushed inside before he could turn around.

"Bob!" you called with a bright smile. "Back for more croissants?"

He took a deep breath and headed toward you. He noticed you were looking at the flowers in his hand, but you didn't say anything or rush him to respond, which he appreciated. You just smiled and leaned on the counter.

"Yes, I would like another croissant," he muttered, and you pushed up from the counter to get it for him. "Actually, I would like two. But you need to let me pay for both of them today."

"Okay. Sure, Bob," you said with the tiniest smile as you put two into a bag. But now you didn't look as happy, and he wanted to kick himself. How had he messed this up already?

He met you at the register, and you asked him, "So, are the flowers for your wife? Or your girlfriend?"

"Oh, neither," he said, lifting them a little higher. "I don't have either of those."

You looked up at him and bit your lip. "Who's the extra croissant for?"

Bob watched your lips as you waited for him to answer. He was sweating, but he was in too deep to turn back now. "I, um... thought maybe we could eat them together. When you're done working. If you're not too busy."

Your smile lit up your face again. "I would like that."

Bob's smile matched your own. "You would?"

"Yeah," you told him with a nod. "You're so sweet. Much better than your friends. Are those flowers for me?"

Bob looked at the floor as he felt himself blushing. "Oh, yeah," he said, handing them to you. "Of course they are."

He watched you disappear into the kitchen for a minute, only to reappear without the flowers or your apron. Then you joined him on his side of the counter. Without any hesitation, you placed one hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"Let's go for a walk," you told him, and Bob's heart was absolutely pounding for you. "I know a nice bench, perfect for eating croissants."

Bob felt you lace your fingers through his, and he held your hand in his larger one. "Lead the way."

-----------------------

This fic is for my Bobby loving friend Alex!!! @bradshawsbitch

Thanks to Alli @beyondthesefourwalls for giving this a read for me.

I hope I have done our Loverboy Bob justice!

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@mak-32

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@endofdays56

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@yanna-banana

#robert floyd x reader #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob top gun

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ghostedgrim · 4 months ago

Note

She's all that is about the popular guy being dared to date the "nerdy girl" by his so called friend, he takes the dare but ends up falling for her. She finds out and they have a fight and break up. He wins her back in the end. Take it anyway you want! I do want Eric to be jealous as hell after they break up when other guys start taking an interest in reader!!

She's All That pt.1

Pt2. Request page. Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: Getting dared to pretend to date someone, implied violence, jealousy,

"Eric, with all so respect, you're a Dauntless leader, yet you've been single since day one." The music in the bar is so loud that for a moment Eric almost didn't hear him.

"Personally James, I don't see how that's relevant. I have enough hookups to satisfy me plenty, I don't need some girl or whatever. Relationships I just a bothersome hassle."

"I bet you don't have a single romantic bone in your body."

"That's what you think, James," the bartender hands Eric a plate of food and leaves her number on the receipt. "Now if I were an unromantic man, that woman wouldn't have given me her number just now."

"Okay whatever, we both know you're good at getting men and women into your bed, but can you handle a full on relationship?"

"Yes, I just prefer not to, I don't need it" Eric shrugs.

James smirks and holds up his wallet. "Prove it then, date y/n then, the ex Erudite girl from your iniation class. You don't have to love her back, just make her love you. Do it and I'll pay for your next tattoo."

"Fine, how long do I have?"

"I'll give you about a month."

"Then we have deal James."

Is drinking by the chasm stupid? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not, not when I've been on a week long trip to Amity to handle Dauntless soldiers who forgot their mission and decided to play with the Amity girls. My job is to train and direct Dauntless soldiers, yet most days I find myself spanking ass because they don't know how to behave.

"God I should've stayed in Erudite." I groan. Obviously it isn't true, the people there were cruel, liars, manipulators, vain, but I must admit I missed all the reading and research I'd done throughout my time there.

"Saying stuff like that would get you killed," I damn near jump out of my skin at the sound of the deep rumbling voice behind me. I turn around to see Eric standing right behind me. He wraps an arm around my waist to stable me, and guide me away from the chasm as I sway. "Long day?"

"More like a long week," my hard scowl meets his cold grey eyes, "What do you want Eric?"

He looks at me with a prideful expression, "I wish to take you out on a date. Don't worry about work tomorrow I'm assigning you a day off."

I scoff, taking another sip of my drink. "Me? Hookup with you? Not interested."

Eric falters for a moment, a small tick in his jaw, before returning to that prideful arrogance. "Good, I'm not interested in a hookup. Meet me tomorrow at 8pm by the train, I'd like to get to know you, nerdy and all."

Before I could even argue he walks away, that entitled ass really thinks I'll just go where he tells me because he said it's a date. I wonder if he uses that method with every girl he hooks up with. Either way I'm not going.

"I'm not going." I remind myself for the uptinth time today. I'm laying on my stomach atop a skyscraper, sniper rifle in hand. Every shooting range in Dauntless is underground except for the rifle range. Every target is at least a mile away, and every night they're moved to a new spot, hidden somewhere on the streets below, or hidden in a new room within the buildings around me. Sometimes, the targets are put on conveyors so they move around, and sometimes some are hidden so well you can only see a tiny sliver. To handle a gun that can shoot from miles away takes practice, and extreme smarts. Constantly I must calculate how the wind may effect my bullet, how far before gravity pulls it down, the most effective place to hit a target, arm to disarm, leg to stop them from running, chest or head to kill.

Only 7 people here in Dauntless have been trained and can handle a rifle and I'm one of those seven. It's one of the few jobs I can use to challenge myself. Kinda fascinating how using a gun takes so much math and knowledge in physics. None the less, I still train at least twice a week like the others.

I'm not fucking going! BANG!! My gun jerke violently, the bullet flies through the air landing perfectly onto the head of a far away target.

I look at my watch, "6:15." I'm not fucking going.

I readjust. BANG!!

I wonder what Eric could possibly have in mind for our date. Wait, why the fuck should I even care? I'm not even going.

It would be rude to stand him up though, and maybe he does actually like me, maybe he's finally going to be in a relationship and he actually chose me. I scoff, nah that's fucking stupid, as if Eric would think to pick me our of all the women already obsessed with him. I'm sure he'll live if stand him up.

BANG!! I miss by a whole 5 feet. "Fucker."

BANG!! I miss again...

It's 7:58, I'm standing by the train tracks wearing my nicest black dress, combat boots, and my favorite gun and dagger holstered to my thigh beneath the skirt of my dress. I even did my makeup. Fuck me, why the Hell did I fall for this crap?

I watch the train approach. "Where the Hell is Eric? Is this a prank?" I fail to hear the frantic footsteps from behind me. I barely have time to process anything before there's an arm around my waist and I'm getting dragged into a train car.

"Sorry I'm late, had some last second paperwork to handle. Thank God I made it in time to catch the train. You okay?" Eric is wearing his typical black cargo pants, combat boots, his black shirt is tight fitting and pared with a black jacket, his hair is in it's signature style and everything. Why the Hell am I about to swoon?

"I'm uh, yeah I'm fine." I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I regain my footing. "For a moment I was scared you stood me up."

Eric scoffs, "Stand up a beautiful girl like you? I'd rather punch a brick wall." He sits down on the threshold of the door, letting his legs dangle out of the traincar as we race through the city. "Come sit," he pats his thigh.

If he's dissapointed I didn't sit on his lap he doesn't show it as I sit across from him. Unlike him I keep my legs inside the train car. "So uh..." I click my tounge, "why did you ask me out in a date, and why did you do it without the intent of hooking up? Last time I checked you never had time for a girlfriend."

"You've never been asked out before-"

"Oh so you're asking me out as a joke? Or pity? Because I'm not staying if that's the case." Eric appears to panic for a moment and quickly grips my shoulder as I try to stand.

"I wasn't finished," he states defensively, Eric's eyes stare deep into mine, their color cold as a winter storm, yet my cheeks warm and my heart stutters. I should probably check that with a doctor. "You and I came to Dauntless and went through iniation at the same time, if I recall correctly you ranked 10th place out of 35 initiates. Now you're not only training and directing Dauntless soldiers, but you're also apart of the only seven people here in Dauntless capable of handling a sniper rifle. I think I have every reason to be curious about you, because the fact that nobody has asked you out is baffling, especially considering how stunning and powerful you are."

Never have I expected a man like Eric to say such words. Stunning? Powerful? I know I'm strong, no idea where he gets the idea I have good looks, but honestly, I feel like I'm the hottest girl in Dauntless after hearing those words. Eric's hand rests atop mine, warm, strong, calloused from rigorous training, his eyes seem to trace my face, and suddenly I'm 16 and freshly transferred to Dauntless again. Eric was terrifying, but hot back then, he still is now just more tame.

I soon realize I've been gaping like a damn fish for minutes now and Eric's small chuckle breaks me from my trance. "I take it nobody has told you that before," he brings a hand to my cheek, his expression soft, "let me be the one to change that, to show and tell you just how amazing you are."

I used to imagine how his lips would taste. t

Then I turned 17 and pushed it from my mind because I was convinced Eric would never love me. He would always be too busy chasing tail to even notice me. But now his eyes are on my lips, his tounge even darts out for a moment to lick his bottom lip. He then looks back at my eyes, he leans in the hand on my cheek pulling me closer. "You smell like strawberries." Our lips are almost touching, his warm breath fanning across my jaw, he smells like gunpowder, cedarwood, and whiskey. I can barely hear anything over my pounding heart. I close my eyes, leaning forward to close the distance between us.

"Shit!" I open my eyes as Eric frantically pulls himself away from the door and the traincar is encased in darkness for several seconds until we leave the small tunnel. "Fuck," Eric laughs, "nearly lost my damn leg." I can't help but to laugh with him.

"That would certainly be quite the traumatic first date." We settle down again the wall both looking out the open door across from us. "How about we just keep all our limbs inside the train for now?" Eric sighs, and we both relax taking in the sight and sounds of the dark clouds rolling in and the distance thunder. The train rolls through the miles of green, flat land between the city and Amity. You can still see the bright lights of the Erudite buildings. It's peaceful, and I can't help but just enjoy the moment rather than talk.

"I once lit my hand on fire." Eric says it so casually as if he were talking about the damn weather.

"You what! Please do tell." I smile like a little kid excited for candy. Eric smiles back and dives into the story of how in chemistry he accidentally covered his hand in lighter fluid, then instead of washing it off he thought it faster to just burn it off. Fortunately the fire lit and burnt out too quick to cause any permanent damage.

It's pouring by the time the train reaches the Dauntless sector. Eric jumps off, then I jump right after. I barely have time to finish standing before he's wrapping his jacket around me. "I would hate for you to catch a cold. Now let me walk you home."

I'm starting to think this is a dream.

Asking her out was one thing, I never meant to get attached. We've been dating for almost a month now. Every time I see her my heart stops, and all I can do is admire her like some dumb schoolboy with a crush. Never in my life did I think I could actually fall in love, and never did I think I would stay up all night imagining what it would be like to kiss a girl, let alone replaying the sound of her laughter in my mind over and over. She's strong, smart as Hell, arguably smarter than me, and gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous I could drown in her arms. Honestly if she suffocated me I'd probably thank the damn woman.

"I'm fucked, I'm so utterly fucked." I spend maybe another hour in bed with nothing but my boxers on. I'm already running late, but fuck it, it won't kill Max if I'm late for work just once.

I'm quick to change clothes and rushed out of my home to search for y/n. I find her in the training room running a small squad through some drills. Without a single care I kiss her cheek, "Good morning, my dagger. Sorry for interrupting, but I just needed a small taste of you to get through my day." Her cheeks are dusted in red, and fuck she's just so damn cute it stabs my heart, and then her expression snaps back to stone and she shoos me away.

I catch James in the small squad of men, he's smiling and my heart drops as I remember our bet. I take my time walking up to my office. "How the Hell am I going to escape this?"

Today was exhausting, and I received far to many lewd comments about my relationship with Eric than I'd like. But now I can finally go visit Eric at the bar. For a guy known to be heartless and terrifying he's an amazing boyfriend.

Many people, especially Four, had warned me that Eric was likely dating me as a joke, but I highly doubt he'd continue fake dating me for a whole month as a joke. It's definitely not a joke. Yeah he can be mean, really mean, and cruel, especially to initiates, and yes he's heartless to seemingly everyone here in Dauntless but he has exceptions for certain people... I'm important to him, he's not dating me as a joke, sure he's capable of being that cruel but... he isn't doing that... right?

I try to shake the uneasy thoughts from my head, their just stupid fears, that's all. I pull on Eric's jacket and quickly make my way down to the bar.

I've been sitting alone at this table for nearly 20 minutes, and I can feel the eyes on me. My stomach is a storm of unease, and my doubt is ever growing. This isn't the first time Eric has been late to a date. When we first started dating, he had been cocky, full of himself, half the time it sounded like he was trying to talk me into bed. Despite our first date, it had taken me a while to finally, truly open up to him, to trust him, and believe he wouldn't hurt me. Yet here I am, sitting alone at a table a week later.

It's been a fucking hour, and I swear I can hear the whispers, feel the eyes. The waitress looks at me with contempt, as if she's won something and I lost at whatever she was winning it. My unease eventually turns to frustration and soon I'm walking through the dimly lit halls in search of Eric.

"Fuck me man, and here I thought you were incapable of a relationship." James, without a damn doubt that's his voice.

"Well I'm full of surprises." Eric? That's definitely him. Why the Hell is he with James instead of me, and why are they talking about relationships?

I stalk closer to where I'd heard them speaking, James is running his mouth about a girl's ass making it easy for me to find the two men, and watch them while remaining unseen.

"Have you both kissed, better yet fucked?" James asks and it makes my stomach turn sour. Kissing is fine, but asking about my sex life is not. Not that I have one, yet.

Eric huffs, "no we haven't had sex, and unless you count kissing on the cheek, then we haven't kissed yet."

"Ah, so in that case it isn't love." James has a concerningly victorious look.

"Just because we haven't kissed doesn't mean she isn't in love with me. She's never kissed a guy before, let alone have sex." Eric sounds somewhat annoyed.

"Well damn, a virgin, and unkisssed, I think I may need a taste myself. It's been awhile since I've tried a girl like that. Though-"

"James," Eric warns, his voice deep and posture tense. I wish I could see Eric's face, but all I can see is his back.

"Fine, fine, so you claim she's in love with you. Now I can argue that, but I saw the way that girl looked at you when you visited her last week. She looked at you the way a girl looks at a puppy." James shrugs, and then his eyes lock with mine and he smiles. "It seems I've lost our bet Eric. You can be romantic, and you are capable of making any girl, even ugly miss grumpy, genuinely fall for you. I can't wait to watch her face and see her cry when you tell her you're whole relationship has been fake."

"James-"

"Then aging you should definitely keep dating her. Think about it, maybe she'll stop being so closed off and grumpy, better yet, she'll stop being so strict on my squad. Perhaps you can make her give me a few promotions."

"Playing with her emotions to make her date me and fall in love was-"

I don't think, I just run. I don't stop running, not until my legs give out and I find myself sitting in a train car. That asshole! I trusted him, I loved him, and yet that fucker was using me for his own sick gain! My comm link keeps ringing, and in my frustration I stupidly throw it out of the train.

I'm crying so hard I can barely breathe, my chest hurts like Hell, and my vision is so blurry from tears that I can barely see shit. It was fake, it was all fake. Everything he said was fake! I was nothing to him! Absolutely nothing!

I curl up, and I hate myself for doing it, but I pull his jacket tighter around me. "Gods how can I be so fucking stupid... they warned me, so many fucking times and I ignored them like an idiot."

The sun is rising by the time I get off the train. It's freezing cold, snow covers the street and snowflakes fall from the sky. I glance at the cameras as I walk back to the compound. No doubt Four is watching me through them, or is already at my apartment with a whole essay of a lecture awaiting me. I don't even know if I have the energy to keep walking. So I just lean against a brick wall inside an alley.

I don't know how much time has passed, I'm shivering uncontrollably but I just can't seem to move.

"Y/n." His voice is deep, soft, and full of warmth and I find myself crying all over again.

"Four, I... you were right I-" He interrupts me with a tight hug and kisses my forehead.

"Later, let's just get you home and warm." Four bundles me up in a spare jacket and scarf he brought before picking me up and carrying me home. The exhaustion hits me hard and I unwillingly let myself drift asleep.

I'm bundled in thick warm blankets when I wake up, two warm hands hold one of mine. I finally open my eyes. I'm in my bedroom, Four is leaning against the wall near my door, his knuckles scabbed, and splattered with blood. Confused I look to my left to see who the Hell is holding my hand. To my suprise it's Eric. His gaze is locked on our hands, eyes are rimmed in red, bruises decorate his jaw, right eye, and possibly other places, even his nose looks broken.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Eric's head snaps up and he looks at me in such a way that I'm convinced he actually does love me.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, what happened- no, what I did was wrong. You didn't deserve any of that." A tear slips down his cheek and I roll my eyes at his pathetic attempt of gaining my pity. "Yes, James and I made a bet with him betting I couldn't make you fall in love with me. It was wrong, and it was cruel for me to manipulate you like that-"

"Get out." I snap.

"Hear him out, trust me," Four interrupts. "We both know Eric isn't the guy to let himself get beat up, especially without throwing at least one punch back." It dons on me that Four beat the shit out of Eric, but that's not what suprises me, it's the fact that Four is utterly unscathed. Eric actually let Four beat him up after what he did to me.

"I- at first it was fun, but then I started to develop feelings and holy shit I fell. I fell hard and fast and I didn't know what to do." Eric's voice breaks and he looks away from me. "You were like a goddam dagger, burrowed deep into my heart and seared into my brain. I thought, maybe to could just let myself win the bet instead of calling it off, you'd never have to know and we'd get to keep dating. You don't have to forgive me, but please know ever I've told you, it was the truth and I do love you. I love you so much it hurts."

"A part of me wants to believe you, Eric. However, the other part of me knows you're nothing more than a lying manipulative snake. I don't want to ever see you again, don't talk to me, don't even look at me."

Defeated Eric finally rids himself from my room.

"What happened to James?" I ask Four.

Four smiles, "Eric broke his jaw."

I sigh, deep in thought, "Did Eric actually let you hit him."

"Pretty much. I found him outside frantically looking for you, I punched first before asking questions. I had already seen all I needed to through the cameras. He didn't fight back once, just stood there and took my beating. I yelled st him for quite a bit before dragging his ass here then returning to the security cameras and waiting for you to step off the train."

"Four?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. And if I ever act that stupid again, slap the shit out of me."

#writing #eric coulter #eric divergent #divergent #fanficion #four divergent #divergent series #dauntless x reader #dauntless divergent #erudite divergent #eric coultler #eric x oc #eric x reader #eric coulter x reader #eric coulter divergent #eric coulter imagine #tobias eaton

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lndsismaeverything · 6 days ago

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Lnds writing ideas

Because I'm too lazy to write and just want to blush, giggle and read 🫠

If u decided to write one of these ideas PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TAG ME 🥹 so I can read your lovely work

Or if someone already wrote something alike also please tag me ♪～(´ε｀　)

ʚ Xavier, zayne, rafayell , sylus ɞ

Showing of that they are married

lnds men getting hit on and they just flash the ring on is ring finger " sorry but I'm already taken" and pull you by the shoulder so they can see who his lover is 🤭

Being a girl dad

Lnds men having daughters and they just spoil them rotten " daddy can I have that please? " when ur about to say no because she has gotten way too many gifts from her daddy. But your husband already pulled his wallet and ready to pay " anything for my lil princess "

Who are u?

MC got hurt and in the hospital and decided to play a prank on them by saying " who are u?" Inspired by rafayell 🤭

I wish you where real

MC dreaming about lnds and crying while being comforted by them

MC : I love you...

Lnds men : but I'm not real....

MC : I wish you where real...

Lnds: I wish you where fictional

Reader wakes up next to heir was her phone still on and showing the lnds men sleeping and also waking up (´༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ `)♡ (I really need this to be written )

First day of school

Lnds men dropping of their kid(s) of the first day of school ( kindergarten ) how well will the kids take it? Knowing rafayell and his kid both will cry 🤭

Kid(s) crying " is mommy okay? "

The kids crying bec they heard mommy screaming ( in pleasure ✧(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧) the dads go check on them while mommy put her clothes back on and go check on them. The moment you enter they hugged u and glare at daddy " is mommy okay? Did daddy hurt you? I going with you if u divorced daddy " lnds men taken a back

Double trouble

When lnds men have sons that looks exactly like them and also have their personalities

I see that sylus would have twins son and will make trouble around the house and the city of onychinus

Xavier and his son would make a Mother's Day breakfast you all know how that will go

Zayne and his son would sneak into the kitchen for a midnight snack, at first zayne caught his son but since this son has his intelligence he would " dad I won't tell mommy about u also sneaking for a midnight sweet snack if you don't tell her about me too" zayne would chuckle at his son smart ass " deal" but both got caught a few minutes later 🤭

Rafayell and his son would fight over your love. You can fight me but hear me out rafayell son would be a total mamas boy (ง ͠° ͟ʖ #)ง rafayell being rafayell " hey hands of my precious wife I got her first waited 800 years for not to get stollen by a child that only came after 4 years "

Lnds men with Baby fever

You already know (*´﹃｀*)

#lnds #lnds sylus #lnds xavier #lnds rafayel #lnds zayne #rafayel #love and deepspace #love and deep space #sylus #sylus x you #sylus x reader #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you

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cursedkeyboard · 11 months ago

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Babies shouldn't grow up ☆ Jason Todd & GN!Reader

What does Jason do when he finds a scraggly looking kid trying to pickpocket a gang member in the slums of Gotham? Beat up the criminals and steal the child, of course. [PART ONE ♤ PART TWO ♤ PART THREE ♤ PART FOUR ♤ PART FIVE ♤ PART SIX]

pairings: Platonic Jason Todd & Child GN!Reader

Just like every other story, Jason found you by pure accident

He was doing his rounds in Gotham, tending mostly to the slums where vigilantes didn't patrol as much and police never cared for

And after being tipped by Oracle about gang activity happening nearby, of course he left to check it out

Lo and behold, the place was crawling with gangsters, but not only that, civilians as well

Civilians like you, who managed to swipe one of the gangster wallet so swiftly even Jason wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been paying attention to the only kid in the area

Needless to say, his interest was picked immediately

First of; Jason always had a soft spot for kids, so seeing one in such dreadful place immediately set off the protective alarms in his head

Second of; You reminded him so much of himself it fucking hurt

Nimble fingers, swift footsteps, a scratched up face

Clearly starved, clearly beaten, clearly abandoned

It was like looking at a mirror and seeing into the past

So when you accidentally bumped into another gangster as you tried to leave the scene, falling to the ground and letting the wallet slip from your hand, Jason didn't hesitate

Before any of the criminals tried to even look at you, Jason was already smashing their faces against the dirty streets

You, a smart street kid, immediately escaped into an alleyway as Jason created havoc by taking every gang member by himself, effectively stopping their arms deal before it even started

It was bloody, maybe a little too vicious for a certain old Bat's liking, but Jason wasn't taking any chances

Once he was done and Oracle had already updated the police to go and grab the knocked out men, Jason went looking for you

Luckily for him, the alley you slipped into was one with a dead end

He found you crouched by a large garbage bin, a cut on your cheek, and a mean little glare

Jason tried hard not to laugh

Look, you were such a small thing at that age, barely ten or so

For someone trying to be intimidating, you sure looked like a puppy

A puppy with rabies that wanted very much to chomp his fingers off but a puppy nonetheless

Instead of laughing, he crouched too, making himself smaller and less intimidating despite his large size, showing you his empty hands when you looked like you were about to bolt or bite

Jesus Christ, you were small

Could you even reach his hips?

In all honesty, he didn't think much at the moment

he didn't stop to calculate the risks or the consequences

not did he really care about how incredibly selfish he was being, trying to mend his own old wounds by using you

All Jason did was pull off his helmet, extend a hand, and ask; "Wanna come with me, squirt? I can get you a much better place than this shithole."

And while you argued that you learned never to trust strangers or follow weird men home, you also knew about Red Hood, the only vigilante to truly care about the poor in Gotham

And he'd shown his face, which, you know, vigilantes never do

So you hissed and tried your best to be a mean little shit

When Jason only laughed, never raising a hand nor his voice, something inside little you calmed down

Adults usually screamed at you when you were being annoying

Some slapped and hit you for glaring at them

But this adult... he was kind

You could tell instinctively, as a kid who barely ever experience any gentleness

You gave in with a grumble and Jason immediately wrapped you in his jacket and pulled you up in his arms

He saw you weren't wearing any shoes and he didn't want you cutting your little feet in some disease ridden glass

You tried to argue

"I'm heavy!" You had squeaked as you tried to push away from his chest

he laughed, annoyingly warm

apparently to him you weighed the same as three and a half apples

He even made a show of throwing you in the air a little when you insisted

Your little squeak put the biggest smile on his face

Jason couldn't lie, you looked fucking adorable when he put you on his motorcycle, his spare helmet so much bigger than your little head

God, he was already growing fond and it hadn't even been thirty minutes since he met you

As he strapped you in as securely as he could, making sure his jacket was closed and the helmet wouldn't slip, a familiar voice spoke up again

Oh, right, she was there the whole time

Oracle asked him if he knew what he was doing

Jason turned his comms off and drove home

He had a room to decorate and a child to feed

And as you wrapped your little arms around his middle, gasping and wow-ing as you saw parts of Gotham you had never seen

Jason knew this wouldn't be a one-time thing

To be continued...

#jason todd #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #gender neutral reader #gn reader #platonic #platonic jason todd x reader #platonic red hood x reader #jason todd x gn!reader #batfamily x reader #dad jason todd

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carnelianly · 2 months ago

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this post contains noncon! please don’t read if that will be upsetting! i would never promote this in real life, and people, men or women, are always unable to consent to any kind of contact while intoxicated!

art is your friend. not your boyfriend. not your dog that you can tug around on a leash like you seem to think you can. he has a girlfriend. he’s madly in love with her. he doesn’t want you. sure, he can acknowledge that you’re pretty and he can tell himself, in the comforts of his own head ‘if i were single, i’d.. definitely go for her’. in another life, maybe he was yours. not in this one.

but he was invited out to the bar by patrick who also invited you and a couple other friends and he doesn’t mind your presence at all. you’re.. you’re nice enough. you may make him a little nervous when you smile like that, but that’s not for him to say. he keeps himself polite but distant in conversation with you.

he drinks a little too much. patrick always suggests shots and what is art supposed to do? say no? look like a pussy?

he downs them anyway, one after another until it’s two hours later and he forgets he’s barely eaten much all day and there’s so much alcohol in his system that he can’t stand up straight.

not to worry, you’re them to catch him before he falls over. patrick and the others are off talking about some nonsense, but you’re being so nice and helpful, you wipe the drool from his chin and fix his hair and he smiles faintly at you in gratitude.

you smile back at him, one arm holding him up since he’s not stable enough to stand on his own, half leaning on the bar counter and half relying on you to keep him up. your other hand is… art isn’t really paying attention. feels weird, though. it’s between his thighs, rubbing the skin softly, almost teasingly. art isn’t coherent enough to understand what’s happening.

you’re smiling at him, telling him everything is gonna be fine, because it will be. everything will be okay. he doesn’t have to worry, you’ll take care of him, keep him safe. there’s so many bad people in this world that might try to hurt him, steal his wallet, take advantage of him. you’re not like that. you’re just gonna keep talking to him like this until it’s time to leave and then you’re gonna take him home. he’s too drunk to get back to his place by himself, so you’ll just let him stay at yours. so gracious of you.

he listens because he has no other choice, and he’s not as much letting you touch him but not able to stop you. your hand is on his crotch, massaging him through his jeans, and he moans and he falls forward into you, resting his head on your shoulder. he’s weak. unable to do anything but take this treatment. your hand that was keeping him upright moves to his ass, always so plump and thick, god, he obviously does it for his girlfriend but he might as well have done it for you, in this moment.

you could so easily take what you wanted from him, especially because you’re sure he’s about to black out and remember nothing. but you’re a better person than that, you tell yourself. you’re just touching, you’re not gonna break anything.

you end up taking him into the bathroom, and he’s too drunk to know what he’s doing, but hey, he kissed you first, even if he’s tripping over his own feet and practically drooling into your mouth. it’s hot, and you feel him up some more. it feels wrong to fuck him, too permanent. he’d definitely know what happened then. he’s smart when he’s sober, smart enough anyway.

in the end, he’s taken home with patrick and a couple of buddies, taking a shared uber home while art is blacked out, while you go off by yourself.

the next time you see art, he definitely does not remember what happened that night. he does feel a little weird around you, but he can’t quite put his finger on why your presence is so.. uncomfortable all of a sudden…

#in an alternate universe where art is dating tashi and is still friends with patrick :3 #art donaldson #challengers #challengers art #art x reader #challengers art donaldson #challengers fic #challengers x reader #challengers smut #p♡

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squishpies · 11 months ago

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Bonten Headcannons

(no NSFW, just character hcs)

-Ran Haitani-

•definitely wears makeup

•probably watched James charles

•learned how to braid his hair from practicing on Rindou

•doesn’t like dating

•definitely a-sexual

•likes to hum to music

•doesn’t have a lot of friends (he considers his brother a friend)

•Halloween is his favorite holiday

•I feel like he’s straight (but maybe likes men idk)

•definitely a flirt

•blocked sanzu because he kept spamming him porn links while ran was in a meeting

-Rindou Haitani-

•doesn’t like to wear his glasses

•somewhat smart in mathematics

•plays Minecraft

•probably a model at some point

•calls ran “Wednesday Adams”

•favorite holiday is Christmas

•listens to Christmas music in July

•scams little kids on roblox

•definitely has tinder

•bi

-Sanzu-

•mf is a MENACE

•has a weird obsession with minions

•scared Rindou once by crawling on all fours and chasing him down a hallway. (He got his ass beat)

•likes sweets, (like cake, cupcakes, candy, etc..)

•plays fortnite religiously and rages. (Then gets yelled at by Mikey)

•has Mikey under the name ‘bae’ on his phone.

•stalks his co-workers (especially the haitani brothers to scare them)

•owns a collection of katanas

•definitely a model

•blocked senju on Twitter because she tried to contact him once

•his favorite holiday is probably Easter 😭

•DEFINITELY still believes in Santa, and Mikey has to put an elf on the shelf around the base.

•likes to listen to lady Gaga and Rihanna

-Mikey-

•angsty mf

•listens to Mindless Self Indulgence

•sick of Bonten’s shit (especially sanzu’s)

•has blocked sanzu on multiple occasions, just for sanzu to steal his phone and unblock himself..

•paints his nails black

•probably had a slight crush on takemichi

•rants about things on Twitter on an alt account

•when he’s bored he eats

•is literally the grinch

•fucking HATES Christmas

•but he secretly likes it just because he gets presents

•listens to Mariah Carey

•collects jordans (shoes)

•gets bitches (literally whenever he’s in public he gets hit on)

-Koko-

•literal wallet

•definitely a sugar daddy

•has been called an ‘old hag’ because of his white hair

•been compared to a snake

•probably a vegan (vegan power)

•wears designer clothing since he’s rich

•is lactose intolerant

•has been diagnosed with OCD and he replies “mental illness isn’t real” 😭

•listens to country

•doesn’t have a favorite holiday

•likes to paint

-Kakucho-

•used to get buzzcuts religiously until he got made fun of for it by Ran and Sanzu and he just decided to let it grow

•still isn’t over Izana

•drowns himself in cologne

•HATES country music

•has gotten into a fist fight with koko once because he played Taylor swift

•listens to katy Perry

•wears highlighter

•needs glasses

•likes to sew clothes

•favorite food is probably something bland like rice

•loves it when it snows

•likes cold weather

#tokyo revengers #hcs #headcanon #tokrev #bonten #tokyo manji gang #mikey tokyo revengers #haitani brothers #ran haitani #rindou haitani #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokrev sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #kokonoi hajime #tokyo revengers kokonoi #kakucho #kakucho hitto

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carolinebreedingaddict · 1 year ago

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9 months ago, you were marching at a women's rights rally, protesting the new misogynistic laws that had recently been put into place. Then a strong, sexist man came up behind you and groped your ass. You were shocked and angered at him, but one thing led to another and he ended up taking you to his place. You were disgusted by his objectifying attitude, and his misogynistic remarks towards you. On the way to his house you lost your wallet and phone, but fortunately he was kind enough to let you stay at his place until you could get back on your feet.

8 months ago, you found out you were pregnant. That sexist pig had somehow coerced you into sex multiple times over that past month, and now you were carrying his kid! The new laws prevented you from getting an abortion without a man's permission, so you were stuck like this until you could figure things out. He would make non-stop comments about how much of a dumb cunt you were, and would touch and use your body as he pleased. It wasn't your fault you got wet from him squeezing your tits!

7 months ago, your pregnancy started to induce visible changes. Your tits had grown considerably, your nipples were sore and tender constantly, and the rest of your body was beginning to fill out a bit. The man continued to treat you like a dumb, worthless idiot, but you got so used to it that the comments didn't bother you anymore.

6 months ago, your belly really started to become visibly pregnant. You were having sex with the man at least once a day, and you finally stopped resisting his advances. I mean, he made you orgasm harder than ever! Might as well enjoy it, right? Whenever he made a sexist comment about you or other girls, you no longer reacted with disgust, opting instead to simply roll your eyes and smirk. You were starting to find his creative ways of insulting women entertaining, and sometimes... even arousing.

5 months ago, he started bringing you out in public with him. The only outfits he had at his house were skimpy, slutty costumes that were definitely a size too small on you. (Although you might have fit in them before you got pregnant. You were only getting bigger at this point.) It was embarrassing how your new, plump curves jiggled with every step. Yet somehow, there was a feeling in the back of your mind that prevented you from complaining. You were beginning to like this. Having men and women alike stare at your now voluptuous body aroused you! Clearly it was because you liked feeling empowered, and totally not because you liked looking like a dumb whore!

4 months ago, your mind began to race with thoughts you never had before. Your boyfriend's "jokes" only made those thoughts more vivid and erotic. In your free time you would scour the internet for degrading, rough porn to get off to. Your libido had increased significantly, and it was getting harder and harder to cum without fantasizing about being inferior. (Because after all, these thoughts were just fantasy...) Your boyfriend would treat you like his personal sextoy, fucking you hard and deep multiple times a day. Unlike masturbation, his fat cock would always make you cum. But the feeling of an orgasm couldn't come close to the feeling of him filling you with his seed.

3 months ago, your boyfriend started suggesting that you dye your hair blonde. Why? Because you were dumb, of course! You gladly followed what he said because he knew what was best for you! You realized that you should just start listening to him, doing what He says because He was so smart and superior! I mean, just like He says: "Girls are dumb cunts!" He said it so it must be true! You looked a lot prettier once you started changing how you looked for Him. Those skimpy outfits looked so cute with your tight, round belly, your swollen, leaking udders, and your fat jiggly ass! He was so right, you are just a dumb cunt!

2 months ago, he started taking you out to women's rights rallies, but instead of bitching and complaining like all those dumb cunts do, you instead did what good cows do and started praising how great Men were right in front of their faces! You jiggled your tits, wiggled your ass, and rubbed your beautiful belly as all those ugly, boring cunts stood in shock! You could tell how much the Men around you liked your display. Their approval was the purest sense of euphoria you could have ever felt!

1 month ago, you started to notice weird things. You were starting to get very forgetful, often forgetting where you placed things, forgetting to do your daily routines, and having trouble remembering the definitions of those really big words that your Husband always uses. Not that you needed to know what words like "contraceptive" or "independence" meant. After all, why try to do all that hard thinking stuff when Men do it so much better? You're much better at doing woman things like sucking cock, cleaning, and pumping out babies!

Now, you're relaxing in your Husband's home, nearing closer and closer to your due date. You're so excited to have your first baby! Even better, you're going to have a Son! That means you get to teach Him how superior He is to all the cows around him! One day, He's gonna find a cunt just like you, one who thinks she's smart, capable, and equal to Men, and He's gonna show her just how dumb, incapable, and inferior she is!

You couldn't be any happier!

#patriarchy kink #pregnancy #caption #gif #story #misogyny kink #women are objects #women are inferior

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 1 year ago

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older is a relative term (not old enough ch.3)

pairing: leon kennedy/reader, chris redfield/reader (light)

cw: smut, age-gap, oral sex, vaginal fingering, infidelity, degradation

summary: Leon comes back into reader's life a few years later. More sex, more complications.

word count: 5.7k

ao3 link

You told yourself you were never seeing Leon again, and you didn’t for quite some time. It was years later when you did. You moved back home, out of the city, for a while. Over-drinking, overspending, and disastrous flings with older men brought you to that realization that you weren’t ready for the world.

When you decided to move back to the city, you were still your fun-loving self, but a smarter young woman now. Smart women end up in bad situations, too, you’d come to find out. You tried your best to stay away from creepy guys, but one night, you found yourself sprinting home, being chased by a stranger.

You didn’t know if you’d get there in time, you’d be out of stamina by then if it weren’t for the adrenaline rush from the terrifying thoughts populating your mind. All you had was your phone, your wallet, and the key to your apartment. No pepper spray or pocket knives to defend yourself with.

You didn’t have a boyfriend or a dad living nearby. You needed a man, which was something you’d hate to admit, but you knew the intimidation of another man would be better than whatever fight you could put up against the guy following you. There was only one man in the city that you trusted: Leon S. Kennedy.

You didn’t know much about his job, but you knew he had some sort of weapons training. You’d seen his gun before. Moreover, you knew the type of guy he was - a good man - and he’d said you could call if you needed anything, right?

His number was still saved in your contacts, so all you had to do was press a button to reach him.

“Please pick up,” you prayed internally, not wanting to waste your breath.

Thank your lucky stars that he did.

Leon heard the phone ring - he’s an old man, he keeps his ringer on - and it was half-past midnight. Telemarketers don’t call this late. Someone needed something from him and he knew it. He picked up, didn't even look at the number, so whether he’d saved it under your name or not, he was surprised to hear your voice.

He’d heard you out of breath before, but not panicked like this.

“Leon,” you said, barely getting his name out of your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taken out of his state of sleepiness.

“I need help.”

“Where are you? Give me your location.”

You didn’t have to beg him, didn’t even have to ask twice. You gave him your current location, which was only an approximation because you were running, and your address, which was your destination.

He got up, grabbed his keys and got in the car. You were lucky that he was dozing off on the couch and hadn’t even taken off his jacket yet. Though he’s known among friends to be a car accident magnet, he tries to be a good driver, rarely speeds if he doesn’t have to because he knows what it’s like to be in a car crash, but now, your life was on the line, so he was racing through the streets. He didn’t see you on the way, so he parked in front of your apartment complex and prayed that this means you got inside safely and not the other option.

He banged on your door and startled you. He heard you shriek, so he reassured you, “Hey, hey, it’s just me. Just let me in. I’m here to help you.”

His voice was soothing, even if you could sense the worry in it. You opened the door and he walked inside, immediately surveying the area after locking and dead-bolting your door. You explained who the man was and how you only sort of knew him, but you were able to give Leon enough of a description for him to figure out the stranger’s identity. Whether it was through legal means or not, Leon would have that man in a position where he wouldn’t have a chance to hurt you or anyone else again, he swore it.

He took you home for the first time, which was fitting considering it was your third date, if you could count him saving you as one. This was for your safety, not just an excuse to see you again - that was just an added bonus.

When you walked into his house, you were surprised by how clean it was, but you were more surprised by the fact a single man lived in a whole house by himself.

“Is it lonely or freeing?” you asked.

“A lot of both,” he answered honestly, “Sometimes I feel like there’s too much space in here for just me.”

“Why not live in an apartment then?”

“I did for a long time, but I wanted to have a place of my own. I wanted to mow the lawn.”

“What?” you asked, barely holding back a laugh, “No one likes mowing the lawn. It’s a chore.”

“Damn right it’s a chore!” He responded with a smile, “It makes you sweaty and it hurts your back.”

“Then why would anyone ever wish for that?”

“I think I wanted something else to complain about,” he said with his eyes far-away in thought, “You know, something that’s not work, something stupid and normal.”

You gazed at him fondly, while he continued.

“A problem I can control,” he said, definitively, meeting your eyes.

“You’re an interesting man, Mr. Kennedy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment?”

“Oh, I have many compliments for you.”

“I’m willing to listen if you’re looking to share.”

“I should start by telling you that you’ve aged well.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Am I old enough for you now?”

“Hmm…”

You expected him to let you down easy, let yourself sit with the idea of rejection. When you saw the genuine indecision in his eyes, you said, “I’ll ask you an easier question: Do you want me?”

“I do, always have.”

“Then,” you pause, letting him fill in the blanks.

“I want to do things differently this time - if we’re doing ‘this’ , that is.”

“I wanna do ‘this’.”

Whatever ‘this’ is, you thought.

“I want to take you out for real this time. I want to get to know you.”

“That sounds good to me, Mr. Kennedy.”

“You’re going to have to start calling me ‘Leon’, too.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes me feel old when you call me ‘Mr. Kennedy’. I’m not your teacher or your friend’s dad.”

You wouldn’t mind if he was.

“Can I be honest?”

“Please.”

“It’s hot. That’s why I call you ‘Mr. Kennedy’.”

“Similar to how you called me ‘Daddy’?”

You blush, surprised he remembered, “You remember that?”

“Mhm.”

“I- uh- yeah, it is like that… if I’m being honest. It’s just more appropriate.”

“Oh? So it’s a kink of yours? You like being on a last name basis?” He teased, looking amused by the whole thing.

“Don’t make fun of me! It’s not about last names… It’s about you being in charge, I guess…”

“You want me to dominate you or something?”

“That makes it sound too rough. I want - God, this is not going to sound good for my case.”

“Go on.”

More timid now, you admitted, “I want to be your good girl. I want you to be proud of me.”

“So the fact that I’m older and more experienced than you is attractive?”

“I know you’re probably not going to want to date me now.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You looked at him, hopeful.

“I never thought it’d be something that I could get into, and I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole ‘Daddy’ thing, but as long as you don’t actually want me to baby you, then I might be able to go along with it… for you .”

“I’ll take care of you, too, you know?” You said to sweeten the deal.

“Yeah? How so?”

“When you have back pain, I can give you a massage, or when your eyesight gets worse, I can read the menu to you.”

He started laughing. “The massage sounds kind of appealing, but I can read on my own, thank you very much.”

“Are you having any aches and pains right now?”

“Now that you mention it…”

He gave you a coy grin that made you think he’d say he needed a ‘dick massage’, but you forgot he has a little bit more maturity than that and a more subtle flirtatious charm. He asked you for a back massage, which you gladly provided.

“Lie down.” You motioned to the couch.

He narrowed his eyes, looking for an ulterior motive to appear across your face. When it didn’t, he asked, “Mind if I take my shirt off?”

“Please do.”

His physique never failed to leave you gawking at him. His arms had gotten even more toned since the last time you’d seen him. He winked at you when he saw the way you were eyeing him.

He lied down as instructed and you loomed over him, deciding to use his butt as a temporary seat after you got a good look at it. You pressed the balls of your palms into his shoulder blades.

He groaned at the feeling of your hands working out the knots in his muscles.

He heard your breathing change and felt your hesitation to continue - it wasn’t not because you didn’t want to hear more noises from him, but because they reminded you of another, more desirable activity - and he said, “Keep going. It feels good.”

His tone was so deep and sultry. There was a clear correlation that he must have at least noticed even if he wasn’t actively trying to get you worked up. You continued to massage his upper back, eliciting more sensual sounds from him.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Doin’ what?” he asked, face happily shoved into the couch cushion.

“You’re moaning.”

“You have magic hands. What can I say?”

“If you think my hands are magic, you should find out what my mouth is like.”

“Sounds like the good girl I knew grew up to be a little bit naughty.”

“I can be a good girl for you, Mr. Kennedy.”

“Yeah? I want proof.”

“How can I prove it to you?”

“Get up.”

You did, waiting expectantly for him to give you more instructions, but he didn’t, he picked you up by the waist, put you over his shoulder, and carried you to his bedroom.

“Whoa,” you said at the sudden movement, but you couldn’t complain - this is exactly what you were hoping he’d do.

Leon’s bedroom was minimalist and organized. He dropped you on the mattress and you noticed how perfectly soft it was and the freshly clean laundry smell of his sheets. Soon, he was atop you, kissing you fervently and you almost forgot your intentions. You wanted to please him.

You pushed him away, gently, but you saw the disappointment in his face. He felt rejected until you reassured him.

“Can I please, Mr. Kennedy, have the honor of going down on you?”

He knew you were exaggerating, but he still felt a bit flattered and it was written all over his rosy cheeks.

“I can’t so no to a girl as pretty as you.”

You stood up, now that you’d untangled yourself from his grasp, intending to get on your knees, but he pulled you up.

“Mm-mm.”

You wanted to huff in frustration, stomp your feet and cross your arms, but you’re too old for tantrums.

“I’m old. I want to lie back while we do this.”

“Okay, your highness, or should I say, your high maintenance .”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, which you found ironic because he was always telling stupid jokes.

“I’m kidding,” you whispered as he inched back on the bed and you crawled toward him.

You hesitated and Leon noticed. He furrowed his brows and cocked his head to the side, hoping you’d notice his confusion.

“I feel like I look weird in this position.”

He scoffed and turned his head to the side trying to avoid laughing at you.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No,” you whined.

He lifted your chin so that he could make sure you were paying attention when he said, “You look so fucking gorgeous right now. You have no idea.”

You shied away from the compliment and he took your hand and placed it on his clothing-covered cock, which looked painfully hard.

“I’m serious,” he said, “Feel what you do to me.”

“All for me?” you said, giving him a coy grin with your newfound confidence.

“All for you, baby.”

Leon reignited the eagerness in your body and you decided you needed to have him. You had his pants off in a matter of seconds and your greedy fingertips were hooked in his waistband. You could barely hold yourself back, but you wanted to see his face when you teased him.

You pressed open-mouthed kisses along the length, still covered by his underwear, while still toying with his waistband. You looked into his eyes, continuing your teasing routine and you watched as desire filled his eyes.

You sat up for a minute and he subconsciously voiced his disappointment in a pathetic noise, short of a whimper.

“Relax,” you said, taking off your top, “I wanna give you the full experience.”

The sight of you in your lacy black bra elicited a pretty noise of satisfaction, yet yearning, from his lips. You were ethereal and untouchable to him in that moment. He wanted to reach out and feel your skin - you could see it in his hands, practically twitching in eagerness. You removed your bra and guided his hands to your tits.

“Even better than I remembered.”

You allowed him to knead your breasts as you removed his cock from its confines and began to stroke him slowly.

“Do you ever think of me? When you’re alone at night, touching yourself?” You asked, seductively.

Normally, he’d be caught off guard, and try to tease you for being so bold, but in moments like these, he’s already prone to running his mouth, so he told you the truth.

“Fuck yes,” he sighed.

“How do you imagine me?” you asked, leaning your head down towards his cock, which was throbbing in your hand.

He was speechless at the sight of you.

You licked a stripe up the length of him from the base to the tip, stopping for a moment to place a kiss on the head.

“Like this?”

“No, not like this. This is way better than I imagined.”

His words transitioned directly into a drawn-out groan as you sucked on the head, circling your tongue around it, enough to feel him twitch.

Looking up at him, you saw sheer desperation in his eyes and pitying him, you took him into your mouth, quickly making your way down.

Taking him inch by inch, you earned incremental groans from him. He didn’t even try to hold back the noises he was making, especially when he felt how you hum around him in response to each one, sending vibrations through his body. It became a sort of call and response between the two of you.

When your nose met his abdomen, he pulled your hair out of your face into a messy ponytail, but he didn't tug, so as not to ruin your perfect rhythm. With your nose nestled in the neatly-trimmed patch of hair above his dick, he hit the back of your throat, making you choke and pull back again.

Leon, with his caring instincts, almost stopped you, worrying about your well being. Until your dewy eyes met his and he watched as mascara tears fell down your face and saliva dripped out of your mouth around him. At that point, he could no longer stop you because, in your messiest state, you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes upon.

He warned you before he came as a courtesy, but you both knew that you were going to have him finish in your mouth. His release came with near-painful satisfaction, strangled moans and labored breath. He fell back fully into the mattress, allowing you to swiftly pull off. You made sure to catch his eye before swallowing, so you could open up your mouth and show him how much he came. He was speechless in awe at that finishing touch. Once you’d wiped your own spit off your chin with the back of your hand, he pulled you up to meet him in a grateful kiss.

Leon, the old man he is, promptly fell asleep with you in his arms. With you by his side, he slept peacefully, without nightmares for the first time in a long time. His soft breathing and steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep as well, splayed halfway across his chest.

You woke up in the middle of the night and unraveled yourself from Leon’s embrace to use the bathroom. Seeing yourself in the mirror, with smudged makeup and messy hair, you couldn’t believe he thought you looked good like this - you looked like a disaster in your opinion, though your appearance also reminded you of yours and Leon’s collective arousal that night, making the heat between your legs return.

When you got back in bed, Leon felt your weight sink into the mattress beside him. You were light, but he was a light-sleeper, especially without you in his arms. As not to disturb him, you lay down beside him, relaxing into his plush pillows. But he wanted you closer. Feeling the blood pooling between his thighs, he realized he must’ve had a pleasant dream about you, even if the details were fuzzy.

He turned to you, realizing he hadn’t returned the favor the night before, he had a goal in mind. He pressed soft kisses to your neck in an attempt to wake you up with sweetness, so he could get your consent before going any further. Luckily, you had only begun to doze off. You would’ve been mad that he’d interrupted your dream about him - if your dream wasn’t going to play out right now, but it was. This was exactly what you wanted.

“Baby, ‘m sorry I fell asleep. I wanna make you feel good,” he whispered in your ear.

You hummed in response, leaning your head to one side, encouraging him to continue kissing your neck.

His fingertips brushed your sides, and he asked, “Can I touch you, baby?”

“Mhm,” you agreed with a smile, pushing yourself up on the bed slightly.

“Shh,” he said, gently pushing you back down, “Relax for me. It’s your turn. Don’t have to do a thing, baby.”

Feeling his thumbs graze your nipples, you let out a moan, soft and sweet.

“Except, lemme hear those pretty noises.”

Leon was lucky that you’d removed your bra earlier, so you were bare-chested in front of him. Allowing you to stay in the warmth of the covers, he ducked under them and took one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. When he received your positive affirmations in the form of whimpers, he sucked lightly on the other.

He would be satisfied continuing this for the rest of his life, but he knew you needed him further down your body, so he made his way down your stomach with wet kisses, until he reached your panties. It was a beautiful surprise that you’d removed your shorts earlier. With his hands on your thighs, he kissed you through the lace fabric, which was already wet with your arousal.

“Can’t believe I forgot how good you taste,” he mumbled into the skin of your thighs.

He removed your panties and slowly began to tease your folds, only giving you the tip of his tongue.

Your hands shot down to his head, giving him the cue to continue. He moaned into your core, pleased at the opportunity to taste you. He began by licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, eliciting a drawn-out moan from you. For the next couple of minutes, he savored you, spending his time on your clit. He hummed in delight, and his noises reverberated through your body. When he could tell you were close, he dipped his fingers in you and replaced his mouth on your clit with his thumb, so he could beg for you. “Please, baby, come for me. Need you to come on my face.”

His voice dripped with desperation and need.

You came hard, legs clamping around his head, nearly suffocating him. After he took you through your orgasm, he emerged from the covers and you both lied beside each other, trying to catch your breaths.

You fell back asleep entangled, but when you woke up, Leon was no longer in bed. You found the t-shirt he’d worn the day before on the floor beside the bed, and you put it on. It smelled like him, which made the soft fabric feel even better on your skin. You found Leon in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Good morning, handsome,” you said with a wink.

“Where’d you get that shirt?” he said with a knowing grin.

“I can’t remember,” you said, smiling coyly.

“It looks good on you.”

He pulled you into a kiss and you could taste the coffee on his lips already.

“What are we doing today?” you ask.

“We? I have something that I have to do for work. I can drive you home, though.”

“But it’s Saturday.”

“And? I have to work.”

You were suspicious about whether Leon actually had ‘work’ obligations because you assumed that he worked a 9 to 5, but even if his activities were personal in nature, it wasn’t your business and you knew that. You weren’t even a couple. There was no right for you to feel upset that he had a life outside of you.

“I’ll call you,” he said when he dropped you off.

You held onto the kiss goodbye for longer than you would have if you’d thought he was telling the truth about calling. You were old enough to know that people lie sometimes.

But he did call. That night he called and asked you out on a real date.

You switched shifts with a coworker that Friday, so that you could have more time before your date with Leon to get ready. You had already gotten the mani-pedi earlier that week, so it was just makeup, hair, outfit, and shaving every centimeter of hair off your body.

You were staring in your bathroom mirror, fixing your eyeliner for the tenth time when your phone buzzed. You picked it up to see a text from Leon.

“Hey, baby, I need to take a rain check for tonight. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

You wanted to get mad and say ‘ how could you do this to me when I spent so much time getting ready ’, but what you said was, “Promise?”

“Promise,” he said with a smiley face.

You repeated the routine the next evening, except, this time Leon was there at 7 pm on the dot. The way he looked in his suit made it worth the wait.

He drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh.

“Do you think they’d mind if we’re a little late for the reservation?”

“We’ll get there on time.”

“But what if we didn’t?”

“Are you worried we won’t?”

Now, stopped at a red light, he turned to you and saw the desire in your eyes.

“After dinner,” he assured you with a squeeze to the thigh.

It was hard to focus on dinner. The food was great, but you wanted Leon.

You did most of the talking with Leon asking the questions. You came to find that ‘getting to know you’ was a one-way street with him. You had to accept that he’d keep his secrets.

You found yourself at Leon’s place at least once a week. Not just for sex - you really enjoyed his time, too. He was a good dinner date, shower buddy, sleeping partner, binge-watching companion to name a few things.

After you’d had an intimate encounter that was memorable in the moments after, and would’ve continued to be if your memory of that day hadn’t been tainted by what you found in his bathroom trash can.

A condom wrapper, which was alarming because you and Leon had opted for a slightly more careless route when it came to sex.

“Leon?” you called from the en suite.

You rarely used his first name, so when you did, it set off alarm bells in his head.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

You heard the springs of the mattress rise with the loss of his weight, and subsequently, his feet hitting the hardwoods.

“What’s up?”

“What is that?”

He looked at you with furrowed brows when you pointed to the waste basket.

“What? Is there a bug or something you need me to kill? Because I don’t see anything.”

“There’s a fucking condom wrapper in your trash.”

“Oh. Sorry about that, babe. I should’ve taken out the trash, but it completely slipped my mind. Hope it’s not too awkward for you.”

“Awkward?”

“Well, yeah, I imagine you don’t want to think about me doing those things with other women.”

“You’re not even going to try to lie your way out of this?”

“Why would I?”

“Cheating is one thing, but doing it so shamelessly somehow makes it worse.”

“Cheating?”

“Yeah, when you sleep with someone else, that’s considered cheating.”

“It would be if we were in a relationship, but we hadn’t discussed being exclusive yet.”

“I thought it was implied.”

“Clearly it wasn’t.”

“Did you not even think about me?”

“Look, I think there was a misunderstanding between us. If you want to talk about being exclusive, then we can do that, but since we hadn’t, I don’t understand why you’re mad.”

“Fuck you, Leon!”

You’re making your way to the front door when he puts his hand on your shoulder and makes you face him.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says in a futile attempt to calm you, “I’m not just going around sleeping with the whole town and obviously I’m being safe about things.”

“When was it?”

You won’t accept the answer anyway, but your morbid curiosity won’t let you leave without asking.

“Yesterday,” he sighs, “but I don’t know why that matters.”

“Did you even change your sheets before we slept together? Did you even shower?”

“Of course I showered! Do you really think I’m that gross?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

Physically, you doubted it, but deep inside, he was pure filth, you thought.

So, you were back at square one: no more Leon. Older men suck, Leon sucks, everyone sucks.

You went to a club one night because that’s something that single women who like to have fun do, right? Plus, you had friends going and didn’t want to spend Saturday night home alone. Leon wasn’t on your mind, especially since Leon was sober. You weren’t going to see him at this club and that was for the best.

You were getting a drink at the bar because Saturday is a special enough occasion for you to grant yourself one or two or three. You were on drink number who the fuck knows anymore when a man - older, a bit more sober, came up next to you. You casually gave him the once-over and decided he wasn’t bad looking. You weren’t subtle about it at all, you’d come to find out, when he called you out for staring. He wasn’t mean about it, though, in fact, it came with a compliment.

Perfect - the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. All the information you’d gotten from him before you pulled him onto the dance floor was his name - Chris.

You hadn't lost your touch, or your body. In fact, you’d gotten better at this - more confident, better coordination in heels from practice. You were wearing an outfit that was similar to the one you wore when you first met Leon in that it covered very little. Your tits were still in your shirt and your ass was mostly covered by your skirt. Plus, whatever was peeking out was probably - hopefully - hidden by Chris’ big hands on your hips.

You were definitely thinking about what he could do to you with those hands. You were grinding your hips into his, hoping you could egg him on enough that he’d ask you to go somewhere private.

But before you could do that, you caught someone’s eye - Leon.

What the fuck? Did he lie about being sober? Why is he here?

There was a girl with him, and she was pretty, but he was looking at you. His expression was unclear - confusion, arousal, jealousy, plain old recognition?

There was only one way to go about this. It didn’t matter whether you preferred the idea of Chris or Leon, you were leaving this room with Chris and you knew it was going straight to Leon’s head - which head, you were unsure, quite possibly both of them.

You didn’t end up in the men’s bathroom this time. Chris is a gentleman who took you to his car, which was parked in a somewhat secluded area, though whatever you were about to do was almost certainly illegal. But nobody was around to arrest you.

You were making out before you actually got in the car and he had two fingers knuckle-deep inside you - you were so right about his hands - while you were pressed up against the side of his car.

You were thinking about the logistics of getting on your knees in the parking lot when you heard footsteps and slow clapping. Deja vu.

It was exactly who you were hoping would come out. At first, you couldn’t believe a man of his age was going to be that childish about the whole thing. I mean, he was the one who cheated on you, right? And you weren’t even seeing each other anymore, so why did he give a fuck what you were up to?

But Chris turned to look at him, too, and said, “Leon, what the fuck?”

Holy shit .

This was going from good to great. You held your tongue. Didn’t want to laugh preemptively.

“Wow, I take back what I said about you - however the fuck long ago that was - seems like the ‘ good girl ’ really was a whore all along.”

“Watch your mouth.”

Chris gave you a brief apologetic look before walking towards Leon with an I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass look on his face.

“How do you like my sloppy seconds, Redfield ?”

You realized that Leon was drunk by the way he slurred his words.

“That’s enough, Leon.”

The fight that went down in front of you should’ve been pay-per-view. This was not some run-of-the-mill drunken bar fight. You should’ve been horrified, but you took a moment to admire both of their skills.

The woman you’d seen sitting next to Leon earlier came outside and broke up the fight, barely acknowledging your existence, no malice, only disappointment at the two men. She took Chris by the arm and was seemingly giving him a stern talking-to as she dragged him across the parking lot. You wondered how she does it.

Leon, alcohol on his breath and blood dripping from his nose, opened his mouth and you were already preparing your exit from this conversation. His words were not what you expect, especially after what had gone down just minutes earlier.

“I’m sorry. That was fucked up of me.”

There were a million unanswered questions in your mind, including: How do you two know each other? Who was that woman? How much have you had to drink? What the fuck were you thinking?

“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”

“I will. If that’s what you want, I will. I know I fucked up. Twice, now. I’m sorry.”

“Twice?”

You realized what he meant before he said it.

“Yeah, right now, and before, when you found… the evidence… in the trash can and I got all defensive instead of being an adult about it.”

“You were right, though, about the fact that we weren’t together.”

Sort of , you thought. It was a real “‘we were on a break’ Ross and Rachel situation” .

“Still, I was a dick to you about it, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“Thank you for apologizing. I’m sorry for trying to make you jealous.”

You were only a little sorry.

“Oh, so that’s what that little stunt was?” His words came with a smirk, thinking he was somehow ‘winning’ now that you’d admitted to being a bit petty.

“I mean, it wasn’t only for that - I wanted to get out and forget about you. Look where that got me…”

“If you want, I can go bargain with Claire to get Chris released from timeout,” he offered, getting all tongue-in-cheek about it, despite the situation.

“You kinda ruined the mood with your interruption.”

You fucked it up completely. Bold of you to even try to lighten it.

“I’m sorry, again. I would make it up to you if I could.”

“Make it up to me?”

Does he mean what you think he does? And if he does, is it just a drunken spur-of-the-moment thing to say? Like the whole “we should go somewhere private” thing years ago was.

“I owe you more than a pathetic apology. Don’t you think?”

“I’m surprised you still care about me… after what you said.”

“You thought I meant that shit?! Not for a second. Who am I to be calling you a whore?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, deciding not to entertain him, “I’m gonna call you a cab home”.

“Who are you? Me? ”

“Maybe. Guess I’ve grown up a little.”

“I’ll accept the cab if you call yourself one. Don’t want you getting into any more trouble tonight, young lady.”

“Alright, dad.”

“Don’t you mean ‘daddy’ ?”

“Not tonight, I don’t.”

You both went home in separate cabs. You win some, you lose some. Leon was back - could be a win, could be a loss. He fought for you. Yeah, he fought . But for you . You couldn’t decide how to feel about that. You weren’t not just going to let him off with that. It wasn’t even about jealousy. The violence was too far. And the ‘whore’ comment was uncalled for. He better be serious about making it up to you.

#leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #fics #miss oranje fics

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ladykissingfish · 6 months ago

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Hidan: Kakuzuuuu! Do ya think I’m pretty?!

Kakuzu: What kind of weird question is that? Have you become a ten year old girl or something?

Hidan: Fuck that. It’s just … I hear the puppet telling blondie how good he looks all the damn time. And shark-dick never stops his gay worship of red-eyes. So what do ya think about ME? Kakuzu: I think ... you're god-tier-level annoying. I think I should have asked Sasori to medicate you years ago. I think you're a hindrance both to my personal goals and the goals of this organization. I think -- Hidan: Yeah, yeah, I KNOW all that, fucker! I'm asking if you think I look good! C'mon, don't be shy! Kakuzu: You want the honest truth? Fine. I think you are, objectively, one of the most handsome men I've ever met in my ninety-one years of living. I think you are aesthetically perfect, from your smooth face to your adorable little toes. I think I have a hard time being alone with you and not ravaging your delicious body with my hands, my tongue, and other parts. Now why the fuck do you want to know?? Hidan, flabbergasted: I ... shit I didn't expect that. Holy fuck. So you think I'm hot, and I think you're hot ... why aren't we dating or fucking or something? Kakuzu: Because I'm ninety-one years old, Hidan. Come on, is your self-esteem so low that you don't believe that you could do better? Mm? Hidan, incredulously: "Do better"?? Holy Jashin-sama, what's the matter with you? Are you so old that you're blind, too? You're EVERYTHING, old bastard! You're hot and you're smart and you can even be funny and shit when you're not trying to. And you're ... *voice gets softer* You're a really good friend, too. Better friend than a piece of shit like me deserves. You're always lookin' out for me and putting my body back together. *laughs* You're an idiot for thinking I could "do better" because -- *Kakuzu pulls down his mask, pulls Hidan forward and gives him a kiss on the lips* Hidan: ... AND you're a great kisser too? Shit, I'm way out of my league! I should -- *Kakuzu pulls his face forward again and kisses him longer this time* Hidan: Hidan: R-right. So this mission, we should finish it and then get something for dinner? It's on me; I'm starving. Kakuzu: *gently touches Hidan's cheek while pulling his own mask back up* If I knew this would all it took to get you to open your wallet, I would have slept with you years ago. Hidan: Keep that in mind because I said the kiss buys you dinner, not dessert ~

#kakuhida #kakuzu x hidan #kakuzu #hidan #naruto #the akatsuki

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katyswrites · 2 years ago

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don't call me 'baby'

PART 5 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), daddy kink, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, slight breeding kink, dirty talk, semi-public sex, swearing, sexual harassment/men being gross, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 9.6k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 5 | our secret moments in a crowded room

In the few weeks that followed, you often found yourself looking around and wondering how this was your life. If it wasn’t so stupidly cliché, you’d actually stop and pinch yourself to make sure this was all real.

After that first night, you started spending more time with Steve. It often went the same way - he’d send you a text in the middle of the day, telling you when to be ready that evening. You’d dress up in something nice he had made for you, more dresses and outfits getting sent over from Valentina throughout the days that followed. He’d come pick you up, but you’d never let him come upstairs - the idea was so embarrassing that the thought of it alone made you want to sink into the floor.

Then, he’d take you out to dinner at some restaurant that you certainly had never dreamed of setting foot in before - you were pretty sure he charged you just to breathe the air inside. The food was always delicious, the wine divine - and the company wasn’t so bad, either. Over dinner, and with the passage of time, you began to learn a bit more about him. You knew that he was born in a small town in Indiana called Hawkins; he was an only child, and got out of that town and moved to Chicago as soon as he could, never looking back; you also knew that he was right - he was practically married to his work. He often only talked about work - what he was dealing with during the day, how Billy and Tommy were insufferable, the places he had lived in and traveled to on business.

As he opened up and talked more, you had started keeping a detailed list in your head of the things you were learning about Steve that he wasn’t necessarily saying:

He rarely mentioned his family. Or any friends really, for that matter.

This didn’t bother you - at least, it shouldn’t have. He didn’t owe you this information - you weren’t his girlfriend, and you both weren’t in any way obligated to delve into each other’s personal lives. In fact, the less you two got into that stuff, the better - that was what you told yourself. But, whenever the topic of his family started to come up organically, his voice would trail off, followed by a quick change of subject. There was something unspoken there, something you were smart enough to not push. And you recognized yourself in him in those moments - somebody who didn’t have a good home life growing up, someone who doesn’t have anybody to turn to. You filed the information away for later, just in case. And, you knew one thing: don’t ask about his family, ever.

Steve loved to give everything he had

This was already obvious - he was sending you thousands of Euros a week, and never hesitated to pay for, well, everything. At first, you had insisted on at least paying for something while you two were out together. But he never even let you look at the bill, and by this point, you didn’t even pretend to reach for your wallet. It felt strange, to have someone take care of you like this - it took some getting used to, but Steve always appeared as if nothing made him happier than spoiling you. The routine had become rather familiar - he’d send you a text that felt almost a bit too formal, asking (or sometimes, telling) you when he wanted to see you next. You’d put on something nice he had bought for you and he’d pick you up outside of your apartment - you never let him come upstairs. Then, he’d whisk you away to some five-star restaurant for dinner or a glamorous bar for drinks. You’d both chat and catch up about however long it had been since you’d last seen one another.

You hardly ever kissed in public spaces, or outside of sex at all. You didn’t hold hands. You didn’t show each other affection when you went out at all, really - why would you? But, if you were feeling a little cheeky, or downright impatient, you’d put your hand on his knee, and let it travel up, up, up - and he’d call for the check like his life depended on it. Then, he’d take you back to his place. And that brought you to the third point on your list:

He was fucking incredible in bed

You had already figured that out after your first time together. But, the paranoid, inherently pessimistic part of you wondered if it was a fluke, or maybe you were just looking through rose-colored glasses because it had been a while for you, and it just felt good to be touched like that by somebody. But, if anything, it was only getting better. As you got to know one another more, and the layers of strangeness between you two were shed, it became less awkward and more comfortable. You found yourself feeling more bold in bed, ready to try new things. And, Steve was eager to please. He would ask you what you liked, what you wanted, and in return you would rile him up, do everything you could and push it as far as you could with one goal in mind: blowing his mind. And there, at least, you were proving to be pretty successful.

One thing was rather constant - he was so vocal in bed. And you were, too - it was like he brought it out of you, his new, eager side. But everything else was different each time. Sometimes, he was soft and slow, taking his time with you. Others, he was rough and fast, practically using you as a plaything as you screamed beneath him. Some nights were like the very first, where he relinquished control and let you have your way with him. Other times, though, he liked to take control and manhandle you, and you let him.

Tonight was one of those nights. He had taken you to a rooftop restaurant, the warm early June air lending itself to the setting perfectly. Rome sprawled out in front of you, with its warm lights and bustling streets. Dinner had been delicious, the wine spreading through you and making you feel just a bit warm and mellow. It was perfect - and you wanted nothing more than to leave. Because god, he looked good, dressed in all-black with his button-down undone on top, letting his chest hair peek through whenever he’d reach up to run his hands through his hair. So, when he finally did take you home, you had practically jumped him as soon as you got in the elevator in his building. And, he had wanted it just as badly as you. It was how you ended up here, right now, writhing beneath him as he pounded into you. He was merciless, your legs wrapped around his back to pull him closer, deeper. His hand was between you, finger circling your clit in a way that was driving you insane. You thrusted up to meet his hips, and the angle was just right to make you scream out his name.

“Yeah? You liked that?” he gasped, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he hovered over you.

“Fuck, yeah - you feel so good, you cock feels so - ah! Just like that - yeah, oh my god -”

“Yeah, look at you - all fucked out, just for me. Are you gonna come again? Are you gonna come on my cock, like a good girl?”

Again. Because he had thrown you on the bed and eaten you out like a starving man, having you come undone in a matter of minutes. He had hardly given you a moment to recover before he was fucking you, and your mind couldn’t focus on anything other than Steve.

“Yeah,” you moaned, head thrown back as he fucked into you. “I’m gonna come on your cock - I’m your good girl -”

“Damn right you are,” he said gruffly, continuing his assault on your clit.

You had never really done this in bed before him, either - the pet names, the dirty talk, all of it. It had felt foreign, at first, but you realized you were into it. There was one thing you hadn’t tried yet that you wanted to - there was a chance Steve would love it, or absolutely hate it. You had almost said it a few times, just to test the waters. But each time, something stopped you, and you found yourself holding back. Now, though, most rational thought had left you - all you could think about was Steve, and how good he felt, the stretch of him, the filthy things he was whispering in your ear -

“I’m so close,” you gasped, walls clenching and fluttering around him as you felt the heat building in your core. “Oh my god -”

“Come on, baby - cum on my cock. You know you want to - I can’t wait to cum in this pussy, fill it up - cum for me, right on this cock -”

“Yes,” you cried, your orgasm hitting you like a tsunami. You arched your back, pressing yourself into him as the pleasure washed over and spread through you.

“I’m coming, daddy, oh my god -”

His thrusts faltered for a second, and he nearly fell forward on top of you before catching himself on his forearms. You squeezed and convulsed around him, and he let out a guttural groan as he spilled into you. He buried his face into your neck, sucking on the skin there as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts before stilling. You both stayed that way for a few moments, your fingers still pressed into his shoulder blades as you both let your breathing get back under control. You stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding. After a few moments, he pulled out of you and rolled over, pulling the sheet up to cover you both. He flopped next to you, and you heard the rustle of his head turning on the pillow to look at you. Steve’s gaze burned through your skull, but you stayed staring at the ceiling, terrified of what you might see if you brought yourself to look at him.

Did he hate it? Was he just trying not to laugh at you? Or, was he just concerned? You did know one thing - you had liked it. More than you thought you would. What did that mean?

You felt something brushing your arm, and you looked to see that it was his hand, gently running the backs of his fingers up and down your bare skin.

“You okay?” he asked softly. You finally brought your eyes to meet his, and sighed. He was difficult to read, even now.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I just - sorry about that.”

He furrowed his brow.

“About what?”

You cast your eyes down, fiddling with your hands.

“About - well, like - I just wanted to try it out. But, like - if you weren’t into it -”

“Whoa, hey,” he said soothingly. “I - I definitely was into it. It was really fucking hot - this might be dumb to say, but I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life.”

You felt your face heat, like you were fourteen and found out someone had a crush on you or something.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling.

“Good,” you breathed. “Because, I really want to do it again.”

Before he could say anything else, you were rolling over and kissing him, and not a lot of real talking happened after that.

****

Afterwards, you were lying in his bed sipping a glass of wine, his arm around you as he scrolled through his phone.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Fucking work - why Brenner thinks he can email me at midnight, I have no idea -”

“It’s okay,” you said, shrugging. “I get it.”

It really was fine. He didn’t do this very often, at least, not as often as you’d expect someone with his job to. It was par for the course, you reasoned. Then, you sat up a bit straighter.

“Wait - nearly midnight? Don’t you have work in the morning?”

He sighed, throwing his head back against the headboard and shutting his eyes.

“Yes,” he groaned. “Wish I didn’t. But I do.”

“What time do you have to get up?”

“I don’t know, I usually set my alarm for a little after six.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, and shook your head.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I really should go, then -”

That was another thing - you never spent the night. He never said you couldn’t, exactly. But it felt strange - he usually had to be up early, and if you actually stayed over… you weren’t sure what that made you to him. So it was easier to just leave after, usually with a promise from him that you’d hear from him again soon.

“Oh, right,” he said quickly. “That’s fine - let me just call my car.”

You nodded, finding your dress where it laid on the floor, face flushing at the memory of Steve practically tearing it off of you earlier. As you shimmied into it, you heard him say behind you -

“Oh! By the way - I have a question for you. A proposition, I guess.”

You spun around as you fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Are you free on Saturday night?” he asked.

“I definitely can be. Why, did you want to grab dinner?”

Grab dinner was certainly one way to describe what you two usually did. A euphemism, at best. But he just smirked, and shook his head.

“Not exactly - there’s a work event that I’m going to. A charity gala, actually. It’s a black-tie sort of thing. But, I have a ticket, and I get to bring a plus one. I haven’t - I mean, I definitely would -”

He sighed, running a hand through his now-mussed hair, thanks to you.

“It might be kind of terrible, and you can 100% say no if you don’t want to. It’ll probably be pretty boring, mostly just my colleagues and our clients and investors, but the meal is paid for, and it has an open bar, there’s dancing -”

He was rambling, and not exactly meeting your gaze, and you realized that he was actually nervous.

“Yeah, sure,” you said simply. “That’d be nice.”

He stopped mid-sentence, meeting your eyes.

“Really? Because, you really don’t have to, if you’d rather do something fun with your friends or something -”

“Steve - I said I’ll go. I want to go.”

He visibly relaxed, and nodded.

“Okay - great. I’ll have Valentina make something for you to wear - like I said, it’s really formal. I’ll take care of it.”

“Right,” you said, popping your leg up as you shoved your foot into your shoe. “Thanks for that.”

He waved a hand as he typed away on his phone with the other.

“Always, you know that.”

Always. He was right - he always took care of you. Why, you had no idea. But you were finally starting to accept that this was your life now, and maybe something nice was happening to you just because it was. It was a new feeling.

“Okay, well, let me know the details and… I guess I’ll see you Saturday?”

He looked up at you, thinking for a moment.

“Yeah, probably. I really want to try to see you again between now and then, but… I do have that client dinner on Wednesday, and I’m going over to Paris until Friday - but, I’ll text you, yeah?”

You nodded, pasting on a smile that you hoped conveyed nonchalance.

“Yeah - whatever works. Just let me know.”

“Great - here, let me -”

And he was following you through his apartment to the door, wearing only in his boxers, you as a more disheveled version of the girl who had arrived earlier. He always walked you to the door, but you insisted on seeing yourself down to the lobby. Then, as usual, he pecked you on the cheek, and asked you to text him when you got home safely.

And, as usual, you couldn’t help but feel just a bit empty as you rode the elevator down. You knew it was stupid - this was the whole deal. And, if you were being honest, this arrangement was the best thing that could’ve happened to you this summer. You were richer than you’d ever been, wanted for nothing, and were having fantastic sex on a regular basis.

Still, after a silent drive home, thanking the driver, bounding up the stairs to your flat, and hopping right into the shower, you couldn’t help but feel more alone than ever.

You hoped that the hot water would wash away the feeling, just as it washed sweat, makeup, perfume, and Steve down the drain. But it didn’t. It never did. No, Steve clung to you like the lingering smell of smoke on old fabric.

You flopped into bed, exhausted, but not before sending the promised text:

home and showered thanks again - let me know about saturday

It was past 1am now - you figured he probably was asleep by now, with his workday mere hours away. Instead, just as you started to drift off to sleep, your phone lit up on the nightstand:

Always - I’m glad you made it home safe. I’ll come by to get you at 6:30 p.m. on Saturday. Valentina will have the dress sent over before then. I’d suggest wearing the nicest jewelry you have, too - feel free to use my credit card. Sorry I have to work/travel a lot this week. But I’ll see you on Saturday.

You rolled your eyes at his text - the formality of it all made it seem like he was 80 years old sometimes. You sent back a quick reply:

sounds good i’ll try to look decent haha

You saw that he was typing for several minutes, starting and stopping, before settling on something short:

You’ll look beautiful. You always do.

You felt your face heat, and suddenly wanted to bury your face in your pillow. Instead, you pivoted the conversation:

ok - now go to sleep! i didn’t think you’d still be up lol

A moment, then a reply from Steve:

I wasn’t able to sleep until I knew you were home. It’s not a problem - sleep well.

Another three dots appeared like he was going to add something else, but then they vanished. You frowned, then wrote back:

ok - goodnight and sleep well too

He replied one last time before you even had the chance to put your phone back on your nightstand:

Goodnight. I always sleep better after I’ve been with you.

You flipped your phone over and turned it down, not daring to look at it again. You decided not to dwell on the meaning of that last text. Logically, it’s just him trying to make a joke, something about being tired out from the sex. That thought is what you settled on as you drifted off to sleep. Because, if you tried to read into it any more, you knew you’d be digging yourself into a hole you couldn’t get out of - and that was enough to make any person go insane.

*****

You didn’t hear much from Steve for the rest of the week. He worked late most evenings, and traveled to Paris for two days to close some big deal that you only vaguely understood the workings of. On Friday night, you finally got one text:

About to board my flight back. Your dress will be delivered in the morning, so keep an eye out for that. I’ll come to pick you up around 6:30. Also - don’t wear earrings.

You raised an eyebrow at that last part. But, Steve always had his reasons, and you knew well enough by now to not question it.

Sure enough, late Saturday morning, your buzzer rang. You signed for the delivery and hauled the garment bag inside, the now-familiar brand label embroidered on the side. Robin was sitting cross-legged on the couch, still in her pajamas and munching on an apple.

“Is that it? For your thing tonight?”

“Yeah,” you replied, hooking the hanger over the top of your door. “Want a peek?”

Robin nodded vigorously and bounced up from the couch, looking over your shoulder as you unzipped it.

“Oh, wow,” she said. “It’s -”

“Yeah,” you finished. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s sexy, is what it is,” Robin finished, taking another big bite out of her apple as she leaned against the wall. “And stupidly fancy. Are you sure he’s not taking you to, like, Buckingham Palace or some shit?”

You rolled your eyes, zipping the bag back up.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

As the day rolled from afternoon and hurtled closer to the evening, you took your time getting ready. You treated yourself to a long, hot shower, taking care to really soak in the suds as the water washed over you. You did everything meticulously - your hair, skincare, makeup, and had even taken time earlier in the afternoon to go out and get your nails done. You had been so used to just painting them yourself at home, that it had felt downright luxurious to have someone do it for you. You weren’t sure why you were so concerned, at first. You were comfortable enough with Steve by now that you weren’t too worried about impressing him - no, you told yourself, impressing Steve can’t be important to me.

You thought about how he had asked you, how nervous he had been, and the relief on his face when you agreed to come - this event tonight, it was important to him. And, the least you could do was show that you cared, too.

Then, came the dress. At first, it had seemed a bit simple - it was black, made of a soft, satin-like material. But, once you slipped into it, you understood - the form-fitting, floor length gown left little to the imagination. The neckline plunged, far past your sternum, while a giant slit ran up the leg on the right side. The back plunged down too, the floor-length fabric soft and light against your legs. You tied the halter neck, taking a step back to actually admire yourself. You were never really someone who ever had an opportunity to dress up like this, well, ever. You opted to wear the necklace Steve had gifted you that very first night, smirking at the memory. By the time you were pulling on heels, it was nearly time to leave. Sure enough, at 6:30 on the dot, your buzzer was ringing, and you were scrambling for your (brand new) clutch, hurriedly shoving your phone and a spare lipstick into it and making a beeline for the door.

“Whoa!” Robin called from the kitchen, her jaw hanging in the doorway. “Look at you! Hot to trot!”

You smiled, and goddammit, you believed her.

“I’m not going to lie - might be the best thing he’s had made for me yet.”

“I’ll say,” Robin remarked, stepping back to take you in. “Well, have fun. And, tell me everything when you come back, and I’ll live vicariously through you, yeah?”

You nodded, laughing as you made your way out the door, doing everything you could to not run down the steps.

When you reached the steps, there he was - in a goddamn tuxedo. His hair is a bit tamer than usual, and he’s devastatingly handsome. The second he saw you, his eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle.

“Christ - look at you,” he said quietly.

You grin, giving him a self-indulgent little spin.

“You like it?”

He nodded, his gaze traveling up and down your figure.

“I’ll say. You look incredible, seriously.”

You felt your face heat, and opted to just shrug.

“Well, some crazy rich dude had this made for me, so I guess I did my best to clean up nice.”

He chuckled, and held out his hand.

“Shall we?”

You took it, and he held you steady as you made your way down the steps, popping open the car door for you as you slid inside.

As the car peeled away from the sidewalk and made its way down the cobblestone streets, Steve cleared his throat next to you.

“So, before we get there - I thought it’d be nice if you wore these, maybe.”

You let your eyes fall down to where he held a velvet box in his hands, popping it open to reveal a set of diamond drop earrings. But, they are perhaps the most stunning, sparkly set of diamonds you’ve ever seen - even in the dim light of the car, they glisten like dew on the grass on a bright summer morning, impossible to look away from. You felt your jaw go slack, tracing the earrings gently with your fingers.

“Oh, Steve - they’re beautiful. Seriously, I - thank you,” you said sincerely, your voice softer than you meant for it to be.

You extracted them from the box and started to put them on, and you felt Steve’s gaze on you.

“Where did you buy these?” you asked, hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Oh, well - I actually had them made. One of our clients - his wife is a gemologist, so she hand-selected the stones, so they’re top-tier, apparently. And they’re custom, so… nothing in the world is quite like them. At least, so I was told. I picked them up while I was over in Paris.”

You froze, eyes widening as you turned to face him.

“Wait, seriously?”

He nodded, shrugging.

“Well, yeah. I just thought it’d be nice to do, you know?”

Your instinct was to reject them, unable to even imagine how much they could have possibly cost. They felt wrong on your ears, like you shouldn’t have been wearing anything remotely close to them on your body. But you looked back at Steve, and he was staring at you like you’d hung the stars, and you realized that a rejection was exactly the reaction he was afraid of. So instead, you smiled, and reached out to take his hand in yours.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “They’re beautiful.”

He smiled softly, casting a quick glance down at your clasped hands - somehow, the gesture suddenly felt entirely too intimate, despite everything you two had done together, and you both withdrew at the same moment. Unsure what to do, you folded your hands in your lap, and stared out the window as silence fell.

****

The rest of the car ride was rather quiet, with only the occasional comment or joke from Steve, the city flying past. As the car slowed to a stop in front of the hotel, you suddenly felt a wave of anxiety start to rise in your chest - you were way out of your depth. As you spotted a line of limousines and groups of people dressed to the nines, it occurred to you that you didn’t necessarily belong here. As if he sensed it, Steve reached across the seat and gently placed a hand on your knee.

“Hey - it’s okay. For the most part, it’ll be boring as Hell, with so-so, overpriced food and a lot of business talk. But, I’ll stick by you, and I’ll fill you in on everything as best as I can, if you want, yeah?”

You took a deep breath, and nodded slowly, casting another look out the window.

“Yeah, okay - you lead the way, Harrington.”

He put on a bracing smile, and moved to help you out of the car. Once outside, he lifted his bent arm. You smiled, hooking your own arm through it and letting him lead you to the grand steps. As you made your way to the entrance, you felt like everyone was staring at you - were they wondering who you were? Or, what you were to Steve? Did they know? Were they judging? Or, were they just curious?

You tensed a bit, and felt Steve’s breath on your ear as he leaned in close and whispered, “Just so you know, you’re the most beautiful girl here. Not even a contest.”

You found that difficult to believe, the confidence you had had back at your apartment almost completely evaporated. Still, you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach flipped at his words, and you did your best to fight a smile as you pressed yourself closer to his side.

Once checked in, you and Steve found yourselves in a grand ballroom, with ornate golden ceilings and Renaissance-era murals adorning the walls. A pianist played a grand piano on the corner, the room full of people milling about with drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

You stood there for a moment, taking it all in. You probably looked like a child, staring up at the ceiling and around the room like you’d never seen anything like it. But, to be fair… you hadn’t.

Steve whispered in your ear again, your heart racing at the feeling of his lips ghosting your skin.

“I know I said I wouldn’t leave your side, but can I make an exception for going to the bar? I can get you a glass of champagne, or whatever you want.”

“Yeah, champagne is fine for now. Thanks.”

He nodded, squeezing your arm as he pulled away.

“Great. We’re table 27, by the way - make your way over there, and I’ll find you, yeah?”

You nodded, eyes following him as he turned away and made his way through the crowd. You felt stupid, like a kid who had been separated from her mom at the grocery store. But, you didn’t know a single person, and even if you did…what the fuck would you talk about?

So, you opted to follow Steve’s suggestion and make your way across the room, scanning able placards as you searched for 27.

Some guests were sitting at their tables, chatting over cocktails as you shouldered past. When you finally located the table, your smile faltered - because, there were already some people sitting there. You recognized them immediately, the sight causing a sense of dread to settle in the pit of your stomach.

It was Billy and Tommy, looking just as slimy as that night weeks ago when you first laid eyes on Steve. Only now, Steve wasn’t here, and if you recognized them, there was a damn good chance they’d know who you were, too.

Praying for a miracle, you continued to make your way to the table, forcing a small smile when they finally noticed you. It was Billy who caught your eye first, raising an eyebrow at the sight of you. You noticed him elbowing Tommy, whispering something into his ear. The other man’s eyes widened, and he hurriedly whispered something back into Billy’s ear, causing the two of them to snicker.

Before you could even attempt to sit, Billy laid back in his chair, smirking up at you.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Harrington couldn’t get a real date, so he brought our cocktail waitress. Truly, he never ceases to amaze me.”

You heard the roaring of your blood rushing through your ears, but kept your face neutral.

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy said, grinning maliciously. “How’s it feel to be among another tax bracket, sweetheart? To see how the other half lives, huh?”

“C’mon, Tommy,” Billy drawled. “She’s probably just a good lay - you know Stevie, he’s probably whipped -”

“How’d you afford that dress with your waitressing tips, huh?” Tommy asked, face painted in a smarmy smile. “Or, did your new boyfriend buy it for you? Are ya milking him for all he’s worth?”

You didn’t say anything, not wanting to engage. If you were being honest, you didn’t even know what you’d say to them - one one hand, you might completely lose your temper, and the last thing you needed was to cause a scene. On the other hand… you were afraid you might cry. And the last thing you needed was to give them the satisfaction. You did your best to ignore their comments, their endless taunts, and the way their eyes traveled up and down your body. A million and one intrusive thoughts were running through your mind, ranging from you running out in a fit of tears to planning the men’s elaborate murders. Then, a soft grip on your elbow, a familiar warmth by your side.

“Hey,” Steve said, nonchalantly reaching over to place your drink in your hand while wrapping his other arm around your waist. “Thanks for finding the table, babe. Nice spot - the company could be better, though,” he added, eyes locking with Billy on that last part.

Billy’s smile faltered, but only for a moment.

“Harrington! We were just telling your - well, your - this lovely lady here, just how happy we were to be making her acquaintance again. A surprising sight, that’s for sure.”

Steve plastered on a smile, pulling you just a little closer to his side.

“Yes, well, you know what I’m not surprised about? That you’ve come with a young girl on your arm, and Mrs. Hargrove is nowhere to be found! Funny how that goes, right?”

Billy’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms, making a gruff noise as he turned his attention back to the dinner menu in front of him.

You let out a shaky breath, finally finding Steve’s eyes for the first time since he came back over. He gestured for you to take a chair, pulling it out and helping you in as he did.

When he sat himself down between you and his colleagues, he leaned close and whispered, “You okay?”

You bit your lip, pausing for a moment before nodding slowly.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Worse than what? What were they saying to you?”

You waved him off, staring ahead to avoid his gaze.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll live.”

You felt Steve’s hand find your knee under the tablecloth, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry. I thought there was a chance they’d be at our table, but I was really hoping they wouldn’t. I can kill them though, if you want.”

You laughed dryly, placing your hand over his under the table.

“I think I’ve got that covered, but if I need an alibi, I’ll use you.”

That earned a hearty chuckle from Steve, and you started to sip your champagne. If the first part of the evening was an early indicator, you’d need to start drinking now, and not stop.

*****

Steve hadn’t been lying - this thing was pretty boring. You and Steve spent the rest of the cocktail hour milling around, actively avoiding the company at your designated table for as long as possible. It was mostly you standing by Steve’s side, smiling and acting engaged in conversation as he chatted with colleagues and clients. By the end of it, you really started to understand how he’s worked his way up in the corporate world at such a relatively young age - he was born to do this. He was charming, and smart, and had a way of schmoozing every person he encountered. It was easy to be drawn to him, to want to listen to anything and everything he had to say. You felt practically invisible next to him, but strangely weren’t too bothered by it because… you understood. It was impossible to move more than a few feet without someone in a suit stopping him, offering a firm handshake and a clap on the back before devolving into business talk.

Steve also knew how to clue you in, whispering in your ear every time you approached a new group - their names, who they worked for, who was here with their spouse or mistress,who screwed who out of a deal, and who was an asshole to steer clear from. If gossip was a real love language, Steve Harrington was fluent. And, you had to admit that it kept things light and fun, at the very least.

Steve would make an effort to introduce you to everyone, referring to you as my date tonight, which was fair enough. Still, you shifted uncomfortably when the men looked you up and down, the women regarding you with curiosity at best, an air of disdain at worst. You switched rather quickly from champagne to Old Fashioneds, doing everything in your power to not seem like you were just downing the liquor. If Steve noticed, he said nothing. By the time dinner rolled around, you were feeling a bit beyond tipsy, and ignored the other men sitting at your table. During dinner, there were a series of speeches, most notably from Dr. Brenner. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy when he was in view, even if he was all the way at the front of the room. There were a few times you could have sworn he was staring right at you, enough that you had to tear your eyes away and stare down at your duck confit, picking at it with your fork.

Then, came the dancing - a live band came out, a good one, and soon enough, everyone was up and making their way to the middle of the ballroom. Steve got up, holding out his hand towards you.

“Care to dance?”

You giggled, taking his hand and letting him help you out of your seat.

“Steve, I’ve got to tell you something,” you whispered as you made your way to the dance floor.

“Yeah?”

“I’m kind of a terrible dancer,” you admitted.

“Good,” he replied. “Because I am, too.”

Then, he took one of your hands in his, placed the other on the small of your back, pulling you close to him.

It wasn’t dancing, exactly, more swaying and shuffling around. But the music was good, and Steve was so close, so it was enough. After a few minutes, Steve whispered, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Just thinking. And, I think I had a little too much to drink,” you admitted sheepishly.

Steve chuckled, squeezing your hand as you turned with him.

“Thanks, for coming with me tonight. I know it’s kind of boring, but… having you here actually made me want to come.”

He said it softly, but so sincerely, and you felt your stomach flip at the tenderness of it all.

“Yeah?” you asked.

He nodded, glancing quickly around the room, before turning back to you and leaning even closer.

“I usually kind of hate these things. But, they’re important to show my face, so… it’s nice to not have to do it alone.”

You didn’ know what came over you, but you reached your hand up to the nape of his neck, and pulled his lips to yours. The kiss only lasted a moment, but when you pulled away, the look Steve was giving you made you start to feel even more dizzy, something warm crackling in your chest.

“What was that for?” he breathed.

You shrugged.

“For inviting me. And the earrings. And the dress. And… everything else.”

Then, something unreadable passed his features, and his eyes darkened.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, his voice suddenly much lower. “In a few minutes, they’re going to start rolling out dessert, and people are going to start dispersing, and they’re going to give out some awards and make more speeches. But you are going to go to the ladies’ room.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because,” he murmured, “it’s the part of the night everyone actually comes here for. So the bathrooms will be empty. Nobody would even notice we’re gone.”

Understanding, you felt your face flush, and a cheeky grin started to ghost your lips.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Harrington?”

He shrugged.

“Is it working?”

Your hand on his waistband answered his question.

******

“Oh, fuck - Steve - right there! Fuck, do that again -”

You had your back pressed against the stall, face buried in Steve’s neck. Your dress was hiked up your leg, panties pushed to the side as his fingers pumped in and out of you. Your breast hung out of the dress, which had been fighting to cover you up to begin with. His thumb vigorously massaged your clit, while his two fingers curled inside that perfect spot within you. You moaned, fingers gripping the back of his tux.

“You’ve gotta be quiet, baby,” he growled, lips pressed to your ear. “Anyone could just walk in and hear us.”

You pressed your lips to his neck and sucked at the skin there, sure to leave a bruise in the morning. But it was too good, too much, and he was right - you were in a stall in the women’s bathroom, and anyone could come strolling in and hear you. But you weren’t used to being quiet with Steve - you wanted to scream, to call him the pet names he so dearly loved, but you couldn’t.

“I bet you love this,” he whispered, coating his fingers in your slit before diving back in. “Does it get you off? The idea of fucking yourself on my fingers in public? Do you want other people to know what a dirty girl you are? I bet you fucking do - if you’ve gotta scream, baby, make sure it’s my name, so everyone in this fucking place knows that I’m the one making you feel this good -”

As he rambled, he picked up the pace, fingers pumping with more fervor as you bucked into his hand. You threw your head back, letting it hit the door of the stall as you felt your climax building in your core.

“More,” you gasped, hips bucking. “Please, Steve -”

“Can you take another? You sure, baby?”

You nodded weakly, and he added a third finger, pumping and stretching you until you could hardly stand it.

“If only you could see yourself,” he whispered. “All fucked-out in your dress, wearing those million-dollar earrings - shit, you’re a fuckin’ wet dream, baby.”

Before you could process anything he was saying, your orgasm was hitting you, fast and hard. You squeezed around his fingers like a vice, the pleasure rushing through you from head-to-toe. Your hand flew to your mouth, biting down as you came to stifle the scream.

“There you go, baby,” he whispered. “Fuckin’ perfect - you’re gushing on my hand, you minx.”

You laughed shakily, letting your head fall forward onto his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked. You nodded weakly, nuzzling into his neck.

“Yeah - I just need a second.”

Your breath hitched as he slowly withdrew his fingers, your cunt still sensitive. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, Steve held up his slick-soaked fingers, and began to lick them clean.

“You taste fuckin’ amazing, baby,” he whispered roughly. “Makes up for missing dessert. We should probably get back, though.”

You smirked.

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone yet?” you asked.

“Probably not. But they might, soon. And, people around here talk.”

“Well, I’ll be quick, then.”

Before he could ask what you meant, you were shoving him against the wall of the stall, fumbling with his belt, and sinking to your knees. Soon enough, it was Steve’s turn to try to be quiet, much to your satisfaction.

******

You and Steve didn’t stick around at the gala much longer. He had gone back to the table first, leaving you to fix your makeup and pull yourself together to the best of your ability. Your swollen lips and smudged mascara, rumpled dress and newly-forming bruise on your collarbone were enough to delay your return. After you got back, though, Steve could barely keep his hands off of you. If anyone had noticed your absence, they gave little indication; you figured they must have suspected something though, considering you had to hurriedly wipe away your lipstick stain from Steve’s jaw, much to his embarrassment.

He pulled you to the dancefloor again, hand splayed across the small of your back as he held you close. It occurred to you that he was probably also just a bit drunk. He seemed a little more carefree, the stiff, formal facade fading with each passing moment.

“Hey, Harrington?” you whispered in his ear.

“Mm?”

“D’you think we can get out of here?”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The journey from the party to Steve’s apartment was a bit of a blur - his hands snaking under your dress in the car ride home, his lips on your neck, your fingers in his hair. You both practically stumbled into the elevator, wasting no time in shedding each other’s clothes before you even made it to the bedroom.

Despite the initial urgency, Steve took his time with you that night. He kissed you everywhere, whispering filthy prayers into your skin along the way. He touched you like he’d never get a chance to again, tasted you like he was starving to death - and you let him, writhing and moaning beneath him as he had his way with you. You had come twice before he even had a chance to properly take his clothes off. When he finally slipped inside of you, he lost it, so worked up that he was coming undone in minutes.

He moaned filthy praises into your skin, calling you a good girl and gasping out your name. It was a hazy mess of sweat and skin and screams, more drunk on each other than the liquor by the time it was done.

Afterwards, you laid across his covers, the room a bit too warm, the scent of summer air and sex invading your senses. You were only wearing the earrings he had given you earlier in the evening, the diamonds weighing a bit on your ears. But he had asked you to keep them on, and who were you to say no? You were exhausted, still breathing heavily when he re-entered the bedroom, clad only in his silk boxers and carrying two glasses of wine.

“You trying to get me drunk, Harrington?” you asked, laughing breathily.

“I think it’s too late for that,” he reasoned, sliding onto the bed next to you.

“Nope, pretty sure it’s all out of my system now. Thanks for that.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you as you nuzzled into his side. You were worn out, the tiredness seeping into your bones as you melted into him. He didn’t even bother actually handing you one of the glasses, your eyelids growing heavier as you let your cheek fall onto his chest, the dull feeling of his heartbeat against your ear pulling you into sleep like a lullaby.

You knew you needed to get home, not even sure of exactly how late it was. But you just needed a few minutes, and maybe a cigarette, before you could even think about moving from this bed.

It was Steve who broke the comfortable silence, after a few moments.

“Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Mm,” you mumbled. “Yeah - I mean, it had its moments, but… I liked where it ended.”

He laughed, the rumble in his chest running through you, and you smiled into his skin.

“Thank you, for taking me,” you added. “And for everything, I guess.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said. “I mean, I usually hate those things. They can be stiff, boring, the food is only okay, and it just feels like another day of work in the middle of the weekend. But - having you there… I actually enjoyed myself. I can’t really remember the last time that happened.”

You shifted a bit until you were on your stomach, chin on Steve’s chest as you looked up at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded slowly, brushing some stray hair out of your face.

“Why do you work that job? I mean, I know the money’s good - clearly - but… you hate it. Every time you talk about it… you seem miserable, Steve.”

You had been thinking about it for a while, but not brave enough to say it. But you were tired, still a bit tipsy, and it had been eating away at you. He sighed, leaning back against the headboard.

“It’s a long story. But, honestly? It’s because of my dad.”

Oh. Family - this territory wasn’t breached a lot. But, you stayed silent, seeing if he’d off up any more information.

“He and I - we never exactly got along. He’s not all bad, it’s just - I think he and I are a bit too similar sometimes, to be honest. I was always pretty well-off growing up, and I think he wanted me to be like him - go to a good college, go into business, get a good white-collar job. And that’s what I did. He actually knew Brenner, from way back in the day. Call it nepotism, or networking, or whatever you want. But, yeah, I guess my dad kind of had an in with HNL. And I got an offer right before I finished college - I would’ve been an idiot to say no. And, Brenner’s retiring soon, probably, so if I play my cards right, I might make CEO before I’m 35.”

He didn’t look at you much as he said it, reciting the information like he was reading it from a textbook. You gently brushed your fingers across his skin, the chest hair tickling your knuckles as you continued to stare up at him.

“But… you hate it. I can tell.”

Steve nodded, slowly.

“Yeah - I guess I do. But I’m also pretty damn good at my job. So - it feels like the right thing, I guess.”

He didn’t sound too sure, but you felt his heart rate quicken, noticed the way his eyes were shifting away from you, and that alone was enough to know to change the subject.

“Okay - then, I have a totally different question,” you said.

“Yeah?”

“In the bathroom, back at the party - please tell me these earrings didn’t actually cost you a million dollars. That was an exaggeration, right?”

He paused for a moment, then shrugged.

“You caught me - I misspoke. They were actually a million Euros - so I think that works out to be more in dollars.”

Your eyes widened, and you realized that he wasn’t lying.

“Steve -”

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t,” he said firmly. “I want you to have them, and keep them. They look really nice on you… especially like this.”

You felt your face heat, suddenly aware of just how exposed you were, lying nude across his bed. Steve just grinned a bit devilishly, and you decided to kiss it right off of his face.

You weren’t sure how much time passed after that. You made your way under the covers at some point, pressing into Steve’s side while you both talked - about anything and everything. He divulged only a little bit more information about his life growing up, and you did the same; you talked about college, work, the kinds of movies and music you liked, stories of dates gone wrong, your least-favorite foods, books you had read recently. It was easy, casual, and strangely normal. You weren’t sure when you fell asleep. But, the last thing you remembered was your cheek pressed to Steve’s chest, his voice lulling you into darkness.

*****

The next morning, you woke up to early morning light peeking through the massive windows, neither you nor Steve bothering to have drawn blinds over them the night before. You blinked groggily, face half-buried in the pillow as you reached across the covers. You were met with an empty bed. You shot up, glancing around as you adjusted to your surroundings. As your brain kicked into gear, you finally reflected back on the night before, and realized with a sense of horror that you had spent the night. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to do that - it’s new territory. And where was Steve? Was he angry? Did he move to the couch? It was a Sunday, so work was unlikely.

As you stretched and yawned, you spotted something out of the corner of your eye - a piece of paper on the nightstand. You picked it up, noticing Steve’s telltale handwriting immediately:

I went out for a run. I’ll pick up something for breakfast on my way back - I wanted to let you sleep in. Feel free to help yourself to anything you need. - Steve

You rolled your eyes - as if you would’ve thought the note would be from anybody else. You reached up to rub your eyes, and when you looked down, you spotted the smudges of makeup worn into the pillow. Shit. You hated sleeping in makeup.

That was how you found yourself swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, padding to the ensuite bathroom. You nearly jumped when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror - you had raccoon-like eyes, mascara smudged and worn into your skin. Your hair was a disaster, and to your own satisfaction, your skin was marked with bruises. Your fingers ghost the marks, remembering where Steve’s lips had been the night before, the things he had said -

You shook the feeling, deciding instead to root through the drawers and cabinets until you found a towel, wasting no time to hop right in the shower. The large, glass-enclosed tile shower was a luxury compared to the little stall you had at home, the water pressure positively glorious. You smirked at the unusually large selection of products lining the wall - of course he had an intense hair routine. You were almost positive he had more stuff in his shower than you and Robin combined. You found something that you knew would at least get the job done, letting the soap wash everything away as you exhaled deeply. You couldn’t help but smile, the scent of the suds reminding you of Steve.

After wrapping yourself in the towel, you scoured the cabinets until you found mouthwash, figuring it was better than nothing.

When you returned to the bedroom, you realized your next predicament - the only clothing you had was your gown from last night, which was currently strewn across the floor as part of a trail of clothing leading to the bedroom. You felt yourself blush at the memory. Would Steve mind if you borrowed his clothes? Or, was that a step too far? Did he have a robe, maybe? You opened the closet across the room. To your relief, there was a robe. If you had to guess, there’s a good chance it just came with the apartment - it looked as if it had never been worn. You pulled it on, practically groaning at the feeling of the fluffy fabric on your damp skin.

You had never been to his apartment in the daylight, you realized - it was nice. It still felt a bit empty, not quite lived-in, but the big windows really lit the whole place up. It must’ve been East-facing, with how bright the late-morning light was. You weren’t even sure what time it actually was - should you text Steve, and let him know you’re awake?

You searched the room for your phone, finally unearthing it from inside the small clutch you had brought to the gala last night, sitting right on the island in the kitchen. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to look at it after you’d gotten back last night - and, much to your chagrin, it was dead.

From what you could see, there wasn’t a phone charger in sight. You made your way back to the bedroom, hoping there was one there already plugged into the wall, maybe near the nightstand. When you failed to find one, you took the next logical step, opening the nightstand drawer. The last thing you wanted was to go rooting through Steve’s stuff more than you needed to, but if there wasn’t a charger in there, you figured you’d have to give up as just wait for him to get back.

Inside the shallow drawer, there were a few assorted items - a comb, a few condoms, some spare Euro coins - and, luckily, a phone charger. You pulled it out, pleased with yourself.

You shouldn’t have looked further. Looking back, you should have closed the drawer, plugged in your phone, and waited for Steve to return. Maybe then you could have had a nice, lazy morning with Steve, sharing coffee and pastries in bed. But, something caught the corner of your eye, something that made you freeze. It was buried underneath everything else, but you could see enough to gather what it was.

You reached in with a shaky hand, pulling out a postcard-sized piece of paper. On it, was a picture of Steve, his arms wrapped around a woman with a sunset behind them. The woman was beautiful - curly brunette hair, big blue eyes, a charming smile. Steve had his head on her shoulder, cheek pressed into hers with the widest smile you’ve ever seen on him. And, printed next to the photo in big, cursive text:

SAVE THE DATE: Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler are tying the knot on September 3rd in Riverhead, New York. Invitation to follow.

You read it once. Twice. Fifty times. You gripped the edges hard enough to crinkle them, the image of Steve and Nancy growing blurry as your eyes started to burn.

The date was from last September. Nearly a year ago… Steve Harrington was married.

****

Author's note: ah! A cliffhanger! Yes, I introduced angst, but I promise it'll be resolved by the end of the next chapter. Sorry for the wait, but this part is basically double the length of all of the previous parts, so at least there's that! I'll do my best to continue tagging you all, but sometimes Tumblr won't let me! Turn on post notifications for future parts! As always, your thoughts, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! And, special shoutout to my bestie Em, who constantly fuels my fantasies for this fic!

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/you #sugardaddy!steve harrington #modern steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington/fem!reader

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separatist-apologist · 5 months ago

Note

I just read an article in that guy who murdered two women. Absolutely horrifying. All the booktok crazies fawning over him reminds me of the women that would write letters to Ted Bundy while he was in prison.

I wasn't gonna answer this because I felt like I said what I needed to say and like, I was just preaching to preach but THEN while I was asleep, an anon came into my askbox to accuse me of not being a girls girl while intentionally missing my point. I blocked them before I thought of a good comeback (tragic) but like fellas is it anti-feminist not to stan a man who killed two women because (and this is so important to me) he hates women?

I'm gonna put the rest of this under a cut with a heavy trigger warning for domestic violence, I just want to say it and then I think I'm done talking about it because it's genuinely so disheartening.

Anyway, I think sometimes I get nervous to answer these kinds of asks because as a therapist I should know better than to speculate on people and what they're going through and whatever else, but as a person, its like...do you want to be picked that badly?

I think we all know by now that I work in DV and all the people fascinated with men like this fuck me up because like..."oooh what makes him tick, I want to talk to him, why did he do it-" and for me, I sit on the opposite end talking to survivors of violence asking the same questions with hollow eyes, with shaking hands, with safety plans meant to buy them just enough time to get out of their house so they aren't killed. I still think about some of the people I spoke with who didn't survive it.

When I was in grad school, I took a summer internship at the local DV court helping survivors with orders of protection. The system was set up better than a lot of other courts, but its still the legal system, you know? With all its flaws. My job was to flag for lethality based on what I was reading in the OPs and then reach out directly to survivors to help them navigate the process, connect them with resources, and sit with them in court. And I still remember this one particular woman who's situation was so desperately dangerous. We did a safety plan- and at that level, a safety plan isn't like, "remember to take your keys and wallet with you when you go", its "don't go into the basement or bathroom if he's in the house with you because there are too many hard surfaces, exposed pipes, and basins of water that making killing you easier. Go to a bedroom or closet because strangling a person is really hard and takes time," like THAT kind of safety plan. Anyway she thanked me, I remember this so well, she said thank you and I told her I'd call her the next week with an update and over the weekend he bludgeoned her to death.

And I guess I just don't think there is anything fascinating, interesting, or otherwise unique to men like this (obligatory yes I know women kill/abuse too). They're everywhere. I saw another post about how some podcaster is trying to get him on to talk to that guy and its like, why don't you just call up one of your friends' exes. Like. If you've got more than one female friend, you've probably got a friend who has experienced violence at the hand of a male partner, call him. Talk to him. Ask him why he did it, let him give you his made up story about trauma and sadness and oh life is hard because whatever whatever.

That's my thing. Books, movies, tv- they're not making people like this, and I'm not condemning people for what they enjoy in fantasy spaces. I am condemning it when you bring it out of those spaces and side against the women who were violently murdered because, and this is so important to me (did I say this already??), he HATES women. You are not special. You cannot fix him. He's not smart, or interesting, or fascinating and the having an attractive face is literally just chance and not something inherently moral.

And like, lastly, when you prop these men up and give them a platform, you signal to EVERY man just like him that there is something special and tragic about him. You let him play the victim, you let him rewrite the narrative, you shift the blame of his actions off of him and onto the people he hurt. Like with this particular man, you also side with a white supremacist so what are you saying to all your BIPOC/Jewish friends/mutuals, you know?

Anyway. That's my self-righteous rant, I guess.

#tw: domestic violence #if you open the cut i share a story of someone i worked with who was murdered so protect yourself first #watching people simp for this individual has been so infuriating #ive gone to work mad every single day like we joke about needing someone in a way thats concerning to feminism #but like its a joke- did you guys realize we were joking????

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unpredictable-probabilities · 11 months ago

Text

Tomorrows Over Centuries || Chapter 1: An Endless Visit

Summary:

Hob gets into a rather painful predicament after a long day of grading papers at The New Inn. But after a visit from his oldest friend, he finds that he doesn't mind so much.

Dream visits Hob Gadling for their long-overdue appointment, and learns that he is more comfortable now in acknowledging and expressing their friendship. However, he learns other things from Hob that catch him off-guard...

Word Count: 4,568

——

The late afternoon air was crisp and cool as Hob stepped out of The New Inn. He walked down the street and stretched his neck from side to side; grading so many papers at once did not do his muscles any favors.

He turned down a side street for a shorter route, already thinking about the cup of tea he would make and the 12-hour nap he wanted to take.

“In a hurry, mate?” asked a slurred voice as a figure walked out from behind the dumpster. “How's about you leave that bag of yours, eh?”

Hob slowed down to a stop at the glint of a switchblade from the man's hand. So far he hadn't been stabbed in this century, and he wasn't keen on breaking that streak.

“And your phone and wallet,” a gruffer voice said from behind him.

He looked over his shoulder to see two men with bloodshot eyes, both wielding a similar blade as the one in front of him. All three smelled of alcohol, but unfortunately they still seemed sober enough to cause trouble. And possibly some light stabbing.

“Now, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement,” Hob said evenly as he slowly backed sideways to the wall, keeping all three of them in his line of sight.

“Drop the bag now,” said the slurred voice as all three of them walked closer.

Hob began to unsling the messenger bag from his shoulder. Logically, he knew that the smart choice would be to hand over his things and leave unharmed.

But he also knew that he had just spent hours grading those papers, and he knew that he had a sketchpad in his bag that he very much didn't want to part with.

He wrapped the strap of the bag around his arm and swung hard at the man closest to him, hitting him in the jaw and sending him sprawling onto his behind.

The other two rushed forward, one of them grabbing the bag. Hob placed a well-aimed punch on that man’s eye, then side-stepped and turned to kick the third one.

With his bag yanked free, he turned and prepared to run—

A cold steel blade sank under his ribs. The first thug had gotten up faster than he had expected.

Dammit, Hob instinctively clutched his abdomen as he stumbled back into a crouch. Getting stabbed never got easier, no matter how many times he experienced it.

The thug grabbed his bag, but Hob held firm on the strap.

“Trust me, mate, it’s all boring stuff in there,” Hob managed through his shallow breathing, trying to remain upright on one knee.

He was unceremoniously pushed against the wall, and the thug pulled hard on the bag, ripping the zipper open.

“Eh? It’s just papers.” The man squinted as he rifled through and started taking out the essays that Hob so carefully read and graded, scattering them all over the alley.

“I told you,” Hob said as he tried to stand up, one hand pressed to his wound and the other still grasping the strap of the bag.

The second thug kicked him back against the wall and he fell with a grunt, pain shooting up his torso.

“Must be hidin’ somethin’ expensive in there,” said the gruff voice. “Or he wouldn’t get himself killed for it.”

Hob would have rolled his eyes if pain wasn’t spiking behind them. He’d gotten himself killed for things much less valuable than the contents of his bag.

“Don’t make me cut off yer wrist,” the third thug stepped forward and held his blade threateningly to Hob’s arm.

Hob wanted to point out that cutting off the strap of the bag would be much more efficient, but the blood loss was making him lightheaded, and he was focusing all his energy on staying conscious. It didn’t look like he’d be healing fast enough to get his bag back, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

They got his sketchpad and began rifling through it, grumbling about money hiding between the pages.

“No,” Hob reached for it and was promptly punched in the face for his efforts.

“A’right, what’s really in here?” the first thug put the tip of his knife to Hob’s neck, the sketchpad lying discarded on the asphalt. “Ya wouldn’t fight so much if–”

The thug’s eyes rolled back in his head, the knife fell out of his grip, and all three thugs dropped limply to the ground like puppets with their strings cut off.

Hob blinked repeatedly, wondering if he was hallucinating somehow.

Then another figure began to walk towards him, pale skin and black coat and raven hair.

Hob’s heart skipped a beat before his mind could even fully process who he was seeing. Now he really hoped he wasn’t hallucinating.

“You’re late,” he said to his stranger, a smile forming on his face despite his abdomen still steadily losing blood.

His stranger crouched beside him, eyebrows furrowed at the sight of his wound and the bruise that was starting to form on his cheekbone. “I shall bring you to a hospital.”

Hob shook his head. “No, I heal too quickly and they ask too many questions. S’okay, I’ll be right as rain in an hour or two.” He didn’t dare take his eyes off his stranger, taking in the worried crease on the otherwise smooth forehead, the blue eyes that Hob had learned to read over the course of the centuries, the hard line of his pursed lips.

He’d say that that face makes for a grand last thing to see before his death, except he couldn’t die, and he certainly had plans to keep seeing that face plenty more times.

“Very well. Where do you live?”

“Not far, just on the next block over,” Hob said as he felt the wound start to close up enough to stop the blood flowing out. “Let me see if I can walk—”

Sand swirled around them in a tornado, and Hob instinctively closed his eyes.

——

Dream placed Hob gently to lie on the couch in his living room. With the image of the flat plucked directly from Hob’s mind, it was a simple matter of getting them both here, including all of Hob’s possessions that were scattered in the street.

“Stay still,” Dream said as Hob blinked and looked around in surprise.

Dream sat cross-legged on the floor beside the couch and reached into the dream of a doctor sleeping two flats over. He pulled out a bottle of water and a soft washcloth, as well as the knowledge of how to use them in this situation.

“Ah, you don’t have to do that,” Hob said as Dream began to clean the blood off around the injury.

“You cannot die, but an infection would still hurt.” Dream trickled water into the wound and made sure there was no dirt or debris lodged in there. Fortunately, the assailant’s knife hadn’t been rusty.

“Yeah, but you know, I can do that myself.” Hob tried to sit up, but Dream put a firm hand on his chest, keeping him lying down.

“I am aware that you are capable, but friends help each other, do they not?” Dream looked right into Hob’s eyes, all the better to communicate his sincerity.

He noticed the bob in Hob’s throat as he swallowed, then a smile appeared on his friend’s face. An unexpected warmth spread within Dream at the sight, and he found himself returning the smile.

“Oh, we’re friends now, then?” Hob’s eyes twinkled playfully.

“Yes.” Dream went back to his task, washing and drying off Hob’s skin before placing a clean bandage on it. Afterwards, he disposed of all the items in the Dreaming.

Hob raised his eyebrows curiously at the way they vanished into thin air with a wave of Dream’s hand. “So… you can just do that? Summon whatever objects you want and then make them disappear again?”

“I have to find them first before I am able to summon them.” Dream stood up and picked up Hob’s bag from the floor to place it on the coffee table. “What could possibly have been in here that was worth getting stabbed for?” He crouched to take the scattered papers on the floor, and Hob hurriedly got up with a grunt to help him.

“I’d been grading my students’ papers, I can’t exactly replace them if they get stolen.” Hob’s gaze was quickly darting around on the pile.

“Are you searching for something in particular? If you can imagine its appearance vividly enough, I can look for…” Dream’s voice trailed off as his eyes landed on the open sketchpad.

He reached for it, the images pulling him close. Daydreams suffused the papers; Dream could sense them almost like a tangible presence. Each pencil stroke called to him, and he felt certain that every line was created with him in mind. A distant familiarity tugged at his memory, from a time long past when people would pray to him and create shrines to his name.

He barely heard Hob’s voice as it dawned on him just what the images were.

“Um, that’s, I…”

Dream gradually stood up, sketchpad in hand. On the paper before him was a pencil drawing of a man walking away in the rain, his back turned and his black coat billowing behind him. On the page beside that was a man dressed in the fine clothes of the 18th century with his dark hair in a ponytail, seated on a table with a teacup in front of him.

His fingers moved on their own as he turned the pages. There he was, standing by Hob’s table in 1389 with his black robe and the ruby pendant around his neck. Then a side profile of him as he spoke with Will Shaxberd, whose features were drawn in an exaggerated and almost comedic manner somehow. Another drawing was of him with his hair cut short for the 19th century, seated at a table once more with a wine glass in front of him. His eyes, they looked… kind. Did Hob always see him that way? It twisted something in his stomach when he remembered what had happened moments after that, how his eyes had surely blazed with self-righteous anger before he abandoned his friend.

He slowly looked up at Hob, who had been standing quietly beside him.

“You were gone, and…” For reasons Dream couldn’t understand, Hob looked nervous, but his voice remained steady as he spoke. “It helped. Drawing you. I knew I could never forget your face, or any of our meetings, but… it helped.”

Dream closed the sketchpad, grasping for the right words that he could say. Imprisoned in that dark basement, he had not been able to ignore the conflict within him on that day in 1989. It would have been selfish to hope that Hob was waiting for him in the pub, knowing that he would never make it to their meeting. He had known that it would be better if Hob had been angry with him about how they parted last time; he wouldn’t be waiting around for someone who would never arrive. And yet all this time, Hob had been thinking of him. Enough to recreate his image many times over.

What words would be sufficient to encompass all of that?

“I… apologize.” He met Hob’s surprised gaze and held out the sketchpad to him. “I was unkind at our last meeting when you merely spoke the truth. I have treated you poorly, and you did not deserve it.”

Hob gave a small smile, as sincere as every other smile he had ever given Dream. “Well you’re here now. A bit late, but we’ve both got a lot of time, yeah?” He stepped closer and gently took the sketchpad, looking down at it. “And I’m sorry for what I said, back then. I just meant… I understood that you were lonely because I was, too. Sometimes I still am. You’re the only one who really knows me, and I’ve realized that a century has far too many days to wait to see you again…” Hob’s eyes snapped up to Dream, as if he didn’t intend to say that last part aloud. He cleared his throat and smiled, taking a step back. “Anyway, I’ll make us some tea. Let’s take this apology to the table.”

Hob returned the sketchpad carefully into his bag and led the way to the kitchen. Dream followed in silent footsteps, standing behind Hob as he prepared a kettle.

“I would have come to you in 1989, had I been able to.” Dream wanted Hob to know that, if nothing else.

Hob froze for a moment as he brought out two cups. “Oh. Busy day at work, then? With whatever it is you do?”

Dream could feel the curiosity in Hob’s gaze and his questions, but Hob seemed to be holding back from asking him directly.

“No, I was…”

Whenever he was in the Waking, Dream was bound to the reactions of his human form, and as it were, he felt his throat closing up, and his heart raced as flashes of the glass orb flitted across his mind. The birds flying outside the window of Hob’s kitchen made too much noise, causing a memory to surface from a dark place in his mind that he kept hidden, a small raven pecking at his prison, exploding in blood and feathers following a gunshot—

He gritted his teeth and willed the images away as tears threatened to fill his eyes. He was better than this. The King of Dreams should have control over his own mind.

“Hey, hey,” Hob was standing in front of him, a worried expression on his face. “Come on, let’s sit down.” He gently pulled Dream’s arm to guide him to a chair at the small round table, where two tea cups were waiting for them. “You don’t have to talk about it, alright?”

Dream’s breathing was becoming shallow, and he clenched his fists on the table to force his hands to stop shaking.

“Hey, I’m here, I’m here,” Hob reached over and put his hands on one of Dream’s, stroking gentle circles with his thumb.

Dream released a shaky breath and opened his hands, wanting to withdraw them from the table to hide such a display of weakness, but Hob kept holding his right hand in both of his, meeting Dream’s questioning gaze with a soft smile.

“I was imprisoned,” Dream said before he could lose his voice again, the warm feeling of Hob’s hands emboldening him. “By a sorcerer who used my powers to gain wealth and youth.”

Hob’s eyes flashed with horror, anger, worry, and other emotions that went too quick for even Dream to catch. It was anger that stayed on his features as he gripped Dream’s hand more securely. “What did they do to you?” His gaze flitted over Dream as if looking for injuries. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but—”

“They didn’t hurt me,” Dream reassured his friend. He didn’t wish to cause him any more distress. “They took my tools of office and my raven companion…” Dream had to stop speaking again, forcing the images away from his mind’s eye. He took a calming breath. “But no, they did not injure me.”

“If I had known…” Hob shook his head in exasperation. “God, if I had known, I would have gotten you out of there myself. You know I would have.” The intensity in his gaze left no room for doubt in Dream’s mind. And the image of spending all that time with Hob instead of in the glass orb was so strong that Dream found himself returning Hob’s firm grip.

“Well, you’re here now. And we both have a lot of time.” The corner of his mouth lifted as he playfully repeated Hob’s words to him.

Hob seemed caught off-guard and he chuckled, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, we do. And nobody’s gonna take you while you’re in my house, alright? I can promise you that.”

Dream stared at Hob, searching his friend’s eyes for any false facades and found none. When was the last time someone had promised him sanctuary? Even in his own realm, he had his subjects to watch over. Safety was expected from him, never promised.

However, here at Hob's home, he did not have to be an infallible lord. Nobody expected him to know all the answers, and no judging eyes pried into him searching for the smallest flaws.

And was that not how it always felt with Hob? Even during the times he would not admit to their friendship, Hob’s presence was never something Dream felt guarded about. With Hob, he could simply… be.

“Morpheus.”

“What?” Hob's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“That is my name. Among many.”

Hob’s mouth dropped open, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he grinned. “Right. Right, then. If I’d known that I had to get stabbed to get your name, I would've let Lady Johanna’s thugs do it.”

“I would not have let that happen.” Dream felt himself smiling as well.

Hob furrowed his eyebrows as he seemed to realize something. “Wait, ‘Morpheus’, like the god of dreams?”

“I am no god. That is simply what the Ancient Greeks preferred to believe.”

“Okay,” Hob nodded slowly. “But you do have powers over dreams?”

“That is my function. My realm provides a safe place for humans to face their fears and wants.”

“And… does that mean you know what all humans dream about?” Hob’s voice was even, but his nervousness had returned.

“If I wanted, I could choose a dream to see into and take anything from it. That is how I summoned the supplies to treat your wound earlier. However, for the most part it is all in the back of my mind. Though some dreams are louder than others and catch my attention.”

Hob’s fingers suddenly felt cold against Dream’s hand. “Have you seen any of my dreams, then?”

Dream shook his head. “I prefer that you tell me yourself about your hopes and dreams, as you have done so in our past meetings. You are quite the engaging storyteller.” The anxious energy began to ebb away from Hob at that, but Dream still didn’t understand why it was there in the first place. “Is something wrong? Are there any nightmares you would like to get rid of? I could see into your dreams the next time you sleep and—”

“No,” Hob quickly cut him off. “No, it’s fine, really. I was just curious, that’s all.”

Hob got up and took the teapot from the counter, and Dream’s hand felt colder with the absence of Hob’s hold on him. He held his own teacup with both hands instead, taking in its warmth.

“I am curious as well, about how you have been faring over the past century.” Dream asked when Hob sat back down after refilling his cup. “You’re a teacher now? No longer interested in soldiering or banditry?”

Hob smiled at his teasing tone. “You know I haven’t been interested in those things in a long time. I figured, since the world’s only getting bigger, I’d like to know more about it as much as I can, and it wouldn’t hurt to try to teach the younger ones a thing or two about what I do already know.”

“Do you teach drawing as well?” Dream asked in genuine curiosity.

Hob’s cheeks turned a shade of red as he laughed. “No. The stuff in my sketchpad, that’s just for me. I don’t really show people anything I draw. Not very good at it, anyway,” he shrugged.

“I disagree. Since the Ancient Greeks, there have not been many temples nor shrines dedicated to me, but in your drawings I felt a similar sense of…” Reverence, he wanted to say, but he had recently learned that he could sound quite arrogant, and he did not want Hob to think of him as such. “Respect. And care. Your artworks are not without heart.”

Hob grinned. “Maybe I can draw your portrait then, while you sit right there.”

Dream tilted his head slightly, considering. “I would not mind.”

Hob’s grin melted off in surprise. “No, come on, I was just joking,” he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “Anyway, yeah, I didn’t expect myself to be in the academic world either but here I am. Going for brains instead of brawn this century.”

They slipped into the comforting familiarity of Hob telling Dream about what he had been up to in the past decades. At some point, Hob made some ham and cheese sandwiches to go with their tea. Dream did not need food, but he finished his sandwich all the same. It was good, and it only made Hob smile brighter when he told him so. Which made Dream understand a little better why friends have meetings over food.

The sun had set some time ago when Hob’s phone made a noise. He paused in the middle of talking about an upcoming book fair to take it from his pocket.

“Oh, that’s right,” he looked at the screen after silencing the alarm. “Speaking of the book fair, I need to send some emails to confirm which of my colleagues and students would be attending. I gotta prepare what I’d be wearing, too,” his eyebrows furrowed. “The dean insisted on ‘smart casual’ and he takes these events seriously.”

Dream nodded and stood up, Hob followed suit.

A hundred years, then? Dream almost said, instinctively. But it didn’t feel right, not this time. Besides, Hob did say that there were far too many days in a century. And he could certainly agree.

“If you would be interested…” Dream began, gauging Hob’s reaction. “Perhaps I can pay you a visit once more, without waiting a hundred years. If your schedule would permit—”

“Yes,” Hob’s voice was tinged with surprise and gladness. He huffed out a relieved laugh. “Yes, of course, you beautiful bastard!” He took a step forward and seemed to stop himself, averting his eyes for a moment before looking at Dream again with a calmer expression. “It was nice seeing you again. Morpheus.”

Dream felt something warm in his chest from how Hob’s voice curled around his name, as if each syllable were something precious.

“Thanks for the help earlier at the alley,” Hob nodded vaguely in the direction of the outdoors.

“I hope to see you in a much better condition when I next visit,” Dream said sincerely.

Hob chuckled, and he took a few moments before he spoke again. “I’ll be at The New Inn tomorrow morning, since I don’t have any classes until the afternoon. I’ll be there until after lunch time, maybe. So if you wanna swing by…”

Dream had not expected to be invited again so soon, but he had no complaints. He nodded. “Tomorrow morning it is.”

Hob looked like he still wanted to say something, with the way his eyes darted around and how he kept shifting his weight on his feet. There it was again, the nervous energy that Dream couldn’t fathom. Hob had never seemed uncomfortable in his presence since that brief moment in 1489 when Hob had asked if he were the devil. What changed?

With his curiosity growing, Dream hadn’t noticed that the walls he put up to separate himself from Hob’s daydreams had begun to crumble, until a vivid image entered his mind.

“Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong,” Dream had told Hob then, on that night at The White Horse.

Hob had stepped closer to him, and before he could turn away and walk out the door, Hob’s arms were around his shoulders, pulling him close in a silent embrace that said so much more than what words could.

Dream blinked and put the walls back up. He did not wish to intrude upon Hob’s privacy, but he could still feel Hob’s regret in that modified memory. There was a part of Hob that blamed himself for not moving fast enough, for letting Dream go when he needed company the most. Nevermind that it would have been scandalous for two men to embrace in such a way in the 19th century.

“Hob,” Dream began, wanting to tell him that he had no fault at all in what happened back then.

“Yeah?” Hob asked, the nervous expression on his face giving way to curiosity.

Dream didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable with the knowledge that that particular daydream of his had been revealed, and he selfishly did not want Hob to stop meeting him anymore for fear of his mind being read.

So instead Dream stepped forward wordlessly, crossing the gap between them and wrapping his arms around Hob’s waist as he leaned into him.

Hob stiffened in surprise, but then he let out a breath and relaxed in the embrace, putting his arms around Dream’s neck and resting his chin on Dream’s shoulder.

“It took me more than six centuries to admit that we are friends,” Dream said softly. “I thank you for your patience with me, Hob Gadling. I do not know what I have done to deserve it.”

Hob buried his face in Dream’s neck and sighed, causing warmth to prickle on Dream’s skin and pool in his belly. “You deserve so much more, dove,” Hob muttered. “I’m just glad to give what I can.”

Before Dream knew what was happening, another image filled his mind, as bright as a sun’s glare, impossible to ignore even if one shut their eyelids against it.

Hob pulled back from their embrace and reached up to caress Dream’s face, then he leaned closer to press their foreheads together.

“I missed you so much,” Hob sighed, his breath brushing Dream’s mouth. “You can stay longer, yeah?”

The images flashed by quickly. Hob cooking breakfast, the both of them walking around a park, Dream bringing Hob to his flat late in the evening, Hob wrapping his arms around Dream’s neck and reaching up to press their lips together, Dream pulling Hob closer to him as they learned the shape of each other’s mouths—

Dream forced himself out of Hob’s daydreams, willing the walls back up. His face felt suddenly and uncharacteristically warm.

Hob tightened his embrace, and Dream found himself returning the gesture. The realization was surging up within him that not only did he not feel opposed to Hob’s daydreams, but that they were also something he wanted. Dangerously so.

Dream gently pulled away from Hob, fearing that his friend would be able to feel how fast his heart was racing.

He didn’t want to leave so soon when they had not seen each other in more than a hundred years, but what he did want with Hob now was far too important to act recklessly upon, and he was afraid he’d do reckless things indeed if he stayed longer.

“I shall see you tomorrow, Hob Gadling,” he said evenly as he took a step back.

“You better.”

Dream summoned his sand and watched Hob’s smiling face until he was transported to his realm.

He promptly made his way to the library. His knowledge was lacking when it came to courtship among humans; he had a lot of reading to do.

——

Chapter 2 ->

(Masterlist)

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