#there will be something else for sunday six | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months ago

Text

Pairing: Russell Shaw xf!reader, Reader POV

Summary: The last thing that you wanted was to be woken up in the middle of the night by Colter Shaw for a favor, but when he shows up toting a ruggedly handsome man with green eyes you decide to forgive him. Reader is the niece of Velma and Teddi!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ just in case I missed anything. Blood, Cleaning Out A Wound, Mentions of Allergies? Gunshots, Some Cursing, A Bit of Sexual Innuendo, Sexual fantasy/reader has active imagination, Self-deprecating Thoughts/Body Issues (reader), Mentions of Infidelity, Reader Is A Single Mom, Appearance Of Creepy-Jerk Ex Husband, Probably a Poor Description Of What It’s Like To Be A Single Mom (I tried my best, please I do not mean to offend anyone❤️), Russell Shaw might be a little bit OOC. Reader is occasionally described as "curvy."

Song Inspiration: Long As I Can See The Light By Creedence Clearwater Revival

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! This is my first time writing for Russell Shaw, so, please be gentle. 😅

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: I finally watched Tracker… Could you tell? 😂

Sunday nights, in your opinion, were the worst.

It was like the last few moments of freedom before you were thrust into a busy work week, like the last few rays of light before the coming darkness that you barely survived with copious amounts of coffee and bloodied fingertips. Monday always loomed, but never as much as on Sunday nights.

The dull thud of your phone vibrating against your wooden bedside table grates on your ears and pulls you from the sweet precipice of sleep before you can fall into the void.

It felt as if you’d just collapsed into your bed and one look at the alarm clock on your bedside table as you blinked your bleary eyes confirmed it. It was 3:58 am, which meant you had been in bed for exactly three minutes.

You were still covered in chocolate cupcake batter, pink frosting, and rainbow sprinkles from the last six hours you'd spent in the kitchen making gluten free, sugar free, and peanut free cupcakes for a bake sale at your son’s school.

Even though you hadn't volunteered Stephanie Jacobson, or rather the wicked witch of the PTA, had cornered you in the pick-up line on Friday afternoon to remind you of your "duties as a parent" and the coming bake sale to support the building of the new gym. And then she’d handed you a list of student allergies and asked you to create something that was safe for everyone.

Taste be damned.

Why the school needed a new gym you didn't know, but the guilt that rose when Stephanie mentioned your "duties as a parent" was enough to make you say yes to whatever she asked you.

You had enough guilt already about raising your kids without a stable father figure, and the last thing you needed was guilt from a stuck up bitch in the PTA.

Stephanie reminded you of the girls in high school that used to pick at their food, the ones that knew exactly what to say to make you feel like a freak, the ones who dated the football players and spent their Friday nights wearing cheerleading uniforms and waving pom poms, and the ones who basically made everyone else's life a living hell.

Everything about her screamed superior. The flawless way she curled her perfect platinum blonde hair, the stylish clothes she wore than never seemed to have a wrinkle or a mashed carrot smeared on the pants, the supple breasts that she swore were real, a perfectly toned stomach that never seemed to change despite her having a child two months ago, and the easy way she handled all of her three children with a flourish of her left hand that housed a 6 karat diamond ring from her gorgeous husband that was so attentive, perfect, and rich that it made you feel sick to your stomach.

All of which anyone could read on her mommy blog that she'd dubbed "Little Mistakes Make Perfect Lessons," and the same blog that she'd created an empire from.

Fuck, you hated her.

Mostly because despite everything you tried you never had enough time in the day to look as flawless as she did.

Your hair never seemed to be as bouncy or perfectly styled, you never had time to put makeup on, you always had mashed carrot on your pants or some form of cheerio or baby food, as many times as you tried to carve out time for the gym you never seemed to make it, the small ring you'd once wore on your finger was sitting idle in your jewelry box upstairs where it had been for the past year after your husband of six years told you that he met someone else, and your stomach and your breasts… you didn't want to think about that right now.

You had two kids and you weren't going to pretend that it did nothing to your body, any part of your body. And as many times as you saw all the other mothers around you who were proud of the way they looked, you never had their confidence, especially not after the comments that your ex-husband had made each time the two of you finally had some time to be alone together.

But that wasn't to say you hated being a mom, you loved it, wouldn't change it for the world. It was just sometimes you wished you had a little help, that, and you wished that Mondays didn't exist.

You groan as you reach for the phone that still vibrates desperately on your bedside table and flip it over to see who's calling before you answer it.

"Colter, why the hell are you calling me at four am?" You half moan, pulling the comforter up over your head as if that'll make Monday go away.

You'd been close to murder several times, first when you found your husband in your bed with his nineteen year-old secretary, second when your local coffee shop was out of espresso and you did your entire shift at the hospital with no coffee, and Colter Shaw waking you up at almost four in the morning was quickly becoming number three.

"Because I didn't want to wake up Emma or Luke. Can you open the door?" He replies, stating the names of your children, sounding slightly out of breath.

"What door?" You groan again, eyes still shut wishing that this was just a bad dream and Colter wasn't calling you because he needed your help… again.

"The front door. Please, I need you to let me in."

"Why are you here? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow? Did you try to call Teddi or Vel-"

"I'll explain when you come open the door."

"By doing that I'd have to get up."

"Please."

You hesitate. Colter didn't usually say please, let alone twice whenever he showed up needing your help.

You'd met him by accident.

Sure your Aunt Teddi had talked about the "rewardist" that she and your Aunt Velma worked with, but you hadn't been expecting to ever meet him. But when Colter got shot on a job and showed up at Teddi and Velma's home you'd helped patch him up. You'd been there picking up your six year old son Luke and your three year old daughter Emma, after work. Teddi and Velma watched them for you when your deadbeat ex Lance couldn't be bothered to give you the support you needed.

Which was all the time despite his continuous arguing that he was in their lives enough and if anything it was your fault that he didn't have more time with them.

Each time he said that it made you want to slam his head in the door of his brand new bright red BMW, the one he'd bought right after you found him in your bedroom plowing his secretary now girlfriend Crystal. Or as you liked to remember her, the girl who still believed that Santa Clause existed and that the U.S government was hiding him from the world.

But Colter had been hurt and it was just fate that you were there at your aunts home to pick up your kids.

Being an ER nurse meant that you knew how to patch Colter up and it wasn't long before he went on his way. That was about four months ago and since then you'd talked to him occasionally when he'd pop by at your aunts home or just to see if you could help him with something.

"Five minutes." You sigh.

This time you crawl out of bed, standing just to the side of it for a second shaking your head to clear the sleep, and grab the long sleeved blue colored duster/robe that was hanging on the back of your bedroom door. Navigating your way down the stairs in the dark as quietly as you can, while half asleep was difficult, but somehow you avoid falling to your death.

Unfortunate, because now you have to go see what Colter wants at freaking 4 am.

The second story home had been you ex-husband's idea, stated that the two of you needed "room to grow" and that the two of you were "investing in your future."

You frown at the thought.

Yeah, room to grow right into your fucking secretary.

As if you needed another blow to your self esteem, but looking at the skinny red-haired goddess that he'd traded you in for that was about as dumb as a rock had been enough to send you so low you might as well be navigating the Marianas Trench in a submarine with a Megalodon chasing after you.

Maybe that means I'd get to be with Jason Stratham.

That thought was welcome. Honestly the thought of any man was a comfort, especially in the dry spell you'd been having since -well- since you'd had Emma three years ago.

Not gonna think about that right now.

The smell of chocolate cupcakes hung heavy in the air as you crossed through the messy living room, wafting out through the open concept kitchen into the space. One look into the kitchen would show enough cupcakes to make anyone salivate, and yes maybe you'd eaten a few before going up to bed, but eating the chocolate didn't count if it was on Sunday night and you could always go to the gym tomorrow…

Yeah. Like that'll happen.

You open the front door. "Alright, somebody better be dying Colter or I swear that I'll-" You stop mid-sentence when you take in the scene on your porch.

Colter is standing there, looking worse for wear. His usual black jacket is gone, he's got a black eye and a scrape along one of his perfect cheekbones, but that's not who you're looking at.

Colter isn't alone.

There's a man leaning heavily on Colter, his muscular right arm is thrown across Colter's shoulders and due to the fact that the man is a little bigger than Colter, he's buckling slightly under his weight. The man is wearing a green army jacket that is soaked around his left shoulder in blood, his dark hair is falling long into his bearded face, and his skin is a few shades paler than it should be. But that doesn't make him any less handsome.

The man still manages to throw you a sly grin, brilliant green eyes shining beneath the strands of his dark hair. "I think you got your wish sweetheart."

"You're not dying Russell." Colter sighs as if he's annoyed. "Hi." He directs at you.

You do feel a little bit bad about saying that now, but you shake it off.

"What the hell happened?" You say as loud as you dare and pull the front door further open so Colter can drag the man, now named "Russell" into your home.

"Shoot out." Colter breathes. "Where do you want him?"

"Kitchen table." You say trying to reach for Russell's left arm to help Colter, but he groans low under his breath and you retract your hand.

"You've got to be a little gentle with me sweetheart." Russell laughs more to himself, but it comes out in a choked sound. "But you can have me wherever you want."

"Colter, he needs to go to the hospital." You say, following behind them, keeping your voice down. "I don't think that I can-"

"Can't, they'll report it. They have to report all gunshots, you know that." Colter grunts, helping Russell lay back on the large kitchen table. "Why are there so many cupcakes in here?"

"Bake sale at Luke’s school." You clip while waving a hand and looking down at Russell who is laying on the kitchen table.

You can't deny that he's attractive, even in this condition. Russell has the perfect ruggedly handsome features that would make the smartest girl stupid and combined with the piercing green eyes that shine beneath the hair that's fallen forward into his face, even you could see yourself being susceptible to his charm.

Fuck.

Deep down you know that Colter is right, that if he did go to the hospital they'd be required to report it and that meant police and an official report. You figured that it was the last thing that Colter wanted.

Then again the guy has so many marks on his record already. You eye the man on your kitchen table. Russell kinda looks like he would have a few marks too.

"Don't want who did this to find him." Colter clarifies.

"So instead you brought him to my house where my children are?" You cross your arms over your chest.

The fear that whatever Colter and Russell had stumbled upon following behind them to your home made a cold trickle of fear race down your spine.

"We weren't followed." Colter soothes. "I promise I'd never do that to you. And I've got Bobby doing a trace to make sure they don't come close."

He actually looks a little hurt that you'd think that of him. Colter was a lot of things, but uncaring was not one of them.

You relax, but don't apologize despite the guilt swimming in your gut. "Fine. Give me a second." You leave the room to find the first aid kit in the hall closet, the same one that you'd made for your aunts to keep at their house if Colter showed up in the middle of the night with this exact problem. You'd even been involved enough to show your aunts how to deal with a gunshot wound if you weren't there.

When you get back in the room, Colter is removing Russell's jacket, and Russell grits his teeth when it jostles his left arm.

You set down the kit and reach for the bottom of Russell's shirt to pull it up off him, and he chuckles.

"Aren't you going to buy me a drink first? Better yet we could have a few bottles of my home brew-"

"She's not going to help you, if you annoy her." Colter interrupts.

"I told you that I didn't need anyone's help, I'm perfectly fine- ow!" Russell exclaims when you accidentally yank the shirt over his left arm. "Your bedside manner is a little lacking." He grunts, but his eyes still twinkle with humor.

"Too bad. I'm tired and I've been making chocolate cupcakes for the past six hours, so you get what you get and you don't throw a fit."

"What?" Russell grins at the rhyme that you often tell your children.

You shake your head, and drop your eyes to his chest. There are two perfect circles on his right upper pectoral muscle, but not high enough to reach the collarbone and one in his left bicep where blood seeps around the bullets, but truthfully you're trying not to notice how perfectly muscular he is. There are dark splashes of tattoos against his skin, swirling around other scars that resemble slashes and bullet wounds that you wish to drag your fingertips across to study each mark, to memorize each one beneath the soft pads of your fingers.

How is he just as beautiful covered in blood?

You clear your throat to focus back at the task at hand, examining the current wounds. "Okay. The good news is that the one on your arm is through and through, but these two," Your hand hovers over the two on his right upper chest. "I've got to extract the bullets. Which means that this is going to hurt."

"Been through worse sweetheart."

Your eyes scan the rest of his scarred muscular chest thoughtfully. "Yeah, you have." You murmur it more to yourself than to Russell, but he still grins.

Colter's phone rings shrilly in the kitchen and he groans. "One second. Try not to make her want to kill you Rus."

"No promises little bro."

Oh, so this is Colter's brother.

You'd heard little bits and pieces about Colter's brother, mostly second hand from your Aunt Velma. One of the best things about going over to Teddi and her home was sitting in the living room and hearing Velma gossip about everything she heard from Teddi while drinking wine and eating fancy cheese that you could never afford.

Russell Shaw was no exception.

"Alone at last." Russell says with a wink. "I didn't think he'd ever leave."

"I'm going to get some water to clean these with." You reply, ignoring him, but when you turn away the end of your mouth quirks up into a smile.

He wasn't what you were expecting based on all the rumors that you'd heard from both of your aunts, in fact, you thought he was kind of charming.

You roll up your sleeves and wash your hands before turning back to Russell. He's sitting up on your kitchen table, hands braced on his sides, with his legs spread wide apart. He doesn’t look like someone with three gunshot wounds, and you wonder if this is a regular day for him. Colter certainly didn't get shot that much.

"So are you a rewardist too?" You ask standing between his legs and trying not to focus on the warmth of his breath against your collar bone.

"Naw. I work for a private security contractor." He breezes.

"Oh." You swallow, looking up into his green eyes for a minute. They're even more beautiful up close, green with flecks of gold around the iris that flicker in the light like stars. "Is it okay if I touch you?"

"You don't gotta ask me that sweetheart, the answer will always be yes."

You flush and brace your hand on his left shoulder, before pouring water into the two wounds on the right side of his chest, trying to clean them the best you can before you extract what's left of the bullets. His skin is warm and smooth beneath the palm of your hand and it's difficult to focus.

Just pretend you're in the hospital and you're treating a patient. You take in a shallow breath. He's just a patient and he's not that good looking.

You know you're lying to yourself, but you were trying your best. It probably didn’t help given the current dry spell you were in or the fact that he even smelled good. Something like gunpowder, leather, and a hint of something spicy that you bet was his shampoo. It prickled under your nose, and activated something in the back of your mind that was having a hard time being quiet. You hadn't been this close to a man you found attractive in a long time.

"Okay. This is going to hurt." You say as you look through the small medical kit that you'd grabbed from the hall closet for the tweezers, trying to calm the thudding of your heart.

"It's okay." Russell replies. "Do what you have to baby. I won't stop you."

You weren't prepared for the warmth that bloomed in the pit of your stomach when he called you baby in the wonderfully rough rumble of his voice.

A voice like that could convince me to jump into a pit filled with alligators with no regrets. Fuck. I'd bet that a voice like that could make me- FOCUS. I will focus. He is Colter's brother and he just got shot. He doesn't need you lusting over him.

Extracting the bullets is as painful for you as it is for him. Watching the way his face scrunches up in pain hurts you more than you thought it would. His hands grip the rim of the wooden kitchen table so hard that they're turning white, and Russell's jaw is clenched so tight that you're afraid that it's going to snap.

You squeeze his left shoulder to give him some comfort. "Almost done." You murmur, searching for the second bullet.

Russell lets out a breath when you finally fish out the other bullet and drop it into an empty cup with a resounding "ping" just as Colter walks back into the room looking worried.

"What?" Russell asks him, looking over your head at his brother.

"That was Bobby. He said that the trace we put on the phone just got a hit a few miles north of here." Colter states. "I'm gonna go check it out."

"Alright, I'll come with." Russell starts to get up, but you push him back with your right hand that you've still got pressed against his left shoulder. Difficult given the fact that he was almost twice the size of you and broader than anyone you'd ever seen. And also difficult because of the way you were trying to ignore how good it felt to feel the pull of his muscles beneath your hand.

"No. You still need stitches and I haven't finished patching you up." You clear your throat, but it still sounds a little hoarse.

"Baby as much as I like you ordering me around-“

"It's alright Russell, I've got this. Just stay here and let her take care of you." Colter interrupts.

Russell frowns at his younger brother. "I'm fine."

"You're not." Colter rolls his eyes. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few hours to pick you up." He turns to look at you. "I'm sorry that we woke you up-"

"It's okay." You shrug. "But you owe me."

"Just add it to my bill." Colter smirks.

Honestly, you weren't as angry as you were when you answered the phone. Something about Russell was different and you didn’t mind helping him at all.

He wasn't like anyone that you had ever met, certainly not in the circles you ran with.

All the dads from your mom friends were blue and white collar workers who worked in the big office buildings downtown, wore suits to work and were more straight-laced, but there was something refreshing about Russell.

He was mysterious, sexy, and his had this aura of self-resilience and survival that you found immensely attractive. Especially when compared to your ex, who couldn't survive without his mocha-caramel double shot latte or wifi.

Russell was the exact opposite of him and you found yourself wanting to know more. More about the almost beautiful scars that curved over his muscular body, more about each tattoo that he’d chosen, and more about him.

He seemed like the kind of guy that hid his trauma under easy smiles and jokes, the kind of person that shrugged off anything that seemed remotely serious with a well placed joke, but you could feel that there was something deeper beneath that he didn’t allow many to see.

And you wanted him to show you.

You weren't sure where any of this was coming from. Russell probably was about as stable and consistent as his brother, and you liked consistency. Spontaneity and surprises tended to make you anxious. But not with Russell.

Though the stability might have been an issue. You were a single working mother, which meant that you didn't want to introduce some random guy into your children's life just to have them get attached and him to bail with no strings attached and-

Calm down. You just met the guy, it's not like he's asking you out on a date.

When Colter leaves and after you’ve cleaned around the wounds the best you can with some alcohol, you realize just how quiet it is in your kitchen.

“You know, I think I’ve seen you before.” Russell says breaking the silence while you search for a needle and thread in the medical kit.

“Really? Where?" You ask looking up.

“In my dreams.”

“Wow." You smile at him. "That line is pretty cheesy."

You shift your right hand over to begin to sew up the wounds on his chest. Russell doesn't even wince when you push the needle through, almost as if he didn't notice it at all.

It made sense, given how many scars and tattoos covered his body. You remember what he said about "being through worse" and it made you feel bad for him, to worry about him. Odd given the fact that the two of you had just met.

"Well I'm a little distracted at the moment sweetheart. It's not often that I get such a beautiful woman to take care of me."

"I thought you didn't need my help?" You smirk.

"Maybe I did." He admits sheepishly.

"Mhmm."

"So how do you know my brother?"

“Why?”

“Trying to see if you’re off limits or not.” Russell tilts his head to the side and flashes a charming smile.

You laugh at his boldness. You’d never met someone so upfront before, it was refreshing. Most of the men you’d meet occasionally at work tended to beat around the bush and made you want to give them a map to get to the point. "We met when he got shot a few months ago."

"Oh so the two of you aren't-" He wiggles his eyebrows and you snort.

"No."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I was just wondering why not?"

"What?"

"Well, you're gorgeous, you're smart, and you're not scared of blood or gunshots. Colter really seems to be dropping the ball."

"Colter doesn't exactly have a stable lifestyle. And I'm kind of complicated."

You were, there wasn't any way around it.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I've got two kids."

Russell blinks in surprise. "Really?"

"Mhmm." You hum continuing your task, not phased by the blood at all.

His eyes trace your figure for a minute, making a shiver travel down your spine. It was the first time in a long time that you were okay with someone looking at you like that and to be honest, the first time that you wanted someone to look at you like that in a while.

After everything that happened with your ex-husband and his secretary you were more inclined to sit on your couch with a glass of wine and read away your troubles with a steamy romance novel that did more for you than any of your ex-husband's attempts to satisfy you. It also didn't help that you had no interest in going out with your few friends and meeting someone at a club who probably would never call you again and probably wouldn't be as enthusiastic to learn that you were a mom.

You'd only been on one date since you'd broken it off with your husband with your aunts accountant Jerry, and the date stuttered to a halt when he learned you had two children and weren't interested in having an open relationship.

"I wouldn't have guessed that."

“Really? The mountain of chocolate cupcakes wasn’t a clue?” You arch an eyebrow with a smirk, while gently tying off the string to close the first wound before moving on to the second.

“I thought you just really liked baking. And I’m okay with coming home every night to a mountain of chocolate cupcakes if it means you’re there too.” He winks.

“Not sure you want any of those.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’re gluten free, sugar free, and nut free.”

The horrified look on Russell’s face makes you feel like you’d just told him that hot dogs do in fact contain trace amounts of dog.

“Why on earth would you make them like that?! They're not even cupcakes anymore!" He exclaims.

You found it funny that he seemed more upset over the mutilation of the chocolate cupcakes than over being shot.

Maybe he's always like this?

"I know. I'm a monster." You sigh. "But Stephanie Jacobson said I had to." You let out a frustrated sigh with her name.

Bringing anything other than what she asked for was a suicide mission. The last person who did that was Gale Smith in the great Fourth of July Cook-out calamity of 2021. In Gale's defense, no one though that the bushes would catch fire so fast, but Stephanie had a memory like an elephant so Gale decided to transfer her children to the school one town over. The last thing you wanted was for your name to go down in history for the Cupcake Catastrophe of 2024.

Russell leans forward and lowers his voice like it's a secret. “Is Stephanie your imaginary friend?”

“No!” You laugh. “She’s this other mom at my son’s school who said I wasn’t living up to my ‘duties as a parent’ and that I needed to ‘participate.’”

"She sounds great."

"Oh yeah, we're practically best friends." You continue to work on the other wounds in the silence that follows.

"I bet you're a good mom." Russell says watching you with an unreadable expression. He's leaning a little bit towards you still, making the smell gunmetal, leather, spice, and just a hint of mint come through the space between the two of you.

Damn he smells really good.

"Uh-huh. You've known me for ten minutes and you haven't seen me with my children-"

"I can tell."

"Is that your superpower or something?" You reach for a bandage to lay over the wound in his chest smiling to yourself. "All the other useful superpowers like being bulletproof got taken?"

"I don't think it's useless if it makes you smile like that when I say it, sweetheart."

Your eyes flick upwards to Russell's face. His green eyes are shining in the light of your kitchen, his dark hair still hanging over his forehead, and he is still just as ridiculously handsome as he was the moment Colter dragged him through your front door. You don’t remember why you were so mad at Colter anymore.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too smooth for your own good?" You raise your eyebrow.

"No ma'am." Russell cracks an even wider smile and it makes you loose all feeling in your legs. He was just so effortlessly handsome that it made you want to do something stupid, like have sex with him on top of the same kitchen table that you serve blueberry pancakes to your children.

"Hmm." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Well, now you know and maybe now that you're aware, it could prevent you from getting shot."

"Are you saying I got shot because I'm too smooth?"

"Maybe."

"Because usually it has a different effect."

"Huh. Well in that case, maybe try using some of that to smooth things over and you'd avoid getting shot." You begin to wrap another fresh bandage around the bullet wound on his arm, bracing your free hand against his chest, trying to ignore the way his skin is warm and chiseled beneath your palm.

He had the kind of body that you'd never imagined actually existed. Russell Shaw looked like he walked out one of the romance novels you loved so much.

Hell, they should use pictures of him to make the book covers.

"I'll remember that next time." Russell pauses. "But then it means I wouldn’t get shot and I wouldn't get to have you patch me up."

"I guess not."

You didn't think that you'd smiled as much as you had in the past twenty minutes with him than you had your entire five year marriage. Not to mention that it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't trying to convince you why they should be allowed to have a cookie before dinner.

A charged silence passes through the air between the two of you, his eyes locked on yours sending goosebumps over your skin. You weren't sure if anyone had ever looked at you like that before. You'd noticed that most gave you the obligatory skate over, but Russell didn't. He looked at you as if he was studying you as if he were genuinely curious to know more.

Your eyes trace his broad shoulders, toned abdomen, and muscular arms, noting that he's the kind of strong and broad that was made to handle someone a little more curvy like you. And you'd be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about it more than once since Russell came through your front door.

You felt your mind sink into the fantasy of Russell pining you to the kitchen table and feeling the warmth of his rough hands against your body-

Snap out of it. The guy is bleeding, he got shot. He needs to rest.

"I think you'll survive." You smile pulling back from him to clear your head. It was much easier when you couldn't smell him as strongly. "And if Colter isn't going to be back for a few hours you can crash on the couch. It's not the most comfortable but-"

"I'm sure it's fine." Russell shrugs and stands from your kitchen table.

You try and fail to ignore how his muscles pull with the movement as he reaches for his shirt and you step forward to help him put it on, knowing that it might hurt with his injury. "Okay." You clear your throat, that has become thick all of a sudden. "And if you're hungry I've got plenty of cupcakes-"

"Please don't call them that. They're an disgrace to the cupcake name."

"Yeah, but the ones in the microwave are actually cupcakes. I had to make a few that were edible." You gesture with your hand and laugh at how quickly Russell goes to get one.

He doesn’t even bother to pull away the wrapping before he takes a bite and he audibly moans. Russell looks at you awestruck. "Holy shit, you made this? Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up." You roll your eyes at him.

"I'm serious, this cupcake is my reason to keep living. Here I thought putting sriracha on French fries was the height of cuisine, but damn."

You could feel yourself blush bright red at his compliment. You weren't used to a man going out of his way to compliment you on something other than how you looked, but everything about Russell Shaw was refreshing and nothing like you expected.

"Thank you." You wait another second, watching him eat more of the cupcake and smash icing and flecks of chocolate over his chin. You laugh at him and hand him a paper towel. "You're worse than my three year old."

"Your three year old is a lucky kid, if she’s got a mom like you to make stuff like this for her."

It's like he wants me to fall in love with him. How can someone look so unbelievably cute and sexy while covered in chocolate cupcake?

Don't answer that.

"Sometimes I think I'm the lucky one. I love my kids-" You say before you can stop yourself. You hesitate afraid that it would send Russell for the hills when you brought up the fact that you loved your children.

"Yeah?" Russell's smile brightens as he wipes his face with the napkin.

"Yeah." You blink mildly shocked. Of all the people in the world to talk about your children with, you never expected someone like Russell Shaw. “I do."

Again he was surprising you, and talking to him was just so refreshing and it made you feel like your head had finally cleared, like your chest was lighter and you could actually talk to someone for real without putting out this together image of yourself you thought you had to when inside you were crumbling from the overbearing expectations of the people around you.

The silence is back, filling the kitchen with a palpable energy that you wonder if Russell can feel, but you shake it off.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning. It was nice to meet you Russell, but I'm sorry that you got shot." You smile.

"I'm not." Russell smiles. "I got to meet you."

"Alright Casanova, I need to go to bed, because my kids will wake me up in about two hours." You frown over at the couch. "There's a pillow and a blanket down the hall in the bathroom closet." You gesture with one hand. "I'll see you in the morning." You repeat because you're not too sure what to say.

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

You turn and walk up the stairs to your bedroom, feeling the thin blue robe swishing around your ankles as you do.

And as you fall into your bed all you can think about as you start to drift is the ruggedly handsome man downstairs, with the brilliant green eyes that crinkle with his smile, and the large hands rough from hard work, that seems to be more than what meets the eye.

The alarm clock on your bedside table might as well be employed by the devil for waking you up and the idea of smashing it to bits with the heavy metal table lamp that sits beside it crosses your mind. You weren't sure how many hours you'd gotten in, only that they weren't enough, and you were in desperate need of coffee.

You roll over on your back, looking up at your ceiling as you blink your eyes open, following the familiar sweeps of the paint brush that were left behind.

The memory of the night's events come back in full color and you stiffen remembering exactly why you'd gone to bed so late. Images of last night flash through your mind. Colter dragging a bloodied Russell through your front door, Russell sitting on your kitchen table looking much too attractive covered in blood, him flirting with you with a wide smile that made you feel warm from the inside out…

Oh fuck he's still on my couch. How am I going to explain that to my kids?

You dress in a flash and stumble down the stairs as quickly as you can, tripping and falling into the living room, but when you look you realize that Russell isn't on the couch. The pillow and brightly colored quilted blanket he used are neatly folded on one of the plush cushions, but he's nowhere to be found.

I guess Colter came to get him.

You weren't expecting the wave of disappointment that comes with that realization, but as you turn to go back up the stairs to ready yourself for the day, you hear your daughter’s voice.

"Mommy!" She says. "Look! Rus is making pancakes."

What?

You turn to investigate your spacious kitchen. It was still covered in an alarming amount of cupcakes, but that’s not what’s surprising, what’s surprising is Russell, standing at your crowded stove with a spatula in his hand, sliding a perfectly golden brown pancake around in the bottom of a pan.

You blink your eyes to make sure that you’re not imagining it and make sure that you’re not asleep.

"Hey gorgeous." Russell flashes a wide grin. "How'd you sleep?"

"Um-" You glance at where your daughter is sitting with your son, both eating stacks of pancakes at your kitchen table, the same kitchen table that you were fantasizing about Russell and you-

Nope. Not going there.

Honestly, any fantasy you had about him was blown away by the sight of him standing in your kitchen making pancakes for your children. Something so domestically wonderful that turned you on even more than the image of him shirtless sitting on your kitchen table.

This was something even your husband refused to do, cook. Any day that you tried to get him to, he'd said that it was your "job." And here Russell was standing in your kitchen looking even more effortlessly gorgeous cooking for your family without being asked.

"I sleep good. How did you sleep?" You ask taking a hesitant step towards him.

"Good. Better than I have in a bit actually." He turns back to the pan and flicks his wrist, flipping the pancake inside.

Emma claps happily and Luke watches Russell with a look of absolute awe on his face, while you try not to have impure thoughts about Russell in front of your children.

"You didn't have to make breakfast-"

"I did." He plates the pancake and holds it out to you. "I wanted to thank you for patching me up."

"It wasn't a big deal." You shrug, but take the pancake from the plate, rolling it up like a taco before you take a bite.

Russell cocks his head to the side studying you for a moment. "It was to me." His green eyes are just as hypnotic today as they were last night, tracing over your body in a way that makes pins and needles tickle over your skin. "Plus, wanted to make the kids something that wasn't gluten free, nut free, and sugar free. Emma sure can put away some pancakes."

It was odd to see someone so eager to make himself comfortable in your house, especially a man you barely knew and who you owed absolutely nothing to. Not to mention that Russell genuinely seemed happy to be making breakfast for your children as if he belonged there.

It was so different from every other man that you'd ever met, and you wanted to get used to it. You wanted to get used to having a man around again, to having Russell in your home and in your life. You'd never been spontaneous or wanted to jump headfirst without looking at the pros and cons, but watching Russell standing at your stove, with the sunlight coming through the windows behind him and illuminating his broad shoulders and sifting through his dark hair, you saw absolutely no downside.

"Yeah she's always had a good appetite."

"Hope she doesn't lose that. I hate it when women don't eat." Russell shrugs his shoulders and goes back to make a pancake for himself. "Plus Luke needs to bulk up. He said his dad is going to sign him up for baseball."

You stiffen at the mention of your ex, not sure if you should supply the information, or if you should let it slide. Russell's eyes flick down at your left hand for a half-second, so quickly you could have missed it, but you understood what he was doing.

"He's my ex-husband." You murmur low enough so only Russell could hear.

"Good." Russell replies with a knowing smirk. "Means that I don’t have any competition."

You roll your eyes at his reaction and walk over to where your children are eating. Luke is covered in maple syrup as per usual. He had always been a messy eater, but because he insisted on having his hair cropped short, it never seemed to be too much of a problem.

Just as Emma looks like your ex-husband, Lance, Luke looks like you. He has the same eyes and same colored hair, but he'd always been a little short for his age. Lance usually picked at him for that, but you didn't know what Lance was expecting, Luke was six years old, he'd grow!

"Good pancakes?" You ask, trying to wipe at his face with a napkin but he pulls away with an exclaimed "Mom!"

"What? You're covered in syrup." You laugh, raising the napkin again, but Luke dodges your hand.

"Mom!" Luke says again.

"Alright, fine. But go get dressed, your dad will be here to pick you up any minute." You say, urging him with a hand against his shoulder.

Today Lance was taking Luke to school and picking him up after for a baseball game, before staying with him at his apartment. You’d told your Aunt Teddi and your Aunt Velma that you'd help them plant a garden today, and Emma had been looking forward to it as much as you had.

Velma had been talking about it all through last week, and you’d gotten the day off specifically off for it. Emma was also excited about it because Teddi had bought flowers specifically for butterflies and your daughter loved them more than life itself.

You were looking forward to working out in the sun, feeling the healing rays against your skin, listening to the sounds of the world outside your aunts familiar home soothe you, play with the dogs for a little bit, and finally go inside for a few glasses of wine while Velma, Teddi, and you talked about the book of the month. Book club nights were especially special for Emma as well. Velma always poured Emma's apple juice into a plastic pink wine glass that she'd bought for Emma so she could feel included.

This book had been really good and you couldn't wait to share what you'd thought while eating expensive cheese and cupcakes and while the dogs circled below like raptors.

You loved being at their home. It was always such a comfort to be somewhere where you felt that you could be yourself especially after Lance left you. Your mother had died when you were a kid and your dad had never been equipped to handle things like that so your Aunt Teddi had picked up the slack in your early years and now after she'd married Velma, you had another person in your life who supported you and made you feel like you could be yourself. Both of them had been furious when they learned about what Lance had done and sat with you while you cried into a box of tissues.

It had been difficult to talk them both out of killing Lance. Surprising since your Aunt Teddi was usually the voice of reason.

Luke sighs, but listens to you, getting up from the table to make his way upstairs. You can hear his footsteps as he walks down the hallway above and into his room.

Despite his reluctance, he was looking forward to today as well. Sometimes you thought that he felt left out when you all went over to your aunts house. You knew that Luke longed for the attention of his father, and something broke inside of you each time your ex-husband made him feel forgotten.

You turn to look at your daughter. "Good pancakes?"

"Yes!"

"Did you tell Russell thank you?"

"Thank you Rus!" She sing-songs with a wide smile, before moving her plastic fork back into the pile enthusiastically.

"You're welcome sweetheart." Russell says from the stove, picking up the pancake in the skillet bare handed before he puts a generous stripe of maple syrup along the inside and rolls it up just like you did. "Do you want another one?" His gaze turns to you, warm and open.

Fuck, why is he so damn attractive?

"No I'm-"

The knock on the front door interupts your answer signifying the arrival of Lance. When he'd moved out of the house you'd changed all the locks and then refused to give him a key. Something that he'd pouted and stomped about worse than your toddler, but you'd held firm. You didn't want him in your house and you definitely didn't want her in your house either.

"Daddy!" Emma squeals and before you can stop her, she leaps from her chair like she'd been shot from a cannon and runs down the front hallway to open the door for your ex.

You sigh out a breath to prepare yourself for what comes next. Talking to Lance was always tense and as much as you tried to be civil, Lance didn't. He didn't pull punches, and often lacked the common decency that everyone else had.

Russell's studying you again, his easy smile slipping into a frown when he notes the change in your attitude.

"Stay here. This shouldn't take long." You force a smile, but it lacks the enthusiasm you’d had whenever you talked to Russell before.

Sometimes just the thought of your ex took the energy out of you, as if you were on a space ship and all the air got sucked out into the cold silent vacuum.

Lance is standing on the front step hugging your daughter with one hand while the other holds his phone behind her head, his gaze intently on the screen while Emma chatters in his ear. He's not paying attention though. He never was and never did.

His black hair is slicked back over his head and cropped shorter than the last time you saw him. Now it barely touches his collar but hangs long over the top of his head. His brown eyes glint an amber in the light of the sun, and he’s wearing a tailored blue suit with a dark patterned tie.

“Hey.” Lance clips to you as he stands, releasing Emma who is still trying to talk to him, but he ignores her.

You grind your teeth together. “Hi.”

He sighs audibly sensing the tension, as if it’s you that’s done something wrong.

“Emma, why don’t you go finish your pancakes?” You smile down at your daughter and pat her on the head. “We’ve got to go soon.”

“Okay! Bye daddy!”

“That’s nice honey.” He says absentmindedly, still typing furiously on his phone, while Emma rushes back down the hallway and into the kitchen, that is hidden from view of the front door.

“You know you could put the phone down for once. The world won’t implode if you wait a few seconds to answer a text.” You say.

“Don’t start.” Lance rolls his eyes.

The BMW idling at the curb catches in the early morning sunlight and you see a flash of red-hair. Crystal is in the passenger seat, her auburn hair piled on top of her head effortlessly, her lips painted a dark colored red, there’s a pair of heart shaped sunglasses over her eyes, and she’s wearing black dress low cut enough that her ample breasts spill out through the wide V.

She peers at you from where she sits in the car, her phone perched in her lap, and you watch her dark colored lips twitch into a knowing smirk when she catches you looking at her.

Each time you saw her was like taking a punch to the gut. It made you pull your oversized sweater a little tighter over your chest self-consciously.

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying that you should pay more attention to-“ You begin, but Lance interrupts.

“I don’t want to do this with you. I have a deposition due today and I have to finish sending this email.” He snaps.

“Fine.” You sigh, trying to remain calm. You hated when he did this, when he made it seem like no one and nothing else was important except his job. “Luke is getting ready. I have to box up these cupcakes for a bake sale at the school. All you have to do is drop them off and tell-“

“Oh sorry babe. Can’t do the thing today.”

You bristled when he called you babe. You weren't his, not after everything the two of you had been through.

“What do you mean you can’t do the ‘thing’ today?” You plant your hands on your hips trying to comprehend what he's saying.

“With the kid. Sorry. Crystal made plans for us at some fancy restaurant or whatever. Supposed to be the best in the city-“

“What?”

“I can’t take the kid today.” He repeats slowly, this time looking up, but he doesn’t bother to apologize, and his gaze barely meets yours before he drops his eyes back to the hand clutched in his perfectly manicured fingers.

“But you promised Luke that you were going to take him to a baseball game today after school. That he was going to get to spend the night with you and-“

“Sorry.” The apology isn’t sincere and you know it, despite Lance’s attempts to drop his smile into a sympathetic frown. It comes across as more condescending.

Crystal honks the horn of the car as if to tell Lance to hurry up, and it takes a very large amount of effort for you not to flip her the bird.

“No. Luke has been looking forward to this all week! Not to mention I had to ask off for today specifically-“

“And I’ll apologize to him too.” Lance goes back to typing something on his phone. “This dinner means a lot to Crystal-“

“I don’t give two shits what means a lot to that red-haired bimbo!” You snap, the rage and frustration building in your chest. “You made a promise to your son to take him to a baseball game and actually spend time with him and that’s exactly what you’re going to do!”

Lance looks up from his phone, his eyes narrowing. “You always fucking do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pick a fight.”

“I am not picking a fight Lance. All you’ve done since you’ve shown up here is ignore your daughter and tell me that you’re backing out of the one thing I’ve asked you to do in months!”

“I told you that I have a meeting and a deposition due today! Damn it, what do you want from me? To quit my big job that pays for this house?” He steps forward towering over you. Lance was taller than you, but he had always been lanky and thin, unable to gain too much weight or muscle at a time. “Why do you find the need to make me feel like my life isn’t important?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything about your life! I’m talking about our son’s life-“ You shout incredulous.

“This is exactly why I got out when I did. Because you always try to control every little thing. You’re so damn OCD that if I did one microscopic thing that wasn’t apart of your ‘special plans’ you’d spontaneously combust! You never just shut your big mouth and let me just fucking live my life! You never let me feel like a man! And Crystal understands-“

“Crystal can’t even understand that pickles were once cucumbers! I doubt she can understand whatever warped reality you’re living in Lance.” You spit. “But I’m sorry that me asking you to be a part of our children’s lives is too much for you. That it’s such a chore for you to make them happy.” The frustrated tears had begun to burn against your eyes.

You didn’t know why you expected anything different. Lance had been doing this since your son was born, putting his career above everything else, working late, schmoozing whoever he could, being so damn selfish that he was willing to throw everything the two of you built together for the woman sitting in the car on the curb watching the two of you go at it with a sick satisfaction.

“Don’t fucking do that!” Lance roars and this time he slams his hand against the door frame so roughly that the glass inside shakes and you flinch. “I don’t know why I even try to talk to you. So why don’t you get your big ass up those stairs and-“

“Is there a problem?” Russell’s voice interrupts whatever Lance was going to say, his body sliding into the space behind you so suddenly that you didn’t hear him walk up.

But it felt good for him to be there, to feel the warmth of his body through the air at your back.

He places his hand on the door to open it up a little wider and to seem a bit more intimidating. Russell is easily taller and broader than Lance.

Lance looks up at him confused, puffing out his chest to look more intimidating. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t use that kind of language around the kids-“ Russell says with a tight lipped smile.

“They’re my fucking kids. Don’t tell me how to talk.” Lance’s gaze flicks to you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“I’m Russell.” He replies before you can. “And if you know what’s good for you I’d take a few steps back from her.” Russell’s large hand gently presses against your waist, a comforting weight that you weren’t expecting, but welcome, nonetheless.

It made you feel a little bit bolder.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Lance snarls. “Is this your boyfriend? Really? You finally decided to go out with someone and that’s who you pick?”

“Look buddy, if you keep talking to her that way, we’re going to have a problem.” Russell sighs. “And I don’t want to get any blood on your fancy suit.”

“I’m not your buddy. And trust me she’s not worth the fight.” Lance sneers at you, giving you a once over that makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Russell’s jaw clenches tight and he takes a step forward, but you hold out your arm to stop him.

“He’s not my boyfriend and even if he was, it’s none of your business who I date!” You snap back.

Lance only shakes his head, ignoring what you’ve said. “I’m serious pal you don’t want to get involved with her. She’s fucking crazy, not to mention nothing special when it comes to se-“

The next words are lost in the sound of Russell’s fist landing against Lance’s face, the sharp crack followed by the inhuman scream of Crystal at the car. Lance stumbles back off the front step clutching a hand to his face while blood streams through his pinched fingers and over his chin.

“I warned you. Now if you keep talking, I'll make your eyes match.” Russell growls, flexing his hand.

I hope he didn’t rip his stitches.

“You son of a bitch.” Lance sputters, his hand still holding his broken nose. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”

“It’s worth it, if it shuts you up.” He replies unfazed.

Lance’s eyes narrow with hate as he looks at you one more time, before stumbling back to his car where Crystal has begun to wail over the amount of blood coming from his nose. The car squeals down the street and out of sight, leaving Russell and you standing on your front porch. Thankfully Emma was still in the kitchen eating her pancakes and Luke was upstairs, you didn't want either of them to see Russell punch their dad.

But that didn't mean that you wouldn't mind seeing it again.

You groaned when you thought about your son. You didn’t know how on earth you were going to explain to him why his dad wasn’t going to pick him up or take him to the game.

But at the same time there was a sickening amount of pleasure that bubbled beneath the surface at the thought of Russell breaking Lance’s nose.

“Are you okay?” Russell asks turning to look at you. There’s anger still simmering beneath the surface. You’d never seen him angry in all the time he’d stayed with you. All you’d seen was the funny, easy going, guy with the gorgeous smile, but to see him like this and especially to see him angry over what had just happened…

Just when I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive.

“Yeah. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize for that asshole. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” Russell hesitates. “Does he always talk to you like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn, should have knocked a few teeth out too. He’s got to learn how to speak to a lady, especially one as beautiful as you.”

You felt your cheeks flush. You couldn’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful and before you can stop yourself you say:

“I don’t think you’re too bad looking yourself.”

“Oh I know. You couldn’t keep your hands off me last night.” Russell’s grin makes you smile and roll your eyes at him.

Again you’re struck by how charming he is and how kind. He didn’t have to do any of the things he’d done today, but he did anyway. He didn’t have to make breakfast for your children, he didn’t have to step in when your ex-husband got mouthy, and he didn’t have to punch Lance in the face, but Russell had.

He'd done more for you in the past few hours than your husband had done in the six years you'd been married to him.

Behind where Russell's standing, Colter’s truck pulls up to idle on the curb in the same place that the BMW had been sitting moments ago, and you raise a hand in a half-wave to greet him. Colter shoots you a grin and waves back.

“Guess my ride’s here.” Russell says glancing back at his brother over his shoulder before he looks back at you.

“Seems so.” You nod. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check your stitches for you one more time before you go? I mean you probably ripped them when you punched Lance."

“Sounds like you just want to catch another peak of me without my shirt on.” Russell laughs, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and hit him on the arm.

“Ow.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Maybe.” He’s studying you again, the sunlight turning his hair a honeyed brown and his eyes into a sharp jade. The light catches his broad shoulders and traces along his strong jaw that is covered in a healthy amount of stubble that makes him look rugged and more handsome than any man you’d ever met.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “It was nice to meet you Russell. And again, I'm sorry that you got shot."

Russell shrugs. “It was worth it. I got to meet you and I got to punch that asshole in the face so win-win.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I did.” Russell’s jaw tightens. “You didn’t deserve any of the things he was saying about you or about the kids.”

“True.” You hesitate.

Should I ask him for his number or is that too forward?

“I’ll see you around.” Russell smiles at you one more time before making his way to his brother’s car, just as Emma joins you on the front step.

“Did daddy leave?” She sounds sad.

“Yeah. He did.” You take her small hand in yours.

“But why does Russell have to go too?” She whines.

“Because he’s going home.”

You felt a twinge in your chest watching him get into the car, knowing that you probably would never see him ever again. It made you sad to know that. You'd been interested in him and you thought he was interested in you, but he hadn't asked for your number.

Maybe he's flirty and charming with everyone.

You hide the frown that comes with that thought. Emma waves goodbye with her freehand, and Russell smiles from the passenger seat, waving back at your daughter, before he raises his gaze to yours again and winks.

Or maybe not.

When you go back inside the house, Luke is still upstairs, and instead of going up to tell him about his father, you turn to go back into your kitchen to clean up. As you near the stove, you notice a bright green piece of paper under one of the magnets on your refrigerator, fluttering slightly in the air-conditioning.

You pull it down to look.

In case you want some more pancakes or if you bake any more of those life changing cupcakes. Give me a call. -Russell.

His phone number was written under his name, next to a smiley face that made you laugh aloud to yourself.

Sunday nights were the worst, but not this time.

A/N: Alright, I had so much fun with this one! I just had this urge to write Russell with a reader who had children and a trash man ex because why not? And I know I said it would be a one-shot… but my mind is already thinking of all the possibilities lol. Mostly because we all know I can’t really write just a one-shot 😅😂

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y’all think!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester

#jensen ackles #russell shaw #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw x you #russell shaw x reader #tracker cbs #tracker #tracker fanfiction #colter shaw #justin hartley #jackles #jensen fucking ackles

366 notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 1 year ago

Text

…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Content: Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.

Masterlist

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #poly 141 #open relationship trope #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader

3K notes · View notes

indecisivemuch · 1 year ago

Text

Cupids in Converses

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Valentine's was rolling up. You and Luke played Cupid on Percy and Annabeth. But what if playing matchmakers gave both you guys and your unspoken feelings the nudge that you guys have always needed? (Fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: sort of cliché, but it's Valentines so.

Note: Valentines got me in the mood of writing something rom-com-ish. Let's just assume Luke wears red converses that looks like Maia in the show. Also, I've been incredibly busy so I kinda rushed through this one to post it on time for Valentines.

Word count: 4.1k (whoops)

February has always filled the air with some sort of sugary chemical. Everything seemed sweeter like a pink filter had been put over the world. Some may dislike the upcoming February holiday, but it was perhaps one of your favorite times of the year.

Why? You were somehow blessed with the skills of getting people together and nudging them just enough to cross the line they needed to. So far, you have managed to help six couples get together. With Valentine’s right around the corner, the urge to play cupid grew to the point it was itching your hands.

“Well, compared to the Chimera on Monday, Medusa on Sunday, could have been a lot worse,” Percy was quickly interrupted by Annabeth.

“Medusa was Saturday.”

“I thought Sunday?”

“No monsters on Sunday. Monday, you died in a river.” You squint your eyes at the conversation that Percy and Annabeth were having. The familiar bells rang in your head; you could practically hear them roaring at you.

“Right, so Medusa on Saturday…”

“Woah, guys, what’s this?” Luke interrupted. “When did you turn into an old married couple?” Percy and Annabeth both grew slightly flustered at the Hermes counselor’s words. Muttering a few things here and there, the two kids quickly excused themselves and walked off from you and Luke just to avoid the topic in general. You slowly turned towards Luke and peered up at him.

“Surely…” you spoke cryptically.

“Surely what?”

“Them!” you gestured to the direction that Percy and Annabeth had headed off to. You kicked a small rock with your Converse and watched it tumble away. “Surely we can give a little nudge?” you trailed off, bumping into Luke’s shoulder.

“You’re not seriously gonna play Cupid on them, right?”

“No, I’m not…because we are,” Luke let out a loud breath, hands on his hips as he peered down at you. However, you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Sweet girl, I adore you, but why not let things run their course?” you hope he did not see the physical reaction over that nickname because, internally, your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh? And you’re telling me those six couples from before would have gotten together without me? You know I’m right about this kind of stuff. I can usually sense it. Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Uhm…you get to spend time with me?” you decided to answer, grinning up at Luke when he gave you a feigned unimpressed look. “Please, besides, you and Percy are close, so it would help a lot. I already have a plan and I need your help for it.”

One look into your eyes, and Luke knew he was doomed. For some reason, you just can make him do anything you ask. Luke could feel the hands on his hips slowly slipping as he looked into your eyes.

“Fine.”

Stage 1: Get Percy to realize his feelings cause he’s blind as hell

It was midnight and everybody else was asleep except for you and Luke. The two of you were in the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The two of you were making some fortune cookies for your plan. However, there was a tiny twist to the treat you two were making. You had personally printed out a couple of prompts that you wrote yourself in hopes they would nudge Percy into realizing his feelings.

“Really?’“Romance is in the air. What you’re looking for is right in front of you’?” Luke read out the small piece of paper that you printed. You pulled the cookies out of the oven when they were ready.

“It’s cliche and sort of obvious, but hey! It’ll work because it’s Percy I’m working with,” you quickly pulled the paper out of his hand to put it in the fortune cookie before folding it into shape and letting it cool down.

“Mhm. He’s gonna realize you’re trying to play cupid.”

“Are we talking about the same person? I doubt Percy would realize. Annabeth would, hence why I’m not trying this on her.”

Luke helped you out with a couple of other spare fortune cookies that you two intended to keep for yourselves.

“Alright, finally done,” you muttered, washing your hands. However, you were caught off guard when Luke dipped his hand in the bag of flour on the counter and smeared some on your cheek. Your mouth hung slightly at this, and you looked up at him challengingly. You wiped your hands with a hand towel, “Oh? Is that how we’re playing it?”

“...No…” Luke sheepishly replied, a grin growing on his face when he saw the look of mischief creeping on your face.

“Game on, Castellan,” with that, you dipped both of your hands in flour and chased after the tall boy, who was sprinting around the counter. You caught up with Luke and compromised by smearing flour onto the back of his shirt first. At your attack, he turned around and smeared some more across your face from your other cheek to the top of your nose. You immediately did it back to him.

“Ok, ok, I surrender,” he coughed in between quiet waves of laughter after you smeared some from his cheek down his neck, marking your last attack.

For a moment, Luke and you stood in silence, but when you two let the state of one another sink in, laughs echoed throughout the room again. Luke was able to stop his laughter first, though he was still wearing a wide grin. He washed the flour off his face and dried it with kitchen tissues as you muttered: “Oh, I wish I had a camera. I could practically blackmail you with that photo.”

“I have no doubt you would have never let me live that down,” while replying, Luke also approached you and started wiping the flour off your nose before moving to your cheeks. Your laughter slowly faded as your cheeks heated at the feeling of his hand on your skin. He was looking at you so tentatively. Callous hands - a reflection of his remarkable title as best swordsman - delicately holding your face as if you were the rarest diamond to exist.

Something about this moment felt so domestic. Luke allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is how it would feel like to be with you and share cute moments like these together. Luke unbeknownstly let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in as he made eye contact with you.

However, the moment was interrupted by another camper who yelped upon seeing you two in the kitchen. The presence of another person caused you two to spring apart. “I’m so sorry, I’ll leave,” the camper muttered, clearly abandoning their plan of stealing food and sweets in the middle of the night. Luke coughed to break the silence.

“So what’s the plan after giving it to Percy?” Luke asked, looking down at the fortune cookies before picking one up and munching on it.

“Hopefully, he’ll finally realize his feelings, and when he does…Percy will come to you, for sure.”

Stage 2: Romantic gesture

You were right, Percy came to Luke for dating advice. As you planned, Luke suggested that Percy make a flower crown for Annabeth. Hence, here the Hermes counselor was - with Percy as he picked out flowers for Annabeth.

"I'm gonna need you to guide me on this 'cause I've never made flower crowns before," Percy muttered as he picked out California Poppins, Annabeth's favorite. Luke grinned at this. He found it interesting how the young boy already knew. "Maybe you could make one for someone special too?" Percy said, his voice somewhat unsure.

At the young boy's words, Luke froze. The first person that seemed to pop into his mind when Percy said that was you.

"I mean, might as well, right? It's for Valentine's. Maybe you could give it to someone who means a lot to you and makes you happy?" Percy spoke, though there was something instigative about his tone.

Happy. The word bounced in between the walls of Luke's mind. Once again, the first thing that flashed in his head was you. Then, a surge of images came running from memories of you two. He almost could not remember happiness before you. A warm feeling embedded in his chest as he pictured your smile. Just seeing you happy seemed to do it for him, like you could spread happiness to him by just looking at him. You were like the first glimmer of daylight after a cold night. He subconsciously smiled at that thought.

You have always made him feel loved, even though he knew you were probably doing it platonically. However, he would gladly take any form of love that he could receive from you. Every day, waking up and knowing he had you in his life was good enough for him. Maybe he should try giving you more hints. Maybe you'll finally see it. Perhaps Percy was right with the flower crown idea.

“Uhm, sure,” with that, Luke decided to take some of your favorite flowers into his hand and went to a nearby table, where he started guiding Percy on how to make a flower crown. However, ever so often, his mind would trail to its own thoughts whenever he focused on making this flower crown for you.

Percy watched Luke as the older boy started intensely working on his own flower crown, crafting it with so much care as if it was an artwork intended for a national museum. If Percy didn’t know better, he would think Luke was a perfectionist.

Meanwhile, you were sitting with Annabeth near the ocean where she had previously pushed Percy into the waters, leading to Poseidon claiming him. You asked, “Any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“No, you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh?” she replied, though you tilted your head at the tone of her voice. “I’m just surprised,” Annabeth explained as she looked out at the ocean instead of at you. “I mean…I thought you and Luke…”

“Huh?—”

“Well, I mean, you two are together all the time, and there seems to be something going on —”

“What do you mea—”

“It always seems like you two would gravitate to one another. I just assumed you two were together already—”

“We’re…just friends,” you settled on saying, though you could hear your heart beating loudly, seemingly echoing near your chest and neck. Of course, you knew you had feelings for Luke. However, you have always ruled it as a silly little crush.

“...You sure? You sound really unsure,” Annabeth challenged, making you sigh.

“I mean, he’s really sweet, and nice…”

“Uh-huh”

“And he makes me laugh all the time…”

“That’s good,” Annabeth’s words echoed as you sunk into silence and started reflecting on who Luke was to you. He has always made you feel cared for. Out of everybody at camp, perhaps he was the one you were most comfortable with, never having to be afraid of being yourself. Almost all of your favorite memories at camp included him in them.

You remember the night you told him about your minor fear of the darkness and how he promised to always protect you in it. In a way, since then, he has become your light. You always felt lit up when he made his way to you. Your eyes are always drawn to him like a moth to its flame. Then, it finally dawned on you how serious your feelings were. You realized how most of the time you seemed to be mindless about the existence of your heart until Luke was around because it was only then that your heart would tug or race to run you breathless. You gulped as your eyes darted around slightly.

“I mean…maybe…” you started but snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Luke’s voice. And there it was again, the silly familiar tug your heart was doing just from his voice. “Hey…” you greeted Luke and Percy before noticing Percy with a flower crown in his hand.

“Annabeth, can I speak to you privately?” Annabeth stood up and gestured for Percy to lead the way, presumably somewhere, so the young boy could give her the flower crown and ask her out on Valentine’s Day. You remained seated, still pondering at your feelings and wondering when they had exponentially grown that much.

“I actually have something for you as well,” you finally looked up at Luke when he said this. You noticed he had his hands behind his back. Something about the way he looked now seemed so shy and timid, which was unlike the outgoing and confident boy you always knew.

Your mouth fell agape when he pulled out a flower crown made of your favorite flower. “Luke…” you said his name and stood up when you saw the item.

However, because your eyes were on his gift, you didn’t notice the way Luke’s breath hitched at the sound of your voice calling out his name. He never thought it was anything special until November two years ago when you said his name while laughing at one of his jokes by the campfire. It was probably a moment you did not remember, but ever since then, he felt so sure that he was named so because the name sounded like it was born just for the sole purpose of being sounded from your lips.

“I made this for you,” he muttered, though it sounded almost like a whisper. His eyes shifted to both of your Converses instead of at you. Something about this made him so nervous as if he was handing you his heart instead of a simple gift. He almost scowled at himself for acting like a boy in kindergarten, confessing to his crush.

If only Luke was looking at you because you were looking at him and the item in awe. Your cheeks flushed from his gesture. Though, you were somewhat glad he was not looking at you because you were sure one look at you right now would tell Luke exactly everything about your feelings. You were a blushing mess. “Luke, thank you so much. This is beautiful. I can’t believe you made one for me.”

You touched Luke’s hand that was holding the crown, and he almost grew an even deeper shade of red. “Put it on my head,” you instructed, and he obliged just like everything else you would ask. He was sure he must have caught a sickness or something for wanting to follow you this blindly. But you were perhaps the only one with the power to get him to do absolutely anything. Just as the crown touched your hair, you peered up at him, and the sight alone made Luke swallow nervously.

You looked breathtaking.

And he meant this literally because Luke felt like he stopped breathing for a second. He could not look away. That was until you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. His arms wrapped around your neck almost immediately to return the hug as if they existed to only hold you.

However, unlike the hundreds of hugs before, this one felt different. It was as if something had shifted and was bound to unfold.

Final Stage: Valentine’s Day

Annabeth had said yes.

You were ecstatic to learn that the young girl had agreed to go on a Valentine’s date with Percy. Even though you didn’t want to intrude, you and Luke decided to just have a peep to see what Percy had planned. You were not planning to stay long. It was just a sort of reward or a way to see your plan grow into fruition. You smiled when you spot the cute picnic date near the shore.

“See, I told you the plan was going to work,” you muttered as you tiptoed up in your converses to peer at the kids through the tall bushes nearby. You almost lost balance and step onto Luke's shoes that were similar to yours, except his was red.

The boy quickly steadied you with his hand on your waist. You muttered a quick thank you before turning back to the kids, trying to ignore the blush that was slowly decorating your cheeks. But you were quickly caught off guard at the sight of Percy and Annabeth pushing a small boat off the shore and hopping on it.

“Uhm…that is not what I expected. Where are they going?” Luke looked over your shoulder when you said that. Your eyes fluttered at his warm breath hitting your neck.

However, you noticed the two kids looking like they were in trouble and panicking as they quickly started rowing away. You turned your head towards Luke, forgetting he was very close to you. Your voice faltered as you were about to utter your next sentence. Noticing this, Luke turned to you, only causing the two of you to come face to face with little distance in between. You gulped and forced yourself not to glance down at his lips, “Do you think they’re okay? Should we follow them? I mean…what if they’re in trouble?”

Seeing the worried look on your face, Luke frowned. He deeply disliked anything that caused that kind of expression on your face. Hence, he decided to go over to the second boat there and started pushing it towards the water. “Come on,” you hopped onto the small boat with him and started rowing after Percy and Annabeth, hoping to help them from whatever trouble they were seeming to have.

After a few minutes of rowing behind them, you saw Percy and Annabeth rowing into a small tunnel. Luke and you quickly followed in, rowing your boat, only to be engulfed by darkness upon entering the tunnel.

The wind blew much harder in there, causing goosebumps on your arm as your hand gripped your oar tightly. To make matters worse, it was your most hated type of darkness - utter pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could see nothing, not even Luke.

You were fine with darkness in familiar places like your cabin, where you knew at least there were other campers around and you were safe. You were also mostly fine with darkness where you could see as your eyes adjusted to it. But here, you were in a tunnel you’ve never been in, where there were possibly monsters that could attack you at any moment.

You were slightly startled by the hand that softly touched yours that, unbeknownst to you, was crushing the wooden oar. You immediately recognize it was Luke’s hand from the warmth and familiar touch. He soothingly ran his thumb across your hand. His actions were proven effective at calming you down when you could feel your grip loosen around the tool.

“Breathe, sweet girl,” his words somehow made you release the breath you were subconsciously holding.

A few seconds later, the lights were turned on. You were met with one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. Lights were decorating the path throughout the tunnel. There were also plants and trees with extended branches and leaves that softly brushed past the boat Luke and you were on.

Suddenly, you both heard a tune start playing quietly in the background, almost quiet enough to make you two think you were imagining it:

“There you see her, sitting there across the way.

She don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her”

His thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing over your knuckles even though the darkness was no longer casting over the both of you. His eyes were absorbing how you looked at that moment, embracing it. You were absolutely stunning and he was hopelessly infatuated with you.

“And you don’t know why, but you’re dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl.”

The lyrics made Luke subconsciously lick his lips as he pictured himself kissing you. Gods, he wondered if his heart would even survive doing so and whether anything would ever surpass getting to kiss you. Your eyes flickered to Luke's lips, and he noticed it. He also noticed how your cheeks flushed as you gulped at his actions.

“Luke.”

“Y/N,” you almost melted at the way Luke was saying your name as if it was an honor or privilege to do so. The tone he used was sweeter than any dessert you have ever had. Gods, it was as if your name was a sacred passage he lived by.

“Yes, you want her

Look at her, you know you do”

Indeed he was looking at you, and it felt almost like he was spellbound because he could not take his eyes off you. Right then, you could see it all - he was utterly smitten. He was giving you a soft smile. The lights decorating the tunnel shimmered in his eyes, illuminating just enough to display his pupils and how they almost completely overtook the usual dark brown color that you love. Before you knew it, he was leaning closer to you on the small boat and you mirrored his action.

“Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her…”

Just when Luke was inches from your face, he stopped. His eyes longingly stare at your lips like a long-awaited dream that was within his grasp but not quite within his grip yet. You noticed how he took a deep breath as if mustering all the drops of courage he had. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before he opened them again.

“Can I?” he uttered only two words, but somehow, his voice conveyed enough the yearning coursing through every inch of his body. Luke gulped as he restrained himself from closing the distance and waited for your consent.

You nodded wordlessly.

“It don’t take a word, not a single word

Go on and kiss the girl.”

Almost instantly, he caressed both sides of your face and sealed the deal.

All the glory Luke has gained throughout the years seemed trivial compared to kissing you. It almost convinced him that everything he had gone through to get here today was worth it. He hummed against your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Kissing you felt like the best gift he had ever gotten in his entire life. Luke knew he was forever screwed from the way it felt. He could not fathom the idea of his lips ever touching anyone else’s. Maybe they were made for you, but his heart and mind do not seem to oppose that idea.

You slowly slid your arms down, allowing your hands to caress his jawline and the sides of his face. However, your hands slightly jolted at the pace of his heartbeat along the side of his neck. It was as if his heart was trying to break out of his body. Your own heart started replicating the same rhythm. It had you flustered that you had such an effect on him.

Luke broke away from the kiss breathlessly. For a second, he hated the idea of needing air to live because if he could, he would not have stopped showing you how much his lips belonged to you. His forehead leaned against yours while his hands rested on your hips. He looked at you endearingly as if he could not fathom that he just got to kiss you. You smiled at the sight of him.

“I know I’m a tad bit late, but will you be my Valentine?” he sweetly asked.

“Of course, Luke.” Luke grinned at your answer. He drew you in for another kiss as giggles escaped your lips and echoed through the tunnel that now marked an important memory for the two of you.

You truly must be Cupid because your plan not only worked for Percy and Annabeth, but somehow also indirectly gave Luke and you the nudge you both needed.

14th February marked the day when two Cupids wearing Converses got their happy ending.

Bonus:

“I told you that would work,” Annabeth whispered to Percy as the two hopped back onto their boat with a speaker in hand, rowing away hastily to be out of sight from the older couple.

Little did you know, Annabeth had orchestrated the whole thing, including the conversation between her and Percy about their mission in front of Luke and you. Annabeth’s plan of getting Luke and you together through playing cupid together had seemingly worked just like she had planned.

Who said you were the only cupid at Camp Half-Blood?

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

masterlist

join my Luke Castellan taglist

taglist: @nininehaaa @perseus-jackass @tanifsblog @bubbly0 @hinata7346 @hinata7346 @justanotherkpopstanlol @mysteris-things @randomgurl2326 @star611 @2hiigh2cry @seriously-slytherin22 @spideytingley @blondervoi @stuffyownswrld @fantasticchaosthing @amortencjja @chunkiwhunki @bookwormlu @crack240 @fandomthings-blog @sh0-ya @milkncookies143 @burdeningbitch @bugcuti3 @alexisishaunted @lilacspider @olivegirl123 @nellyjan-th @kehlanislefttoe

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fic #pjo #charlie bushnell #pjo imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo series #best friends to lovers #fluff

2K notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 6 months ago

Text

don't want to move on

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt 'make-up sex'

rated e | 18+, minors dni | 3165 words | read all tags on ao3

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

If Steve knows one thing, it’s that Eddie knows how to get under his skin and in his bed.

Ever since their breakup, a disaster of epic proportions for the entire friend group, Steve’s kept his distance from every possible interaction with Eddie. He’s made sure to find reasons to miss group outings and put himself on the schedule at work on the nights when he knew Eddie would be at movie nights or dinner. He purposely scheduled pool parties for days and times he knew Eddie would be busy.

But he couldn’t get out of this one.

And now he has Eddie’s eyes on him from across the room, staring into his soul, reading his mind probably.

It makes him want to hide. Or take his pants off.

He hasn’t quite decided yet.

“Are you gonna glare at him all night or go talk to him?” Jonathan asks from behind him.

Steve turns, feels ridiculous that he’s been caught, and crosses his arms across his chest defiantly.

“I’m gonna ignore him until he leaves and then excuse myself so I can sulk in peace,” Steve admits.

Robin was his platonic soulmate, but Jonathan has become a sort of unexpected best friend. He was there the morning after the breakup, barely holding Steve together with spoonfuls of peanut butter and reassuring words that didn’t stick quite as hard as the peanut butter. They got even closer after that, and hardly a day passed where Jonathan wasn’t texting Steve or showing up at his apartment with take out and stories from whatever modeling shoot he was working on.

“And you think he’s gonna let that happen?”

“If he knows what’s good for him.”

Jonathan snorts. “Okay. On that note, I’m gonna go check on Nancy. She got into the weed earlier and she’s probably at the stage where the walls are squiggly and she can feel her lungs touching her ribs.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he nods. He knows what she’s like at that point. Jonathan needs to get her home before everyone knows what she’s like at that point.

The moment Jonathan is gone, Eddie is walking towards him.

Steve’s never felt more like prey in his life, never seen Eddie strut like this. He’s frozen. He forgets how to breathe.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” are the first words Eddie says to him in six months.

No hello. No awkward exchange of pleasantries.

Just a mild accusation and a piercing look.

“I wouldn’t be if I’d known you’d be here,” he retorts, deciding to match his energy. If Eddie is allowed to be at this party of a mutual friend’s mutual friend, then Steve is too. “Didn’t even know Ivy had your number.”

Ivy was one of Nancy’s friends from school, and Steve had been invited to quite a few of her parties over the last few years. When they were together, Steve always brought Eddie, but he didn’t know if Ivy and Eddie had ever even met.

“I know Ivy pretty well, actually,” Eddie says in a way that makes Steve pause.

What the fuck does that mean?

“So you’re…friends?” Steve asks even though he thinks he knows where this is going and he thinks he’s gonna be sick if he’s right.

“Yeah.” Eddie smirks. “Friends.”

“Oh.”

Steve has to abort whatever mission he thought he was on. This is gonna end with him crying in front of Eddie and everyone else at this stupid party that he came to because he’d had a rough week and just wanted to have a drink with friends and-

“Are you gonna be sick?” Eddie asks, reaching out to him as if that would even help.

“No!” Steve backs away. “I just need to head out. Got an early morning.”

“On a Sunday? You don’t work Sundays.”

“And how would you know?”

Steve needs to leave. He can’t engage in anything else with Eddie. He won’t recover.

“Because you wouldn’t have come at all if you had work in the morning. And everyone you would hang out with is here.” Eddie steps closer to him. “Unless something’s changed?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not sure I owe you an explanation of my schedule.”

Eddie seems to realize that Steve’s right, taking a step back.

“Right. That’s true. I guess.”

And suddenly Steve can see how uncomfortable Eddie is, how much courage and energy it took him just to walk up to Steve at all. He’s always been pretty easy to read, at least for Steve, but right now it’s like he’s made of glass.

“How you been?” Steve asks, ignoring the pull he feels to the door for the pull he feels to Eddie.

“Um, good. Yeah, great. Fantastic. You?”

Steve raises a brow at the response. Eddie’s never been fantastic a day in his life.

Except maybe that one time he ate Steve out on a patio chair by the pool and then fucked him in his parent’s hot tub and claimed that he’d never been happier in his entire life.

“I’ve been fine.”

Not a lie. He has been fine most of the time. Fine isn’t anything special, or anything good.

“You look…good.” Eddie settles on, as if he was going to say something else entirely. “Still going to the gym?”

“Not as often as I should,” Steve admits. He’s about to call this quits when he sees Jonathan giving him a thumbs up from the doorway. “Uh. I should actually probably head out though.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure. Want me to let Ivy know you had to go?”

Steve shouldn’t fucking push. He knows he’s gonna end up hurt worse if he gets any form of confirmation on what he thinks is going on.

“I’ll just text her. But I guess if you see her before you go…”

“I mean, yeah, I’m kinda…living here right now?” Eddie rubs his hand along the back of his neck.

Steve thinks he might pass out.

He’s living with a woman not even six full months after he broke up with Steve because Steve wanted to take the next step and move in together?

He feels like he’s going crazy.

“With Ivy?” Steve can barely hear his own voice, doesn’t even know if Eddie hears him until he responds.

“I couldn’t renew my lease so she offered to let me stay here for a few months while I looked for something else,” he explains, as if that clears anything up. As if that helps the jealous fire in Steve’s heart calm. “That’s the only reason I’m even here tonight. I was off and she needed an extra pair of eyes to make sure no one tried to drive home after drinking.”

“Well, I haven’t even been drinking.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

“You think I’ve looked anywhere other than you since you walked in the door?”

Steve feels like his entire body is lifting above the floor, and he’s reminded that Eddie’s good at this. Flirting like he means it, using words but not wanting more than that.

That he may have feelings for Steve, but god forbid those feelings lead anywhere other than a bed or a date.

“Doesn’t seem appropriate to stare at me all night with your girlfriend in the next room.”

“Girlfriend? What? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Eddie seems genuinely confused, his brows furrowing as he looks around the room and back at Steve.

“Isn’t Ivy your girlfriend?”

“Ivy?! Ivy Jane? The woman who told me on day one of me living here that if she even so much as accidentally saw my dick she’d cut it off?” Eddie laughs, unamused. “She’s a friend at most. More of a useful annoyance.”

Steve is confused. Why did Eddie make it seem like there was more to it than that? Why couldn’t Eddie renew his lease? Why didn’t anyone tell him about any of this?

“Look, you probably shouldn’t head home on your own. I know you didn’t drink, but it’s still pretty late, and I know you walked here.” Eddie sighs. “Can I at least get you an Uber?”

“To go less than a mile?”

“Or I could walk you.”

“And then walk back alone?”

“You don’t have to argue with everything, you know,” Eddie grumbles. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe.”

“I didn’t know ex-boyfriends cared that much.”

It’s a low blow and Eddie’s physical withdrawal is immediate. Steve instantly feels bad.

No matter what happened between them, he knows Eddie. He knows he’s trying to be nice and all Steve’s doing is making that task more difficult.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve sighs. “I’m just surprised that you’d care this much when we haven’t even talked in months.”

“Steve, I’ll always care about you.”

It’s a knife to his chest.

Because that’s not even remotely close to what Eddie had said to him months ago when he was throwing his shit in a bag and running as fast as he could. It’s not how he made Steve feel when he told him they were done.

”I’m not gonna keep pretending this can end well for either of us.”

He’d made it pretty obvious he had no intention of loving Steve beyond the year they spent together, and Steve had no choice but to assume he’d been faking feelings for him to try to get over him.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s let tears fall until Eddie’s thumbs are brushing them away, his touch so soft it makes Steve want to sob.

Before he can say anything or push Eddie away, Eddie’s hand is on his lower back, guiding him down the hallway of the apartment.

He doesn’t fight it, even though alarm bells are ringing in his head telling him to pause and go home, maybe try to talk to Eddie when he’s calmed down from the shock of seeing him. The warmth of Eddie next to him is enough to silence any fears he has.

He’s sitting on Eddie’s bed. The room is surprisingly plain for a room that belongs to Eddie, but the sheets on the bed are scattered and one pillow looks more like a ball, so he knows it’s his. Eddie sleeps the same way he talks: constantly moving, shuffling around, trying to find comfort in touch.

“I’ll take the couch once everyone leaves. You probably shouldn’t be alone right now,” Eddie says from in front of him, keeping his hands to himself.

He probably shouldn’t, but if Eddie’s on the couch, doesn’t that leave him alone anyway?

“You can come get me if you need anything,” Eddie explains further. “And I can come check on you.”

“Right,” Steve’s voice is shaky. “But you could stay?”

Eddie’s eyes are scanning his face, always trying to see what Steve isn’t saying. He’s always been good about reading Steve.

“Is that what you want?” Eddie eventually asks.

Steve nods because he can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound like he’s desperate for more of Eddie’s touch.

He lays down and waits for Eddie to join him, but he’s not sure what he’s hoping for anymore. The best thing to do would be to tell Eddie he changed his mind and send him to the couch, the second best would probably be to go home. But what ends up happening is Eddie locks the bedroom door and slips his shoes off, strips his jeans down his legs, and slides into bed with him.

He doesn’t touch him at first, though the bed isn’t quite big enough for them to not accidentally brush arms as they find comfortable positions.

Steve lets his eyes close, even though he’s never felt more awake, even though he feels every breath Eddie takes as if it’s his own.

“I love you.”

Steve’s eyes shoot open at Eddie’s whispered confession.

They were together for a year and Eddie never said it. Steve didn’t even say it for fear of Eddie running. And when he finally did say it, when he had the nerve to ask him to move in with him, Eddie ran.

So, he couldn’t have possibly heard what he thought he just heard.

“I know it’s too late. I should’ve told you six months ago.” Eddie scoffed at his own words. “Actually, I should’ve told you when I realized it on our third date. There’s no excuse. You told me why you were hesitant to tell people how you felt and I should’ve known it would be harder for you than it would be for me.”

Steve turns on his side, eyes wide as he takes in the way Eddie’s eyes are slowly blinking up at the ceiling, fingers tapping anxiously against his own stomach.

“Why did you leave, then? If you loved me, why did you let me think you didn’t?”

Steve’s impressed with his sudden ability not to cry when he’d so easily let tears fall earlier.

Eddie turns his head. His fingers still. The room is silent, but Steve can feel the vibrations of the music playing down the hall.

“I don’t know.”

It’s anticlimactic, and not good enough, but Steve believes him. He believes that Eddie truly doesn’t know his own thought process behind walking away from what could’ve been a good future for them.

“Why say it now?”

“Because I needed you to leave here in the morning knowing that what you were asking for wasn’t unreasonable. I needed you to know that your feelings were fine, and that nothing you did pushed me away. You deserve the chance to move on properly.”

Steve can feel his heart in every nerve ending of his body, pulsing to a wild beat, a dangerous tempo that he isn’t sure he wants to control. Eddie always made him feel like this, like he was one step away from jumping off a ledge, like he was flying through the air without a parachute.

“I don’t want to move on.”

Steve crushes his lips to Eddie’s, letting out a pained groan that’s muffled by Eddie’s lips pushing against his own. It’s not soft, not even gross the way their kisses got when they’d been sweaty and pushing each other to their limits for hours.

It was forgiveness and yearning and need wrapped into a single point of contact.

But once Eddie’s hands found Steve’s hips, all he wanted was to feel Eddie everywhere.

“Missed you,” he admits breathlessly.

“Missed you, too, Stevie. So much,” Eddie gasps against his mouth.

It doesn’t take long for them to strip out of their clothes, for Eddie’s mouth to find all of Steve’s sensitive spots, for bruises to be left in places that will be hard to cover up tomorrow. They’re both panting, trying to hide moans against the pillows and sweaty skin.

Steve laughs when Eddie’s lips trail down to the head of his leaking cock.

Eddie looks up, frowning as if he’s disappointed that he was interrupted.

“What could you possibly be laughing at?”

“How easy it was to get me in your bed. Did you know I was coming tonight?” He does his best not to sound accusatory, but a small part of him worries that Eddie’s plan all night has been to get him naked. It wouldn’t be the first time those were his intentions.

“I had no idea you’d be here,” Eddie nips at his thigh. “But if I did, I would’ve planned this exact outcome, yeah.”

Steve slaps at his shoulder but moans when Eddie’s lips wrap around the head of his cock, tongue lapping up the precum that had been gathering for a while.

They get lost in it, in being able to touch each other, in finally having what they’d both missed for so long. Steve’s hands hardly ever leave Eddie’s hair and Eddie’s tongue is like a magnet to every inch of his skin.

He kisses down his length, he sucks bruises into his thighs, he sucks his cock until Steve’s trembling under him, saying his name over and over. Begging, praying, he didn’t even know anymore.

Steve doesn’t even realize he’s close until Eddie’s asking if he wants to finish like this or with Eddie inside him.

“Want you inside, but I don’t know if I can last that long,” Steve pouts. Now that he feels the coil in his belly and the flush of his chest and neck, he knows there’s no way he’ll make it through Eddie stretching him. He’s half-tempted to just have Eddie fuck him with no prep, but Eddie will never go for it. “C’mere?”

Eddie kisses his way up Steve’s body, biting a nipple and licking sweat from his collarbone before settling perfectly between his legs. He’s smiling down at Steve like he could stay there all night, like he didn’t just get interrupted in the middle of one of the best blowjobs of Steve’s life.

“Can we just…” Steve tilts his hips up so his cock rubs against Eddie’s. Both of them groan as Eddie hangs his head. “Like this?”

Eddie nods before resting his forehead against Steve’s and letting out a breath.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he whispers, like it’s a secret that he’s been getting off making Steve feel good.

“Me either. ‘S okay.”

Their cocks brush together as Eddie leans down on his elbows. Steve lifts his legs up to wrap around Eddie’s waist, pulling him down so there’s a constant friction between them.

“Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you,” Steve’s breath catches on his words.

Eddie’s hips move faster, and Steve does his best to meet every thrust. They’re in sync as if they were never apart, and Steve thinks this is all he needs for the rest of his life.

He knew that before, when they were together, and after Eddie left. But feeling it now, with Eddie above him, surrounding him, practically sharing his breaths, he knows Eddie’s it for him.

That thought is what sends him over the edge.

He cups Eddie’s cheek in his hand and pulls him into a searing kiss, one that’s more tongue and teeth than lips, more passion than finesse.

But it sends Eddie over the edge, too.

After, when they’ve stopped shaking and Eddie used his t-shirt to wipe up their mess, Steve taps his fingers against Eddie’s chest in a familiar pattern.

“Since when do you know the beat to a Metallica song?” Eddie asks, smirking down at him.

“It’s what you always used to tap on my arm when we were falling asleep. I didn’t know it was Metallica,” Steve yawns as he speaks, exhaustion seeping through every pore of his body.

“You remembered that?”

“Mhm. Remember everything.” He yawns again and lets his eyes close.

He’s pretty sure Eddie starts tapping a new pattern on his arm as he drifts to sleep. He doesn’t recognize it, but he’ll have plenty of time to learn this one, and the next one, and whatever else the future brings for them.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie smutty september #steddie events #getting back together #make up sex

475 notes · View notes

traveler-at-heart · 8 months ago

Text

How to train your spy

Request by @happychopshoppenguin

Summary: You meet a hot stranger in a bar. The next morning, there's a familiar face at your SHIELD training.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Of course it was a bad idea. Irresponsible, unbecoming of an adult who had just gotten her dream job.

But your new life started tomorrow and you knew that from then on, it was all about duty and service.

In that case, who could blame you for going out to dance one last time?

“Another round of shots” you requested at the bar, looking over your shoulder.

“Can I buy you a drink?” a man said next to you and you politely declined. However, he moved closer, eyeing you up and down. “Come on, sweetheart. We can have a good time”

“Hi, baby. What’s taking so long?” a raspy voice said behind you. You were about to correct the person, who had probably mistaken you for someone else.

Green eyes met yours, and you were breathless at the beauty in front of you. The woman rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Is this man giving you trouble?” she said in a playful tone, but her glare was murderuous. It was enough to make him give up, turning around to leave.

“Thanks” you said, relaxing against the woman’s chest. She smelled incredible and you were a little drunk. It was hard to keep your distance. “Can I buy you a drink? To thank you, of course”

“One more couldn’t hurt. But seems like you have enough to drink” she commented when the bartender gave you a tray with six tequila shots.

“Oh, these are for my friends. I can’t get wasted today. I’m starting a new job tomorrow”

“Congratulations…” her words hung in the air and you picked up on the intent, jumping up to introduce yourself.

“Y/N Y/L/N. And you are…?”

“Just Nat” the woman shook your hand and you blushed at the contact.

“Well, just Nat. What brings you here on this fine Sunday night?”

“Waiting for a friend. He should be here in…45 minutes”

“Can I keep you company for those 45 minutes?” you offered, sitting next to her on a bar stool.

��Sure. Why don’t you tell me what was your plan if I hadn’t shown up to save you from that creep?”

“Oh, you saved me, huh?” you chuckled and Nat nodded, bringing the glass of scotch to her lips. You were enthranced by her beautiful, elegant jawline and neck.

“Is that what you were planning on doing? Stare at him?” she mocked and you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll have you know I am good at fighting”

“Like karate or…”

“Like many things. And I can throw a punch. A good one. I can show you”

“Maybe some other time. How about we play some darts?” she leaned forward, arching an eyebrow. All you could do was nod dumbly.

Nat took the tray of shots with her and you agreed that the loser would drink for each turn.

“Crap” you said after the third shot. “You’re really good at this”

“I should have mentioned that before we set the rules, huh?”

“Let’s just play something different” you said, sitting in a quiet corner of the bar. “Truth or dare”

“Alright. I’ll start. Dare”

“Tell me your name. Not just Nat”

The redhead grabbed a shot and downed it. You laughed.

“Now you”

“Alright… truth” but before Nat could ask anything, you took a shot, and began speaking, slightly slurring your words. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen”

The woman blushed and you chuckled, realising that’s not how the game worked after it was too late.

“My turn. I dare you to…”

“I’m supposed to dare you, isn’t how this works…?” you wondered out loud, drinking yet another shot.

“I dare you to kiss me” Nat said, louder. Her gaze traveled from your mouth to your lips, and you didn’t have to be told twice.

The kiss was messy, and desperate, teeth clashing as you pulled the woman by the collar of her jacket. The force of your movements made her stand up, and pretty soon you felt the edge of a pool table against your legs.

Were you about to have sex with a total stranger in the corner of a bar?

Nat bit your lip, making you moan against her tongue.

Well, yes, apparently you were about to get fucked by a beautiful woman in a bar…

But then…

“Seriously?” a voice said behind you. It was a man, carrying a… bow and arrow?

“You told me to hang back” Nat answered. You turned to glare at the man for interrupting you, but a couple of men in black suits followed close behind. “Messy work, Barton. They followed you all the way here”

“Help me out or get a room”

The latter would work for you, except the men began to throw punches, some of then carrying knives. In spite of the alcohol, you were able to knock down one.

Apparently that wasn’t so impressive, considering Nat and Mister Bow and Arrow had taken care of the other six on their own.

“Good work” you gave a thumbs up, practically passing out on the chair. The alcohol had finally kicked in enough to make you dizzy.

“We have to go” the man pressed and Nat sighed.

“I didn’t get your phone number” you complained, less and less focused on the woman in front of you. You felt arms around you, leaving you close to the table where your friends were sitting.

“I’ll see you around” Nat promised, kissing your cheek. You smiled, but the last thing you saw was your friend’s face as you dropped to the floor.

—

Stupid. Stupid.

Idiotic.

After coffe, you ran 10 miles and swam for 30 minutes. How unfortunate that intense physical activity was the only way to cure your hangovers.

Luckily, SHIELD had the best facilities and you were able to shower before your introduction to the program.

After acing every test -physical, psychological, medical and polygraph- you were set to start your training to become a SHIELD agent.

You entered the first floor gym, noticing there were more men than women -which was to be expected, but made you anxious nonetheless. It was hard to stand out in a male dominated field, especially if your instructor was a man as well.

But as everyone stood around the gym and the doors opened one last time, you turned around.

Nat.

Nat was here, wearing a black jacket with the SHIELD logo and training pants.

Your eyes met for a brief second and she smiled, clearly amused.

“Welcome to SHIELD” she said in an icy tone. “Your training begins today. There are no days off and if you have a problem with that, you might as well leave now. Agents on the field don’t rest, or let their guard down because if they do, they get killed. Training starts every day at seven, do not be late. You’ll also have to study languages, technology, weapons and cryptography”

Everyone in the room stayed silent, their eyes on the redhead.

“Now, I’ll be honest, my idea of fun isn’t training new recruits. I’m not very patient and I won’t tolerate people who don’t take this seriously. Today, we will begin with combat training. Y/L/N, come over here”

Wait, what?

Well, fuck. Scratching the back of your neck, you sighed and walked to the front of the line. With her back to the group, Nat smiled, signaling for you to stand next to her in the sparring mat. You were far enough from the rest of the people to at least speak.

“You had to pick the girl with a massive hangover”

“Yours is the only name I know” she lied and you rolled your eyes.

“I was hoping we’d meet again, but not for you to kick my ass”

Assuming a fighting stance, you figured she wanted you to attack first. You were barely able to throw a punch when she had you pinned to the ground.

Every time you got up, she found a way to knock you down. And not just that, she’d place her face close to yours, or end on top of you. Not only was she impossible to beat, but also completely intoxicating. The memories from last night were foggy, except for the way her lips felt on yours.

“Why are you all staring? Find a partner and practice” the woman said to the recruits.

“Can I at least get your name now?” you asked, panting on the floor.

“Natasha” she gave you her hand to help you up. “Natasha Romanoff”

—

Natasha - no, Agent Romanoff-, was giving you a masterclass on psychological warfare.

She teased you endlessly, with little touches that lingered and made your skin feel hot. Or with words spoken when you were close enough to be the only one to hear them.

Like that time on the shooting room, when Natasha approached you, making you relax your shoulders by squeezing them, lowering your elbow to improve your stance.

“Good girl” she whispered against your neck, making you miss the shot completely.

To make matters worse, you had an entire class dedicated to breaking free from different restraints.

Of course, Natasha was the one that handcuffed your hands behind your back, her eyes lingering on the way your chest stuck out.

“Not a bad view” she commented. “Though I do think you’ll enjoy the ropes a bit more”

And yes, you absolutely did. Especially when she squeezed them tighter around your wrists and you groaned.

It wasn’t just physical contact. Natasha could say one small thing in that sultry tone and you’d be on your knees.

“Your foreign language skills seem fine. Russian could be better, though” the redhead commented after your latest review.

“It’s hard to find someone to practice with” you mumbled, your eyes following Natasha’s body as she stood up, walking towards you.

“It’s all in the tongue. You can do wonders when you know how to use it”

“I bet” you mumbled, feeling hot as she leaned past you, opening the door so you could leave her office.

“Be sure to work on that. Wouldn’t want that pretty mouth to disappoint me”

Thoughts of what you could do with your mouth to please her were the only thing on your mind for the rest of the day.

Between the endless teasing and the grueling preparation, the first month went by. You were better at combat, managing to go toe to toe with Natasha. In everything else, you were top of the class.

There was one girl called Lindsay who was particularly fond of you. Natasha realised you were too nice to ignore her, and too naive to notice she was flirting with you.

“I’m meeting some friends at a bar later today. Would love it if you could join us” she said, smiling as you both walked down the hallway to the gym.

“Oh, I was thinking of staying home, I have to catch up with Grey’s Anatomy”

“Come on, you should find time to relax. It must be so hard to have Romanoff all over you”

“Y-yeah”

Yes, all over you but in a totally different way than Lindsay meant.

As if on cue, Natasha opened one of the doors, emerging from a conference room. Lindsay blushed, wondering if the woman had heard. However, Natasha didn’t even look at her.

“Y/N. A word?”

“Yes, Agent” you nodded, walking past her to the empty conference room. “Is everything ok?”

“There’s a mission tonight. Nothing major. Thought you might be ready”

“Seriously?” you said, excited at the idea of infiltrating a terrorist organziation, kicking ass, saving people. “That’s… I’m ready, of course”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight”

You couldn’t even imagine she’d asked you because she was jealous of your friend.

—

You couldn’t complain. For one, if you did, Natasha would kick your ass. Second, it was a great opportunity, especially for a new recruit.

The fact that the mission was sitting around in a car waiting for something to happen was irrelevant.

“So, once we see that dude Rinderknech, we go inside? Hack into his computer? Bug the place?” you said, grabbing the camera and pointing the big lens towards a window of the building.

“We watch and report back” Natasha answered. You turned to her, and she shrugged her shoulders. “Intelligence is 90% of the work. And that means a lot of hours on your ass looking out for bad guys”

“Right” you said, trying to ignore the cold air inside. You couldn’t turn the car or the heat on.

“Here” Natasha said, pulling a blanket out of the backseat. Before you could thank her, she handed you a plastic cup of coffee and a scone.

“Hey, these are my favorites” you noted, biting into the pastry. Remembering your manners a second too late, you muffled a thank you to Natasha. “How did you know?”

“It’s the first thing you pick up at the cafeteria every morning” she rolled her eyes.

“Thank you, Tasha” you said again, unaware that the term of endearment had made the woman blush.

Her hands flew to the car radio, desperately trying to fill the silence.

“Leave it there” you asked when one of your favorite songs came on, placing your hand on her thigh. Natasha had to choke back a whimper.

What the hell? She’d been the one making you all hot and bothered for months now. And here you were, eating a scone and patting her leg, making a mess out of the best spy in the world.

“Keane was my first concert” she heard you say. Her blank stare made you insist, waiting for a reaction. “Keane? English band?”

“I don’t listen to a lot of music. And I’ve never been to a concert either” she muttered, pretending to look out the window for your person of interest.

“A concert virgin. If you ever interested, I’ll be happy to be your first” you joked.

“Thanks. That might be fun”

“Not as good as playing darts and getting drunk, though” you said and Natasha bit back a smile.

It was the first time either one of you mentioned that night. Mainly because bringing it up only made you think about how good Natasha felt.

Green eyes met yours and the intensity made you shiver.

The sound of a text on your phone interrupted the moment

“That your girlfriend?” Natasha said, feigning indifference.

“Who, Lindsay? She’s just a friend”

“Right. Don’t be naive. That’s how you get yourself killed out in the field” the redhead grumbled.

“Sorry, I haven’t noticed much other than how ridiculously good you look on your SHIELD uniform”

“Stop that” Natasha said, blushing.

Blushing because of you? Accomplishment of a lifetime.

“I’m only giving as good as I get, Agent”

Natasha chuckled, moving forward in her seat to get a better look out… and probably hide that she was blushing again.

“There they are” she nodded towards the corner. You recognised Rinderknech by the tattoo on his neck. He was speaking to a group of men when their attention turned to your car.

“Nat?” you said when two of their bodyguards began to approach you. “What do we do?”

Turning back, Natasha noticed a black SUV, blocking the back street. It was impossible to escape without making a scene.

Her mind went blank, the only concern she had was that you could get hurt, all because she made you join her on a mission that wasn’t that necessary.

The men kept walking and Natasha remained frozen. Then, it came to you.

“Kiss me” you turned, urgency in your tone.

“What?”

“PDA and all that. Will make them uncomfortable. Just do it” you said, pulling her by the shirt until her lips met yours.

This time, her lips tasted of coffee and sugar. After a few seconds, Natasha’s mind drifted from the mission, and all she could think about was you. As your mouth parted to give her access, Natasha’s hand went up your leg all the way to the button of your jeans.

“Excuse me?” a man tapped on the glass.

Damn it. You rolled down the window, swollen lips and the first two buttons of your shirt undone. When did she do that?

“Oh, never mind” the man looked amused, but seemed convinced enough that you weren’t a threat.

“We should go” Natasha said, knowing it wasn’t safe to stick around after a close call.

You spent the rest of the ride in silence, but it was pretty obvious what was going through your head as you shifted uncomfortably on your seat of the car.

“We should…”

“Do you want to…?”

As Natasha parked the car, you spoke at the same time, looking at each other and smiling.

Before you could start over, Barton approached the car, surprised when he spotted you inside.

“Hey, you must be Y/N” Barton said, looking at the coffee cup and the bag with half a scone. He smiled again, turning to Natasha. “Jesus, Nat. Just ask the girl out”

“Shut it”

“Crappy coffee in a car during a stakeout is not a proper date” the man insisted and walked away before Natasha could slap the lights out of him.

“And here I was, thinking I was on the mission for my talents” you laughed, exiting the car.

“Y/N, wait!” Natasha called. “I did. Wanted to ask you out. I’m just… not good at this”

“That’s ok. I am” you said, pulling her close to you. “Let’s just not do darts, tequila or fight against organized crime. I think we’ve had enough of that”

“What about all the kissing?”

“Oh, that is definitely happening” you smiled, leaning forward. “I can’t wait for you to hear all the Russian I’ve been learning, detka”

With a kiss on her neck, you walked to the SHIELD building, pleased with Nat’s shocked stare.

All these months, she’d been teaching you how to be a spy; and more importantly, how to be a tease.

She was about to found out how good of a teacher she was.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

953 notes · View notes

lunasdreamytreats · 16 days ago

Text

Thinking abt soft and passionate sex with Sunday...

Pairing: Sunday x fem!reader

Contents/Warnings: NSFW // established relationship // self-ship coded bc yeah // some personal headcanons in here too // soft dom!Sunday // reader is a nameless but isn't the trailblazer // possible spoilers for 2.7 // slight mention of Sunday's insecurities // petnames (darling, angel, sunny🤭, dear) // Sunday has six ear wings for, like, a sentence // pillow talk and mentions of aftercare

idk what else to put this is as soft as can be :) nsfw under cut

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

Sunday longed for your touch.

He never used to desire the feeling of anyone constantly wanting to be so close to him, nor wanting to be so close to another person. But ever since he was given a second chance at freedom, started travelling with the Astral Express, and in turn, met you, he wants to be around you whenever he can.

It even gets to the point that, whenever he's away from the express and you're not, his only desire is to get back and see his darling, you. March 7th always rolls her eyes when he gets back and goes straight to find you if you're not in his immediate sight; "Not even a 'hi guys' before rushing off!" she would complain to Dan Heng as soon as he was out of ear shot, but she, like the others, were happy to see you both happy together. This gets more obvious when he's been away from you for hours days :(

Rest assured, he won't let you have any space when he finally gets back, because, in addition to his increased clinginess; something else in him has also increased since your relationship began...

His libido. Before meeting you, Sunday was the kind of person that saw sex as something purely for making children; something his religious upbringing under The Family had a part in. So, after the first time you slept with him, you suggested the two of you experiment with different positions and concepts to spice things up in the bedroom. And after reassuring Sunday multiple times that you do, in fact, enjoy having sex with him; he agreed to your proposal.

Weeks went by with you and Sunday testing out various kinks/positions that came to mind, some sparked new kinks in both of you, others didn't. And while you assured him that it's ok if he doesn't enjoy something and you do, nothing will ever be able to beat holding each other close as he thrusts in for you and him.

Tangled up in a mess of bedsheets and muffled moans, Sunday's hips snapped into yours at a feverish pace, the rhythmic throb of his cock a show of the wanton pleasure he felt. You can't help but want a camera to capture just how beautiful he looks when letting his desires take control... With his hair slightly damp with sweat, cheeks flushed pink and wings covering his face in embarrassment; just how did you manage to catch the eye of such an ethereal man?

"Sunday, please...." You didn't know what you were begging him for exactly, was it for him to slow down? Or were you begging for him to go faster? It doesn't matter, all that matters now is the way his dick drags against your tight walls. The way his tip reaches deep enough to nudge against the spot that made you see stars. You let your head fall back against the soft familiarity of the pillow, the puffy fabric muffling the sounds of raw pleasure that Sunday's hips brought out.

"Angel...." Sunday curled his arms around your body tighter, pulling your body closer against his own. The needy and possessive squeeze of the flesh on your waist a complete contrast to his confident thrusts. His nails almost certainly leaving crescent shaped marks by the morning. "Don't.... Wanna hear you lose yourself on me.."

Dispite his nervousness, Sunday knew exactly how to hit all your soft spots. Hitting them with insane precision and force that made both your heads spin in pure, wanton pleasure. The vice like grip your pussy walls have on his dick makes it a little difficult for him to keep himself grounded in the moment. Both his and your blissed out expressions showing how whipped you are for each other.

"Sunny... m'gonna cum-" You knew calling him that nickname would make him a little bit embarrassed, and you felt a little bad about it (but a bashful Sunny is the best Sunny <3). You quivered in his hold, trying your best to stay still, but the pleasure you felt was just too much! Your whole body twitched under him as your orgasm overtook you, pussy clenching around Sunday's dick and milking him for all he's worth. The suffocating sensation triggered his own orgasm to crash over him, burying his face into the crook of your neck to muffle the noises escaping him; his now six wings flapped and shivered against your face in pure, unadulterated bliss.

"Don't... aahh- don't call me that... darling" the breathless whisper was further muffled since his wings were covering his face, the very same wings that were still shivering from the aftershocks of his orgasm and tickling your faces. You giggled lightheartedly at his adorableness, gently tracing the marks on his back while you both basked in the post-sex bliss.

“Sorry dear, but there’s just something so hilarious about saying a nickname you claim to hate to get you to cum.”

“….You’re truly insufferable….”

“I know… now can you run a bath for us? I kinda can’t move after you rearranged my insides…”

#aaannnnd after over 6 months of a mental block I’ve returned!!!!!#this was meant to release when Sunday did T0T #but I wasn’t happy with it and had to rewrite sections over and over again #I still don’t think it’s my best work but I felt I gotta get it out there before it gets a whole year of no posts :(#honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #hsr sunday smut #sunday x reader smut

188 notes · View notes

quintessenceofdust88 · 7 days ago

Text

Several Sentence Sunday (and also Inspiration Saturday)

I was tagged by my darlings @bidisasterevankinard and @typicalopposite for Several Sentence Sunday, and since I procrastinated Inspiration Saturday yesterday, this will serve as both hehe ♥

(okay, so this isn't in any of my WIPs and will probably not go anywhere, I just needed someone to vent my frustrations about Eddie and Tommy is the one I chose! inspired by many thoughts I've been having since Thursday, and conversations with many people but mostly @agentpeggycartering @bidisasterevankinard and @iredastead, thanks for the yapping time lovelies ♥)

Tommy is being weird with him.

Eddie's been back for about ten days when he finally gets an invitation to Tommy and Buck's house, that Buck moved to about a month before he arrived. And the invitation came from Buck himself, not from Tommy, so Eddie doesn't think he's being paranoid about the pilot treating him differently.

If Tommy is mad at him for some reason (though Eddie can't fathom why, they haven't even talked much since Eddie moved), it explains why the invitation took so long; frankly, part of Eddie was expecting to set foot in LA and have Buck all over him wanting to hang out, but not quite. Buck had barely shown up, mostly to say hi to Chris, and then Eddie hadn't seen much of him.

Eddie shows up anyway, casting his doubts aside, because he definitely missed hanging out with the two of them. If there's a downside to the months he passed in Texas is how lonely he was; he can't wait to be able to hang out with his friends whenever he wants again.

Chris opts out of joining him, also wanting to catch up with his LA friends, and Eddie doesn't mind. It's good that it'll be just the three of them.

At least it should be, but again, Tommy is being weird. Not to Buck, God no. With Buck he's all 'sweetheart' and kisses to the cheek and hand holding all the time. Eddie privately thinks that this is how they're behaving now, six months after their reconciliation, he's quite lucky to have been in Texas for the first few days after they got back together (he tries not to think what they could have gotten up to in his house while Buck lived there; ignorance is bliss or whatever).

But the point is: Tommy doesn't have any scrunchy smiles or 'how are you doing, man?' and talking about the latest NBA developments with Eddie. Instead he's giving him that trademark bitchy look, and barely answering when Eddie does talk to him.

Buck, bless him, doesn't seem to pick up on the tension. He seems ridiculously happy, all heart eyes at his boyfriend, and for the first time, Eddie feels like a third wheel between them, and that's what makes him decide enough is enough. When Buck leaves to check on their appetizers, he turns to Tommy, who's quite deliberatedly staring at the TV with his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Tommy, man, have I done something to you?" He asks, and Tommy looks at him, raising an eyebrow. "To me? How could you? You haven't even talked to me one-on-one since Evan and I were broken up." Eddie sighs; he should have seen that coming, though he never thought Tommy to be the needy kind. Maybe Buck was rubbing off on him. "Tommy, you know Buck's my best friend, I had to..." "Oh, is he?!" Tommy says, his voice laced with faux-surprise and mockery, and Eddie recoils. "I would never guess based on the way you treat him" - tbc -

Np tagging @laundryandtaxesworld @agentpeggycartering @unhingedangstaddict @fairytalegonewronga03 @sad-girl-hours23 and whoever else would like to join ♥

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #eddie diaz #anti eddie diaz #just in case #but not really #i just think he was a jerk and needs to be called out on it #sentence sunday

157 notes · View notes

beababoobies · 9 months ago

Note

hello i saw your request post and requesting is my full time job atp this is a basic one but size and breeding kink with toji, sukuna, + anyone else you wanna include :)

I always find breeding kink requests with Toji so funny bc his ass is NOT no baby daddy🙅🙅🙅🙅🙅

𝜗𝜚TOJI FUSHIGURO𝜗𝜚

Toji was not a man who was fit to be a dad. Well, that’s what he had told himself again and again, whenever he would have the urge to lose the condom, or not stopping when it broke. The way your body bounced with each harsh thrust of his made him a little delirious, and that’s all he chalked it up to. But then, you got the implant.

God, that fucking implant. He could’ve swore it messed with your pheromones or something - could’ve sworn you didn’t feel this fucking good around him before, the way your cheeks flushed and your eyes got all teary when you begged him to cum inside you had him feeing like a fucking nympho. Day or night, mornings before missions, Monday through Sunday, in the middle of the night when he had to wake up to get something to drink - it really didn’t matter. But then an idea even more delicious started to poke at the back of his mind.

It all started when you were curled up into him after one of your many, many sessions, snoring softly, with his cum leaking out of you, did the idea start to crawl onto him. The image of you, pregnant with his kid, all round and directly at his mercy to love, ready to be pumped full again, and again, and again. He played with the implant imprint in your upper arm, humming in agreement to whatever you were saying about it. He wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. He hated the thing.

So, being the man he is, Toji had a new goal. To fuck you, fill you up so much that you physically couldn’t not get pregnant. He wanted to pump you up with so, so much of his cum, that you were wobbling trying to stand up after. He wanted to see it leak out of you, wanted to see you with that same, teary eyed, pathetic little look everyday. The way you whines about too much only fuelled him further, putting you in the position you were in now, thighs pressed right to your tummy. Mating press style.

“T-toji! Baby! Give yourself s-some time! Jesus F-fuck!” You whined, practically throwing a fit over how hard he was pumping himself into you. It had been three rounds for him - six for you, because he had eaten you out front to back, as a pre-apology, he supposed for how hard he was about to bruise up your guts. He just squeezed your thighs in the wide palms of his hands, letting out a groan when you scratched your nails down his back even more desperately.

“Mmm… I don’t think so. Think ‘m gonna fill you up until you burst… get you all round ‘nd full of me. You just have to lay there and take it baby.” He grunted out through harsh thrusts, face buried in your neck as he breathed heavily, giving you small nips of appreciation the more sensitive areas of your skin, and pressing kisses to your earlobe for every time you’d sweetly whine out his name. God, this was heaven.

And you’d be his archangel.

𝜗𝜚RYOMEN SUKUNA𝜗𝜚

Sukuna wanted an heir. This was his end goal when he saw you, this was his end goal when he married you, and this was end goal right now, only a couple months after your wedding night, to put an heir in you. His stomach did giddy flips one wouldn’t assume the king of curses could even feel thinking about an heir even half as divine as you were. He would kill anyone who said anything even slightly negative about you with a snap of his fingers, fuck, he wouldn’t even bother wasting his energy on killing such stupid scum, he’d get Uraume to do it.

His mind drifted as he prepared you in his lap, fingers scissoring inside you as you whined and squirmed, trying to hide your face in his bare chest your slick dripping all down his hand, even his wrist. He made you cum three times already, shushing you whenever you tried to protest about being ‘ready’ to be pumped full of him. Your nails scratched against his back, the pain only egging him on as he pressed a kiss to your now sticky forehead, sweat dripping from the orgasms he pulled from you. To him, this was a ritual.

A ritual of patience, a ritual of love, a ritual of procreation. Both his cocks strained heavy against the thin, soft silk of his sokutai, letting you grind helplessly and pathetically against them. His other hand was rubbing circles into your back, cooing you to calm down as he worked you up at the same time.

Before you, sex, intimacy, whatever you’d call it - was a chore. He’d call in a concubine, already prepped for him, get it over with, and not have the cravings for another week or so. He didn’t do it for their pleasure, it was supposed to be a privilege on their part, to even be near him. But something primal in him snapped when he first saw you, something that made giving pleasure seem so… enticing, sweet.

He was right, by any definition, you were sweet. Your taste was an ambrosia unlike any other, a gift from whatever gods above him - which he didn’t believe there were any, he was the god everyone prayed to, he was the top of the food chain, and you could go any higher - but you had him second guessing his own faiths when he tugged and kneaded at your thighs, giving you small spanks to keep you grinding your hips onto his face.

It took nearly an hour of him letting his mind go in circles while the beautiful whines of yours for hoarser and hoarser, another four orgasms from you, for him to agree that you were ‘ready’ to be filled up, ready to carry his heir, ready to be soft and mouldable for him, and once he had you pressed into the silk sheets of your bed, he nearly burst to tears. The way you laid there, looking at him like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf, eyes wide and heart beating fast, littered with bite marks and spit, hands gripping the sheets, knowing things were only going to get more and more intense, he just had to ruin you. It would be selfish not to eat you whole.

424 notes · View notes

daeniradraconis · 2 months ago

Text

Banter Between the Lines - Hughes Brothers

Note: Hey, so here’s another quick chat-style piece! I haven’t had much time to sit down and write properly lately, so short and sweet it is for now. 😊 Feel free to send me some requests if you’d like! (You can check out the "rules" here: link). I can’t promise when I’ll get to them, but I’ll definitely find time soon.

Summary: A little fluff with a touch of smut (nothing too crazy, just some extra flirting). Quinn’s girlfriend roasts the boys while calling them out in their group chat.

Warnings: Nothing major, just some mention of 🍆.

It was one of those quiet Sunday nights where everything felt slow. You'd spent the evening catching up on your favorite shows, but it was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was Quinn. The constant distance between you two had become harder to ignore with each passing day, and as much as you loved how happy he was with his team, you missed him. And, truthfully, you missed the whole family.

You’d gotten close to Jack and Luke over the years, and now, with Quinn playing for the Vancouver Canucks and Jack and Luke together on the New Jersey Devils, the family dynamic felt a little more spread out than you liked. Sure, they’d all make time for you when they could, but it wasn’t the same as those days when you’d all hang out together.

Tonight, instead of a call or a quick text, you decided to turn to something a little more familiar. You opened up youtube and searched for their latest highlights.

All three of them were struggling on the ice, and it showed. It hurt to see them like this, especially when you couldn’t do much to help. So you did what you always did in times like these—opened the group chat and prepared to roast them into oblivion. If nothing else, it might make them laugh.

you: just finished your highlights. Quinn, congrats on being the saddest guy on the ice again 🥇. Jack, loved the mini tantrum energy 👏. Luke, did you forget which team you play for? because those turnovers were next-level.

Jack: wow, you really woke up and chose violence.

you: always. someone has to keep you humble.

Luke: humble? this feels more like a personal attack.

Quinn: what would you call it, then?

Luke: bullying.

you: oh, Lukey, don’t take it so hard. I tease because I care 💕

Jack: you literally plotted my ex’s demise last month. is that “caring” too?

you: first of all, it wasn’t a plot. it was more of a… fantasy.

Quinn: putting her in the ground “while she’s still breathing” doesn’t sound like a fantasy…

you: listen, if she hadn’t been such a manipulative little snake, I wouldn’t have had to consider it 🐍

Luke: terrifying. but honestly? fair.

Jack: I could’ve handled her myself, you know.

you: oh, really? because from where I was sitting, she had you wrapped around her finger like a puppet.

Quinn: she’s not wrong!

Jack: whose side are you on?

Quinn: hers. always.

you: damn right honey. and don’t worry, I’m not plotting her demise anymore… unless she tries to come back. then all bets are off.

Jack: remind me to never date again. you’re scarier than Quinn’s slap shot.

You grinned as the banter flew back and forth, but your focus shifted to Luke. His disastrous date still didn’t sit right with you.

you: okay, but seriously, Lukey. I've heard some gossip. how does a girl ditch you mid-dinner? you’re literally the sweetest human alive.

Luke: THANK YOU! finally, someone gets it.

Jack: don’t encourage him. he needs to toughen up.

you: excuse me? let him be sweet! not every guy needs to have your level of 'I’m too cool for feelings,' Jack.

Quinn: valid point.

Luke: thank you, Quinn.

you: honestly, Luke, I’ll never understand how she left. did you say something weird?

Luke: no!!! I was perfectly normal.

Quinn: “normal” is a stretch…

Jack: is this really the same guy who told a girl on a first date he’d make six different accounts just to sort himself into Hufflepuff six different times because he didn’t 'trust the algorithm'?

Luke: OKAY, THAT’S DIFFERENT. I was being honest!

you: oh, Lukey. you’re lucky you’re adorable because that is painful 😂

Luke: this is why I didn’t want to tell you guys.

Quinn: bro, it’s fine. just embrace the awkward puppy vibe. it’s clearly your brand.

Luke: I hate you.

Jack: ugh, why does he get the sympathy? roast him more guys!!! I can’t be the only one taking L’s here.

you: because Luke doesn’t put ketchup on his eggs like a serial killer, Jack.

Luke: yeah, what is WRONG with you? ketchup on eggs? really?

Jack: you people are so dramatic. it’s normal.

Quinn: nothing about that is normal.

you: thank you, Quinn. once again, the only rational person in this chat.

Jack: stop flirting with my brother. it’s disgusting.

Luke: seriously. I can feel the weird vibes through my phone.

You smirked, knowing exactly how to push their buttons.

you: you’re just mad because Quinn’s risotto is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

Quinn: best risotto AND lasagna. don’t forget!

you: how could I? it’s the only reason I keep you around. And of course your magic 🍆

Quinn: oh, not my sparkling personality? btw you're objectifying my body...

you: hmm… maybe that too. but i have my priorities straight!

Jack: 🤢 STOP. this is disgusting.

Luke: seriously. this is TMI guys!!

you: just jealous, you two can’t even scramble eggs properly.

Quinn: cooking skills = key to a woman’s heart.

Luke: ugh. golden child strikes again.

Jack: some of us don’t need to cook because we have charisma, thank you very much.

Quinn: does your charisma excuse ketchup on eggs? because it shouldn’t.

Luke: still the biggest red flag in this chat.

Jack: Y’ALL ARE SO DRAMATIC.

You smiled at their bickering, your heart full, untouched by their chaos.

you: okay, but for real… I miss you guys 💔.

Luke: aww, finally some love.

Jack: are you feeling okay?!

you: don’t get used to it. but yeah, I miss you. Quinn, risotto night when you’re home! Jack and Luke, you can come eat it too.

Quinn: deal. but I’m ignoring them for the first hour I’m back. i need my time with you!

Luke: RUDE!

Jack: gross. is this the flirting portion of the chat? can we not?

you: love you too, boys. even if you’re disasters.

Jack: love you too. now stop flirting with Quinn before I puke.

Luke: seriously. save it for your own chat.

Quinn: jealousy doesn’t look good on you two.

Luke: jealous of what? your cooking? maybe. your 🍆? absolutely not.

you: you should be Lukey! your brother got some great 🍆

Jack: I’m OUT.

Luke: same.

Quinn: good job hon. guess it’s just us now. you: just how I like it 😘

#luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #hockey fanfic #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes

366 notes · View notes

justblades · 10 months ago

Text

⋆｡˚ ♰・priest! sunday x afab! reader

┈─ ・(ex)plicit, mdni. contains 2.2 spoilers, blasphemous themes, impregnation, clit stimulation, oral sex, controlling sunday, not proofread.

Even a mere mortal can sense the regret lingering in the atmosphere of the vicinity, a small space dedicated for confessions and atonement of sins committed by those who believe in the Harmony. Numerous pews stand in rows before a single one, each being occupied by two people at best, to which you draw closer to the confession box— one more person to go and it is time to purify your tainted soul.

It was just muffled murmurs of two people from the latter reverberating inside the hall's six walls, along with the sound of the ceiling fans whirring. Your mind starts to drift onto something else: although you have no idea what others hold with regards to their sins, you still could not help but think that yours is shameful.

You can see the person beside you exit the birch box with teary eyes and stuffed nose as she holds a handkerchief to her face. "Next please." a resolute voice echoes, signalling for you to step forward into the confessional. With a wobbly stature, you stand up and tread forward, proceeding to close the oak door behind you.

The golden lights from the hall seep through the confession booth's partition, gleaming upon your stature - creating a silhouette as to where only the advocate from the other side can peer through the woodworks. You attempt to clear your voice before speaking, a dry throat halting the words you intend to verbalize within.

"I humbly ask for your blessings and the forgiveness of Xipe . . ." You mutter as your eyes dart to nothing that catches your interest except for the parquetry etched on the wooden floorboards. Your head held down low, staring at its intricate designing.

"Please feel free to proceed. I have sought their presence within us." The priest answers. "I have committed a grave sin of succumbing to passing emotions. Primarily, I struggled with regulating the purity of one's mind and it was late that I realized I indulged in an extreme activity to quench the thirst for sexual pleasure."

A reassuring hum resounds. "As a devout follower of the Harmony, I believe my actions do not align with the path I stride. Therefore, I ask for forgiveness and assistance on how I will repent for the sins I have committed." After forming the confession where in sentences you never thought have ever been uttered, it feels as though a heavy weight was lifted off your chest and the shackles on your feet disintegrated.

Glancing at the frosted, colored glass window in front of you, you noticed how the warm yellow lights in the background flicker repetitively in an instant, as well as the birch surroundings creaking. "By committing a grave sin, you've engaged in an activity with a partner you are not married with." The priest reiterates as if the faulty lights are a common occurrence.

You hum in response. "And by committing an even graver sin, you took part in an activity with an objective aside from procreation. Please correct me if I'm wrong."

"Yes, esteemed advocate. Everything you said was indeed correct." Your heart starts racing, "Do you promise yourself you'll turn your back on this lascivious history to start anew?" He queries.

"Yes, Mister Sunday."

"Even if you were to encounter challenges to test your faith for the Harmony?"

Hesitation ruptures through your composure. Your resolution suddenly cracks, as if it was merely a façade with a longing for forgiveness to move on.

"Be honest." Like the advocate could read your mind as of the moment, you believe in the capabilities of Harmony, so there was no use in feigning cleanliness when you know it in yourself, you still struggle. "I wish to seek assistance from those with wisdom."

You receive another firm hum in response, "Very well. Please see me in the reconciliation room a short time after." Your mind spirals into confusion and bewilderment, the emotions painting your features like you were an open book to the audience.

Trekking off the confessional booth, you did not dare to spare a glance back at the priest and only made your way to the distinct, separate room - the reconciliation. It was small, enclosed, and only an oak table, two pairs of engraved chairs, a single ligneous partition and a kneeler reside within the space. Your vision anchors to the sculpted wooden cross sign hung on the beige walls, illuminated by a faint golden lamp on the table.

Patiently awaiting the presence of the priest, you stood still with a heavy heart, seeming like the relief you felt previously was only a glimpse of what you could've been if you didn't commit such grave sin. If only.

The door swings open, followed by the entrance of the figure you were anticipating. Faded sky blue hues of hair tumble upon the male's shoulders, along with the golden earrings he was donning. Feathered ears diluting into white ripple from his footsteps, and his distinct, golden halo stays afloat behind his head.

Being vis-à-vis with the highly esteemed figure of the Penacony like this tugs your heartstrings in unease. It felt bizarre, as you could recall from others' experiences that when you encounter priests or advocates of the Harmony, your heart rests. As for Sunday, it was the polar opposite. Chills run kilometers up and down your spine, your throat starts to become dry.

You trail your vision downwards, setting your sight upon his graceful features. His eyes were a radiant yellow tinged with an ocean blue, framed by his particularly long lower lashes. He purses his lips tightly, curving upwards, flashing a small smile. "Please take a seat." He motions for the chair in front of your figures, your eyes noticing the cross cut out gloves he's wearing.

Sitting down with guard held up high, Sunday follows suit as he opens the drawer from the oak table, retrieving something of a color white and frilly in texture, as you make of what you could from your peripheral vision. "This will certainly be of help to put your faith to test. If you would kindly turn around."

Your hands rest on your lap and as you hear the last phrase that came out of his mouth, you subconsciously gripped a handful of the fabric you're wearing in alertness. Not until your vision was impaired as Sunday blindfolds you with the latter material, it was soft and delicate to the touch - you could not see anything but faint shadows against the lighting. Everything was ivory white in stark contrast, and you could barely peer through the lace folds to see the priest.

"I will now be tuning your mind with the Harmony to which you will face repercussions if statements untrue to yourself are said." He pauses. Unsure where this will lead to, you had no choice but to nod in continuation. "Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed. I implore them to shed their light."

What used to be a blurry white in your vision now fringes into colored edges, the prominent colors being purple, white, red, orange, and yellow.

"This will serve as a gentle reminder that I am assisting you to a path where grave sins are not succumbed to, and only ▅▅▅ exists alongside philosophy to instill moral duties to a functioning member of a society."

His words cut through the thick atmosphere, thawing the glacial tension growing with each passing second.

He lowers his stature to face you, gloved fingers trailing from the hem of the laced blindfold down to your cheeks, cupping your face lightly with a careful grip. "Does this send a shiver down to your spine?" Sunday inquires and you shake your head in disagreement. It seems like he has a whole plan on how this will play out, and you were merely a pawn in his chessboard to see what you would react under these circumstances he will put you in.

The touch ghosts a caress on your lower parts, specifically, the frame of your chest. His thumb twirls on the middle part with an unraveled goal of making your buds perk up underneath the confinements of your clothing - making you grit your teeth as a poor attempt to stifle the sound threatening to escape.

A question arises amidst the confusing situation, a question that will surely be received in a poor taste as it will question his authority and legitimacy. You wanted to ask, is this really necessary?

However, the aura he exudes now was far different from what he displays when he's in front of the audience of the masses. He seems more strict now, judging from the tone lacing his voice from his query earlier. "Does this feel good?" He proceeds to unbutton your top, letting the fabric come undone and fall down to your lap. A singular gloved hand of his snakes its way to your back, and with a single fidget, your bra was unclasped.

The priest takes his precious time in all these. He carefully observes the clothing that you wear, as he had come to adore the fact that you were wearing pearly white brassiere, one that was similar to the blindfold's texture and design, it was frilly in the edges and soft to the touch.

A light chuckle slips out, "Well? What's your answer?" Desire and temptation brews within your stomach, even spiking higher as he caresses your mounds with both of his hands. His touches feel light and blissful at the same time, like your body was basking in the warmth and enjoyment the priest had to offer. You struggle to keep your body still, knees trembling even though you were only sitting.

"N-No, Mr. Sunday."

A sharp throbbing ache courses through your head, granting him a wince of both surprise and pain. "It appears that you haven't put your mind and whole heart to this yet." He says as he walks away from your stature, leaving you dumbfounded. As silence encompasses the vicinity, you hear the male seat himself on the chair across from you. "Come to me." He simply orders.

"Just take steps forward and trust me."

With blind faith, you solemnly obey - approaching his figure with an extremely bleary vision. As your feet meet with an obstacle, seemingly the chair's legs, you stop in your tracks. "Now straddle my lap." Following suit, you feel a bulging sensation under your remaining clothing. Your breath becomes even more jagged than before, especially now that your clothed folds come in contact with his throbbing dick. It was clear cut enough that it was his erection continuously growing.

A brief moment passes and Sunday continues to envelop your hard buds within his lips, teeth grinding on your nipples in an attempt to inflict pain and pleasure all at the same time. "M— Mr. Sunday . . !" You yelp but he does not halt. He proceeds to twirl his warm, slick tongue all over your glazed areolas, your boob dancing in rhythm with his mouth in somewhat harmonic tunes played by your stifled mewls.

His other free hand pulls you tighter to his chest as he adjusts his position, bucking his hips upwards to create some sort of friction. The tip of his covered cock brushes against your already wet slit, granting him another lewd sound - this time, a soft moan. "I— I— I can't—" your hands clutch on the man's broad shoulders, feeling his long, muted blue and white locks tangle along your fingers. "You can. Yes you can. Only a little bit more you would be rewarded by proving your loyalty to the ▅▅▅."

Your sense of hearing downgrades as your mind drifts into pure bliss, lower limbs becoming numb as more pleasure courses through your veins. As if it's still not enough, Sunday simply lowers your remaining clothes to your feet, revealing your folds sopping wet with arousal already.

With haste and care in Sunday's every movement, he lays your back on the table in between the chairs, forcibly revealing everything down there to him — for him to revel in. The gelid wind traces shivers upon your sweat dewed skin, especially your folds now glimmering with muddy white liquids.

He raises your legs and stands up, resting your lower limbs upon his shoulders. The position is embarrassing enough as it is, but having the priest tower over you is another experience that feels even more intense than what unfolded previously. Not to mention that the throbbing pang in your head brought by your dishonesty upon the Harmony worsens minute by minute.

The male buries his face in your inner thighs first, flicking his tongue over your soft skin while his eyes are darted on your face, in high alert to which action of his you will react the most to. "Need I remind you to be honest this time around? Or is the headache that you're feeling not sufficient for you to stay true to your words?" He asks with a demanding tone, the margins of his lips drawing closer and closer to your slit.

"I have learned my lesson, Mr. Sunda—"

Gloved fingers begin to stimulate your clit, moving in motions you cannot fathom with your current state - your lower body jerking up in response to the stimulation. A sly smile creeps up on Sunday's face, his navy blue pupils fixating on each of your actions and expressions.

All you could think of was the fact that he didn't even let you finish, he went straight to pleasure you more, the sensation becoming more overwhelming as he starts to glide the tip of his tongue on your folds. "Do you feel good?" Although his voice was muffled from the proximity from his face and your pussy, you could comprehend and immediately answer, "Yes! I-I feel good . . !"

You rack your head back once Sunday buries his face further into your inner thighs, wallowing himself in your slit as he sucked on your sweet spot, sticking his tongue into your velvet walls while still toying with your clitoris. You bite back your moans, you cannot afford to lose the remaining dignity you had in you left - if there was any.

"Don't do that."

His voice sounds stern as ever, you were left with no choice yet again but to let mewls and moans come undone at this point in time. You were noisy, along with the sucking sounds accompanied by your hums of pleasure, continually bouncing off of the reconciliation room's four walls. "Very good. As for the last part, you must continue to be truthful, to stand by the ▅▅▅, and to ▅▅▅ to what I ought to be ▅▅▅ for you. Do you understand?"

Much to your relief, your vision was once again back to normal as he unties the lacey blindfold on your eyes. This time, you could see Sunday's disheveled hair, as well as the golden earrings dangling at every movement he makes. He swiftly unzips his slacks, therefore revealing his cock he had been concealing for so long before. It stands in its full glory, hues of purple and indigo veins threatening to pop - it was evident he's at his limit.

"Use your mouth. Make me feel good." He commands and peers at you with a somber expression. You muster enough strength on your body to stand up and kneel in front of him, positioning your head in a perfect angle to receive him. Slowly parting your lips open, he shoves his dick inside you, granting you a hoarse moan of satisfaction slipping past his lips.

You bob your head up and down and as if it felt natural to wrap your digits around the remaining length of his cock, you pump him in accordance to your pace, taking him inside with no hesitation, with only one goal in mind: to make him feel good. You could feel the crown of his dick kiss your throat every time you go deeper, making your eyes water as you try to keep yourself from gagging for the priest's satisfaction.

"That's enough, stand up." Your momentum was cut off as he hooks his arms on yours, making you stand from your previously kneeling position. It seems he has indulged enough in your submission and now it is time for him to try something new, something far more amusing in his perspective.

With both of your statures still standing up, he flips you around, making your back face him. He can examine every nook and cranny of your body in this way, and with a hum of approval, he bends you over slightly, wrapping his arms around your waist and reach for your tits. Your breath deepens, more beads of sweat proceed to trickle down your naked body. "M-Mr. Sunday, are we really going to do it?" you ask as he wraps his hand around himself, brushing his tip on your entrance.

He stops in his movements. "Do you have a problem with that?" A domineering tone laces that sole sentence, one that a person cannot delve deeper furthermore.

With one more stroke, he finally pushes himself inside your velvet walls, molding themselves around the shape of Sunday's dick - wallowing in the pleasure and warmth he emanates inside you. "So . . . warm . . ." He whispers, his breath ghosting a caress on the shell of your ear.

Sunday builds up his pace from a painfully slow one to picking it up, thrusting into you with additional force, pistoning your pussy as he's balls deep. Sounds of skin slapping add onto the lewd tune you two have been playing for the past hour, a whole sixty minutes of pleasure pooling your stomach and arousals seeping out of your holes.

Your legs start to quiver once more, exhaustion gnawing at your bones. But amidst this, Sunday kept you still with his force, hitting your sweet spots with the tip of his cock. If you could beg for mercy as of the moment, you certainly would take the chance. But to who, exactly? To whoever aeon is witnessing this lascivious act unfold in front of them, committed in such a religious place?

Or perhaps to Sunday, who you've knelt to before, received him inside your body in more ways than one. Perhaps. Perhaps it is he who shall show you mercy in the heat of the moment.

"M-Mr. Sunday, please forgive me!"

Interest sparks inside his mind, revelling in the way of being viewed as someone highly, someone sought out, someone in a legitimate authority. "You shall be forgiven." He states as he bites down on the blade of your shoulder, teeth leaving a bite mark and an aching sensation alongside it. You could do nothing but wince in pain, but waves of pleasure start to crush upon your conscious self.

Surely this is too much pleasure to handle for someone asking for forgiveness as they committed a grave sin for partaking in debauchery . . . but to be done this way by a priest is a little too exhilarating.

He picks up the pace, earning himself more moans of pleasure escape your lips, "I'll ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ inside you." Sunday says as a fair warning, but a sentence you could only form at the present time was a lighthearted "Do as you please, Mr. Sunday."

With one single thrust, strings of satisfaction sprawl inside your womb. It feels warm yet again, but now, comforting in stark contrast to the nervousness welling up in your heart earlier.

"Well done. As you've shown resolution that you're on a path to atone for the sins you've committed in the past, you shall be forgiven."

#hsr sunday #hsr smut #sunday x reader #sunday x reader smut #hsr sunday smut #hsr sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday x reader smut #tw blasphemy

748 notes · View notes

officialaemondtargaryen · 11 months ago

Text

Invisible String

❝and isn't it just so pretty to think that all along there was some invisible string tying you to me.❞

Summary: You are having a pretty strange week and you just happen to run into the same guy every single day at the same coffee shop. He could be stalking you, or it could be fate. You aren’t totally sure.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Author’s Note: This is a re-write of an old fic of mine. I'm in my re-writing era and this is Megan's Version. Anyways, here's some fluff. I hope that you are absolutely disgusted by it.

Warnings: language and cuteness.

Monday morning.

The bane of your existence.

It didn’t help that you were hungover; head pounding, pleading with you to go back to sleep after your best friend convinced you to go out for karaoke on a Sunday night. Who in their right mind decided that karaoke on a Sunday night would be a good idea? You did. Not your best decision, you had to admit, and one you immediately came to regret as your alarm continuously reminded you that you needed to get up. You only had about eight minutes before you were to leave your apartment in order to make it to work on time, and it typically took you an hour to get ready– thirty minutes on a good day. You were absolutely pressing your luck with eight.

You rushed into the kitchen, making a beeline towards your Keurig. Brewing yourself a cup of coffee was typically the first thing you did every morning, like clockwork; placing the disposable cardboard cup underneath the spout and setting it to automatic, allowing it to brew while you moved on to other things in your morning routine. It was always the perfect temperature by the time you came back to it.

“Shit!” You cursed with a mouth full of toothpaste after realizing you’d completely missed the sink and a long line of frothy spit had dripped down to the front of your shirt. It was the only clean blouse that you had, and you definitely didn’t have time to go rummaging through your closet to find something else. With limited options available, you tell yourself that no one will notice and hurriedly swipe at the glob of mint green paste from your left boob.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, the stain jumped out at you as if it were a flashing sign, look at me! You knew you’d be self conscious about it throughout the day and that everyone would, in fact, notice, and opted for a black blazer to hopefully cover up your mistake. Once you were satisfied with your appearance– as satisfied as you had the time to be– you rushed out the door; your bag falling off of your shoulder as you tried to scrape your hair back into the neatest bun you could manage without brushing your hair, practically sprinting towards the bus stop, hoping that you’d make it on time.

It wasn’t until you got there, waiting with what seemed like the entire population of this accursed city, that you realized you had never even gone back to the kitchen for your coffee after you had started getting ready. It was still sitting there cold, and lonely, and untouched– just like you felt right now, standing at the bus stop, no coffee to warm your hands.

You could just go to work, clock in on time, and drink that bagged shit your company supplies for the break room, but on a Monday and with the morning you’ve already had, that just wasn’t an option. You could see the bus headed your way but ultimately stepped out of the crowd and headed in the direction of the nearest coffeeshop, which thankfully was only two blocks up.

As soon as you walked through the door and into the warmth of the cafe, you inwardly cringed at the sight of the six people waiting in line. There was really no point in complaining about it, you were already here and you had already missed the bus, and you were already going to be late. You had no option but to wait patiently in line behind some blonde guy in a suit.

Your cellphone vibrated in your hand as you vaguely heard the man order a blueberry muffin and a latte. It was your boss, fuck. You silenced the phone call and decided to send them a quick text message instead, promising that you’d be there soon and made up some story about how the bus was late due to traffic.

Still looking down at your phone, you thought you saw the man take a step to the side out of your peripheral vision, and you stepped forward towards the register. Only he hadn’t stepped to the side, and you stepped right into him, and your face collided with his back. When you went to take a step backwards, you tripped over the woman behind you and ended up falling on your ass.

“I am so sorry!” You exclaimed, looking up at the man that you had just stepped into. Your cheeks warm at the sight of him, feeling infinitely more embarrassed when you see how attractive he is. “I thought I saw you move to the next register.”

He smiled and suddenly everything was okay, like you didn’t just trip and fall in front of like fifty people.

“S’okay, love,” he replied, holding out his hand to help you up. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you replied, trying your hardest to play it cool. “That was totally planned.”

He laughs, once again flashing an angelic smile, “you’re a great actress, then.”

“Thanks,” you say as you dust off your pants. “I rehearsed that for weeks.”

He seemed to think you were being wildly clever as his head dropped back and a genuine bout of laughter escaped his throat. The people behind you in line were becoming clearly irritated, one even stepping around you to keep the line moving. Typically, you would have protested but you suddenly didn’t care about the time or that you had been cut in line.

“Aegon?” The barista called out.

“That’s me,” his smile faltered just enough for you to notice. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“In a city with a population of 8.4 million people, I highly doubt that,” you step back in line after checking with the person behind you to make sure it was okay. “Have a good day.”

The man named Aegon still smiled, his head nodding to you before stepping out into the crowded city streets. If you were brave, you would have asked for his number, but instead you watched the door while you waited for your drink to be made; hoping that he would come back and sweep you off your feet.

You allowed yourself to live in that fantasy for a little while, until you became too busy at work and eventually forgot about the handsome stranger you had met in the coffee shop.

Tuesday was worse.

It wasn’t because you had a hangover or because you had woken up late again. In fact, it was quite the opposite. You were feeling pretty great on this particular morning. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day, and you had given yourself plenty of time for your usual morning routine; shower, makeup, clothes, coffee. The Spotify algorithm was providing you with a perfect soundtrack for your commute to the bus stop until–

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

You screeched as a double-breasted, suit-wearing businessman bumped into you and your coffee went flying towards the concrete; all over the ground, all over you. And for a moment, time stops as you could do nothing but stand there, completely shocked. The audacity he had to not only keep walking as if he hadn’t just ruined your perfect morning– and your shoes– but to yell back at you that you were the one who needed to watch where you were going.

You hadn’t even gotten to take a sip of that coffee yet.

Thankfully, Starbucks was only two blocks up, and you could make a pitstop for a refill and to clean yourself up and the coffee out of your shoes. Before you stepped in line, you made a beeline for the cream bar, hurriedly pulling napkins from the dispenser to shove them into the toes of your shoes. A few people in the lobby had begun to stare, and you sighed in defeat. This was frustrating that you were, once again, embarrassing yourself and making a scene in the same Starbucks two days in a row.

“You know, in a city with a population of 8.4 million people,” you heard as you tried to dry off your tights. Looking up, you noticed the same man from yesterday. What was his name? Aegon, right? “Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we bumped into each other again.”

“Maybe you’re stalking me,” you retorted with a sarcastic smile.

“Stalking the girl who’s spilled coffee all over herself?” He asked, eyes crinkling at the sides from the wide smile on his face. “I don’t know about that.”

You didn’t say anything, still a little irritated that you were even in this predicament, and now running into this handsome stranger again. Typically, you’d be elated to see him again, but not today.

“Let me buy you a coffee?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence that had grown between the two of you after he just stood there watching you try to blot the stain out of your white blouse. “It looks like you’re not having the best day.”

“Thanks for the offer, but not today,” you replied.

“Well, maybe tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” you said as you laughed through your nose, knowing that there was no possible way that you would see him again tomorrow unless he really was stalking you. “Tomorrow, for sure.”

He gave you another one of those remarkable smiles and nodded his head, “okay, I’ll see you then.”

Wednesday was better.

You woke up with a smile on your face and you gingerly started your routine, making your way towards your Keurig. It was the middle of the week; only three more days to go and you’d be free for the weekend. You already had plans for a Succession marathon and itched to make a home on your couch for the next two days with all of your favorite snacks and blankets.

But when you went to grab one of those tiny, plastic pods from the box, it was empty. You had told yourself yesterday that you needed to stop and grab coffee and milk, but had completely forgotten once your day had unraveled after that douchebag shouldered you on the sidewalk.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You always believed that one should enjoy the little things, but this week, it seemed as if those little things were on a mission to ruin your week. This time, you decided on the locally owned coffee shop that was only a block from your apartment. You passed by every day on your way to the bus stop, but they were typically so busy that you just didn’t have time to wait.

Today, they were surprisingly not nearly as busy as they usually were, in fact, they were almost completely empty. You still smiled at the barista as you walked right up to the counter without having to wait in line.

“Could I please have a mocha latte, please?” You asked politely.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the barista replied with a frown. “We were supposed to get our delivery sometime last night but there was a mix-up with the trucks, and we’re kinda out of everything. There’s a sign on the door.”

Of course you didn’t see the sign until you were leaving, frustrated, and stepping out onto the sidewalk with only one option; Starbucks.

This time you were prepared to see the good-looking stranger again, if fate were to have it; you were not covered in coffee, you did not have to rush on your way out the door, you were having a good hair day. Yet, as you stepped into the cool air conditioning of the corporate chain, you were saddened that you didn’t spot that golden halo of soft, blonde hair anywhere. You should have known not to get your hopes up, as the odds of seeing him three days in a row were slim and none. As you stepped up to the register you laughed at yourself, at how disappointed you were, as if you actually had a chance.

You stood off to the side, scrolling through your phone while waiting for the barista to call your name. It was then that out of the corner of your eye, you see that in walks a handsome, blonde stranger. Your heart skips a beat for only a second before it registers that he’s not your blonde stranger. He locks eyes with you for only a second and you offer him a small, disappointed smile.

“Your mocha,” the barista says and holds out the warm beverage to you.

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice despondent.

When you turn for the exit, your eyes are drawn to the corner of the room- to a comfortable, brown leather chair next to the window. There, sits Aegon, the man who had somehow just happened to be here, every single day, at the same time as you. The man who is probably stalking you, and if he wasn’t, he probably thought you were stalking him. You couldn’t even blame it on timing– Monday you were late, Tuesday you were early, today you were right on time. Given outside factors, things like this typically do not happen.

He’s reading the paper and there’s a cup of coffee and a half-eaten scone sitting on a plate in front of him. Your lips curl into a smile as you say to him, “we’ve got to stop running into each other like this.”

Aegon looks up at you, surprise washing over his face before an enthusiastic smile begins growing on his lips. However, as soon as his eyes notice the drink in your hand, his smile immediately disappears, “I thought I was buying today?”

“I didn’t see you until I had already ordered,” you replied. “How about tomorrow?”

“Deal,” he nodded..

“Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” You asked, eyes narrowing.

He threw his head back in laughter, “I’m definitely not a stalker.”

“That’s what a stalker would say,” you glanced down at your watch and realized that you should get going before you miss the bus. “See you tomorrow!”

On Thursday, you were convinced.

You had spent most of the day yesterday discussing with your coworker about what had been happening to you over the last week. You’d walked through every different day and what had happened prior to you arriving at Starbucks. You had talked conspiracy theories and the invisible string theory, and eventually you both ended up coming to the same conclusion– you both agreed that it was best for you to not go to Starbucks today.

You didn’t believe in fate, or soulmates, or twin flames, but as you stood in front of your Keurig as it made the most god awful sound, you were starting to change your mind. You tried turning it off and back on, unplugging it and plugging it back in, but the diagnosis was that it had finally died.

After six wonderful years and all of college.

Any other day you’d stop at Starbucks and grab a coffee in place of your homemade cup, but you swore that you wouldn’t today, and you were not waiting in line at the one on the way to the bus stop. It didn’t help that you were actually looking forward to the nasty breakroom coffee, only to get to work and realize that the office had run out of coffee. The effects of the caffeine withdrawal had set in by lunchtime and your migraine was splitting. Needless to say, you were irritable and exhausted by the time you had clocked out. Everything seemed to be grinding your nerves; even something as simple as the person sitting next to you on the bus talking on their phone.

Despite promising yourself that you wouldn’t go to Starbucks today, you found yourself standing at the counter, ordering a latte and a sandwich. It was later in the evening, the sun was setting, and you were certain that you would not be running into Aegon at this time of night and so after you grabbed your coffee, you sat in one of the comfy, leather chairs and started replying to some emails.

You had been there for about an hour, most of the patrons had left. The baristas had begun cleaning up for the evening and the shop was getting ready to close when the door swung open, letting in a gusty breeze.

“No way,” you whispered to yourself as you watched a very tired-looking Aegon walk up to the counter and order a latte. He was so out of it that he didn’t even notice you until he sat down in the chair directly across from yours, and looked up to see you staring right at him.

“I told you,” he said as he let out a tired laugh.

You just shook your head at him in disbelief.

“I was called into work early today and I couldn’t come in this morning,” he said with a smirk. “I was certain I wouldn’t be seeing you today.”

“My Keurig broke, and when I got to work they didn’t have any coffee, so I figured I’d stop in and grab a cup before heading home,” you replied.

You sat there and talked to him until the manager kicked the two of you out, and he ended up walking you to your apartment, even though it was in the opposite direction of where he was going. He was sweet and funny, and you found yourself laughing at almost every joke.

“So tomorrow?” You asked when you stopped in front of your building.

“How about dinner instead of coffee?” He asked, rather boldly, taking you by surprise. “I know we don’t really know each other but I’d like to change that.”

“I’d like that, too,” you smiled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Wanna chance it and see if we show up at the same restaurant at the same time?”

“The ultimate test of fate, eh?” He asked, rubbing his chin as he mulled over your offer for a moment. “Can’t risk it, how about you just meet me at Ray’s at seven.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you exhale a soft laugh.

“Perfect,” he says and takes your hand, offering a tender kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll see you then, love.”

Friday was perfect.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened. Though, thinking back on it now, maybe those seemingly bizarre incidents this past week weren’t actually out of the ordinary at all. Maybe the forgotten coffee on Monday, the spilled latte on Tuesday, the late delivery on Wednesday, and caffeine withdrawal on Thursday were all meant to happen; everything playing out perfectly in order for you to be walking up to Ray’s at exactly 6:54 PM.

Aegon stood outside, a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame. As your eyes met, a wave of warmth washed over you, dispelling any lingering doubts you may have had. This felt right.

This felt like fate.

438 notes · View notes