#the rest of my shift will be me cleaning dishes i made and washing the piping bags and then cleaning and helping customers

[hellfireeddiemunson]

fuck today honestly im so overstimulated i want to throw a full tantrum on the fucking floor

[jillsandwhichs]

Tip

Chapter 9 to RE Character x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Leon Kennedy

Summary: You are a waitress at a local diner in the city. Sure, you've had your fair share of flirty, pervy customers but none have ever been as enticing as this one

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Strangers/Hookup

WC: 4.1k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Reader is in early adult years, Leon is late 20s, Flirting, Leon is cocky and rich, BJ, Slight cum kink, Spanking, Hair pulling, Cums in your mouth, Protected P in V, Riding, Dry humping and Dirty talk

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

It has just been another casual day at the diner. Cleaning tables and dishes, attending to customers and sweeping the floors, it's just another Monday. Waiting tables is what you do for a living, for now. It isn't ideal but you don't mind it too much. You always get decent tips and an alright pay. You live alone so you don't have to worry too much about how big your paycheck is or how much you make in tips daily. As long as you're rolling in dough, you're set.

This day particularly has been slow. Mondays are one of the slowest days of the week because it's the first work day which means less business. It's mainly older people and church groups who eat during the day on Mondays but towards the later hours of the day, families and sports teams come in. The diner you work for is the hot spot in the city. Everyone who lives in the city or nearby comes often.

Your shift is getting closer to being done. You only have two hours left. It ends at 4:00 PM and you started work today at 8:00 AM. It's been so slow that it feels as if you've been here since yesterday. You can't wait to get back to your homey apartment. You have an essay due today in your Art History class so you'll have to get that done but after that, the rest of the day is yours!

Wiping down a table, you heard the main door open. There is a bell attached to the top of it to tell workers anytime someone walks in or not. The two customers that were just at this booth made sure to clean up their space and it put you in an even better mood. You sprayed hygienic water onto the table one last time and wiped it down before setting out new napkins and silverware for when the next group comes in.

You were about to amble off to the back but you were stopped by a man's voice. His voice was deep and husky. It startled you a bit, admittedly. You turned around to face and you were left stunned by how tall he was. You're short, yes, but this man is a giant! Your eyes went up to meet with his. His are a bright blue. They are oceanic. He has a broad stature too, he clearly works out often. He's wearing a casual outfit but it still appears a bit more fancy for where he's currently at.

"Excuse me, could I get a table for one? Just looking to have some lunch." He said in that deep voice. You looked him up and down and as you did, he said another thing. "My eyes are up here." He teased, his blue eyes locking with yours. You felt embarrassment wash over you. How could you not admire this man? He looks like a model. "Um, sorry... Just follow me." You murmured, heading towards a clean circle table near the center of the diner.

The man followed behind you and once you presented the table to him, he took his seat. "I'll be back shortly. Figure out what you'd like to drink until then." "Wait, what's your name? Isn't it courtesy that the waitress tells her waiters her name?" You told him his name with a scoff. He seems slightly cocky. "Pretty name. I'm Leon." Leon stated. "Cool name. I'll be back shortly." You said a bit more sternly. You walked off and pushed the back door open to enter the kitchen.

You checked to see if all of the drink machines are still working. Your manager let you know yesterday that they've been a bit janky. You tested each one and they all seemingly worked. Only three other people are working with you today. Leah, Maverick and Dean. Leah is a waitress and Mav & Dean are cooks. Mondays truly are so easy to work.

You exited the kitchen and went to wait another table before Leon's. This table just wanted one plate of Alfredo and a plate of beef stew. "I'll have those out to you two in a bit." You said with your customer service voice. You've gotten very good at it. Strolling over to the kitchen, you stuck your ticket up on the metal bar. "Order for table four, be quick guys." You said to both of the men working. You trust they'll get it done quickly.

Leah was waiting her own section of tables. Hers seem to be going by a lot faster which irritates you. You want more tables for more money. You don't necessarily need it, but of course it's nice to have.

Making your way back over to Leon, you saw his face weirdly light up when he saw you. Is this guy a creeper? You stood in front of his table with a notepad before asking what he'd like to drink and eat. "I'll just take a coke and to eat, I'll have your creamy ravioli. I have a question for you now." He stated. "Uh, okay, go ahead and ask." You replied softly as you wrote his order down. "When is your shift over?" "That is none of your concern."

Assumption confirmed, this guy is a weirdo. Why would some elegant looking man be asking you of all people that odd question? Does he want to kidnap you or something? You were always taught to not give out info like that. It's vital.

"I'm not some pervert or anything." He chuckled. "Can a man not be curious?" "Why are you curious about when I get off of work?" "Because I think you're a pretty girl and I'd like to take you out." Leon smirked at you. "I bet you say that to all the ladies." You rolled your eyes. "I'll be back with your food in a bit." You scoffed and went to walk off but this arrogant man stopped you once again.

"When does your shift end?" This guy's persistence is appalling. Can't he take a hint? "None of your business." "Three? Four? Tell me." He said softly, his tone a lot less deep down. You sighed deeply. It won't kill for him to know. You're going straight home anyways. "Four. You aren't taking me out." "We'll see about that." You gave him an irritated look and trailed off. You're just going to give the paper to the chefs so that this man can leave ASAP.

Stepping up to the kitchen area again, you handed them a new ticket. You want this Leon guy in and out of here. You've had one to many men hitting on you, do these men realize how young you are? Leon appears to be in his late twenties, possibly early thirties and you're a College student! Men are so desperate nowadays. Sure, drabbling in older men isn't a bad thing, but not these kind of older men.

You grabbed a tray of refill drinks to take to one of your other tables. You almost forgot about them.

Exiting the kitchen, you went over to their table and set their drinks down. "A water for the lady and a coke for the gentleman. Enjoy." Leah will most likely take this section over soon, she tends to. Your eyes went to Leon's table and unsurprisingly, his eyes were on you. "What a loser." You mumbled beneath your breath. He's a handsome man, most definitely, but why would he want anything to do with you? He's probably just trying to get a quick fuck in.

If he wasn't so forward and weird about it, you would probably give in. That pretty much sums up how you are as a girl. You aren't a virgin, you like sex and you've never had it with an older man. You bet it's quite the experience.

After waiting almost eight minutes, you got the couples food to them and set it down. "Here you two go. Enjoy." You said with a friendly tone. Leon's was done as well. Time to journey back to the table of doom.

With the bowl and drink in hand, you went to Leon's table and set both down. "There you go. Enjoy your beverage and meal." "I sure will. Thank you." Leon replied, looking you up and down. His look is rather enticing. He's an enticing man. "Don't look at me like that." You said with a shy tone. It made you rather nervous, shy even. No man has made you feel that way in some time. "Like what?" "Like that."

He knows what he is doing. He does. "What is your problem?" You put your hands on your hips. This is completely against protocol. Even when a customer is an ass, you should remain calm and collected but God, this guy is insufferable. "I'll answer anything you'd like... If you agree to come with me after my shift." Has this man ever learned about stranger danger. "No, you could be a murderer." "I could be, but I'm not. I'm just a blind dog looking for a bone." He is cheesy.

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your temple.

"What is it you want?" "You." "Why?" "I can see you're different. Plus, you're stunning." The compliment made your stomach heat up. "Different? You've spoken to me only a little." "What's your point?" "You know nothing about me." "I'd like to know everything about you." God, can he not take a hint? You giggled. "We can just sit in my car after your shift and talk. We'll even stay in the parking lot, if that makes you feel safer." He smirked at you.

Why is he so fucking convincing???

Your eyes scanned the clock above one of the tables and you heaved softly. "Come back at four. We'll talk then." You smiled softly but tried to hide it. Leon bit his lip and nodded. "See you then."

-

Four PM.

You're in the locker room. It's a small but useful room. Your removed your apron and released your hair from its ponytail. You shook your hair and brushed it slightly. For a moment, you completely forgot about the whole Leon situation, but it's suddenly hit you. Before he left his table, he left you a $50 tip. That's insane. You were grateful and expressed that. You suppose its only respectful if you go with him.

He promised to even let you hold onto his car keys if it makes you feel better. You know what it'll most likely turn into and you're down, even though you didn't want to admit it at first.

You left the room and pushed open the entry door back into the restaurant and you saw Leon's car out in the parking lot. You sighed deeply and looked over to Dean who was also about to clock out. "See you Wednesday." "See you then." Dean waved goodbye to you. You returned the gesture and made your way out of the diner.

Leon's eyes met with yours. Those blue orbs, they are intoxicating. You rolled your eyes and walked up to his vehicle. He has a Cadillac. You can tell by its shape and symbol. He nudged his head for you to get in, and you did. You opened up the passenger door and sat down and immediately put your hand out. "Keys." "Right here." He placed them in your hand. They are the right keys. This eased you a lot more.

"What do you want with me? Do you do this with other women?" "I mean, I have. I won't lie to you. It has been a long time though, little over a year." Leon tittered. "I just think you're very pretty." "You've established that." "Isn't it rather obvious what I'd like to do with and to you?" That made your heart skip beats. "Not really." You have an idea. You'll play dumb though. You want to hear it from his own mouth.

Leon laughed and grinned. He leaned a bit closer to you. "I entered that diner and immediately saw a pretty girl with a pretty mouth. I'd like to see it around my dick." You lost your breath at his words. It's been a long time since you've hooked up with anyone and this is quite the way for it to happen after all this time. "What?" You said breathlessly. "I also want to show you how a real man fucks. Not none of that College boy bullshit." He adjusted himself. So he is aware that you are in College. Great guess.

Running your fingers through your hair, you felt your entire body heating up. You were most definitely blushing. You could feel the gush between your folds beginning to form. "If you want to just hookup with girls, why not use Tinder?" "I find doing it through person more real and authentic." You couldn't tell if that was sarcasm or not. "You are a total creep." "I'm a man with needs and you'd fulfill them well." You scoffed at his sentence. "Bite me." You went to open the car door but he grabbed your wrist.

"Hey, no, no, please." Leon said softly. "If you really want to go, then okay, have at it but I promise I'll give you such a good time." Leon pleaded with you. His tone was desperate. Why was that attractive to you? Your eyes went to his bulge. He was clearly rock hard. You are wet, you can feel it. Why do you feel so odd for doing this? It's just a hookup.

You bit your lip and analyzed the outside area before handing him his keys. "There's an alleyway about three block from here. Take us and I'll hookup with you." Confidence filled your voice. He laughed. "Smart girl." He turned his car on and began the drive to the alleyway, which only took maybe a minute or two.

-

The second he parked, your hands went to his belt and he snickered. "More eager and horny than I am now, huh?" "No. I just want to get this over with." "Right." He snorted. You removed his leather belt and tossed it in the back. You undid the singular button that was sown onto his pants and that was when his huge cock sprung out. Bigger than any you've ever seen or had. You already can foreshadow how this'll feel down your throat.

He already had precum as well. To you, cum is so hot. You have an intense kink for it. You rubbed the semen on your thumb and sucked it off of it. Leon chuckled. "That's a good sign." He hummed. You brushed your hair to the side and smiled at him. "Make sure my hair stays out of my face." "Will do." That was the last thing you said before you wrapped your lips around the base of his cock.

This isn't anything you haven't done before. You'd even call yourself a pro. At a slow pace, you moved your head up and down. He was big, so you wanted to take it at a decent pace. Leon's hand stayed on your back for the time being. You felt his hand rubbing it softly. He was being gentle with you. His tip kept hitting the roof of your mouth. You couldn't believe it but you could already sense you'd be gagging a whole lot.

With your tongue, you slurped around the head of his dick. You felt his hole twitch when you did that. "You're a fucking goddess at sucking dick." He said bluntly whilst his head went backwards. You wanted to laugh but you physically couldn't. You continued to lick and suck. It's weird but you want him to feel as though you're the best he's had. This is like a challenge for you, a game even.

You began to bob your head faster now. Your head moved up and down at a quick pace. Leon's hand tangled in your hair. His fingers tips lightly scratched your head and it made your pussy tingle. You haven't felt this way in such a long time. Leon wrapped your hair around his hand, his grip was firm. You knew he was this type. He seems like a kinky man overall.

The little whimpers you made caused Leon to moan himself. He found you very sexy and your noises only added to that. "You look beautiful like this." He huffed out. His throat felt like it was going to close. His muscles were tightening. His member was twitching in your mouth. The man is close.

"How many hummers have you had to give to be so good?" He grunted. Now he was basically pushing your head and pulling it back up. You didn't even have to do the work anymore. His hand pulled your hair and God, it felt good. You moaned around his dick. You swiped your tongue from the lower base and back up to the tip and that must've been his undoing.

Leon kept your head in place. His tip was deep throating you. That familiar taste filled your mouth and entered your taste buds. All cum has tasted similar to you with minor differences. Whats different about Leon's is the fact is more of a thick texture rather than the usual more liquidy version. It was fine though. You swallowed it all.

The man was panting heavily as you popped his cock out. Your licked your lips and wiped them with your sweater. "Jesus..." He laughed. "That was good." He praised you. "Unfuckingbelievable." He smirked at you. "I've had practice." "Clearly." He squeezed your hip and gazed at you. "Get in the back so I can fuck you." He chuckled. You giggled to and looked behind you.

You crawled over the center console and squealed as you felt a hard smack to your ass as you did. You briskly sat down and adjusted your skirt. You are wearing a beige sweater with a printed skirt. It was the change of clothes you brought to work since it's Fall. The weather is breezy & chilly but also warm and cozy. Leon just held his pants up as he got out of the car and got into the back. There was no way he was going to climb over as you did.

He sat down and spread his legs to a degree. He pulled his pants back down too. You gawked at him momentarily and he noticed. "Like what you see?" "Mhm." You nodded moderately. He laughed. "Sit on my lap." You listened. You straddled him. Hands on his shoulders and thighs on either side of his. His hands went to your waist. "Feel that?" He was referring to his tip rubbing against your panties.

"You need it inside of you, hm?" He began to slowly pull your hips forward. The slight grind he was forcing you to do made you even more soaked. "I do." You whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. "I know you do doll." You felt a surge of lust course through you. You want this man to destroy you.

One hand left your hip and went to his cock instead. He rubbed his tip against your cunt through your panties. "I can feel how wet you are." He sighed softly, kissing the side of your head. "I wanna feel how tight you are." He murmured against your ear before biting the lobe of it. You moaned and felt your stomach twist. How is he making you feel all these ways all at once? He's a master at this. It's such a turn on.

Pulling your panties to the side, he stroked his cock through your bare folds now, picking your wetness up. "How does this feel?" He said in a low tone. "Good. Really good." You hummed in reply, kissing his neck gently. "Mmm, good." He kissed your cheek. He let go of his cock and reached into his pocket. "Gotta wrap it." "Yeah." You snickered. You lifted your body up so he could put the rubber on. Once he did, he pulled you back down.

"Now princess, tell me, how does this feel?" And as he hummed that to you, he stuck his dick inside of you. You moaned softly and gripped his shirt. "Mmm, you just gave me the exact answer I was searching for." You moaned again and pressed your lips against his. You don't think Leon was expecting that, but he liked it. His hands went to your face as you began to both kiss him and ride him.

You rode him at an unrushed pace. He kissed you passionately. Almost right as you two started to make out, you both opened your mouths and tongued one another. You bounced on his cock as you stuck your tongue deep in his mouth. Leon caressed your face and slowly brought his hands down to your ass cheeks. He held onto them tightly and ever so often slapped them.

"You're so fucking tight." He grunted, licking your lip and kissing you again. "You feel so deep inside of me." You whimpered. It was true. He's so long and girthy. He's rubbing against your wet & gushy walls in the most pleasurable way. "You can take it. You're a slut, I know you can." You laughed at his words and bit his lower lip. "I'm not a whore." "You sure fuck like one. Look at how you're riding me." In all fairness, you are skillfully riding him and bouncing on him. Your movements are of expertise.

You rolled your eyes at his snotty words. "Guess me getting around has really paid off." "Yeah, sure, but I promise I'll be your best." He slapped your ass hard, making you speechless. Only noises of pleasure and need came from you. He felt so good. Your cunt was tightening around him, you could feel it and so could he.

Your head autonomously tilted backwards. Your mouth was agape as little whimpers emitted from him. Leon's hands continued to grip your ass. He occasionally spreaded your cheeks and stuck his finger on your anus, making your body shake. He must have a thing for that, you suppose. "Pretty girl." He reached his free hand up and taped it around your neck lightly. "Gonna make you have the best fucking orgasm." He whispered to you before he began to thrust up.

You quit moving your hips entirely and just sat there as he fucked you messily. His hip thrusts were sloppy but they were getting the job down. "Taking is so fucking well. I need you again sometime." You couldn't tell if there was truth in that or if it was pure lust and desire. You simply rested your head against his shoulder as he pumped up into you. "I'm gonna cum." You whispered, your tone soft and shaky. "Cum for me babygirl." Leon kissed your forehead.

That'll do it.

Your body shook as your orgasm blew over you. You felt waves and waves of pleasure crash into you out of no where. Your walls clenched around his member and that was what finished him off. "Fuuuck." His words dragged out as he came. Your arms encased around his neck and you just sat there as you came down from your high. He hugged you back. His cum squirted into the condom. You wish it could've been inside of you. Such a waste.

After a minute or so, you sat up and got off of him. You were breathless and at a loss for words. Your eyes glanced down at the condom; Pure white liquid filled it. "That was... God." You giggled, closing your legs and staring at him. He nodded and removed the condom, tossing it in a baggy. "Sure was." He caught his breath.

Leon looked at you and took your hand in his. "Was that the best orgasm you've had?" "I don't mean to bruise your ego but..." Leon snickered and playfully nudged you. "Shut up." You snorted and smiled at him. "Yeah, it was really good." You nodded. "I'm glad." He blew out a big breath of air.

"For the record, I wasn't just saying that." "Saying what?" "That I need you again sometime. I meant it." "Oh." You said with tranquility. "I'll give you my number then...?" "Yeah, I'll take it." Leon replied.

He handed you his phone and you began to jot the digits in.

This definitely won't be the last time you see Mr. Kennedy.

[sidekick-hero]

It's finally here, my entry for the @steddiesummerexchange. This is a gift for my dear friend @starryeyedjanai - I was so delighted when I found out you were my giftee 💜💜💜 Your prompt 'Steve can't get his inheritance until he marries someone' really tested me and took me out of my writing comfort zone. I hope you like it and that I did your prompt justice! Special shout out to the best beta in the whole world, @acasualcrossfade 💜🙏

Pairings: Steve/Eddie, Robin/Chrissy Characters: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Chrissy, Max, Dustin, Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, idiot4idiot, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Humor and Fluff and a smudge Angst

Summary:

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry. Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong?

Read on AO3 - the fic is finished and has 4 chapters, the last one will drop June 24

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 1 (5.6k) under the cut

"Rob! Robbie!" Steve yells as he walks into their two-bedroom apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. "Robin Juniper Buckley, where are you?"

He hears the telltale clatter of dishes and sure enough, he finds his roommate and best friend in their tiny kitchen washing the dishes. It's his turn to do them, but his schedule has been hell this week. He's been spending so much time at the firehouse cooking for a crew of five to twelve perpetually hungry firemen and women that the thought of cleaning up their kitchen at home has made him want to cry.

"I'm here doing the dishes, because if I didn't, we could have proven Darwin's theories right here in our kitchen." Despite the scolding words, she doesn't look particularly angry at him, and he figures he'll be forgiven in no time. She knows he's been working himself into the ground lately, pulling double shifts whenever his boss will let him. Living in Chicago is expensive enough, but Steve also has to think about Max's education. There's no way his little sister can't live up to her full potential just because their parents are assholes who stopped caring about their children the second they turned out not to be the perfect son and daughter Richard and Emily Harrington wanted them to be.

He walks up to her and hugs her sideways, resting his head on her shoulder for a moment as he mumbles, "'m sorry, Robs. I'll make it up to you."

She sighs, and he knows he's already forgiven. "I know you will. It's okay. Not like I forgot to do something once or twice."

He leans back to look at her for full effect, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, like when you started dating Chrissy and were so busy having sex that you barely left your room or her apartment?"

Robin swats at him with the towel slung over her shoulder, but there's a smile on her face at the memory.

"Okay, now that we've established that you're jealous that I have an incredibly sexy and wonderful girlfriend," Robin says, ignoring his indignant Oi!, "do you want to tell me why you stormed in here yelling out my full name, which I've clearly forbidden you to use except in emergencies?"

Her question brings back the excitement that propelled him from the grocery store to her apartment in record time, and reminds him of the news he's been dying to share with her in person, rather than by phone or text message. He needs to see her reaction firsthand.

Taking hold of Robin's shoulders, he locks eyes with her azure gaze, unable to contain the grin that splits his face in two. "She’s gone!"

Robin blinks in confusion, prompting him to clarify. "Grandma Harrington, she's kicked the bucket, bit the dust, you name it."

A puzzled expression lingers on Robin's face momentarily before realization dawns. "No way! She... really?"

Unable to contain his excitement, Steve gives her a gentle shake. "Yes, really. Grandma Harrington finally called it quits."

They look at each other, their grins widening until they both look like madmen. Steve is aware that all of this is probably a highly inappropriate way to react to the death of a human being, but Eleanor Harrington had been the worst human being Steve or Robin had ever had the displeasure of meeting in their lives.

She had visited her son and daughter-in-law infrequently over the years, never giving them much warning when she was coming over and occupying one of their guest rooms for the unforeseeable future. More than once, Steve had come home to find her sitting at the kitchen table or on the sofa, staring at him with her judgmental gaze, disappointed in him before he even crossed the threshold. Any friend who had the misfortune to accompany him was ordered to sit with her and be interrogated, always found wanting as her grandson's companion. Everyone was beneath a Harrington, even Tommy, even though his father was a lawyer. ‘Too many freckles and that awful grin’ was one reason, ‘I don't like the way he looks at you, Steven, too greedy’ was another.

Robin, who had become a permanent fixture in Steve’s life after becoming his project partner in one of their shared classes his junior year, hadn’t fared any better. To this day, Steve has no idea how Grandma Harrington found out that Robin was queer, because at that point Robin hadn't even been out to her parents, only Steve. But when she did, she had spit at Robin. Steve had lost it then, too angry, too hurt to think rationally. He had thrown caution to the wind and come out to her, too, even though the thought of liking boys was still new to him, something he was still trying on to see how it would fit.

He doesn't even know what he expected to get out of it. Certainly not acceptance or even approval, no matter how much a part of him still craved that from his family. The only thing he got was her calling them both horrible names and saying such cruel things that Steve had to hold Robin and wipe away her tears afterwards.

That episode alone was reason enough for Steve to hate the old woman. Never mind that she had raised his father to be a bigoted, heartless man who had never learned what it meant to truly love anyone, not even his own son or daughter.

When their faces begin to ache from smiling, Robin shrugs casually, as though dismissing the significance of the moment. But Steve knows better. He knows the weight of hurt and resentment they both carry because of that woman.

"Rest in peace, I suppose," Robin remarks with an air of detachment, and Steve can only offer a noncommittal hum in response, realizing that any words he might speak would only add to the inappropriate nature of their conversation.

"Alright, so what does this mean for you, Steve?" Robin asks, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Is this going to change how you deal with your family?" She pauses briefly before adding, "And what about your inheritance?"

Steve offers a slight shrug, his expression turning pensive. "I'm not entirely sure yet, Robs," he begins, his tone serious despite the lingering excitement from their earlier celebration. "I mean, I guess it means I don't have to deal with her anymore, which is definitely a relief. But as for the rest of the family, I don't know. They've never been particularly warm or welcoming to me, you know that. I mean, you’ve been there when they wanted to send me to a psychiatrist to help me get over being queer. I doubt they've changed much since then."

Robin nods in understanding, recalling the numerous tales Steve had shared about his family's cold demeanor and their refusal to accept him for who he is. She reaches out, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I mean, you know she was loaded. So yeah, there is an inheritance, but -" Steve continues, his gaze distant as he contemplates the implications. "There's a condition in Grandma Harrington's will. I can only inherit if I marry someone.”

Robin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Marry? Seriously? That seems archaic, unfair, and downright manipulative."

Steve lets out a wry chuckle. "Tell me about it. Grandma always did enjoy her control games. It's probably her way of trying to mold me into the perfect, straight grandson."

"You've got to be kidding me! Seriously? You... what, have to marry some woman so you can be the perfectly acceptable heterosexual son and grandson your family always wanted? Fuck off!" Despite the heavy topic, Steve can't help but smile at Robin's outrage on his behalf. He could always count on her. After all, she was there to pick up the pieces when his parents told him in no uncertain terms to either learn to be straight or leave.

He left and lived with the Buckleys until Robin graduated and they moved to Chicago together. It was the best decision he could have made, even if it still hurts some days.

For a moment, they both fall silent, each lost in their thoughts. Then Robin squeezes his hand again. "We'll figure it out, Steve. We always do. And hey, maybe this is the perfect opportunity to really stick it to them."

"What do you mean?"

A devilish grin spreads across Robin's face. "Tell me, does her will say that you have to marry someone, or that you have to marry a woman to get your inheritance?"

Oh.

Oh.

Steve looks at Robin, his eyes wide with sudden understanding. “You’re a genius, Buckley,” he says, grinning. “I think it’s time for us to pay my attorney a visit.”

Turns out Robin is right. It seems that Grandma Harrington wrote her will at a time when gay marriage was still illegal in most states, and never thought to change it after the courts made it legal in Indiana and Illinois in 2014.

Steve's lawyer, who he honestly couldn't afford if it wasn't for the fact that she was an old family friend, agreed to help him pro bono just to give his bigoted parents the middle finger, as her sister was a lesbian. She said that the requirements of the will would be met if Steve married a woman as well as a man. As long as it was a legally recognized marriage, he would get close to half a million dollars. Enough to pay for Max's education, the rest of Robin's student loans, and maybe even a small house here in Chicago for him and Max once she was done with college and wanted to live with him until she was ready to be on her own.

The only problem was that Steve didn't have anyone to marry, woman or man.

His last serious relationship had been in high school, for crying out loud. Not for lack of trying. Steve loved love, but love apparently didn't love Steve back. Robin insists that's because he's sabotaging himself. She thinks deep down he's afraid of getting hurt again, so he only falls for people who a) he can't have or b) are a terrible match outside the bedroom.

She might have a point, he thinks in his more introspective moments. He has no shortage of options, and he always finds someone to hook up with, but he rarely makes it past the second date.

"Maybe you could hire someone?" Robin suggests, sipping her Dirty Shirley. After seeing John for some legal advice, they had gone straight to their favorite bar to hold a strategic summit over drinks.

So far, they have only made it to the drinking part.

Sighing deeply, Steve considers the idea for a second before shaking his head vehemently. "No way. I'm not paying some stranger to marry me. It's probably illegal anyway, and it sounds a lot like prostitution."

He knows it's the wrong thing to say when Robin raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "And what, Steven, is wrong with prostitution?"

"Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with it. A job like any other job,” he hastily assures her.

His answer seems to satisfy her and he knows she's right. It's just that sometimes the things he's been raised to believe, thanks to his extremely conservative parents, are hard to leave behind. They have a tendency to bubble back to the surface when he least expects it.

"That's what I thought. But I get it, it feels wrong to pay someone to marry you."

"Exactly. And I mean, it's about trust. Who guarantees that they won't double-cross me somehow and run off with all the money? I can't risk that."

He looks over at his best friend, his platonic soul mate, whom he trusts with his life and, more importantly, his little sister's life. Right now, he thinks, there’s only one person he could imagine being married to.

"How about we get married?"

He regrets it as soon as he asks.

Not because he thinks Robin wouldn’t do it, but because of the two of them, she is the one in a loving, stable relationship that could very well end in marriage one day. It's unfair of him to put her in a situation where she feels like she has to choose between Steve and Chrissy.

Worst of all, he knows she still wants to say yes to him. He can see it in the soft, sad way she looks at him. They both know they'll spend the rest of their lives together anyway. The simple truth of both their lives is that they would do anything for each other, walk through fire, face any horror the world could throw at them, just to see each other happy. And it's not like they couldn't get a divorce later, so Robin could still marry Chrissy, sure. But it would take something from her.

"Steve, I -"

"No, wait, don't answer that. It was a stupid idea, I shouldn't -"

"It's not stupid, it's just -"

As they talk over each other, their voices clash until they both instinctively reach over, silencing each other with a hand over their mouths at the same time. Their wide-eyed surprise quickly gives way to laughter as they realize the absurdity of the situation.

Steve is the first to recover from their fit of laughter, quickly sobering up to reassure Robin in a mild voice. "Seriously, Robs, I shouldn't have asked you to do this because it puts you in a shitty position. I know how much you love Chrissy and it wouldn't be fair to either of you. Especially when the two of you could finally get legally married. I don't want to take that away from you and make you agree to a fake heterosexual marriage like it was the 80's."

She looks at him with her big blue eyes, impossibly soft, and takes his hand in hers.

"Steve," she begins, her voice as gentle as her gaze, "thank you. For getting it, I mean. It wouldn't be all fake, though. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But you're right, I'm not in love with you and you're not in love with me. And we both deserve to marry someone we feel that way about. In a perfect world, we would. I mean, I don't even know if Chrissy would ever want to marry me, but," Robin stops here, her eyes widening in sudden realization. "Oh my God, Steve!" Robin cries out in excitement and wonder, her reaction clearly colored by the strong cocktails their favorite bar always provided, before her voice becomes softer again, but no less wondrous. "I really want to marry her. I want to marry Chrissy so badly, Steve, I can't believe I didn't know.”

"And I can't believe you're realizing this after I asked you to marry me. Way to keep a guy's ego in check," Steve jokes with a big grin on his face. It's less news to him than it is to Robin, to be honest. Ever since Robin stumbled into their apartment with a piece of paper in her hand with a number on it, gushing about the gorgeous woman she had just met at the bookstore where she works, Steve knew his best friend was completely smitten with Chrissy Cunningham. That was four years ago, and they are still going strong, obviously madly in love.

She throws her arms around him and says, "I'm sorry," not sounding sorry at all, still giddy with her newfound realization. "I'll make it up to you. I actually might have an idea how we can get you your inheritance and still stick it to Grandma Harrington."

"I sense a but."

"But I can't guarantee it'll work."

"And..."

"And you might not like it at first, but honestly, it's genius, you just have to trust me. And if it really doesn't work out, then we'll get married and you'll pay for my 'I'm-sorry-I-love-you-please-stay-with-me-even-though-I'm-fake-marrying-my-best-friend' vacation with Chrissy. And the divorce."

Maybe it's the three beers he's already had, or maybe it's the fact that Robin would actually marry him just to help him out that makes him agree. He's sure he'll regret it along the way, but maybe he should take a leap of faith. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't. No way to find out but to try.

Drunk Steve is clearly an optimist.

"I feel like I'm going to regret this, but all right. What's your plan?"

Robin grins mischievously, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she leans back, holding Steve at arm's length.

"Steve Harrington, you won't regret this, I promise," she declares, her tone brimming with confidence.

Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly, unable to suppress a chuckle at Robin's enthusiasm. "I'll hold you to that, Robin. But seriously, when do I get to know the master plan?"

Robin's grin widens, but then she sobers slightly, a hint of seriousness creeping into her expression. "I need to talk to Chrissy first. It's... complicated. But I'll tell you everything as soon as I can, I promise."

Steve nods, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension swirling inside him. "Okay, fine. Just... don't keep me waiting too long, okay? I've had enough surprises for one night."

Robin reaches out, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I won't, Steve. Trust me, this is going to work out. You'll see."

Despite his lingering doubts, Steve can't help but be swayed by Robin's unwavering confidence. With a nod, he squeezes her hand back, a silent agreement passing between them. Whatever Robin's plan entails, he knows his best friend has his back. And maybe, hopefully, they'll come out on top after all.

Drunk Steve should not be allowed to make any decisions, sober Steve decides.

Because he instantly regrets trusting Robin's secretive plan as soon as he steps into their apartment a week later, only to find not just Robin, but also her girlfriend Chrissy and Chrissy's best friend and roommate Eddie lounging in their living room.

All eyes turn towards him as he enters.

Robin's expression is the most transparent. Though the furrow between her brows is subtle, her lip-chewing and rhythmic tapping betray her worry, likely anticipating his reaction to whatever scheme they've concocted.

Chrissy, on the other hand, wears a radiant smile, her bubbly demeanor suggesting she's delighted about something. Yet, Steve can't shake the feeling that her enthusiasm might spell trouble. While he adores Chrissy and cherishes her friendship almost as much as he does Robin’s, he's well aware of her propensity for stirring up mischief.

Their shared history stretches back almost as far as hers and Robin's. It's a tradition for Robin and him to introduce their second dates to each other, one of their many platonic soulmate privileges. Steve often wonders if this practice inadvertently sabotages any chances of a third date, but he's unwilling to compromise on the importance of his friendship with Robin.

In any case, if someone can't accept his slightly unconventional bond with his best friend, they're probably not the right fit for him anyway.

Eddie's expression proves the most enigmatic. He appears utterly deer-in-the-headlights, his wide brown eyes resembling those of a startled doe. His usually pale complexion now seems even more ghostly. Steve notices how Eddie's fingers have been incessantly tousling his hair, rendering his dark curls resembling more of a chaotic bird's nest. Steve recognizes this as one of Eddie's nervous ticks, alongside fidgeting and rambling. His suspicions of Eddie's unease appear justified as Eddie avoids meeting Steve's gaze, opting instead to stare down at his hands, absently toying with his rings.

Something is going on and Steve has a sinking feeling that he won't like it.

"Um, hi?" He offers tentatively, his gaze flitting between Robin, Chrissy, and the nervously fidgeting Eddie. "Am I missing something here? Is this an early birthday surprise? Because if it is, I hate to break it to you, but my birthday's not for another nine months."

Before Robin can respond, Eddie interjects, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Hey, Steve! Yeah, it's been a while, hasn't it? Nah, no birthday party, man. We definitely know when your birthday is!"

"We do?" Chrissy chimes in with a playful grin, clearly jesting, as Steve knows she's the one who meticulously keeps track of important dates in their circle.

Eddie, caught off guard by Chrissy's banter, stumbles over his words. "Uh, yeah, of course! February 23rd. Remember that baseball-themed cake from last year? I almost dropped it on the icy ground!"

Steve remembers it too, mostly because he was so chuffed to learn that in order to save his cake, Eddie had taken the fall instead, choosing to land on his admittedly not very well padded backside so that the cake could live. He had been unable to sit properly at their little gathering all evening. Steve had felt sorry for him, but also fond in the face of Eddie's sacrifice for him.

"It's so good to see you, Steve. You look great today, that shirt really makes your eyes pop. Doesn't it, Eddie?" Chrissy gushes, nudging Eddie's side as he just stares at Steve in a way that makes Steve worry that he's about to go into cardiac arrest.

Eddie's mouth opens and closes like a fish. "Um..."

"Okay, what's going on, Robin?" Steve turns to the only person who doesn't act like she's on drugs or caught red-handed at a crime scene. Or both.

Robin, bless her soul, doesn't beat around the bush. "I told you I had a plan. This," and she points to Eddie of all people, "is my plan."

"That's Eddie," Steve states the obvious, but he feels he can't be blamed. Nothing makes sense, so he's glad for every single thing he knows. Then the rest of her statement sinks in.

Blinking at her, his eyes wide, he says the first thing that comes to mind. "You can't be serious!"

There's no way she's saying what he thinks she's saying. Because right now it looks like her plan to help him get his inheritance involves marrying Eddie. Which, no. No, no, no, no. Not Eddie. Maybe she means some other plan that Steve has forgotten. Like Eddie helping him with Dustin's birthday surprise, which sounded much more likely than -

"I told you he didn't want to marry me," Eddie's voice sounds loud in the stunned silence after Steve's reaction. "This was a stupid idea, I don't even know what I was thinking." Then, addressing Steve with his eyes somewhere to Steve's right, "Listen, man, I'm sorry. I totally get it, no hard feelings, okay? I wouldn't want to marry me either."

The wry chuckle doesn't sit well with Steve, nor does the way Eddie still refuses to meet his eyes, or the fact that he's started walking toward their front door. Before he can think about it, his hand wraps around Eddie's arm as he passes Steve on his way out.

"Eddie, wait." Eddie does, looking at Steve's hand wrapped around his forearm. Steve's grip isn't tight, so Eddie could easily break free, but he doesn't. He just looks, quietly waiting. Still not meeting Steve's eyes.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I was just surprised, okay? A little warning would have been nice." The last part is mostly for Robin, who at least does look contrite at his words.

"It's fine, Steve, really. Don't worry about it. Now, if you'll excuse me. Places to be, things to do, see you when I see you, you know the drill."

Steve could let him go, maybe should let him go, because Eddie is obviously embarrassed and the whole situation has gone south anyway. But Eddie doesn't sound fine, and Steve feels terrible about his lack of a brain-to-mouth filter. Something that is usually Robin's specialty.

So instead of letting Eddie walk out of the apartment, Steve steps in front of him to block his way. "Eddie, please wait. I really didn't mean it the way you think I did, you have to believe me. You're a catch, okay? Anybody would be lucky to marry you."

And okay, wow, he didn't mean to say that, but it's the truth.

"You really mean that?" Eddie asks, pulling a strand of hair in front of his mouth. It looks incredibly cute and Steve wants to kill Robin for putting him in this position. She had said that he would not like her plan and that should have been reason enough for him to stop her. Because now he's between a rock and a hard place.

Either he lies and lets Eddie walk away thinking he's not good enough to be married, even if it is a scam to get his grandmother's inheritance. Or he tells the truth and risks getting his heart broken or their friendship ruined.

Because the thing is, Steve means every word. Steve has had a crush on Eddie for years. He's been able to keep those feelings in check because he and Eddie never spend time alone together. It's always group hangouts, or Eddie being there when he and Robin visit Chrissy, or Eddie joining them when they meet at their apartment. It also helps that Eddie keeps his distance from him. Sure, he's nice enough to Steve, but every time Steve tried to get close to the other man, his efforts were rebuked until he got the memo and stopped trying.

Before he can come to a decision, Robin steps in.

“I’m sorry we’re springing this on you, Steve. I could’ve prepared this a little bit better but Chrissy and I were so excited that we found the perfect solution, we couldn’t wait any longer.”

“And this is the perfect solution,” Chrissy jumps in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Tell him Robin!”

Infected by Chrissy's enthusiasm, Robin’s voice carries an equally excited note. “You said it yourself, you’d need someone we can trust. And you trust Eddie, don’t you?”

Steve can feel Eddie’s eyes on him. “Of course I do.” He doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath next to him at his decisive tone. Eddie’s a great guy, him rejecting Steve’s advances doesn’t change that.

Of course he trusts him because Eddie never gave him any reason not to.

But he remembers the stories Chrissy told them to explain why Eddie was a little wary of Steve. Apparently, Eddie didn't have it easy growing up. Chrissy wouldn't go into details because it's Eddie's story to tell, but she did mention that people used to treat Eddie like a criminal, a fuckup, trailer trash. Especially the jocks and rich kids at their high school, so since Steve was kind of both, Eddie had been wary of him.

So much so that Steve had overheard Eddie asking Chrissy once, early in her relationship with Robin, why Robin kept bringing that rich asshole jock over all the time. The words had hurt, but Chrissy's explanation had softened the blow. Still, he'd stopped trying to flirt with Eddie after that because he'd figured that even if Eddie came to accept him, he'd never be interested in going out with someone who reminded him so much of all the bullies in high school who had made his life a living hell.

All of which makes it easy to see how Steve's implicit trust could come as such a surprise to him. Which still kind of stings, because Steve had hoped that the last four years had shown Eddie that Steve was not what Eddie expected him to be just because he grew up rich and popular and into sports.

Before he can get lost in his thoughts about Eddie and what he has to do to earn Eddie's trust the way Eddie has his, Chrissy chimes in again, raising a finger. "So you trust Eddie. That's like the most important thing. Second," she raises another finger, making a playful peace sign in their direction, "Eddie's single. Not like Robin."

Ah, okay, Steve can see why Chrissy is so excited about her and Robin's 'plan'.

"'m sorry, Chrissy, for proposing to your girlfriend," Steve sheepishly apologizes, giving her a crooked smile, which she returns with a sunny one of her own.

"No hard feelings. I get it, believe me. Being with Robin means being stuck with you. Just like Robin is stuck with Eddie. Which is the third reason why this is a great idea," she adds, raising another finger. "We all spend a lot of time together already. Nothing really needs to change."

Aside from the fact that Steve secretly wishes things could change between him and Eddie, he's not so sure that's true. But to argue her point would mean revealing more about his feelings than he's comfortable with, so he lets it slide for now.

Objectively, Steve knows they're right. If he didn't still feel... something for Eddie, he probably wouldn't even hesitate. Because yes, he trusts Eddie not to screw him over, and he's also a close acquaintance who's been teetering on the edge of being a real friend for years. But he's also the reason Steve had to leave last year's Friendsgiving party early because Eddie showed up with some guy who couldn't keep his sleazy hands off of him. It drove Steve crazy to see someone else have what he wanted so badly.

In the end, it is the thought of being able to give Max all the chances she deserves that finally makes him look back at Eddie.

"And you're sure you want to do this? Fake marry me, I mean. Because, Eddie... I can't tell you how much I appreciate you being willing to do this to help me out, but... you don't have to do this, okay? It's not your mess or your fucked up family, it's mine."

Finally, Eddie is looking back at him, meeting his eyes.

"I do. Wanna do this, I mean. I know I don't have to, but -" Here Eddie pauses, apparently searching for the right words. After a few seconds he breathes a sigh and continues. "Look, for once, I love the idea of sticking it to an old homophobic hag, so that's a big incentive. Also, I was actually hoping you could help me out as well. Because there's this amazing record store that's for sale, but the bank refuses to give me a loan unless I have some kind of collateral. So I'm kind of hoping that being married will sway them."

At Steve's surprised look, Eddie hastens to add, "I don't want your money! That's for you and Max. Just the fact that I'm married to someone with money will probably be enough. And we can totally do a prenup or something like that."

Eddie sounds anxious, like he's afraid he's said something wrong, when in fact he's doing Steve a huge favor and asking for something incredibly small in return. Steve thinks he can't be blamed at this point, he just has to touch Eddie. So he does, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, Eddie. Really. Of course we can go to your bank and convince them to give you the loan. It's the least I can do to thank you."

It feels good to be holding Eddie like this, even more so when, after a moment's hesitation, Eddie hugs him back. Even though they've known each other for years, Steve can count the times they've done this on one hand. It's never lasted this long either, and Steve can't suppress his disappointment when Robin interrupts the quiet moment by clapping her hands excitedly, causing Eddie to pull away.

"Oh, I'm so glad we worked it out. Go us!"

Chrissy, just as excited, jumps up and down next to Robin. "I'm so happy for you guys! We can totally help you plan the wedding. It's going to be great, I know it."

Steve and Eddie look at each other in growing confusion.

"Chris," Eddie begins, his voice careful. He's clearly more experienced in dealing with an overly excited Chrissy, so Steve lets him take the lead. "You do realize that Steve and I are only getting married on paper, right? I don't think -"

"You can still have a wedding!" Chrissy interrupts, clearly not deterred by anything silly like pragmatism or logic. "It's still a special day, and you deserve to celebrate it with your friends and family."

Before Steve can say anything - what, he has no idea - Robin jumps in on the ‘you should have a real wedding’ party.

"Besides, it has to look real, right? Why wouldn't you have a real wedding if you were getting married? Everyone would wonder. It's just easier to pull out all the stops and make it look as real as possible so no one will question it."

And that... actually made a lot of sense. Goddammit.

Looking at Eddie with an apologetic look on his face, Steve says, "I guess she's right," and shrugs his shoulders in a ‘I wish she wasn't, but what can you do’ kind of way. Eddie, to his credit, just sighs and nods, accepting his fate with as much grace as he can. He glances at Chrissy, who is almost vibrating.

"Fine. Chris, do you want to help us plan a wedding?"

She actually squeals. "Yes, yes, yes!" Then she rushes over and pulls them into a group hug.

Steve, looking over Chrissy's head at Robin, opens his arm. "Come here, Buckley." It's all the invitation Robin needs to join their celebratory hug.

For just this moment, Steve allows himself to feel as if this is all real, him and Eddie announcing their wedding and their two best friends in the whole world sharing in their happiness. It's a nice feeling, and when he leans his head on Robin's shoulder and looks at Eddie, he finds him looking back with the same soft smile on his face as the one Steve thinks must be on his own.

[cosmicalily]

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

2. semantic memory | yang jeongin x fem!reader

semantic memory: a type of explicit memory that is categorised as general knowledge and information accumulated throughout an individual’s life.

author's note: oh, i missed writing for jeongin!! i was going to revert to my typical best friends to lovers but i decided to change it up (barely) and do roommates instead last minute! thank you for all the love on my seungmin fic, i hope you enjoy this one too!

Yang Jeongin was a good roommate. 

He was reasonably quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He didn’t talk all the time, but he still joked around with you. He was clean and organised, but not meticulous or irritating about it. He did things without you asking; washed the dishes when you were staying up late to work on assignments, ordered you a Caesar salad and fries whenever he got takeout from his favourite Italian place, and always took whatever laundry you had with him when he went to wash his clothes. 

When you went grocery shopping, you knew his favourite beer and ramyeon, and would always buy them for him. When you watered your plants, you’d always water his too, the ones he kept along the windowsill of his bedroom and on the balcony. 

And apparently, when the air conditioning in his bedroom broke in the middle of summer, you’d let him temporarily move into your room. Or at least, that’s what you’d just told him.

“Really? Are you sure?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to. I’m sure I can find a fan or something.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I don’t mind. Honestly. I don’t do a lot of sleeping during the night anyway.”

“You’re always studying,” Jeongin rolled his eyes playfully.

“And you’re never studying, yet you somehow do so well in your classes. It pisses me off,” you groaned, giving him a light shove. “Anyway, you get the floor. Do you want some help migrating?”

The two of you dragged his mattress into your bedroom, out of breath and panting by the time it had been very unprettily dumped on your floor. He made the bed up with clean sheets, and offered to change yours as well. You thanked him, and told him you’d start making dinner.

When you’d finished, you called him, and he came out of your bedroom, shirt off, hair a little tousled. Your cheeks flushed pink and he raised an eyebrow at you in confusion.

“You look…nice,” you said awkwardly, handing him a beer.

“Thanks?” he chuckled, mouth full of rice.

You sighed dramatically. “Most boys would return the compliment,” you shook your head as you opened your bottle of peach soju. 

“You always look nice. I tell you that all the time,” Jeongin replied, fumbling with the remote. “What show?”

“Brooklyn 99. And I always think you’re being sarcastic.”

“We always watch fucking Brooklyn 99. And no, I’m not. I thought that was obvious.”

“Because it’s the best show! And it’s not that obvious, not to me!” You protested.

Jeongin put his beer down and turned to you. “I’m so confused, why are we having two conversations at once?”

“You were the one who asked me two things.”

Jeongin pressed play on the episode. “One of them was a statement, the other was a question. You do always look nice. I’m not being sarcastic, I’m not a dickhead.”

“Some would argue that,” you giggled, and he gave you a gentle shove.

“Some would argue you’re a bitch,” Jeongin sighed. “But I put up with you.”

“Because you think I’m pretty?” you teased. 

“Because of the rent,” he corrected. “How am I supposed to afford my own place in this economy? Although you’re a bonus, I suppose. Even if I have to watch Brooklyn 99 all the time and change your sheets.”

You kicked his shin. “You offered!” 

He grabbed your leg with his hand and shifted it back into place, leaving his hand resting on your thigh. “Shut up. I’m trying to watch.”

“I thought you hated-” you laughed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jeongin groaned, and he pinned you to the floor, tickling you until the two of you collapsed in a laughing heap, the show still running, dinner half eaten, drinks long forgotten.

The one thing you’d failed to mention to Jeongin was your habit of falling off the bed during the night. You were a professional tosser and turner, and that often ended up with you snapping out of your dreams face-down on the wooden floor, bruises littering your hips, knees and any other joint that was lucky enough to be the first to break your fall.

When you woke up, you were mortified to find yourself not on exposed hardwood, but on a mattress. With someone else, who was staring at you curiously.

“Fuck!” you groaned, shoving your face into the sheets. “I’m sorry. When did I end up here?”

Jeongin checked his phone. “Maybe 4 am? I don’t know, I didn’t notice until I rolled over and somebody’s face was in front of mine.”

“What’s the time now?”

“Just past 7.”

You rolled over and stared at the ceiling. “I should get up then.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jeongin agreed, but neither of you made any attempt to move.

You looked around your room, interested in your lower perspective. It still looked empty, too similar to when you’d first moved in. You’d been so caught up in studying and seeing your friends that you had forgotten to properly decorate your room.

“Your room’s boring,” Jeongin commented, as if reading your mind.

“Rude. But you’re right,” you agreed. “Maybe during the summer I’ll decorate it. Buy some posters, maybe find some new furniture on Facebook Marketplace.”

Jeongin nodded in approval. “I can help, if you want.”

“How can I trust that you’ll pick good home decor?” you rolled to face him, squinting.

“I know your taste, I’ve been living with you a year now,” Jeongin replied, scrolling through his phone. “Trust me, I don’t think I’ve forgotten a single thing about you.”

You chuckled. “Aw, do you have one of those lists with all my favourite things or something?”

“Nope. It’s all in here,” he tapped the side of his head, smiling playfully.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to prove it?” he asked, turning to face you, eyes serious.

“Okay, then I’ll do the same,” you agreed.

Jeongin ran a hand through his hair and set his phone down. “Your favourite fruits are peaches, but nectarines come a close second. If stone fruits aren’t in season, you’ll settle for citrus. You’re prescribed an iron supplement, but you never take it, because you say it tastes like metal. Your favourite colour is pale blue, but it didn’t match the personal colour analysis that app gave you and you’ve been angry about it ever since. You drink with your friends, but don’t like getting drunk while you’re out since you have a fear of being kidnapped. You haven’t had a boyfriend since 12th grade, and you’re secretly in love with me,” he finished, eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes at his final statement. “Alright, Yang Jeongin. You’re the youngest in your friendship group but hate being babied, and you wanted to be a primary school teacher growing up. Your favourite colour is green, and you can fit a whole slice of pizza in your mouth. You can actually sing decently well, but never do, and you actually love Brooklyn 99 more than I do. You love buying clothes, and your favourite place to do so is the vintage shop down the road, where you spend all of your time and all of your money. And, above all, you get no bitches.”

“Don’t you classify as a bitch?” He laughed. “You did well, though. Everything you said was right.”

“You were right too,” you sighed. “I really thought you were going to say something insanely stupid that I could tease you for.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget that last statement?”

You ignored him. “I genuinely can’t believe you know that much about me. Fuck, I have to hide more about myself. I hate being perceived.”

Jeongin chuckled in amusement. “I pay attention. It’s weird hearing everything someone knows about you all at once. What am I supposed to do with that information?”

“I think we have to make out now,” you said casually.

He nodded, unsurprised. “I think we do.”

You shuffled closer, and he moved to lie above you, weight on his elbows. His eyes glittered, and his cheeks were tinged with peach. You smiled up at him, face warm and tingling. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours softly, and you sighed into his mouth at the feeling. You moved your hands to cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss, pulling apart when you both lost your breath.

“You were right,” you panted, lips swollen. 

“About?”

“Me being secretly in love with you.”

He smiled. “Well, you were wrong. About me getting no bitches. It wouldn’t be presumptuous to assume you’re my bitch, considering the fact that we just kissed?”

“I won’t be for long if you keep calling me that. It’s girlfriend to you now,” you giggled, and he wrapped an arm around your torso, pulling you tight onto his chest.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Breaking Dishes. - OC

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 2.7K~ cw: smut, arguments, violence, fighting/roughousing, breaking dishes, insults, toxic relationship.

It’s 8:12 A.M. when Kathleen finds herself sliding off bed and wrapping herself in a flowery black and pink silk robe. John’s side of the bed is cold, a sign he’s gotten up long ago.

She pads over to their en-suite bathroom and quickly washes her face, brushes her teeth and her hair, before she leaves the bedroom in search of her husband.

As she enters the kitchen, she finds her temper already rising, her jaw clenching as she looks around, finding multiple reasons to get angry already, so early in the morning, so early in a weekend morning.

First, she finds that he’s made breakfast already. Not for them, just for himself. Nothing for her. Selfish bastard.

Second, he made himself a full English too. Having left the rest of the eggs and sausages out of the fridge. The milk too even though he KNOWS she hates when he does that.

Third, he’s left a mess of pans and utensils on the kitchen stove… Which means she can’t even cook herself breakfast if she wanted to.

Fourth, the water kettle is not full enough for her to make herself a cuppa. In fact, the water in it is already lukewarm, even if there was enough to make herself one, she still couldn’t.

And fifth, John is sitting outside in the balcony, getting some sun, while only wearing a pair of jeans, showing off his strong torso and bulging arms to the whole neighborhood. Like a bloody tart.

Oh… Kathleen. is. pissed.

“JONATHAN. WILLIAM. PRICE!” She calls out at the top of her lungs as she whips the sliding glass door open and coming face to face with the man of the hour.

“Morning, Kat.” John greets her, completely calm and collected as he looks up at her, leaning his elbow lazily on the table next to him, which holds his empty breakfast plate and cutlery. 

He’s lounging without a care in the world, a grey wool sweater across his lap, and a mug of tea in his hand.

“Morning my arse! Did’ya see the mess you left in the kitchen?!” She asks him pointedly, brown eyes wide as she glares pure daggers at him.

Unfortunately for her, her raising her voice and her stern glares do little to him now, four years into their relationship, one into their marriage. He’s gotten used to them.

“Calm your tits, woman, I’m going to clean it after I’m done here.” He replies nonchalantly as he gestures vaguely. “Can’t I have a moment’s peace?”

“Oh, you want a moment’s peace, do ya?” She asks him as she crosses her arms over her chest, dipping her head to the side. “When do I get a moment’s peace, hm? When do I get a bloody weekend when I wake up and there’s not a mess to clean or with my breakfast made for me?” She asks with a cocked brow.

John shifts around in “I let you sleep in. Didn’t make any noise. You chose to get up right now. Could've stayed asleep and you would've woken up to clean dishes.” He remaked with a shrug.

“Ex-cuse me?” Kathleen asked pointedly as she stared at him. 

“You heard me. You’re getting an attitude for no reason, da’ling.” John remarked as he finished gulping down his tea.

Kathleen wanted to yell at him some more. She really wanted to. The man drove her insane, especially when he was like this… Correct.

“Don’t you gaslight me, Jonathan. I have a right to want to wake up to a clean house and some food made for me!” She retorted, grasping at straws for something to justify her anger.

“And this is after you complained I never make breakfast the way you like it?” He retorted as he looked her up and down before standing up, gathering his plate, cutlery and empty cup of tea.

“You-!” She sputtered a bit as she looked up at her husband, who gently moved her aside so he could slip past her back inside the house. “I- You-!” She continued as she followed after him.

”Face it, Kat, you have no leg to stand on, da’lin’.” John remarked as he entered the kitchen.

“Don’t you bloody walk away from me!” She raised her voice and suddenly shoved him from behind. It caused his empty cup of tea to roll of its perch atop the dirty plate he was carrying and shatter into a million pieces on the hardwood floor. 

John stopped in his tracks as soon as the cup fell, so as to not step on the shards and turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Was that fuckin’ necessary, da’lin’?”

“Yes.” Kathleen replied with a bite to her tone as she stared up into his eyes, holding her ground even as he turned and stood over her.

“Really? What’d I do to deserve that push, hm?” He asked her as he dipped his head to the side, blue eyes trailing over the form of his wife beneath him, wrapped in a silken robe that wrapped beautifully around her full figure.

Meanwhile, Kathleen’s brown eyes were glued to her husband’s figure too, trailing over the strong neck, broad shoulders, muscular pecs, soft stomach, and the abundant hair that covered it. 

“You- You were sitting outside like a bloody tart, showin’ off for the bloody neighbors!” She suddenly said as her eyes shot up to look at him, having found something to grasp on to yell at him some more.

John’s eyebrows raised, his lips morphed into a smirk and he gave her a mocking look, his nose scrunching up a bit. “Is that what this is, da’lin’? You’re jealous?” He asked her condescendingly.

“Oh piss off, John, I’m not jealous!” She retorted pointedly as she glared at him.

“Right…” John asked as he took a step over her. “Then why are you complaining about me being shirtless, then?” He teased her as one of his hands moved to grasp her around the chin, squeezing her face lightly.

“I-” Kathleen tried to defend herself, having already realized that today just wasn’t one of her days when it came to having a sharp tongue. So she did what she could, ever competitive she was, wasn’t going to take the disrespect lying down.

Grabbing his forearm, she ripped his hand off her face, then, took the plate off his other hand, and threw it across the living room blindly, hearing it shatter somewhere, probably against the bookshelf by the TV.

“Fuck. You. John Price. I’m sick and tired of your bloody attitude.” She pointed a finger in his face and then poked him on the chest. “You think you can walk around here as you wish, as if you’re in bloody charge? I think the fuck not!” She scolded him.

John didn’t even flinch at her poking him, or the plate being hurled across the room. He was used to this. Used to her. Hell, it turned him on when Kathleen was being a cunt to him.

John reached forward and grabbed her by her right forearm, pulling her against him. “Yeah? Then who’s in charge, da’lin’?” He challenged as he looked down his nose at her.

“It sure as hell isn’t you!” She retorted, her voice, much like her hackles, raised, even if she didn’t try, at all, to pull away from him. She wasn’t afraid of John. Never had been, never would be.

“Let’s see about that then.” John told her as he pulled her over to the living couch, spun her away from him and bent her over the armchair.

Kathleen squeaked softly, knowing well what was coming, as John pinned her wrists behind her back with one hand, the other rolling up her robe to expose her thighs and her ass.

“Who’s in charge, hm?” John goaded her before he whipped his hand back and delivered a hard smack to one of her round ass cheeks, causing it to ripple, a moan falling from her parted lips.

“Not. You.” She replied, huffing a moan again when he delivered a second smack to her ass. “Fuck. You. John.” She grunted through her teeth.

“What’d you say, da’lin’?” John asked as he leaned close to her ear. “Did you just tell me to go fuck myself?” He teased, watching as she fruitlessly writhed over the armrest, her head buried down in the couch cushion, her hands and arms struggling in his grip.

She rolled her head to the side so she could catch him through the corner of her eye. “Yes, I fucking did. And I’ll say it again. Fuck you, John.” She spat at him.

“Tsk-tsk. Brat.” John mused with a smirk on his lips. She could hear it. Then he smacked her again, and again, always making sure to strike the same spot, her skin already redening and blushing as the skin warmed up and the blood vessels popped below it.

John only gave her a break once the dulcets of her voice had softened and her moans had become whimpers, her arms and hands having gone limp in his grasp. “Who’s in charge, Kat?” He checked as he looked at her with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

Kathleen’s brown eyes caught his, her face just as red as her ass, her eyes widened, pupils blown from lust. “Fuck. You.” She gritted through her teeth.

“Oh, that wasn’t enough was it, sweet’art?” He goaded again. “Very well.” He added. John’s hand grabbed hold of the waist band of her panties and pulled them down swiftly, noting the wet spot she had already left in them. 

“Someone’s enjoying being spanked huh, you brat? Someone likes having an attitude adjustment…” He goaded as he let go of her panties, letting them fall around her ankles.

Before Kathleen could even retort properly, John’s rough and calloused fingers delivered a slap to her puffy cunt, causing her to squirm and squeal, her legs straightening up and trembling. 

“John!” She cried out as he continued repeatedly slapping her pussy, causing her to squirm and writhe against the hard material of the armrest below her. 

“That’s it, call my name, da’lin’.” He goaded as he kept repeatedly and continuously smacking her warm, wet folds. “Who’s in charge, here, huh?”

“F-Fuck… You!” She spat at him, as she finally freed her arms from John’s weakened grip. Then, she threw an elbow back, hitting her husband squarely in the nose.

“Ah, you cunt!” John complained as he suddenly stumbled back back, one hand shooting up to cup his now bleeding nose, while Kathleen suddenly rolled off her perch on the couch.

“No, you’re the cunt!” She retorted before suddenly lunging herself at him, throwing her whole weight on top of John, who, not expecting it, landed on the floor with a hard thud.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Kat!” John replied as he tried to get a grab at his wife, instead, only getting her trying to grip him by the arms and pin him to the floor.

She struggled with it, of course, she might have some military training, but not nearly enough to fight him, and definitely not enough strength to fight him.

His forearms bulged under her hands, the rough skin prickling with goosebumps, the adrenaline flowing through his veins, as well as hers, the both of them desperate to fight the other.

John bucked his hips and rolled them over before she could even attempt a proper pin down, landing her on the floor with a thud and a huff from her lungs.

He grabbed her by the hair with one hand, the other gripping her wrists together and pining her to the floor instead. 

Kathleen wrapped her legs around his hip and attempted to roll them over again, unsuccessfully, so, instead, she did the only thing she could do. She leaned up and spat in John’s face.

John’s eyes closed for a moment and his jaw clenched before they opened again, looking even more angry and… horny than before. “Is that how it’s going to be, Kathleen?” He asked her as he let go of her hair and used his hand to collect the spit off his skin. 

“Yeah, it is-” She barely had time to continue before he was plugging her mouth with his fingers, causing her to swallow them and her own saliva back up, pressing down on his tongue, preventing her from continuing her tirade.

“Keep your smart-ass gob shut, sweetheart, or you won't have a fuckin' jaw to move when I'm done wit ya.” He told her, eyes locked on hers. Kathleen looked up at him, eyes widened, pupils blown, before she wrapped her lips around his fingers, beginning to give him a suck.

“That’s it…” He told her. “You look so much better with your mouth shut…” He goaded her with a smirk on his lips. Kathleen’s eyes sparkled with mischief at his comment, a clear sign that she felt challenged by his condescending tone… So, she bit down onto his fingers as hard as he could.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Kat…” John hissed as he pushed his fingers deeper in her mouth like one would a dog, causing her to sputter and choke, and forcing her to let go of them, allowing him to pull them back out.

“C’mere.” He demanded and grabbed her jaw with tight fingers, forcing her mouth to open, before he swished his tongue inside his own mouth to collect some saliva, before spitting it into her mouth. “Swallow.” He demanded and, for once, she obeyed. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Kathleen then squeaked in surprise as he pulled open her robe, leaving it splayed open on the hardwood floor before he grabbed one of her legs, pushing it up against her chest while he sat over the other one.

“We need to adjust that fuckin’ attitude of yours. It’s way too bloody early for you to be fightin’ me, you hear?!” He taunted her as he undid the fly in his jeans and shimmied both his the trousers and boxer briefs down, allowing him to pull out his hardened cock.

“Fuck you, John.” She retorted as she squirmed a bit beneath him, trying to drag herself away with the help of her elbows.

“That’s what I’m about to do to you, sweetheart.” He taunted her before he quickly grabbed hold of her again, using one hand to push her down against the floor, one hand wrapped around her jaw and neck, while the other wrapped around his cock and used it to brush his leaky tip against her folds.

“John-” Kathleen grumbled as she wrapped her own hands around his hairy forearm, nails digging into his flexed muscle, dragging drown his skin.

“Sh-Shhh…”  He murmured before he drove his cock deep into her cunt, causing her to huff and moan, her head falling back as he plunged as far as he could.

“That’s my girl…” He teased her. He shifted around and lifted her other leg too, pushing it forward against her chest, allowing him to sink in deeper, before he started thrusting his hips down into her.

Her warm walls spread open to accommodate him, his cock making way inside fully with each snap of his hips. “That’s it… That’s what you needed, isn’t it?” He goaded her with a smirk. Unluckily for her, Kathleen could do little more than nod in agreement.

“Tell me you love me, da’lin’...” John cooed at his wife as he pounded deep into her, reaching that spot in her walls that only John had ever been able to reach.

“I love y-oooh…” Kathleen murmured, being cut off by a sudden shift in his demeanor, a more aggressive, ruthless rhythm coming into place, his hips snapping punishingly against hers, his cock bottoming out in her.

“That’s it, Kat, tell me you love me… Tell me you love me…” He repeated over and over. “Tell me you love me and my cock inside you, da’lin’... Tell me…”

“I love you, John…” Kathleen whined, her head rolling back on the hard floor, her arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh spot between his shoulder blades, her nails just barely grazing the tattoo on his nape.

“You’re such a fuckin’ cunt, Kat… Such a fuckin’ cunt… But I love you so much…” John murmured before he pressed his lips into hers in a sloppy, wet kiss.

[sillystargirll]

What a Glow

cw: Pregnancy kink & sex, tit kink, slight use of Spanish words, slight use of Y/N

characters: Fem reader, Alejandro Vargas

"Oh mija your glowing, I can't wait for my grandbaby to just be here." you hear Alejandro's mother cried in happiness. which makes Alejandro smiles, he wraps a hand around you, pulling you closer to him while his other hand reaches to soothe your big belly.

"Gracias, suegra" you responded with a smiled, Alejandro looked at you admiring your face. Over the months your face is somehow so much more beautiful. You’re always beautiful– But in the past six months Alejandro has found a different beauty in you.

“Let’s not waste too much time. I made your favorite, mija” Alejandro's mother stands up, and you both rise as well. You go to the table and take a seat, your mouth watering at the food that’s ready to be served.

You and Alejandro had decided to stay over at his parents' house for the weekend. Alejandro and you lived on the outskirts of las alamas which was a couple of hours from the city.  so it’s not ideal to visit them and go back home the same day because in the end you’re both exhausted. His parents have bugged you and him to spend more time with them before you have your son, and here you are.

While you eat, there’s some light conversation that fills up the space. And although Alejandro is usually talkative, tonight he’s quiet. He keeps looking at you, his eyes glued to your belly. His hand goes to your thigh and he leaves it there for the rest of the dinner. you raised an eyebrow but didn't question it.

After dinner, you helped clean up the table and wash dishes with your mother-in-law. you head upstairs to the shared room you and Alejandro share. Upon opening the door Alejandro is sitting on the edge of the bed .looking around his old room and then looking at him. You walk over to your bag to grab a nightgown you brought.

You take off your shirt, and his eyes nearly go wide. He’s salivating at the sight. He shifts uncomfortably with the erection that’s in his pants. He can control himself with the sight in front of him, right? He can’t just fuck you at his parents' house. That wouldn’t be decent.

"are you okay babe?'You ask. He slightly nods, but you’re not convinced. You walk over to him and take a seat next to him. You don’t know what you’re doing to him by just sitting down next to him. You put your hand on his back, and he’s doing his best to look at your face, and not at anything else. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

"I do, mi amor.." He tells you, his eyes staring at your cleavage. The dirtiest thoughts go through his mind, and he hopes that with a simple peck, it’ll go away. So he kisses your cheek, hoping that all obscene thoughts will go away. He pulls away, and the thoughts have somehow become even more intense… Or perhaps he has lost all sense because how is a simple kiss going to erase the dirty thoughts that consume his mind?

You put your free hand over his, looking at his eyes. You notice how he’s looking at your breasts, a reminder that you’re sitting down with no shirt, just your bra. He’s so focused… You watch him lick his lips, and you sincerely don’t know how to help the man out. He finally meets your gaze, “What would you do if I told you the problem?”

“That we’re at my parents’ house and we can’t do that here.” You lower your voice, getting up from the bed to take off your pants. Now you stand in front of him, just in your underwear which doesn’t help his case. He stands up, taking a few steps towards you before hugging you from behind, his hands resting on your belly.

“I can be quiet… I promise I will be. It’ll be quick and rewarding for both of us.” He begins and doesn’t wait for an answer as one hand goes to your back to unhook your bra, while the other goes down to your panties. He kisses your neck. “It’ll be so quick, mi amor…”

"A-Alejandro." You say, feeling as if his fingertips burn your skin not realizing that it’s your own body temperature rising at the thought of fucking your husband. You’ve been so undeniably horny which is a side effect of your pregnancy, one that Alejandro loves. He pushes your panties down, and they easily fall to the floor. Next thing you know, your bra is on the floor as well. He kisses your neck again before his lips go up to your ear.

“Verte embarazada de mi hijo realmente me tiene alterado... ¿Puedes culparme?” He whispers. And the next thing you know, you’re on top of him on the bed, his upper body lifting a bit so his mouth latches on one of your nipples while his hand plays with the other.

You know why Alejandro chose this position, and it isn’t because he wants to have your engorged tits on his face… Although it doesn’t hurt. He just wants to feel your sweet cunt for longer because sex is so much slower when you’re riding him. Sure he wants quick sex but he wants to enjoy it as long as possible.

Maybe you would have protested because you know why he wants this, but horniness has taken over your mind. You’re thinking of the pants that are on the floor of the bedroom. Your hand is aligning his erect cock with your entrance. 

You slowly push yourself down on his cock, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you take every inch. You’re trying to keep quiet, reminding yourself that your in-laws are two doors down in the same house. The door is locked but you don’t want them to know what you’re doing with your husband. It’s hard to keep quiet though with his cock inside of you and him sucking on your tits. Maybe if it was one or the other, not both at the same time.

You feel the vibrations of his moans as he feels how good your pussy feels around him, how you’re slowly moving on his dick. Kento loves fucking you, but now that you’re pregnant, your cunt just feels so much different. It’s great. While he’s at work all he can think about is burying his cock deep inside you and fucking you into oblivion. And he’s always had occasional lewd thoughts about you while at work, but not intense as this.

You feel the vibrations of his moans as he feels how good your pussy feels around him, how you’re slowly moving on his dick. Alejandro loves fucking you, but now that you’re pregnant, your cunt just feels so much different. It’s great. While he’s at work all he can think about is burying his cock deep inside you and fucking you into oblivion. And he’s always had occasional lewd thoughts about you while at work, but not intense as this.

“Fuck-” You moan, your voice very low. You remember His parents are in the house so you can’t be as loud as you want, but that awareness is slowly fading as you move. Your mind begins to get foggy, just thinking of one thing and one thing only.

Alejandro detaches himself from your nipple, finally laying back down on the bed, just watching as you struggle with your pregnant belly to move on him. You’re so slow, but he doesn’t mind. The longer he’s inside of you, the happier he is. 

He barely can see what’s happening, but he knows his cock is coated with your juices. He doesn’t know why, but since the beginning of your pregnancy it’s happened. In the end, after orgasming, it would’ve happened but now you’re not even halfway done and his cock is already like this.

“Eres tan Linda,bebe” Alejandro coos, watching as you struggle to move. Your hands go to his chest to hold on for support. He’s enjoying himself watching you. But he’s such a sweet caring husband, that he has to help you.

He begins to thrust his hips, biting his bottom lip to not make any noises while he clearly picks up speed. One hand is on your belly while the other is over your mouth. Now, he wouldn’t be such a bad husband that he’d let his parents hear as you get fucked, would he?

“Ah, eso , cariño.” He groans, feeling as you tighten around him. He hears muffled moans as your orgasm approaches. It’s just too much for you to take… It’s so good but it’s so much.

Your eyes shut. Your body shakes as your orgasm takes over, a really loud moan leaving your lips which is thankfully muffled by your husband.

You feel even more amazing now, that he’s thinking of slowing himself down to not come yet. He wants to make this last longer, and he knows the moment he comes he won’t feel your cunt again until you leave.

So he doesn’t take his opportunity to come and he slows his thrusts. He just wants to watch as his pregnant wife, with his hand over her mouth, takes his cock.

"QUE PASO?!" There’s a knock on the door, making Alejandro come to a complete stop. You both stare at each other wide-eyed. "We heard something slamming into the wall."

“Uh… Yeah!” You yell back. “It must be the neighbors! Damn, they’re loud!”

[inoreuct]

drink from me

a sherry-laced conversation about thirst and running away. zosan | 2k | hurt/comfort

Being a coward isn’t as easy as one might think.

It’s juxtaposition in its own right; cowardice is, as defined, a lack of bravery— And yet Sanji supposes it takes bravery to be able to ditch everything you stand for. To turn tail and run. Bravery to bear upon your shoulders the disappointment of everybody who had ever believed in you. 

He sighs deeply, tilting the bottle in his hand so that the dregs of liquor slosh within. This is why he doesn’t drink.

It’s relatively easy most days. To lock his past behind a set of double doors, bar the handles with a padlock and chain so he can pretend that everything he’s running from isn’t just three paces behind, snapping at his heels, starved and ready to eat him up whole. Alcohol slots the key back into place and twists it without his permission. Twists his heart until it aches.

He doesn’t know why he’d started. The bottle of sherry had sat, nondescript and guileless and half-full on the galley table after the night’s dessert, and Sanji had paused before he’d slowly wrapped his fingers around the neck of it and let his nails scrape against the dark glass.

The cork had popped almost too easily and here he is now, taffrail digging into his forearms as he takes a long drag from his cigarette and lets bitter smoke fill his lungs full to bursting. Blood orange coats the back of his tongue, cloyingly sweet, thick on the roof of his mouth— He’d made a layered trifle with cacao nibs and caramelised cream that had been slathered between slabs of boozy vanilla sponge, and the aftertaste clings to his teeth. Sanji peers down as what’s left of the sherry glimmers vaguely inside the bottle and fights the urge to chug the rest. 

He could, if he really wanted to. He hardly drinks but it certainly doesn’t mean he can’t. 

A soft scrape against wood catches his attention, barely perceptible. He fights to keep his spine from stiffening, fights to maintain his loose-limbed, easy demeanor; the liquid warmth in his veins helps some but not enough, and he’s halfway through another drag when near-silent footsteps stop just behind him. 

Zoro’s haori shifts in the wind, palm loosely wrapped around the end of Wado’s hilt where she’s strapped alone to his hip. “Was wondering where you went,” he says easily, looking out over the ocean. 

Sanji scoffs. It burns his throat more than the sherry did. “For someone built like that, you’re surprisingly quiet, marimo.”

The immediate urge to kick himself is something new. He rarely feels it— It appears often, don’t get him wrong, he just. Ignores it. It’s a little more difficult tonight. Built like that. The noise that escapes him is mirthless. What’s that even supposed to mean, huh? Alcohol’s always made him snappy and he does feel bad for once — But he’s tired, and the chores won’t do themselves. 

“Make it quick, would you?” he mutters when Zoro still hasn’t replied, low and quiet in the still evening air as he curves down to dig the heel of his palm into his temple. “My spice jars are still all over the counter, and I have to mop the floor before I wash the dishes—”

“It’s done.” 

Sanji blinks, before his eyes narrow and he turns his head to look at Zoro properly. “The dishes?”

“Everything.” The swordsman huffs when Sanji gives him a dubious look, gaze flicking over and away again as he rolls his eye. “Luffy asked me to clean up the galley. Said you needed a break.”

Well. The cook exhales, measured, and buries his face into the crook of his elbow. Taps his cig so that ash doesn’t fall into his hair where he’s holding it aloft above his head. “Tell him thanks, but I don’t.”

He clocks it out of his peripheral vision when Zoro smirks and waves a hand to gesture to his cigarette and his slouch and the glass bottle dangling against wood. “What’s this, then?”

I don’t know. Shop’s closed, please fuck off and come back tomorrow morning. 

The other words that sit at the tip of Sanji’s tongue are far more scathing. He feels them, bites them back viciously before he can burn anyone other than himself. “If there’s a single thing out of place in there I’m gonna—”

“Kick my ass, I know, I know.” Zoro chuckles under his breath. “Don’t you get tired of saying the same things over and over again?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t constantly choose to be selectively deaf, moss-for-brains.”

The swordsman huffs another soft laugh, and conversation peters out after that. Sanji feels an itch building at the base of his skull, flickering just under his skin; it’s making him restless. He taps the bottle against the rail just to fill the silence. Zoro reaches a hand out and Sanji gives it to him easily, unthinkingly, watching and pretending he isn’t as the swordsman thumbs over the faded paper label that’s peeling at the corner. 

Zoro’s hands are scarred, he notes. He knows this, of course, but he never gets tired of letting his gaze drift over tan skin and old scars, thin slivers of pearly tissue painted silver in the moonlight. A breeze ruffles his hair as Zoro finally drinks, and he’s distantly surprised to see that it’s a measured sip and not a swig like what it usually would have been. 

Fucking hell. Sanji’s inhale shudders when he pushes himself up and stands straight, now-free hand wrapping around lacquered wood as he finishes his cigarette and tosses the butt over the side. He needs to stop thinking. He’s paying too much attention. There’s a pressure building behind his forehead and Zoro is an overwhelming presence beside him, unavoidable, stoic and staunch as ever, perfect posture, perfect honour, a sentinel with a pure white sword like some sort of— of hero from a storybook. Perfect perfect perfect.

It’s all building like a scream behind his lips, a river at a bottleneck, and he clenches his jaw to keep it in. Grits his teeth until he hears them creak because what would happen if he opened his mouth? Nothing good, he’s sure. Nothing anyone needs.

Sanji nearly startles when the bottle taps against his elbow. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing to say,” he replies immediately, taking a careless gulp and holding in a cough. 

Zoro’s slow exhale feels like it shifts the wind itself. Their ship creaks gently. “You always have something to say, curls.”

“Look, you—” He cuts himself off, tempering his breath. “I’m tired, alright? So can you just get to the point?” Fuck, he needs another cigarette. 

Maybe that’s the problem. He knows he’s the problem, sure, but Sanji suspects that he’s been running for so long that he’s forgotten how to walk. It’s grown into him like weeds wound through his ribs, the way he sees poison in water that’s perfectly clean, the way peace makes him more anxious than chaos does. He needs to stop running. He doesn’t know how. 

Zoro pries the sherry from his fingers and it’s only then that he relaxes the death grip he’d unintentionally had, a shudder slipping over his shoulders. Zoro holds the bottle loosely between his scarred fingers and doesn’t drink.

The silence thickens. Static crackles within his bones.

Sanji doesn’t know why he starts talking. Doesn’t know why it feels like a dam breaking in his chest, but his mouth is open, and the words are emptying out. “I’m tired of looking over my shoulder for something that isn’t there. Luffy gave me something to run towards, for once, but—”

He doesn’t know how to say it’s not enough without sounding ungrateful, without being greedy. “Sometimes I think I could… consume every one of the Blues, and still want more,” he allows. “Need more.” His fingers lace together, and Sanji dips his head with a wry smile even as he looks at the endless expanse of sky in front of them. “I’m afraid I’ll drink the world and still come up dry.”

There is a thirst in him. Something different than what had wracked him for a month on that barren rock. Hunger he can handle; he eats just enough to stave it off and goes about his day. This, though— Sanji can’t help the way it buzzes in the back of his head and keeps him wound up like a coil of electrical wire. He kneads dough and whisks egg whites just to have something to do with his hands. He defaults to his usual barbs when he’s feeling ungrounded so he can kid himself into thinking he possesses some semblance of normality. His shoulders ache as he stares out over the sea and wonders what it’s like to hold so much and still, still, be so achingly empty.

The winds change, carding cool fingers through his hair. 

“Drink from me,” Zoro says, and Sanji’s breath catches between his teeth.

His head snaps up to find Zoro already looking at him, face unreadable, elbows on the taffrail and bottle cupped in his hands. The swordsman looks serene, Sanji thinks. Gaze trained straight ahead, ever clear of his objectives as Wado gleams at his side, starlight in an ivory sheath. 

“Drink from me,” he repeats. The words are solemn as they always are in moments like these, the liminal space just after dusk but before true night, as his eyes shift over to Sanji and lock in place. “I won’t let you go thirsty again.” 

Sanji’s mouth dries. It’s hard not to feel pinned as Zoro looks at him; the weight of his gaze is almost physically tangible, like a familiar green coat settling over his shoulders. That’s the thing about Zoro— For all Sanji jokes about him having plant life in his skull, the swordsman has a penchant for dropping absolutely earth-shaking statements without even seeming to think about them at all. The cook swallows once, twice, tries to find his words as his lips part and loses them as soon as he takes his next breath.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop feeling like a ticking time bomb. But as Zoro’s lashes flutter and he looks away, Sanji feels something in him settle. The relentless buzz that always seems to sit just beneath his skin soothes out into a quiet hum. 

Maybe part of it’s how Zoro’s scarred and still perfect. Untouchable. Sanji couldn’t hurt him even if he tried, even if he blows apart.

His fingers wrap, unthinking, around the neck of the bottle as it’s pushed back into his hand, the pressure of Zoro’s touch lingering until he’s sure that Sanji has a good grip. The swordsman’s boots brush softly across the planks as he turns to leave and he’s halfway to the stairs before Sanji speaks.

“Marimo.”

He knows Zoro turns without even looking. “Hm?”

“Did Luffy really ask you to clean up the galley?”

A pause, before Zoro starts walking again. “Get some sleep, cook. I’ll take the rest of your watch.”

The silence he leaves in his wake is honey-thick. First watch is Sanji’s shift, it always is— He cleans up the galley and stays awake until Zoro comes to take over. 

(The galley is clean. His watch is covered. His mind is quiet.

For once, he can’t find himself another reason to stay.)

 

The sherry holds no evidence of them ever having shared it. Sanji lifts the tinted glass and there’s no trace of Zoro, no proof that his mouth had ever been where Sanji’s is— None of the candied orange and rosemary from the duck they’d had for dinner, gamey and blood-sweet.

I won’t let you go thirsty again.

Sanji tastes it still, gentle in the back of his throat as he drains the bottle.

[hellfirexwhore]

Forget What You've Heard E.M.

Line cook!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader

Sorry it took so long between posts! I've been working all day every day so it's busy over here. I hope you enjoy! 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied / posted as original work on any platform.

Your favorite co-worker's flirty nature is your favorite part of the workday, but is it genuine? Someone is feeding you lies just as your patrons are being fed mozzarella sticks and Eddie is determined to convince you he's not just playing games with your heart.

Misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, fluff, cursing, an asshole named Dylan (We all know one), use of Y/N

Wordcount 4.7k

You smile to yourself as you count up the tips you've made so far. Bartending has done wonders for your wallet, and it's totally worth it if you can look over the long hours on your feet, creeps trying to get into your pants, and going home smelling like sour mix and sweat. You just moved to Hawkins 6 months ago and since living on your own is expensive, you serve beers and shake cocktails at the karaoke bar downtown to make a living. It's easy work and you're good at it, but there's just one issue; your favorite co-worker is a huge distraction. Eddie is the cutest damn line cook you've ever seen with his curly hair always tied into a low bun and his smile that you're sure could cure a number of diseases, but those things don't make it easy to do your job efficiently. It's nearly impossible to grab a platter of nachos from the window without him throwing out a wink and calling you sweetheart, telling you you're doing a good job, or even sliding a basket of fries to you with a finger to his lips as a way of saying "Don't tell on me, honey." 

Tonight is no different. Eddie has been a total menace all night, flashing you that flirty smile, keeping you from your work with his corny pick-up lines that he insists will get him a date with you one day, making conversation, and giving you extra sides of ranch without making you ring them in first like the kitchen manager does. The second you walked into the back to set your bag down after arriving, he told you your hair looked absolutely ravishing even though it's just thrown into a clip like always, making you blush like crazy. It took nearly 20 minutes to get the scarlet red tint to leave your cheeks, and though you tried your hardest to hide it, Eddie sure as hell noticed, leaving a smile on his face throughout the busy evening.

"Hey sweetheart, I've got those wings for the bar top ready for you." You hear from behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You smile to yourself at the nickname and put the glass you've just finished washing upside down on the drying mat. 

You turn around to an always grinning Eddie leaning his elbows on the stainless steel of the mini counter under the window to the back of house and holding the ticket in between his index and middle digits. You take the slip of paper out of his hand slowly, letting your fingers touch for a moment before stabbing it through the small metal spike to your right. Every once in a while, you like to indulge in his flirtatiousness, though it makes you nervous. Eddie's fun, he's nice, and dishing back what he gives to you every day isn't hurting anyone. "Thank you, Eddie."

"Any time, sugar." He replies, winking and turning to grab a new ticket and drop an order of potato skins in the fryer. You shake your head, smiling from ear to ear, turning to serve the hot plate to one of your regulars. 

The rest of the shift goes great. Your tips are higher than you had planned, nobody had to be thrown out for fighting, and you got to hear a wonderful rendition of "My Heart Will Go On" sang by a very intoxicated older gentleman during the karaoke session. As you clean up the bar for the night, as always, you can't stop thinking about Eddie. You think tonight might actually be the night you ask him to hang out with you outside of work, though he's invited you to go get some late night pizza before, playfully pouting when you have to decline, telling him that you're exhausted and have to go back to the bar to open the next day. You've wanted to say yes, but Eddie makes you nervous. You're feeling bold tonight though, and you're optimistic. 

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is in the kitchen cleaning the fryers, taking out the trash, and scrubbing the floors absentmindedly, almost like he's in auto-pilot because he can't get you out of his head. He wants so badly to ask you out, but he's tried that and you don't seem interested. He realizes you probably just flirt with him for fun, a harmless workplace friendship with some winks and pet names sprinkled in, but over the past four months, he's developed a serious crush on you. 

There's just something about you that makes you so different from everyone he's ever dated or been interested in. He doesn't feel like he has to change who he is for you. There's nothing better for Eddie's ego than how easy it is to make you smile, and goddammit what a beautiful smile it is. Every time you look at him through your lashes, blushing at something stupid he's said, Eddie feels like he could lift the entire building up with one hand and not even break a sweat. He fears he's in too deep at this point, the innocent flirting leading to him finding himself thinking about you even once he's gone home for the night. 

"Hey Eddie boy, I think you missed a spot." Eddie rolls his eyes at the irritating voice coming at him from his left. Dylan is one of the most insufferable people he's ever met and of course, he has the honor of working beside him at least 3 nights out of the week. 

Eddie doesn't turn his attention to Dylan, just continues wiping down the steel counter top. "Bite me, jackass." 

"Wow, someone's sassy today, huh? What, you didn't get enough attention from your little bartender tonight?" He smarmily replies, a disgustingly annoying grin on his face. Dylan, to Eddie's dismay, has picked up on the little "situation" between you two, making a joke of it every chance he can in an attempt to piss him off. 

Eddie laughs humorlessly, throwing his rag down and turning to the bane of his existence, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dude shut the fuck up."

"Hey look man, I get it! I'm just saying it's embarrassing watching you stare at her like a fucking creep all day. She does look pretty smokin' in those jeans though, so I don't blame you. Hey maybe I'll ask her out tonight, see if I can get some tail. Think she'll give up the goods?" He's smirking while Eddie's blood is raising in temperature. He can practically feel smoke coming out of his ears hearing this sorry excuse for a man speaking about you like you're just a piece of ass and not the sweet, funny, beautiful person you are. 

"I swear to God, I'll bust your teeth in." Eddie seethes, trying to keep his cool, at least while you're in the building. You're blissfully unaware of their hatred for one another and the last thing he needs is for you to see him throwing his fist into Dylan's face for talking about you. That wouldn't be very "innocent flirtationship" of him. 

"Guys! Come on, finish cleaning and knock it off. I don't have the energy for your cat fights tonight." The kitchen manager huffs, stepping between the two of them with a severely annoyed look on his face. Wordlessly, Eddie takes one more look at Dylan, picks his rag back up, and continues his task of degreasing all of the surfaces. He wants to get it over with and be able to clock in time to catch you before you leave and walk you to your car.

Dylan, the vindictive man he is, takes the opportunity to make his way through the swinging kitchen door and into the main bar area while Eddie isn't paying attention. You look up, expecting to find Eddie standing there, but confused when it's the guy you barely speak to heading in your direction.

"Hey Y/N, you do good tonight?" He asks, leaning against the bar. You smile politely, still wrist deep in soapy water from washing the bar glasses and beer mugs. 

"Yeah, better than I expected actually. Did you need something?" You ask, not rudely, but assuming he came for something specific seeing as he's never made small talk with you before.

Dylan takes a breath and rests his elbows on the hard wood of the bar top, shaking his head like he's trying to think of how to tell you what he sauntered up to you for. You begin to dry your hands, getting a little nervous thinking that maybe the manager had sent him up here to tell you something you've done wrong. You're still relatively new and you've never gotten in trouble here before, but you can't think of anything else he would need to say to you. "Look, I know you and Munson are friends, and I see the way you look at him. You like him, and before you deny it, just listen to me." 

Your heart starts to race. Did he tell Eddie? Did Eddie say something to him? How are you going to face him when apparently other people are picking up on this? Are you this obvious? You can't take it anymore so you nod, waiting for more information as you toy with your hands. 

"You seem sweet, okay and I don't want to see someone like you hurt by someone like him. Eddie and I are cool, but this is what he does. he flirts with the new ones, takes them home, and never speaks to them again. When another newbie comes in, he starts it all over again. I just thought you should know since I'm sure you're a genuinely nice person and I'm certain Eddie is taking advantage of that." Your heart drops at his words. You feared you were being played with, but you didn't want to believe it. You fell for Eddie's charms, and now it's time to face the harsh reality that you had completely misunderstood this whole situation and made yourself look like an idiot in front of everyone. 

"Um, wow. Well thanks for telling me, I appreciate it. I'm gonna finish up here and head out. Have a good rest of your night." You say, rushing through so you don't tear up mid-sentence. Dylan nods, not saying another word but offering a sympathetic smile before turning on his heel and going back through the door he came. You pull the plug to the dish sink, gather your signed receipts to shove into the drawer, and give the glazed wood one last wipe down. You hear Eddie say your name through the window but you act like you can't hear him. 

This whole thing could have been avoided if you wouldn't have fallen for the good looks and quirks of the fuzzy-headed, wild-eyed line cook. You never should have caught feelings in the workplace; that's like rule number 001 in the service industry. Never, under any circumstances, canoodle with your co-workers. You thought maybe this was an exception but now here you are, proven wrong. 

Heading through the swinging door to the kitchen, you avoid eye contact with everyone, especially Eddie, as you walk straight to the back to gather your things. You feel humiliated and giving Eddie the satisfaction of seeing you upset is out of the question so the sooner you can get out of the building, the better. You give quiet goodbyes to the managers and make a quick escape, or you at least try to before a hand reaches out to hold your forearm. 

"Hey, wait for me. I'll walk you to your car." Eddie says softly, giving you a soft smile. You can't bear to look him in the eyes, so you gently pull away, shaking your head. 

"It's fine Eddie, thanks though." You reply, turning to finally leave. Eddie watches as you throw your bag strap onto your shoulder and hurriedly make your way to the exit. Hurt washes over him and he's more confused than when he learned what a tampon is in middle school. He furrows his brow and slumps his shoulders, going back to his final task before he can leave for the night. He doubts you're still going to be in the parking lot by the time he can get out there, but his heart is racing like he might have a shot at catching you before you leave. 

Did he say something? Did his flirting finally make you uncomfortable tonight? He racks his brain trying to come up with some sort of reason why you would be upset with him. Normally, he would suggest that maybe you're just tired but even when you're on the verge of falling asleep where you stand, you can still manage to give him a sleepy smile and a breathy laugh at another one of his terrible jokes. Maybe he took it too far. Maybe he weirded you out or gave you the wrong idea. It wouldn't be the first time he's scared someone off.

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

You continue to go to work as normal, doing your best to not entertain anything Eddie had to say. The more distance you can create between the two of you, the less likely you'll get hurt. The time for stepping away from him to protect your feelings ended long ago but now it's time to do some damage control before you get worse. You get attached to people, and unfortunately that includes the bad people too. 

You thought long and hard about whether or not you actually believed Dylan. I mean it's his first time actually talking to you and he breaks the news to you that Eddie just wanted to get into your pants? Why would he care? After going back and forth with yourself over it for your entire day off, you don't know what to think but what you do know is that if they really are friends and if Dylan actually does care, then the safe bet is to just stay away. If he's telling the truth and you ignore that to continue growing your feelings for Eddie, you're in for a world of hurt and that's just not something you can deal with right now. 

You're not mean to Eddie when you work now; you just treat him like everyone else. You say "please" and "thank you", you ring in your extra sauces when you need them, you greet him just like you greet every other cook, and you don't flirt or bat your lashes at him anymore. Eventually, he is going to ask why but until he does, you can't bring yourself to ask him about it. It's humiliating and if he does have bad intentions, he's not going to be honest about it anyway so what's the point in starting that conversation? 

Eddie is trying everything. These past few days have been hell for him and he's grasping at straws. He offers to make you fries, you tell him, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry." He tries to ask you about your day, you apologize and say you're busy. He tries to catch you before you leave at night, but you practically sprint for the door the second you're finished with your side work. 

He watches through the window as you smile at your last patron of the night, desperately wishing that smile was for him. You haven't paid him any mind in 3 days and it's driving him crazy. It might be a little better if he actually knew what he did, but he's completely clueless. The awkward interactions are eating away at Eddie, and he knows if he doesn't say something soon, he'll explode. He starts his cleaning and breaking down the line as quickly as possible in an attempt to finish before you do so you don't run away from him again like you have been. If he doesn't get this straightened out, he doesn't know what he'll do. 

Your last tab is cashed out and you begin your cleaning, causing Eddie to pick up his pace. He knows it'll take you 20 minutes max now that you and him aren't chatting throughout to slow you down. As long as nobody gets in his way, he's determined to finally be able to talk to you tonight. Not playful banter, no pick up lines, just a real conversation. The sooner he gets back into your good graces, the better. 

"Trouble in paradise?" Eddie turns to see Dylan smirking with his arms across his chest. So much for nobody getting in his way. 

Eddie laughs humorlessly and goes back to his work. "Fuck off, dude." 

"Look man I'm just saying it seems like there's a little riff between the lovebirds lately. I wonder what happened, hm?" Dylan replies, his tone condescending as ever, doing his best to get a rise out of Eddie. To his dismay, it's working. 

"You don't know shit." Eddie mumbles, wringing out a sanitizer rag, his fingers already becoming little prunes extended from his hands from the extensive cleaning. 

"I don't know about that one, Ed. We had a really riveting conversation, seriously it was interesting, and I'm sure I know a little more than you think." This stops Eddie in his tracks. He breathes hard through his nose and turns on his heel, grabbing Dylan by his shirt and shoving him against the wall. 

"What the fuck did you say to her? Huh? Are you the reason she won't fucking talk to me? What the hell is wrong with you, you jealous son of a bitch?!" Eddie shouts. The manager on duty is already trying to break the two of them up and you hear the commotion from the front, peering your head into the window to see what the hell is going on. 

"Ooh Munson is mad! I just told her exactly what you're up to, that's all." Dylan says, calm as ever, a disgusting smile on his face. "Punching me won't undo it, so go ahead." 

"Enough! I swear to god, I will kick you both out." Eddie reluctantly loosens his grip on the boy's clothing, only pulling away completely when he's certain the risk of getting fired isn't worth hitting Dylan, even though the want to is overwhelming. 

 Eddie looks to you, his heart breaking at the disappointed look on your face. He decides this ends now. He has no idea what filth and lies have been planted in your head, but he needs to fix it and fast. He gives one last scowl to the man he was just threatening, and backs up, walking out of the kitchen door. 

He approaches the bar and you freeze. You don't know what you're supposed to say or do, so you do and say nothing. He has a soft look on his face, one very different than the one he was wearing in the kitchen just a minute prior. It's almost as if his rock hard persona turns to cotton candy when he's in your presence, and if you ask Eddie, that's exactly how that works. 

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me and I'm still not entirely sure why, but please wait for me. Please talk to me, let me figure out what the hell happened, and let me fix it." He pleads. You think it over quickly, trying to figure out of this is something you even want to get into right now. You question his motives, still confused as ever. Helpless, you nod and see the relief wash over his entire body, giving you the same feeling as when you're in the middle of a horrific thunderstorm, and in an instant, the sun comes out of the dark clouds. Whether this conversation leaves you feeling like a sunny summer day or it leads to another crack of thunder, you're unsure but you have half an hour before you find out. 

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

You sit there at the bar having finished your closing work, waiting for Eddie to finish his. Against your better judgement, you're happy to talk to him again but nothing can stop the knot in your stomach from growing tighter. All you wanted to do today was make some money, go home, cook dinner, take a bath, and watch a movie in bed but now, you're sitting here, anxiety building up in your body like a tower of mix-matched Lego pieces. 

You're taken out of your thoughts when Eddie exits the kitchen and walks toward you, not looking any less nervous than he did earlier in the evening. "Hey, sorry I took so long." 

"It's okay." You say quietly, standing up from the bar stool and pulling the strap of your backpack up onto your shoulder. "Do you want to talk outside?" 

Eddie nods, giving you a tight smile. He leads you out of the front door and around to the side of the building to the employee parking lot, not saying a word just yet. the silence is broken by the flick of your lighter, illuminating the tip of a cigarette freshly placed in your mouth, inhaling the smoke and feeling the tiniest amount of tension wash away. 

You lean against your car waiting for him to speak, still not really sure what you're supposed to say. He's the one that needed to defend himself, he's the one who wanted this conversation to happen. 

"Look, I don't know what Dylan told you but I can assure you it was a lie." He starts. He's fidgeting with his fingers, avoiding eye contact. He's lost every ounce of confidence he once had when he's on the other side of the wall passing you a basket of chicken tenders. 

"If you don't know what he said, then how would you know that?" You reply, taking another drag of your cigarette. You're hoping he's being genuine and not just defensive right off the bat, but if someone is lying about you, you'd feel defensive too. Everything is still fuzzy and figuring out this mess is like putting the pieces of a clear puzzle together.

"Because he fucking hates me. He does shit just to piss me off." Eddie shakes his head, pulling his own pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one between his lush lips. 

"Why would he hate you, Eddie? What did you do?" You don't mean to point blame at him but he had to have done something to make someone hate him to the point of making up a lie to make you ignore him for days.

"When I first started, he thought I was flirting with this girl he had a thing for, and she got a crush on me. She didn't want to hang out with him anymore and he thought I just swooped in and stole her. I didn't even like her like that but since then, he's made it his job to make my life a living hell when he's here. That includes fucking this-" Eddie gestures his hand between the both of you, "-up for me." 

"He told me you're fucking with me." You say, suddenly fixing your eyes on your sneakers. You almost shudder thinking back at the way your heart dropped to your stomach when Dylan first spoke to you. "Said you flirt with the new ones to get into their pants and then move on to the next one." 

Eddie's eyes widen, looking like he's a child being told Santa isn't real. The genuine look of shock is very convincing, and you're close to dropping every allegation from that expression alone. "Jesus Christ. Y/N, I promise that's not what's going on here." 

"How can I know that for sure? I felt like an idiot after he told me that. I was humiliated thinking I fell for some sleazy game you were playing." You're trying not to tear up. You can feel the thickness in your throat as you speak, hoping Eddie doesn't pick up on it. Six months of growing feelings for someone isn't something to fuck around about, and you might have taken this more seriously than it was intended, but when you're in that close of proximity with someone for that long, itching for the other to make a move, it's hard to not be heartbroken when something happens to it. 

"Sweetheart, I flirt with you because I like you. At first, it was just fun and I thought you were cute, but now I have a big, fat, stupid crush on you and I think about you all the time. I don't ask you to hang out with me after work so I can take you to my van and get your clothes off. I ask you to hang out with me because I like the way you make me feel." Eddie responds, making eye contact with you finally, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt. He wants you to know how serious he is. This isn't just a fling for him, much like it never was for you. You had a feeling this could turn into something special, though it goes against everything people tell you about workplace relationships. 

"And what would that feeling be?" You inquire, not breaking the contact between his chocolate pools and your own, finding a boldness in yourself that you didn't know existed. 

"You make me feel like I'm the coolest guy in the world. You laugh at my stupid jokes, you compliment me, you're interested in what I have to say.." He trails off with a fond smile on his face. There's a softness about him that balances out the roughness of his edges, endearing you even further. He reaches out to grab your soft hand with his rough one. "I really fucking like you." 

"I really like you too. I was going to ask you out the night Dylan dropped a bomb on me." You admit, rubbing your thumb over the skin of his hand. 

"That motherfucker." Eddie shakes his head, getting angry all over again at the fact that he finally had his chance and it got ruined for him in an instant. "I'm going to kick his ass." 

You pull your hand out of his and smack him lightly on the chest. "No, you can't get fired! Who will I talk to all day?"

"You've been doing just fine not talking to anyone." Eddie jokes, raising his eyebrows and bringing his cigarette to his lips, inhaling the smoke that seems to make this whole thing easier. After having a sick stomach for hours, he skipped his smoke breaks, partially leading to his angry outburst.

"Yeah and it was miserable! Do you know how much I hated having to go through my shift without hearing you call me sweetheart?" You laugh, a sound Eddie missed, even for just three days. 

He smiles down at you, dazzling as always. You missing him as much as he missed you is actively washing away his worries one by one like a salty body of water washing away a structurally questionable sandcastle. "I won't deprive you anymore." 

"I appreciate that." You grin, taking his hand back into yours. 

"Does that mean you believe me? You can ask anyone, I'm serious. I talk about you all the time. The guys make fun of me for my "heart eyes" the entire time you're here. Ask Adam, Levi, Grant, Brandon-" 

"Okay, okay." You cut off his adorable rambling. "Yes, I believe you."

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. You can see his shoulders relax, his jaw loosen, and his posture seems straighter. "Good because I mean it. I'm sorry this was such a mess for you. Hopefully I can make up for it?"

"And how do you plan to do that, Munson?" You tease, giving him the flirty look he had been wishing to see from you again. He can't take his eyes off of the way you look at him through your thick lashes. 

He moves closer to you subtly, moving slowly so he can relish in the moment. "Can I start with that date?" 

"You sure can." You say just above a whisper. You're lost in his eyes once again, but this time, it's not just playful. There's a brand new feeling getting introduced here and it blows your mind that it was first kindled in a greasy kitchen. 

As long as Eddie is here, things are easy. You have your flirty boy back and being at work is a little easier again. With Eddie right behind you serving up winks and pet names just as often as he serves up appetizers, going home smelling like beer and deep fried cheese is worth it. 

[johnny-coxville]

I was thinking maybe for a really smutty Johnny fic. The reader asks Johnny if he wants to try something new, she’s wants to see if he’ll cum inside her as they’ve never done that, Johnny gets super excited and super into it. With some dirty praise along the way and goofy excitement from knox ?

I'm sorry it's a bit short and not exactly on promt, but I'll gladly remaster it as soon as I'm free! Hope you enjoy it. :)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

At Last.

Johnny Knoxville x fem!reader nsfw

Time in bed with Johnny was never a bore. He always found something new to task you with. Position, praise, you name it. He made you feel good in everything he did. This time was entirely different.

You sat across from him at the wooden dinner table. A cute tablecloth laid across the table complimenting the decorations of your apartment. Johnny fiddled with the bottom of the cloth as he ate. Looking up at you every now and then to smile.

Once you were nearly finished with your plate, you paused. Taking a long gaze at him. He paused as well, his chewing put on hold. “What’s the matter?” He questioned with a mouthful of food. You grinned. “Nothing. I was just thinking about something.” You said twirling your fork around the plate.

He swallowed his food and cocked an eyebrow. “Anddd that iss?” He said with a side smile. You blushed with a small giggle. “Nothing!” You said teasing. Standing up from the table, emptying the rest of your leftover pasta into a pot. Heading to the sink to wash your dish. Johnny scooted out of his chair and followed.

He dropped his food into the pot and sat his plate on the counter. You ran the water for a moment, squirting the soap onto the sponge. Behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist. Kissing your neck and exposed shoulders.

You leaned into his touch, scrubbing the plate in front of you. You pressed your ass out, pushing it against his crotch. “Is this what you wanted to tell me?” He said pressing himself closer. You shook your head. “Johnny.” You said softly. You purposely drew out the situation just for the thrill. “I want you to cum in me.” You said nearly silent.

His movements were still a second. “Wait… Really? He said with almost a giggle. Like a child being told they were allowed to have a puppy. “Yes, Johnny.” You said setting the cleaned plates on the drying rack and twisting the sink off.

Mere seconds passing, he spun you around. Shoving your back against the ledge of the sink. Dipping down to your face to kiss you. His hands gripping onto your waist. You kissed him back, bringing your hands up to caress your face.

You pulled back with a small. “Calm down killer. You’re hurting my back on the sink.” You said giggling. He chuckled and stepped back. Letting you adjust your back. “If I had known I would’ve worn my cute g-string!” Johnny joked.

You sneered. “I’ll pass on that one.” You said walking towards the bedroom. You could feel the excitement radiating off of him. He had been waiting for this moment for months. Johnny entered the room behind you, shutting the door. You turned towards him and backed away slowly.

Your legs hit the front of the bed. He approached, pulling the shirt off of your body. He smiled wide. A smile that was almost always plastered across his face. You reached out and pulled off his own. Revealing his toned chest. He backed away a couple feet.

“Let’s not waste time honey. I know exactly what I want, and went I want it. I want you. Now. Get those clothes off.” He said beginning to unbutton his pants. He sent shivers down your body. You did what he said, and wasted no time. Sliding down your jeans, and slipping down your underwear. Looking up, all that he was left in was his boxers.

He grabbed your waist, pulling you close to his warm body. Resting his forehead against your own. He was significantly taller than you, his head tilting down to you. He shifted his face and began to kiss you. Immediately entering your mouth with his tongue. You explored each other’s body’s like you always did.

Though the interactions were more aggressive- more- yearning. You couldn’t wait any longer. You tugged his boxers down, and he took this as an invitation to remove your shirt and bra. Both of you struggled to shimmy off your articles of clothing but now left skin to skin. The warmth of your body’s burning each other.

You two backed against the bed, hitting the edge. He smiled and gently laid you against the made sheets. Soft against your bare back. The smiles shared between you two were genuine, and full of anticipation. He inched his way on top of you finding a comfortable position.

You knew he would start out gentle, inevitably leaving you a sore mess. He clicked his tongue and grabbed a pillow from behind you. Making sure both your head and lower back was supported.

Kneeling down into you he traced his fingers around your curves. He slowly pushed himself inside. A brand new sensation you had never experienced before. Thankfully with the grown anticipation, you were unbelievably soaked. Making his entry smooth.

His mouth just barely agape as he fully entered. “Wow.” was all he could mutter. You snickered at the dorky look on his face. Though admittedly just feeling him inside of you, entirely bare, was enough to make you howl.

His arms caged around your sides as he was inches away from your face. His warm breath tickling your nose. He began to pump. A slow pace for a start, but he was never patient.

As he picked up on his pace, your eyes were locked with his. Trying your best not to change expression. Johnny pushed himself deep and hard. Grunting every now and then when he changed pace. “Does it feel good sweetie?’ He whispered, a smile still wide across his face.

You nodded your head in response, hoping for something more. Noticing your lack of expression, he pulled out of you. He took your left breast into his mouth, and your right was graced with his twiddling fingers. Switching breasts he sucked and licked you in contentment.

He pulled away from you, standing up. He grabbed at his aching cock, and gave it a pump. Biting down on his lip as he admired your body.

He reached a hand out for you to grab, not saying anything. Giving a confused look you took his help and stood off the bed. He let go of your hand and stepped away from the foot of the bed. “You’re really going to feel it now. Get on that bed and arch for Johnny.” He said stepping over to you, giving you a firm smack.

You couldn’t help but giggle, and by that point, Johnny completely lost his composure. Letting out a hardy laugh. “I can’t take this so seriously! But god you’re fucking sexy.” He said rubbing his hands together in a silly manner.

You rolled your eyes and made your way back onto the bed. You got down on your hands and knees and arched your back as far as it would give. Pressing your face into the pillow. “Thatt’s it.” He said pressing his knee’s into the bed.

As you felt the weight shift, the anticipation that was long growing in you was ready to burst. He grabbed at your waist and shifted you until you were lined up with him. He was a lot larger than you, making for easy access to his favorite parts of you. He pressed inside of you rubbing your sides.

Though this time he wasn’t going to be gentle, nor slow. He slammed in and out. Scraping his nails along your figure. Pressing his head against your side. He rocked your body into him as he kept his pace. You screamed in pleasure, soaking the pillow you rested your face on.

For the first time you had heard Johnny moaning and howling almost as loud as you. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so fucking long.” He said grasping for your hanging breasts. Squeezing one with one hand, using the other to press bruises into your side.

"I've never felt you so soaked. You really wanted this huh? I bet you've wanted to feel my bare dick sooo fucking bad." He said with a strained laugh.

You grunted in response. Finding it hard to hang onto your breath. "I'm going to make sure you're fucking dripping with my cum baby." He said squeezing you harder.

Neither of you lasted very long. Screaming each other's names, almost drowning out the wet sounds of you both. As he nearly came to his edge, he bit into your shoulder. Making you cry out in painful pleasure.

“I’m going to fucking cum..” He grunted, pressing himself as deep as he could. As he hit your sweet spot, you thrashed in pleasure. Needing to be held still as you screamed. You could feel his hot cum filling you, a strong pressure making you feel even more full.

He didn’t stop until you were overfull. Pulling out you leaked cum. Your ass was covered in handprints, and your pussy was swollen. Though it was the most satisfaction you had ever felt. “I’m so glad I had been saving that. If I had any idea you were planning this I would’ve made it much more special.” Johnny said heading into the closet for a towel. “Rammed you harder than any bull that’s ever rammed me.” Johnny giggled. You sighed with a laugh. Relaxing your back, and laying on your stomach. Your body throbbed, but god. It was so worth it.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[xe-n4]

hard times

feat. bachira & rin note: i felt like it (re-upload), unedited contains: fem!reader, lack of mental wellness total: 1,440

—BACHIRA

You haven’t been feeling the best for a while. Your self-esteem plummeted, and you doubted yourself more and more. No matter how much you tried, those negative thoughts always got the best of you. 

There were days when you couldn’t get out of bed and days when even the thought of eating made you sick. 

It grew worse and spiralled into the depths of your mind, silently begging for help. 

Over time, you became more reserved, taking every chance to isolate yourself. Well, that would have happened if you weren’t in a relationship with Bachira. 

He caught on quickly that you weren’t in the best shape, so he figured that he’d give you some space and you’d eventually reach out when you were ready. 

That didn’t happen. 

So, he took things into his own hands. 

“Knock knock,” Bachira called out as he stepped into your home. 

The silence that came after was enough of a sign of how you felt at the moment. He shoved off his shoes and wandered the halls with a small white plastic bag in hand. 

Bachira took his time to take in the familiar surroundings. Messy. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and dirty dishes covered the coffee table. He sighed, rubbing his face. 

“It’s a lot worse than I thought,” he whispered as he made his way to your room. Bachira knocked on the door loud enough that the neighbours could hear. “Rise and shine.” He forcefully cast the door open to see you curled up in bed, scrolling through your phone. 

“Bug?” You didn’t respond. “Did you not hear my wonderful entrance, or should I do it again?” 

You shifted your attention from your phone to your partner. “Go away,” you grumbled, sounding hoarse as if you hadn’t spoken in a while. 

“Nope,” He said, emphasising the ‘p’ to get his point across. Bachira set down the white bag and grabbed the blanket covering you. “Unfortunately, you,” he started to pull and so did you, “will have to exist while I’m here,” he grunted. 

Your game of tug of war saw him dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. “Shit! You’re stronger than I remember,” Bachira groaned as his muscles flexed. 

“Leave me alone, Meguru!” You tried to shout but your throat was too sore to do so. 

Bachira had finally gotten the blanket away from you. However, you ended up with half of your body on the floor. He rolled up the blanket and set it aside before crouching down to your level. 

“Y/n, I care about you a lot. That’s why I’m here.” He tried his best to caress your face even though you were upside down. “You may not want anyone to see you right now, I totally get that. But I can’t let you rot in this room. Okay?” 

His amber eyes gazed at yours with such adoration your neck and eyes began to burn. Somehow, Bachira always set your heart alight, making you fall for him again and turning you into the infatuated fool you were at the start of the relationship. 

“Y/n,” he started with a soft tone, “it’s okay if you’re not ready to talk about it yet.” His gentle hand rested on your cheek while he moved so close to you that you could feel his light breathing on your skin. “I’ll wait until you are, okay?” 

You couldn’t say anything, instead, his words brought tears to your eyes that threatened to spill out. He chuckled silently at your response, cooing at your expression while you cried out everything you’d been holding on to. 

Afterwards, Bachira helped you to your feet and led you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. In the meantime, he tried his best to straighten out your living space. Putting dirty clothes in the wash and taking dishes to the dishwasher (that he had no idea how to use). Once all of that was done, he brought out the contents of the white bag: pasta ingredients. 

The air was filled with such an enticing aroma that you floated towards it after your shower. It led you to Bachira, who had all his attention on the pot in front of him. Bachira was so captivated that he jumped when you came up behind him and whined, “Meguru, I wanna wear your shirt.” 

He turned away from the pot to kiss your forehead before quickly turning back, “Sorry, I didn’t bring a spare.” 

“I don’t mind wearing it.” 

Bachira knew that he should have expected a cheeky response from you. He also should’ve known that there was no way he’d win this. And that’s exactly how it went. He took off his shirt and you grabbed it quickly to snuggle up in it. 

“Thank you,” you whispered when you wrapped your arms around his waist. Bachira rolled his eyes and scoffed affectionately at your clinginess. 

“Whatever makes you happy.”

—RIN

You don’t know why it happened, but all your insecurities started hitting you one after the other. Never letting you rest and wrecking your confidence. 

It felt like you couldn’t face the world anymore, that you’d disappoint everyone who was rooting for you and wishing for your success. 

Rin didn’t notice the change at first, being too engrossed with his blossoming career to do so. 

“Rin, I said I don’t want to go and that’s final,” you said with such hostility, walking away from him. 

“Y/n don’t do this now,” he replied while following you, exhausted from arguing. “It’s just a dinner with the rest of the team. Come on and get dressed.” 

“No.” You stood your ground and turned back to face him. You couldn’t go out. Not like this. “Rin just go without me. It’s like you need me there anyways.” 

Rin sighed for the hundredth time this evening. He rubbed his temples, racking his brain and trying to figure out what he did to upset you. “Y/n, look,” he took your hands in his. “I want you there, I want you by my side. I don’t know what I did wrong but I’m sorry. Please just get dressed, we need to leave soon. Okay?” 

His attempt at pleading with you didn’t work, it only reminded you why you couldn’t go. Going to dinner with his team would only bring your insecurities under scrutiny for the world to see. He might realise that you’re not good enough and leave you, damaging your heart. You couldn’t. You weren’t ready. 

You pulled away and pushed past him to get to the bedroom. The moment you were alone, you finally let the tears fall. They ran down your cheeks with every negative thought that kept you up at night. Deep down, you knew that it was ridiculous to feel this way, Rin loves you. However, that didn’t stop the tiny voice in your saying otherwise. 

Rin stood in the corridor with his black slacks on and white dress shirt half-buttoned, confused at what just happened. He hadn’t even put on his tie yet. He wanted to follow you, but it was like his feet were glued to the floor. He wouldn’t even know what to say to you. 

After a few minutes, your cries softened until they stopped completely, leaving your throat raw, eyes puffy and overall feeling numb. You lay in bed for a while, staring into the nothingness that stared right back. The darkness of the room was comforting, you were able to hide from your insecurities, even for a little while. 

While you gathered yourself, Rin didn’t disturb you, he knew better than to do that. Instead, he called the manager and told him that he wouldn’t be able to make it and took a few hours to himself afterwards. He cleaned up a bit, organising the cushions and washing the dishes, whilst sifting through the various conversations you’d shared over the last few days. Still, he couldn’t put his finger on the problem. 

Eventually, you gained the strength to face the music, leaving the room wearing an oversized sweater and shorts. Rin had spread himself on the sofa, still in his formal attire and asleep. 

You sighed; a weight lifted off your chest. You didn’t think you were prepared to admit to your boyfriend that you were insecure. Rather you retrieved a blanket from the cupboard and covered both yourself and Rin with it. 

As you started to get comfortable and snuggle into him, he sluggishly opened his eyes and yawned. Rin mumbled, “Come ‘ere.” He opened his arms wider to fit you in and gave you a tight embrace. “We’ll talk later,” Rin said, finding himself drifting off again. 

m.list | like & reblog

[daydream-cement]

Hello! You might be busy so its ok to put this idea off for a while :)

but can i request a Larissa x f!reader? Making a fluffy meal together with larissa after a long day of work, and r had to question other people what food she likes, but then larissa hears abt this and requested a specific meal/food in mind (they can also bake if Larissa prefers sweets). Love ur fics as always :)

- 💗

Chocolate, Anything, Chocolate

Larissa Weems x Teacher!Reader

You sat in the teachers lounge with your colleagues. They had the opportunity to work with Larissa Weems much longer than you, so you decided to ask them about Larissa’s favorite foods. You wanted to surprise her with something and you had no clue where to start.

“I want to make Larissa dinner or something. What’s her favorite food?”

It was like the room spoke at once. Every teacher knew there was only one correct answer to that question, “Chocolate, anything, chocolate.”

After getting the answers you desired, you made your way back to your office to spend the rest of your break looking up various recipes, trying to find the perfect one for Larissa.

“Is y/n in here?” Larissa peaked into the teacher’s lounge, hoping to find you there.

“Just missed ‘em. They were just in here asking about your favorite foods. I have no clue what they are up to.” The response from the literature teacher made Larissa smile. She decided to check your office for you next.

———

“A little birdie told me, you were asking about my favorite foods.” Larissa perched herself of the edge of your desk while you closed out of your most recent tab of chocolate cake recipes. You shift uncomfortably, wondering who was the person who decided to expose your plan. Larissa continued speaking, “If you want to make me something, I absolutely love a simple dark chocolate cake.”

You eyes light up at the suggestion, happy to know that you wouldn’t have to painstakingly search for a recipe you would hope she would like. The search for a recipe would be much easier now.

———

Saturday morning you awoke bright and early so you could work on Larissa’s cake. You slipped from her arms and went to the kitchen in your pajamas. The recipe you found looked perfect for Larissa.

You enjoyed some music as you worked, playing it quietly as to not wake Larissa. You were still in the measuring phase when Larissa’s arms wrapped around you. You could tell she was sleepy by the way she gently rocked back and forth while she held you.

“Good morning.” You respond to her touch in a chipper voice. Larissa remained unamused by the earliness of the morning.

“Come back to bed…” She whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You contemplated adjuring to the bedroom with her, but you had been so exited about making something for her, you shook your head no, “I can’t right now, Riss, but maybe when everything is cooling later we can watch a movie.”

Larissa closed her eyes in annoyance, but she quickly shook the feeling, knowing that you were trying to do something nice for her. She gave you a final squeeze and went to the living room where she took up a new resting place where you could see her.

She must have taken a short nap because thirty minutes later she entered the kitchen looking more bright eyes and awake. By this time, you had the cake batter finished, in the pan, and baking at 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Larissa began making herself a pot of coffee as you began washing dishes from the cake making process. You wanted everything clean before you began working on making the frosting. While her coffee brewed, she retrieved her laptop to answer emails.

Together you did your separate activities in silence, enjoying the bit of domestic bliss you created for yourselves.

A few hours later, around lunchtime, your cake was finally complete. There was a bit of a delay when you had to shoo Larissa out of the kitchen after she asked to lick the spatula and then kept coming back for more frosting. You smiled wildly as you placed the cake at the middle of the kitchen table, ready for her to see what you created.

Larissa hit ‘save as draft’ on her current email and shut her laptop, her jaw dropping as she looked from the cake to you and back down at the cake again, “Sweetheart, this looks incredible! Thank you so much! Can I try some? We can do dessert-lunch.”

You smile at the idea. You grabbed plates and she got the forks and knife to cut the cake. Together you sat back down side-by-side, ready to try your creation. Larissa served you both a piece, but wasted no time sampling her slice.

Her eyes widened with joy and pleasure in what you created. You were mid chew when she lifted herself from her seat and placed a chocolatey kiss on your lips. When she sat back down, you sat smiling to yourself as you watched her continue to enjoy her slice.

“Oh, this is wonderful. You know, I love chocolate, anything, chocolate.”

You smile to yourself, knowing that her love of chocolate would allow you the opportunity to make her many sweet treats for the future to come.

[rising-volteccers]

Whenever I see Friede get inconvenienced in the episodes, I can't pass up the chance to write something out of it. One of my close friends said that it's an endearing trait of mine to see an opportunity for h/c and jump on it, so here's a short, self indulgent piece post HZ030 haha!

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Murdock

--

After they've finished breakfast out on the deck, everyone pitched in to clean up the table. Diana, Liko and Roy carried used dishes while Mollie and Orla picked up other dishware before heading towards the kitchen. That left Friede and Murdock to do the heavy lifting by putting away the foldable table and chairs brought out from the meeting room.

When Friede bent down to pick up a couple of chairs, a strange wave of dizziness hit him. He just about prevented himself from falling over by reaching out to the nearest object for support. In this case, Murdock bit back a yelp from the abrupt hand that clasped his shoulder.

“H-Hey! I was carrying–oh, are you alright?” When Murdock looked over his shoulder, he found Friede with his other hand on the table, head dipped while he took in deep, steadying breaths.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” Friede eventually responded. Once the dizziness passed, he pulled away from Murdock, blinking rapidly until his friend’s worried visage came into view. Friede automatically wore an assuring smile. “Sorry, guess I moved too quickly.”

“Are you sure about that? I can handle things if you need to sit down.”

“Pretty sure! It was just a one time thing. Now come on, let's not keep the others waiting! There's a mountain of stuff to clean up, yeah?”

Friede once again reached for the chairs, though this time he made sure to move a little more carefully. Aside from feeling oddly tired, he didn't get any other dizzy spells throughout the walk towards the kitchen.

Afterwards, he could tell that Murdock kept a subtle eye on him by giving him lighter tasks. As that strange fatigue persisted, Friede didn't object to the lessened workload. It already took effort to act normally around the rest of the crew until they were done.

While everyone else left the kitchen to go about their day, Friede hung back until it was just him and Murdock left. Only then did he plop down onto a chair, legs splayed with his head resting atop folded arms.

For the next ten or so minutes, Murdock focused on drying up the washed dishes so he could store them away. He didn’t start up a conversation with Friede, opting to give his friend some time to rest. Perhaps then he’d share how he truly felt. Once he put away the tableware, Murdock went to the table and took a seat on the empty chair next to Friede’s.

“Are you sure you're alright? You look wiped and it's only after breakfast,” Murdock questioned, breaking the silence that had settled in the kitchen. That concerned look made an appearance again on his face.

Friede turned his head till his half lidded eyes met Murdock's. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm fine. Don't know why I got really tired all of a sudden.”

“Think it's a sign that you're getting sick?” If that was the case, Murdock would have to bring out the recipe for his soups that he’d make whenever one of them felt unwell. 

“No, at least I don’t think so. I don’t feel sick or anything. Just tired,” Friede replied, eyes sliding shut. “Which is weird cause I got enough sleep last night. Had a nice breakfast too so that should’ve energized me. Instead it feels like my energy got sapped.”

“Huh, that is weird.” Murdock crossed his arms as he tried to figure out what other reason led to his friend’s strange lethargy. Since Friede wasn’t on night shift yesterday, Murdock more or less trusted that he spoke the truth about getting enough sleep. He was also right in that eating the hearty breakfast prepared should have given him the energy to go about his day, not drain it.

What was different about today? Everyone ate together on the deck, though half the Pokemon didn’t really touch their food because they were asleep–

Wait, that’s it!

“You drank out of that Sinistea earlier.”

“Yeah? Nastiest thing I’ve tasted–oh. Oh.” Friede suddenly groaned out loud, burying his face into his arms again. Murdock can’t quite catch his grumblings but he was certain it involved his misgivings towards the Sinistea.

“You can’t really blame the little one. From how Diana put it, that Sinistea was just recently born. It didn’t know any better.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Friede once again turned his head to look at Murdock, sporting quite the miserable expression now that the mystery had been solved. People who accidentally ingested Sinistea not only got their tastebuds ruined, they also get their vitality sapped away. Seeing that the Sinistea was recently born and he almost immediately spat out the liquid, it didn’t really get into his body. Still, he probably accidentally swallowed some in his surprise, triggering its effects however delayed it was.

“At least we know the cause. I’m guessing what you need now is plenty of rest to replenish the energy?”

“Yeah. I already did plenty of that before…” Friede recalled the previous week of being laid out for a few days due to his bruised back. It dampened his mood to know that he’d have to rest some more in order to recover. He really felt like the universe was out for him with how the past couple of weeks went. 

“It’s only until you’ve got your energy back.” Murdock did look sympathetic. He knew all too well how Friede got when he was forced to slow down and rest for long periods of time. “How about you go back to your room and see about getting some sleep? Maybe you’ll feel better after a nap.”

Friede groaned once more but eventually, he did push himself into sitting up again. Running a hand down his face, his eyes flicker to Murdock. 

“You got things handled?”

“Yeah, you can trust me. Get some rest. I’ll wake you up for lunch later.”

Murdock reached out to offer a hand for Friede to take when he stood up. He didn’t look dizzied from the action so Murdock trusted him to make it safely back to his room. Once Friede left the kitchen, Murdock headed towards the fridge to pull out some ingredients. Perhaps a hearty stew was just what Friede needed to boost his energy later…

[rabbitholessk]

Big Little Things

“Tadaima.”

The familiar word that holds so much weight. Not said enough in his life, but when he is given the chance to say it, it is like a prayer. One he wishes to repeat over and over again for as long as this world will allow him.

Sasuke has risked his life before, a few times. He is aware of the limitations his human body can take. He also knows the risks of the ninja lifestyle. With all this knowledge he revels in the moments he gets with his home.

Home had never been a specific place, rather the people that provided the feeling behind the word. At one point that had been his father, mother and dear older brother. Now the warm feeling of home belongs to his wife and daughter.

From the moment he walks through the threshold from outside to inside, the atmosphere changes.

When Sakura and he had been on their journey over a decade ago, that threshold changed daily from inn rooms, to caves, to sleeping under the stars, with the moon serving as their guide.

Each time they would settle into a space the air would buzz differently. It starts as calm, and shifts into a warmth that spreads throughout his travel weary body. The capacity to feel safe, secure, and loved has that effect on a person. Much like waves washing onto warm sand, being with his family washes peace over his psyche.

—-

“Okaeri!” He hears his wife and daughter shout out separately rushing over to the front door of their shared apartment.

Sasuke unbuttons his dark cloak and begins shedding it, Sakura reaching for it instinctively. He hands it to her and dons his house slippers. No matter how long he is away or if he shows up unannounced, they are always sitting by the door with the rest of his family’s, waiting for him.

“I’m making dinner, any special requests?” Sakura asks, tying her apron around her hips.

“Papa, can you help me with shuriken after my mission tomorrow?” Sarada pleads with eager eyes.

“Anything, and of course.” Both the women in his life provide him with a smile so unique and familiar to each of their features. Sarada studies what looks like a new mission summons quietly beside him on the couch as he reads over a scroll. Sakura is heard shifting around the kitchen, the searing sound of vegetables and meat being cooked on the stovetop is grounding. The familiar smell of spices and foods he enjoys are being made in the kitchen only feet away.

Once dinner is plated, served and thanked for, Sakura walks over to her seat across from him. On the way from the kitchen to her chair she passes his form touching his shoulder softly, lingering her slender hand briefly. Glances and touches between them always had a hidden meaning. I missed you.

Once his wife is seated across from him and Sarada has started talking about her day, and Sakura providing information of her own he sends his wife a warm glance, I missed you too. Sakura blushes prettily, their daughter failing to notice, too busy eating her meal.

“Thanks Mama, it was really tasty!” Sarada excuses herself from the table and cleans her dishes in the sink.

Sasuke and Sakura remain at the table.

“I’ll wash the dishes.” He offers. He enjoys the task. It makes him feel like he is part of the everyday routine, even if he is not able to be here everyday.

“Oh! Then I’ll dry.” Sakura brings over the bulk of the dishes, Sasuke getting to work filling the sink with soap and water.

They stand close together in a comfortable quiet. He can feel the warmth radiating off of her body with her this near. The sounds of dishes being soaked and water running over porcelain fills the kitchen.

“Sarada was right. Dinner was good.”

“Really? I have to go to the market tomorrow and get some fresh tomatoes. They are finally in season!”

“If you leave a list of what you need I can shop tomorrow.”

“Actually I have tomorrow off. Would you like to go together?”

Sasuke nods, handing her a wet dish. He observes her hands, cracked and scarred from countless surgeries, battles won and lost and what feels like a lifetime of healing. Sakura’s hands were one of the symbols of her hard work and resolve.

He hands her the final dish, and rinses the sink of suds.

“Go lie down. I’m going to finish tidying then I’ll prepare a bath.” Sakura says while removing her apron.

While Sakura tidies and folds laundry Sasuke chooses to check on their daughter. He knocks on her bedroom door. The door opens and reveals a well lived room. Far different than his own room at twelve years old, filled with pictures of her friends as well as pictures of the three of them. A part of him aches at the sight of most of the pictures from Sarada’s childhood with just Sakura beside her. He wishes he could have watched her grow during those formative years. The realistic part of him is thankful that it was Sakura beside her and that she has a beacon of light and strength like Sakura as her mother.

Sarada looks at him within her doorway, then walks back over to her bed with laid out clothes, scrolls, and weapons.

“Mission tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Do you think this is enough shuriken?” Sasuke enters fully and they discuss mission supplies for a half hour. While talking with his daughter he is able to appreciate her features and mannerisms, so very reminiscent of his mother while also very much Sakura. Sarada provides him a smile, stretches and tells him she needs to rest.

“Good night Sarada.”

“Night Papa.” He turns the light off in her room and shuts the door.

Sasuke walks down the hall to his shared bedroom with Sakura, the sound of a bath running can be heard from behind the closed bathroom door. Sakura emerges from the bathroom after the faucet is turned off.

“You take a bath first Anata.”

No matter how many times his wife calls him Anata, it still sends the same pang to his heart. He takes solace in the familiarity between Sakura and himself.

“Join me?” Her face colors slightly and a smirk grows on his own. They shed their clothes and sit in the bath together. Sakura sits behind him, she knows he has a hard time washing his back by himself on the road. She has done this since they first became intimate all those years ago.

Her masterful touch is gentle but firm as she washes along his spine, her healing touch mending sore muscles and small scratches collected on his travels.

His head falls forward, the ends of his fringe touching the surface of the water, and his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling.

Without saying anything she provides a light massage on his left shoulder, a historically tender area for him since the loss of his arm.

Once she is done they switch positions so she can sit between his legs. Her pink locks tied up into a small ponytail. He wraps his arm around her center soaking in the warmth she provides him emotionally and physically.

Thank you is whispered into her shoulder and a light kiss pressed.

—

Sleep has never come easy to him, not since he was a child still under his parents roof. Sleep had been a battleground since the loss of his family, his clan, his brother, and for a time himself.

But with Sakura beside him, her hand resting above his heart and a leg tossed over one of his thighs, sleep comes to him effortlessly.

He still wakes often in the night no matter where he is, but with Sakura by his side he is able to fall back asleep without too much resistance. If there is a challenge he watches the rise and fall of her chest, the way her hair splays on the pillow, or counts the light freckles on her shoulders until his lids become too heavy to keep open.

In the early morning he feels her stirring and they indulge in each other’s bodies. A familiar dance and one he never tires of. They have to remain quiet with their daughter asleep down the hall.

Sated and breath regulating the couple revel in the other's bodies, she feels along the hard planes of his abdomen and the veins in his arm.

His eyes shut letting her touch him, secretly enjoying the way she takes inventory on his body whenever he comes home.

“You’re cute when you’re satiated.”

He makes a face from her brazen compliment. Feeling her giggle beside him, he pinches her thigh that is within reach.

“I thought you had said once that I was always cute?”

“You are! But especially in these moments!” She continues to giggle lightly, running her fingers through his thick dark locks, and massaging his scalp.

Sarada is heard down the hall preparing for her mission. The couple wake properly and get ready for their day together.

Sarada says her goodbyes and the pair head out to the market. They separate to get different items at separate stalls. Sasuke picks out the vegetables, taking extra time at the tomato stand. When they meet up again Sakura has gathered the meat and a bouquet of flowers.

“I would’ve had these yesterday but you surprised us!”

He can’t recall the first time she had gotten him flowers after coming home from a mission but every time since then there are always flowers waiting on the kitchen table for him. He enjoys the feeling of being loved, of coming home to a family who knows and loves him for who he is.

He revels in the small things that feel larger to him than to any normal person. The feeling of having people know you inside and out. Know your likes and dislikes. Know your heart and trust in your abilities.

Sasuke and Sakura walk home, bags in hand through the Konoha streets. Sakura talks about this and that and he watches and listens to her, a light smile adorning his face. His home had never been a place but rather the feeling of giving and receiving love from his most important people.

[lil-gremlin-gal]

NaClYoHo Days 16, 17, & 18

Day 16

Worked a full shift, bought toilet brushes on the way home, washed my scrubs. No more IUD replacement cramps, which is a way quicker recovery than the one from my first insertion 6 years ago!

Day 17

Washed the dishes that needed to be washed by hand, unpacked a box of kitchen stuff, measured cabinet to build a spice riser/sorter thingy. Ordered a desk online. Made salad for dinner - hubs cooked salmon.

Day 18

Did dishes, changed and washed the sheets, cleaned the bathrooms and deep cleaned the bathtub, made a Christmas wishlist for myself, wiped the front of the stove and dishwasher, made muffins for the week.

Went to the thrift and found a small ironing board, a holiday sweater, and some holiday jammies (ironing board is for the house, the rest is for holiday events at the clinic next month).

Also aquired and wrote birthday cards for 2 relatives who have birthdays close to Christmas day (because I want them to feel special on their birthdays, too!), gift labels, a dish brush, and some assorted December eatables (hard candy mix, small gingerbread kit).

Husbff bought us a microwave and robot vacuum, and set both up.

- - -

Goals for the next few days are to work and stay on top of laundry, dishes, and my physio routine. If I manage to get a couple gifts taken care of, even better.

As far as my Desperate Housewives marathon, I'm currently halfway through season 3, haha! The show as me hooked.

[phantomtgm]

Hey sorry if I’m annoying you but have another maverick request idea . It’s the reader’s birthday and maverick wants to spoil and celebrate with you two spending hours of having passionate love making as maverick ain’t letting you leave the bed or lift a finger since it’s their birthday. Your probably busy so It can easily wait until your free x

Here it finally is!! :) I'm sorry it took so long to get out, I sort of had a bit of writer's block so I hope you like it!

Birthday Surprise

“Maverick!” I playfully scolded as he took my empty plate away from me. “You do know that I am perfectly capable of washing and putting away my own dishes.” I raised a brow and the look Maverick sent me was one that I would never forget. 

 The look that sent me head over heels for him.

“Y/n, it’s your birthday. You should know that I am not letting you lift a single finger today so suck it up.” Planting a kiss on my forehead, I felt my cheeks heat up in a blush. This man spoiled me way too much and I would be forever grateful for that.

I rested my chin on my hands as I watched him clean up and the more I stared, the desire for him began to overcome me. 

“See something you like?” A smirk appeared on his face and my heart fluttered. “Oh yes Captain.” I twisted around in my chair as Maverick walked to me, wrapping his arms around me.

Lifting me off of my chair, he walked out of the kitchen. “Where are we going Maverick?” I giggled. He pinched my ass which caused me to gasp in delight and Maverick smirked. He carried me all the way into the bathroom and turned the water to the tub on. 

My heart did flips as he set me down on the edge, his fingertips inching beneath my shirt and slowly removing the only article of clothing I had on.

I watched as his green eyes roamed over my naked body. I sucked in a breath as it felt like my body was on fire under his intense stare. It only made me want him more. 

“Get in the tub.” Maverick spoke quietly. Turning around slowly, I slid into the warm water. Lifting my hand out of the water, I beckoned Maverick and I watched as he took a painfully long time undressing himself. 

Finally he  stepped into the tub and I moved backwards, making room for the both of us. 

I lowered myself further into the water, the water lapping over my mouth and stared at Maverick. 

Man was he good looking. It was almost overwhelming. 

Several quiet moments passed as we both stared at each other. Finally, he made a come here motion with his fingers and I slowly made my way over to him. His hands gripped my waist and my mouth opened with a gasp. Maverick being Maverick took that as an opportunity to place his mouth upon mine and it didn’t take long before we were wrestling for dominance with our tongues.

Maverick suddenly pulled back, the both of us breathless as we stared into each other’s eyes. I could feel his hard member against me and I knew what Maverick wanted. I wanted it too so I shifted my body and slowly lowered myself onto him, my entire body was shaking in nerves. 

I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around Maverick’s shoulders as I grinded my hips slowly. I could feel every inch of Maverick. His fingertips gliding across my wet body, his breath against my neck and his cock inside of me. 

Maverick hissed in pleasure as I slowly rocked against him. I leaned my head back and felt his lips upon my throat, forcing me to grasp his hair as I tightened around his cock. The bathroom was covered in steam and I opened my eyes to see Maverick looking at me in the most vulnerable way. 

Grasping my hips, he moved me up and down so that I was bouncing on his cock. Pleasure rippled through me as I felt myself tighten around him, the pressure that was building was too much for me to handle and with one last thrust, my release overcame every single sense that I had. 

“Maverick.” I managed to hiss and he gripped me even harder as he came, his warmth spilling inside of me.

My chest was heaving as I embraced Maverick. He was just as breathless as I was.

Several long moments of silence passed before I spoke. 

“Well…that was one for the books!” I laughed as Maverick stared at me with a straight face.

My smile began to fade as I watched Maverick. Brows furrowing, I asked “What’s wrong Mav?”

Suddenly he scooted me closer than I ever thought possible and said “You really think that is all you’re getting today sweetheart?”

Face burning and not knowing what to say, I just smiled meekly as he stood up and walked the both of us into the kitchen, completely naked. He carefully placed me on the kitchen chair then gave a quick peck of his lips on mine. 

“Close your eyes.”

“Maverick….” I narrowed my eyes, suddenly worried but at the same time I was excited for what he was about to do next. 

“Come on darlin…close your eyes.” He gave me a pointed look which tugged on my heartstrings so I did what he said. 

Listening intently, Maverick shuffled around the kitchen, opening up the fridge, slamming cabinet doors then finally he wrapped his hands around my waist. 

“Open your eyes.” 

My heart was beating rapidly as I slowly opened my eyes to see the most perfect cake that anyone could have ever possibly made. 

Tears began to fill my eyes as I glanced at Maverick who had a smug smile on his face. “I I don’t know what to say. Mav…”  I twisted in my seat and looked him straight in the eye as I thanked him. 

His eyes searched my own and suddenly, an overwhelming feeling came over me as I pounced on Maverick, desperately kissing him in a hot fervor.

Our lips smacked together in a fury and my back slammed up against the counter top as Maverick spread my legs and began to show just how much he loved me. My heart did a flip as he darted his tongue in between me making me realize just how long of a day this really was going to be.

[omnivorousshipper]

Arranged Marriage Au Part 2

Part 1

Deckard shoved the rest of the freshly washed dishes into the drying rack before letting out a small noise of discomfort.

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, Deckard bit his lip. The dull throbbing between his legs still sent small shivers of pleasure up his spine. Luke hadn't been gentle in their couplings since Deckard had attacked him two days ago, and Deckard wouldn't have it any other way.

Deckard refused to let Luke see his limp, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of causing such a reaction from Deckard. Even if Deckard wanted the same treatment over and over.

Brushing over his hip, Deckard smirked at knowing the hand shaped bruises wouldn't fade for a few more days. He had enjoyed staring at himself in the mirror that morning.

Maybe they could salvage this marriage.

He left the kitchen, moving on to the rest of the house. When he had moved in not so long ago, it had been obvious Luke Hobbs was a bachelor.

The house had been an absolute pig-sty.

After a long month of deep cleaning, Deckard had finally gotten the house into a much more tolerable state. Unceremoniously, he had claimed one of the guest rooms as his home "office".

So far, the room had a desk and an old computer. He would decorate in the future, but at the moment he was content to have a space to himself. Luckily, Luke had agreed immediately, possibly not wanting a fight on his hands.

His hand was on the doorknob to the room when Deckard heard a knock at the front door.

Frowning, Deckard carefully pat the knife he had strapped to the inside of his sweater sleeve.

They weren't expecting anyone.

On silent feet, Deckard made his way to the front door as another, much more insistent knock echoed through the house.

Peering through the peephole, Deckard blinked. Hard.

Standing on the other side was a woman holding a baby carseat. A large bag was swung over her shoulder as she glanced around and tapped her foot in impatience.

Now curious, Deckard opened the door.

"Can I help you?" He drawled, raising an eyebrow.

"Who are you?" She snapped in response. "Where's Luke?"

Deckard narrowed his eyes.

"My husband is at work." He sneered.

"Just great," the woman's own twisted smile was equally as hostile. "Then let your husband know he's a piece of shit for not telling me he was married. Oh, and that he's a father now."

Deckard couldn't help the way his mouth dropped open.

Luke hadn't mentioned this!

"Here. I'm giving up all my parental rights. Have fun raising another woman's baby," she chuckled darkly.

Before Deckard could say anything, the carseat's handle was being shoved into his hand. If he hadn't immediately taken ahold of it, he was sure the woman would have let it drop-- baby and all.

"Here's the court papers and her stuff."

More things were thrust into his empty hand. All he could do was stand there and stare the woman practically ran down the lawn to her car.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, it wasn't until he heard a small whine that he broke out of his stupor.

Glancing down, he was speechless.

Slowly waking up was the most beautiful little girl he had ever seen.

Her little curls were adorned with a little, pink bow while her cheeks were chubby and a smile started to form as she looked up at him.

"Hello, love," Deckard whispered. In response, the baby let out a giggle and made grabby hands at him. "Let's get you inside."

Bringing her to the living room, Deckard started to read over the papers.

One Claire Wiggs was giving up her rights to Luke Hobbs of their daughter, Samantha Hobbs.

"Samantha..." Deckard breathed out, glancing over at the baby. She seemed happy to stay in the carseat and stare at him all day. Setting down the carseat, Deckard thought for a moment. "Looks like you're gonna be staying here, Sammy."

They would need to get a DNA test, but if she was indeed Luke's daughter, there was no way Deckard would allow her to go back to her mother or be put up for adoption.

Even if Luke himself wasn't ready for Samantha, Deckard would fight tooth and nail before he let anyone take her away.

Nodding to himself, Deckard knew he should think on it more, but there was no turning back as he grabbed his phone. With one quick text, he informed his mother that she had become a grandmother.

Putting the phone away to deal with the fallout later, Deckard carefully scooped Sam into his arms. She gurgled and laughed as her small hands clenched at his shirt.

"Let's get you something to eat," Deckard smiled at her. "We'll make your da go and buy you some things later. Only the best for my little girl."

With a happiness he hadn't felt since their forced marriage, Deckard adjusted Sam in his arms before walking to the kitchen.

In his new found joy, he completely forgot to call Luke.