#there's literally nothing from him to say he's suitable for other teams | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chelseeebe · 1 year ago

Text

gasoline.

so this was supposed to be like a the bear au and then i just got carried away and now it’s just whatever the hell this is lmao it’s been sitting in my docs since july and i thought it finally needed to see the light of day :)

this is two parts in one bc i hate doing two seperate parts but it’s highlighted where p1 ends and p2 begins

wc: 12k+ oops

‎♡‧₊˚

Look, the sleazy, deteriorating walls of Frank’s had never been his idea of a dream. But flunking high school and a failed band had meant limited this is where he’d ended up. Running the line at the frankly failing restaurant was more like his idea of hell but it paid the bills and with a solid team of other degenerates, meant that it wasn’t all that bad.

Well, that was until the devil incarnate came along. And by devil incarnate he means you.

Eddie couldn’t grasp why someone of your stature would ever take a job at such a shitty restaurant, with your fancy knives and kitchen lingo that really meant nothing to him, why wouldn’t you look for something else? Something better?

You’d ended up here because… well, despite going to culinary school, getting the big job after you had graduated and doing everything by the book so to speak, you’d missed that burning passion that could only be found in the shittiest, dirtiest kitchens.

Well that, and the fact you’d been let go. But that wasn’t relevant.

“Honey, I’ve been here for years, I really don’t give a shit about anything you’ve gotta say,” flapping his arms around at your suggestion of maybe washing his hands when he got back in from smoking, “Helen never had a problem with it, so why do you?”

“First off, I have asked you not to call me honey or whatever other stupid pet name you wanna give me… it’s chef,” brows furrowed, the rest of the kitchen pretending not to listen to your latest bickering, “and secondly, Helen is gone, so whatever rules she implemented mean nothing now, okay? You wash your hands when you come back in or… or…” struggling to come up with a suitable punishment.

“Or.. or what?” he mocks, turning to his colleagues for a little backup, “you gonna fire me? ‘Cause I’d love to see you try,” refusing to back down.

It was the principle, you see. Eddie really would’ve had no issue with washing his hands if literally anyone other than you had asked. He was positively fuming that you had just flounced in here and started laying down a bunch of bullshit rules that no other soul had cared about in his five years working here. Not only that, you’d beaten him to the head chef role. He was certain that he was a shoe in the second Helen announced that she was moving on. Only to walk in one morning to your grinning face, your uniform crisply ironed and this certain energy only Eddie had seemed to sense.

You sigh, you never liked to be the first one to resign after an argument but Eddie was relentless and would’ve kept at it all day if you didn’t, “Just wash your hands.. chef,” it was entirely too busy to spend all day going back and forth with the man child.

“Say please and I’ll think about it,” he’s smirking now, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wanted you.

“Please,” you frown, hand firmly on your hip as you stare back at him. You felt pathetic begging for the tiniest bit of respect in your damn kitchen but it was simply the only way to get him to cooperate.

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” he goads, brushing against your shoulder as he makes his way to the sink, the rest of the kitchen is in complete silence, watching and waiting to see how this one would end.

You readjust your collar, pressing your lips together in a firm line, choosing to ignore his childish remark. There would come a day that he’d regret every horrid thing he’d said to you and maybe that day wasn’t today but it would come and you could not wait.

It’s another month of butting heads with the long-haired prick before things come totally to a head. His inability to just follow simple orders had you at wits end, because Eddie truly believed that he knew better. A suggestion to add thyme to the mash potatoes had caused all out war in the kitchen.

“No, we add rosemary… not fuckin’ thyme,” he spits, aggressively stiring the pot, his back to you, guarding his precious dish from your grabby hands.

“And I’m saying to add both- actually no, I’m not saying, I’m telling,” grabbing the container of thyme and attempting to sprinkle it into the pan, “move out of the way, that’s an order.”

“Oooo,” he mocks, knuckles turning white from his grip on the handle, “An order.. I’m so scared,” chuckling as he blocks you from reaching over his shoulder, “why d’you think you know better, huh? You don’t know shit about this restaurant, we’ve done it my way for years and that’s not gonna change now.”

“Because I’m the fucking chef and I know better than you,” finally snapping at the man, slamming the container down onto the stainless steel countertop, “move. now,” you bark, widening your eyes as he twists around to meet yours, you could feel the disgust radiating from his glare.

“No.”

You huff, wanting nothing more than to wrap his fucking ponytail around your hand and slam his head into the worktop, “Step out chef,” a simple order that you thought was far more gracious than he deserved.

His mouth falls open, still gripping onto the now-overworked potatoes, “What the fuck?” frantically flailing for some comradery from his fellow workers, it seemed that they’d all fallen into place, no longer the bunch of grimy assholes he once knew.

“Step out,” you persist, teeth gritted as you stand strong on your order, tilting your chin to meet his harrowing gaze. Eddie didn’t frighten you per say, but he was intimidating and if it came down to it, you probably weren’t going to be the one to win that fight.

“Fuck this,” he exclaims, slamming the pan down onto the stove top with a loud bang before storming off out of the fire escape door, not before grabbing his cigarettes from the shelf you’d repeatedly told him not to keep them on.

There’s now mash potato all over the hob that would probably need some extensive scrubbing and would ensure that your kitchen would absolutely reek of the stuff all night. If you could have it your way, you’d have made him scrub the entire oven with a dang toothbrush until you could see your face in the metal.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your cheeks burn as the rest of the kitchen watches on in utter amazement, even the old, hardened chefs had taken to your ways even if it had taken a little bit of pushing. There was no understanding as to why he couldn’t just listen, just shut up and get on with his job without trying to constantly argue and bite back. Maybe because you were a woman? You were younger than him? Or maybe it was simply because someone was finally up to the job of challenging him and he hated that fact.

Whatever it was, it was getting on your last nerve.

Eddie wasn’t by any means a bad chef, he was innovative and knew how to make shit taste good, he was just incapable of accepting that maybe his way of doing things wasn’t the only way.

You smooth your clammy palms down your apron, nodding at Tina. A subtle way of telling her to carry on and take charge while you dealt with the pathetic man outside.

The door slams as you step outside, looking around the dark alley for the man, following the trail of smoke to his slouched position around the corner. Now, this was the difficult part, you weren’t really looking to fire him but what choice did you have if he couldn’t just accept that you were his boss now.

“Have you calmed down?” breaking the silence, fingernails pressed into your palm leaving tiny crescent moon indentations.

You never were one for confrontation.

He scoffs, refusing to look in your direction as he puffs on the cigarette, “I’m calm.. are you calm?”

Even now, he couldn’t just smile and nod, always had to say something else, “I’m calm,” swallowing the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, “do you want to work here?”

“Nobody wants to work here, shit- even you don’t wanna be here,” chuckling to himself, smoke falling from his lips.

“Yes I do. Do you? Because I can help you if you don’t, trust me I am not scared to just let you go.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, tossing the cigarette to the ground before finally meeting your gaze, “you’re firing me?”

“No,” relaxing your shoulders, “but I need to know that you want to work here. That you aren’t going to keep arguing with me about stupid shit because I truly do not have the energy for it anymore,” watching as his expression falls, at a stretch you’d say he looks remorseful but that could very well just be the moonlight reflecting on his face, granting him more grace than he deserved.

The alley falls into silence, the only sounds being that of the bustling city around you and Tina’s faint voice barking instructions inside the kitchen.

His eyes avert to the concrete, with a pained expression he breaks the silence, “I do… wanna work here,” it’s like that tiny sentence caused him physical pain to get out.

“Good,” you nod, his words may mean nothing but it’s a relief to finally hear that he gives somewhat of a shit about this place running smoothly, “Eddie, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a really good chef… but even the best chefs have to take orders sometimes and you are no exception to that.”

Eddie untenses his jaw for what must be the first time in ten years, that tiny bit of affirmation was exactly what he was looking for, “...thank you,” he turns his head towards yours, “I think you’re… you’re an okay chef,” the tiniest traces of a smile on his face as he pushes himself from the rough brick.

Your eyes roll instinctively but you’re not mad, for once, “get back inside,” waving him off towards the door without turning to look at him.

Taking the moment to gather yourself and your thoughts. Who knew if Eddie had meant what he said or if it was even going to change anything but it had definitely meant something. It wasn’t a burning desire of yours to come in and be the new evil boss in fact, it was the very opposite of what you’d pictured. There just wasn’t much lee-way when you were given a team of stubborn assholes that had gotten far too used to slacking off.

Frank’s could really become something if everyone wanted it and were willing to put in the effort required to get there. Sure, you probably weren’t going to earn a Michelin star but you were sure you could make it worthy of something.

Eddie had mostly kept to his word. Finally washing his hands and keeping his hair out of his face, even if you had had to nag at him a little. There wasn’t as much kick back as before. Sure, he’d roll his eyes and huff and puff but he’d actually do it.

It’s another Saturday night, you’re not so busy but enough to keep you on your toes. Just longing for the moment you collapsed into your bed and didn’t have to think about this place until Monday morning.

Eddie sidles up to where you’re working, going over the rota for the next two weeks. Weighing up if waking up at the ass crack of dawn was actually worth all this.

“So I was thinking..”

“Uh oh,” you add, snapping the book shut before turning to him, he’s hopeful. Well, that or he’s about to say the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Yeah great thanks.. so I was thinking, it’s getting warmer, right? I think we should put sandwiches on the menu, and not just boring old sandwiches.. like, like good ones,” his vocabulary is limited but you get what he means.

You ponder for a moment, staring into his wide, optimistic eyes. It was a good idea to be fair to him, you just weren’t sure if you had the time to conjure up a whole new sandwich menu on top of everything else on your plate.

“Okay, I actually think that’s a great idea,” you two were civil, not exactly the best buds but you think maybe now you could trust him. “If you can come up with some ideas and make them for me.. I’ll think about it.”

His grin is infectious as it spreads across his face, “I got you… what are you thinking? Something with chicken or..” fishing for ideas.

You throw your hands up, a shadow of a smile on your lips, “that is entirely up to you, okay?”

He nods knowingly, slowly backing away, eager to get started on his first individual project since your arrival.

“I’m trusting you with this!” you holler after him, getting back to the mess of a rota in front of you.

“Yes boss,” he calls back from somewhere in the kitchen, “I mean chef,” catching himself.

Your heart warms a little. Maybe your lectures hadn’t gone so unnoticed after all?

No matter how hard you stare at the screen, willing for something to magically appear, it doesn’t. The line marker blinking at you, taunting you, pleading with you to just write something. Anything!

There’s a quiet wrapping of knuckles against the door causing your head to fly up, finding a surprisingly clean Eddie standing in the doorway.

“Hi,” spinning your chair slightly, “shit, sorry I forgot to say you’re good to go, I’ll see you tomorrow,” flashing him a tight lipped smile.

“Oh no… most of ‘em have already gone,” vaguely motioning to the now empty kitchen, “uh… a few of us were gonna grab a drink and wondered if you’d wanna join us?” He resembles a shy child, fingers tapping along the battered door frame.

“Oh!” you must’ve sounded shocked as his eyebrows travel up his forehead in surprise, getting invited out by your crew had just.. never really happened before, “I’m sorry, I actually can’t tonight,” pointing at the blank word document, “the menu is due next week and I uh- I have nothing but you guys have fun,” shooing him off.

It was a Thursday night and you couldn’t think of anything worse than waking up tomorrow with a blinding hangover.

“You need help with that menu shit? I mean, my sandwiches are a hit so.. maybe I could help?” placing his jacket on the old cabinet in the corner, prepared to help no matter what you replied.

You’re not exactly in the position to say no to help at this point..

“I mean.. yeah, if you can think of six amazing, brilliant, showstopping new dishes then be my guest because I sure as shit can’t,” unintentionally coming off a little rude.

It’s just frustrating, the first big step you were taking for this restaurant and you were still somehow managing to fuck it up

“Okay, what’ve you got?” he peers over your shoulder at the blank screen, “ah, right,” he sucks his teeth, “not great.”

“No.. no it’s not,” slouching down the chair, “I’m completely fucked,” pushing the loose strands of hair from your forehead.

“You’re not completely fucked- not yet,” dragging the spare chair around to the other side of the desk, “I’m sure we can think of something tonight,” pulling the laptop closer to him.

You smile at him, grateful for his positivity even if it was fake.

The pair of you throw some shoddy ideas back and forth for a half hour. None of them good enough to make it to the word document, instead getting scribbled onto a ripped out page from your notebook.

“I am fucked, aren’t I?” you frown, rubbing your sleepy eyes.

He chuckles softly, “nah.. there’s some good stuff here,” running his finger down the messy list.

You feel completely vulnerable with him here, it might have been the lack of sleep or just the fact that you appreciated his presence so much but you foolishly begin to let your thoughts wander.

“I just feel like I’m fuu-,” immediately regretting opening your mouth, “no, you know what? Doesn’t matter,” you look at the clock on the wall signalling that it had gone well past midnight, “you should get going, it’s late,” pretending to scroll on the still-bare document.

“No, what were you gonna say?”

You keep your eyes on the screen, tapping your foot against the leg of the chair, “I said it doesn’t matter.”

“It obviously does,” he pushes, egging you on.

You take a sharp intake of breath to signal that you weren’t willing to go any further with this. Why couldn’t he just fucking drop it?

“Oh my God, you started this conversation and now you don’t wanna finish it,” frustrated that it had seemed like you were finally beginning to seem like you were somewhat human, he grabs his discarded jacket, rolling his eyes as he starts to exit the office.

“I’m scared I’m not doing a good job… you all obviously care about this place and I’ve just come in here and ruined it,” biting down onto your bottom lip, “and as much as you all pretend to like me, I know you don’t and- and that’s fine,” you shrug, exasperated with the weight of a thousand bricks hanging onto your shoulders, “I don’t care about being liked, I just want this restaurant to work but it feels like I can’t even do that,” slumping forward, confounded and slightly in shock that the first person you’d spilled all of this to was fucking Eddie.

“I do like you,” he says quietly, stopping in his tracks, throwing his jacket back down, “everyone does… you’re making this restaurant better,” rejoining you at the desk, “we’re all just stubborn and mean so no one’s told you but you’re doing good,” a reassuring smile overcoming his lips, his hand wavers, unsure of whether to reach out to touch your shoulder or if that was a step too far.

He flops back into the chair and you offer him a genuine smile for his words. It was really all you could muster without starting to cry. Coming into an already established restaurant with new ideas and ways of working was never easy but to be met with such pushback from him had made it even harder. So to now have him say in front of you, telling you that what you’re doing is right, well it meant the world.

“Thank you,” you mouth, blinking earnestly as you flip the laptop lid shut, it was too late and you were far too tired to even try to continue. “That really means a lot from you,” attempting to turn your vulnerability into a joke.

“I mean it, though,”scooting closer on the chair, “I just enjoy arguing with you too much to admit it.”

You roll your eyes playfully, that much was true, he definitely enjoyed getting under your hair and pissing you off as much as he could.

“We should go, it’s super late and I’ve got all day tomorrow to do this,” sliding the pen into the pot, feeling his eyes still boring into the side of your face.

You stand from your seat, expecting him to follow but he stays firmly planted in his chair. Hand reaching out to grab your wrist as you grab your bag. Jolting away as you’re not expecting the sudden contact.

He swallows, standing up before deciding whether to just fuck it or if this was about to get him fired. You’re blissfully unaware that this internal battle was even happening until his hand is on your cheek, tilting your chin upwards before closing the distance between your bodies, smashing his lips to yours.

Oh shit.

It takes a second for your brain to process what was happening but you don’t.. dislike it. He tastes like cigarettes and coffee, sliding his tongue into your parted mouth with a quickness.

Leaning into the kiss, your hands hesitantly coming to rest on his shoulders. You’re taken aback by how easy it feels, moving together just right. The small of your back crashes into the rigid desk, pulling you out of the kiss and back into reality. Staring back at his darkened eyes with a slight bemused expression.

“No.. not here,” squeezing his shoulder. His hand paused on your shirt button, getting ahead of himself. Maybe you had found yourself wanting to fuck Eddie but not here. You weren’t that stupid.

His hand falls, swinging to his side, “oh.. you didn’t- did I fuck up?” still mere inches from your face, so close in fact, you could feel his breath on your flushed cheek.

“No.. no, I just..” deciding to just bite the bullet and go for it, “do you wanna go back to my apartment? It’s not far,” blinded by the haze of lust that was filling the small room to the brim.

His eyes grow wide, realising exactly what you meant, buzzing with impatience and excitement. “Yes.. yeah I’d love to,” his plump lips still wet with the remnants of your mouth.

You nod, letting go of his shoulder to gather your things, and yourself, before pulling him out of the restaurant. Eddie is more than willing to leave his van in the parking lot, jumping into your car with an primal eagerness.

The car journey is quiet and you wonder if this maybe wasn’t the best idea. What would everyone at work say? Maybe they didn’t have to know? This could be a one time thing and you’ll both just never mention it again. Well, you hope anyway.

You think your head might just burst the second he walks into your apartment, somewhere you had never expected Eddie to ever appear.

You’re quick to continue the abandoned kiss, not giving him any opportunity to make wise cracks about your apartment. It somehow felt easier if it was just mindless sex where you didn’t speak.

Guiding him towards your bedroom because the couch felt just a tad too casual. His hands are everywhere, sneaking underneath your blouse and then back down into the waistband of your pants. You shove him backwards onto your bed, clambering on top quickly so as to not give him a chance to start speaking or to do anything stupid.

Eddie’s obviously not keen on giving you the higher ground, gripping onto your waist and flipping the both of you so that he led on top. He’s got this devilish grin on his face that is so smug, you just want to slap it off of him. You chase the taste of his mouth with yours, becoming accustomed to the mixture of cigarettes and mint. God, you hope this doesn’t become a regular thing.

He pulls away from you to gawp down the space between your bodies, mouth hung open, gasping for breath while his fingers skillfully unbutton your pants, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips, “woah… when the hell d’you get that?” staring at the black ink covering your thigh, a rose curling around the length of your flesh.

A dumb decision you’d made the first week of culinary school. You felt out of place alongside the other chefs who were absolutely covered in tattoos and felt the need to join them. Except, you hadn’t exactly thought about it and just went along with the first thing the dodgy artist had suggested. He’d also quite purposely left out just how much such a large piece would fucking hurt, especially for a first tattoo.

You join him in looking down at it, curling your lips in disgust, “when I was like… eighteen, it’s ugly and I hate it so thank you,” continuing your task of getting his jacket off, ignoring the fact that he was still ogling the inking and slightly starting to regret your decision to bring him here.

“It’s fucking sick, what are you talking about?” he’s smirking, running his fingers along the thick lining as your pants hang around your knees, “I thought you were like… boring,” finding the hem of your lacy underwear and tugging on it.

Your lips hover above his, eyes hooded as you glare at him, “can you just shut up before I regret everything and make you leave?”

He nods instantaneously, connecting your lips with a quickness, shaking his jacket off of his arm and onto the floor with a thud. Repositioning his knees to either side of your thighs, you’d done a good job of getting your shirt half-off, his fingers fiddling with the rest of the buttons as you break from his lips, leaving wet kisses along his stubbly jawline.

“Holy fuck, you’re joking?” his eyes just about popping out of his head as your pierced nipples spill out of your bra. Another spontaneous teenage decision you hadn’t got round to getting rid of yet.

His hand is immediately drawn to your exposed breast, full of pure glee, “you’re a dark horse, you know that right?” thumb running over the erect nipple as you fumble with his tattered old belt.

Your mouth opens to protest his ogling but is quickly replaced with a soft gasp, his thumb working miracles on the sensitive bud. Head falling back against the pillow when his lips replace his thumb, licking and sucking on your nipple with a wicked grin.

“Shit,” you moan, his growing erection rutting against your core, “can you- please hurry up,” it sounds strangled coming from your throat, embarrassed that you’ve completely melted into a pile of putty beneath him. If you’d have known that his mouth could be put to such good use, maybe you’d have tried this earlier.

Thankfully, he takes the hint, leaving one last kitten lick to your chest before rushing to get his pants down. Kicking them off to the side somewhere, the clunk of his belt buckle hitting your bed frame on the way down.

“Oh baby, that all for me?” remarking on your absolutely sodden underwear, hurriedly pulling them down your thighs, before using the same hand to position himself at your dripping entrance.

You’re too desperate to think of anything smart to say back, knowing that if you opened your mouth you’d probably just start begging.

His face mere inches from yours as he pushes himself inside, a groan from somewhere deep in his chest falls out, “Jesus Christ,” he stutters, willing himself not to cum right now. Sex is always better with someone you detested. Now why is that?

Your arms loosely knot around his neck, intertwining your fingers with his hair, trying your utmost to hold eye contact as his hips begin to move. Slow at first, reaching the hilt before pulling back and sliding in, it’s excruciatingly slow and your legs tighten around his waist, begging for more.

“Faster.. please Eddie,” whining as his pace quickens, eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah yeah.. yeah, say my name,” he blabbers, one hand sliding between your, thumb tapping against your swollen clit before rubbing tiny circles to the sensitive surface.

“Shit,” you breathe, feeling incredibly full as his tip nudges against that soft, spongy spot. Your eyes squeeze shut, illuminated with an illustration of stars and white hot light. Your heart wasn’t eager to just adhere to his demands like that but shit, when he sounded this desperate, you couldn’t help it.

Chanting his name like an oath in time with his thrusts. The filthy sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room, accompanying the strained groans coming from his throat. It was far too late and your neighbours could surely hear every single thing.

“Fuck,” he breathes and you can feel his hips stutter, “you gonna cum for me? Huh?” dropping his forehead to rest against yours.

Your thighs squeeze around his torso at the words, feeling yourself grow closer to your impending orgasm. His thumb still expertly rubbing your clit, slow but deep thrusts as he nears his own end. Your brain too hazy to think coherently about anything as you tighten around him, overcome with the blinding pleasure of your orgasm.

“Yesyesyes,” you garble, trembling as you come undone completely, back arching from the mattress which brings your bodies impossibly close. Tugging gently on his curls as a means of encouragement, not that he needed it.

“Ohhh fuck yeah.. shit,” unable to stop himself in time, spurting thick ropes of cum inside of you. You’re too fucked out to truly think about the implications yet, still gasping for air as he pumps his cock a few measly times before pulling out and sitting up on his knees.

His wild hair stuck to his moist forehead as he looms above, trying to catch his own breath between your knees. “I’m so sorry.. you’re not.. you can’t get pregnant, can you?” one hand coming to rest on your thigh.

Your eyes roll on their own, accelerating back to Earth at an insane pace, “no,” reshuffling so you laid comfortably on the pillow, “but you can’t do that again,” glaring up at him without any realisation as to what you just said.

“Again?” his brows raise, still poised between your legs, “there’s a next time?”

You huff, turning on your side, away from Eddie and his stupid doe eyes and that ridiculous smirk. Reaching down to grab a shirt from your bedside table while he chuckles to himself.

Ashamedly, your heart skips a beat when he slides in behind you, pressing his body into yours. You were losing it, and embarrassingly quickly too. Ah fuck.

A hand snaking around your waist pulls you from your sleep and for a brief moment you start to think someone had broken in and decided to crawl into bed with you. Until said hand creeps down to your hip and those lips you’d hung off last night press a small kiss to your shoulder.

“Morning,” you grumble, placing your hand atop of his to stop it creeping into the waistband of your shorts.

“Ah c’mon..” frowning against your back, “best way to start a long day.”

“I have to get ready for work, so do you actually,” keeping your head firmly on the pillow, there were no real intentions of getting up. Not yet.

“Hmm.. five minutes,” hand descending even with yours on top, his smirk evident, dripping through his words. You shudder as his hand reaches your cunt, leaning backwards into his chest, ever so slightly parting your legs.

“Five minutes,” you agree, fully acknowledging that you were slipping into dangerous territory here.

“Did you fuck Helen too?” you ask, not really wanting to know the answer but just having to know if you were right in your stereotyping.

Every kitchen had one. The one that seemed to make their way around everyone eventually. You were sure Eddie was that one and you were the last on his hit list.

“What? Helen was like fifty dude,” messing with the volume dial on the radio.

“So? Did you?”

He’s silent for a second, throwing his hands into the air, “it was one time,” raging that you’d caught him out on such a baseless accusation.

“I knew it,” nodding smugly to yourself, he most definitely has the aura of the kitchen bike and that was for sure.

“Yeah but… you’re like actually hot and I know what you’re thinking but no, I am not a slut… it was once and we were drunk and that was it, so you can shut up,” deciding to turn the stereo off, not a fan of your choice of Taylor Swift records.

“I’m like… actually hot?” mimicking his tone.

His eyes roll into the back of his head, of course that’d be the only part of the sentence you picked up on, “hon, you don’t notice me pop a boner everytime we argue?”

Your face screws up, unsure of whether to take it as a compliment or if you should be speaking to HR, “wasn’t generally looking in that direction if I’m honest,” swinging round into the car park, just past Eddie’s abandoned van, “thanks though… I think,” smiling at him as you gather your things.

“It was a compliment, by the way,” stepping out of your car, tapping the doors of his rusty old van before walking inside, going on and on about Peggy (his van) and how important she was to him.

You’re not entirely paying attention as you walk into the kitchen, startled by the presence of somebody already clattering about in there. Eddie follows closely behind, just as confused as you that anybody sane would be here this early.

“Hello?” you call out, rounding the corner to spot Marcus who had taken it upon himself to come in early to start prep, making a monumental mess of the counter.

“Oh yeah, hey… I wanted to start now ‘cause I need to leave early- you two came in together?” perplexed by the sight of Eddie peering over your shoulder, the batter covered wooden spoon pointed at the pair of you.

“Right… er- his van broke down last night and I said I’d give him a ride,” nodding at your obviously fabricated story, looking to Eddie for some back up.

He nods along happily, “I’m gonna take a look at ‘er later, fingers crossed or you’ll be givin’ me rides all week,” slinking away into the locker room with a sly smirk on his face, thankfully hidden by the shoddy wall as he winks.

“God forbid,” you quip back, scrunching up your nose as you leave the two of them and make your way to the office, throwing your bag onto the cluttered desk and collapsing onto the desk chair.

You had to get this damn menu done by Friday or you were completely, utterly fucked. Already three days behind on the schedule, you’d be lucky if you even made it home tonight. Flinging the discarded laptop lid open to be met with the very much blank menu once again. An email pings through that makes your heart jump. It must’ve gone unseen when you were otherwise occupied last night.

Hello,

I hope this email finds you well.

I just wanted to confirm that Joan will be in attendance on May 18th as per your invitation. She is looking forward to trying the new menu and will subsequently write a review expecting to be published on or around the 20th.

Thank you,

Imogen Smart, The Indianapolis Star

Oh shit oh fuck oh balls.

It had slipped your mind that you’d even invited her along to try the new menu. What a colossal mistake this would turn out to be.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You’re slouched over the desk, head in your hands when Eddie creeps through the open door, startling you when he speaks, “you good?” making his way to the desk, leering down to look at the screen as if it was any of his business.

“I really do not have time for you right now,” smoothing out your new-found forehead wrinkles. You never had time for his bullshit but you certainly did not have time for them now.

“Eh, what the fuck? I was inside of you like three hours ago and now you’re being weird again?”

“Shhh- shut up,” you whisper-shout, the chair rolling back as you stand rather ferociously, staring at the gap in the door and just praying that Marcus was too busy doing whatever the fuck he was doing to hear.

“Jesus… chill out,” his hands are on your shoulders, soothing your nerves irregardless of how much you cared to admit it.

You blink at him, cheeks burning, “I just- I have so much to do today, this critic is coming and I still haven’t finished the men-”

Your sentence is rudely interrupted with his soft lips pressing against yours, caressing your cheek with his rough hand. It’s automatic, but you’re leaning into it, finding yourself gripping onto his bicep as he nudges you back towards the desk. It’s probably a good thing that your tailbone smacks into the sharp edge, pushing him from you as you come back to planet Earth.

“Stop.. stop,” gently squeezing his arm, the other consoling your throbbing spine, “I need you out there today, okay? You’re gonna have to take charge, get shit done and do not bother me unless that kitchen is on fire or you’ve cut your arm off, okay?” lowering your head to meet his eyeline.

“My arm? That’s a bit extreme,” deciding to turn your high stress situation into a joke.

“Yes your arm, finger you can deal with, capiche?”

“Yes ma’am,” hand lingering on the small of your back, “you sure you’re good?”

You exhale slowly and perhaps a tad too harshly snap, “yes.. I’m okay, now unless you have a brand new menu for me.. get out,” sweetening the blow with a sickly smile, motioning for him to leave.

“Okay okay..” he begins walking to the door, “I’m in charge, right?” ever the opportunist.

“Yes, but do not make me regret it,” flashing him a warning look.

“Sweet,” winking at you as he slips out of the door, rubbing his hands together like the little demon he is. You roll your eyes but can’t deny the way your heart thuds with affection.

Whatever was blossoming had the potential to fuck up every single good thing you’d done for this place, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to at least see how far you could go before total chaos.

- p2

You had meant for it to be casual. Like a few times a month sorta thing. And yet somehow you’re sat with your head on Eddie’s shoulder, half asleep as the gory horror film he’d picked plays on.

It had started that way, to be fair. After a stressful day or on a quick lunch break you’d catch him and pull him into the office. It’s no surprise really that it didn’t take long for the rest of the kitchen to catch on.

But back to right now, you’re only supposed to be resting your eyes as you lean into his shoulder. He smelt like kitchen, cigarettes and the new cologne you’d bought for him as his old one was quite frankly disgusting and had irritated your nose. He jolts upright when the screen flashes, knocking you from his shoulder and rudely pulling you out of your slumber.

“You’re a prick,” you mumble, glowering in his direction before opting for the opposite side of the sofa, the side that wasn’t rude.

He snorts but quickly realises that you are very serious and very much not happy, “I’m sorry.. come sleep on me again,” pleading with you, “or d’you wanna go to bed?” clicking the pause button on the remote.

“I wanted to go to bed an hour ago,” grumbling into the cushion as he’d ignored your request and swore that you’d just love this new movie. You didn’t. It was fucking boring.

“Okay okay, let’s go to bed,” he shuts the television off before standing from the couch, towering over your curled up body, “I’m not fuckin’ carrying you,” already wise to your tricks.

You groan something incoherently, something deeply offensive to his entire bloodline, before pulling yourself from the couch. “You know, if we’d gone to bed when I’d asked, I would’ve let you put it in my ass,” shrugging innocently before leading the way to your bedroom.

“Wait what? You didn’t say- I didn’t know that was an option!” speed-walking to catch up with you, incredibly eager to figure out if this offer was still on the table.

It was not.

“Yup, shame really.. you should probably listen to me more,” clambering into the unmade bed with the tiniest smirk on your face.

He’s not far behind, leaping into your bed, “we can still do that though, right? It’s only..” glancing at your alarm clock, “..two” he doesn’t even sound sure of himself.

“Nope,” pulling the blanket over your shoulders, purposely choosing to face the other way, “you missed your chance buddy.”

Whoever had done the ordering (you) had royally fucked up and left tomatoes off of the list. So as a consequence of your stupidity, you were now in Bradley’s trying to balance ten packets of stupid fucking tomatoes in your arms.

You’re not even looking where you're going, too focused on not dropping the damn horrid red things as you skulk through the store. It’s already too late when you bash the elbow of some innocent bystander, knocking multiple packets to the ground.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you grumble, grabbing at the discarded fruits with your spare hand.

The kind gentleman had already started to try and balance them back in your arms. You look up to thank the stranger to be met with a face you hadn’t seen since high school.

“Steve Harrington? I- what the fuck?” you remark, clutching onto the produce so as to not cause another collapse.

“Holy shit, it’s you,” he’s utterly dumbfounded, staring back at your face in amazement.

You’re suddenly extremely aware of your dirty uniform and messy hair, eyeing his well pressed suit and just general put-togetherness. His hair still perfectly styled though just a bit shorter now.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you lived in Indiana anymore?” the last you’d heard of him, his father had sent him away to his office in New York, desperate for his son to have the life he never had.

“Ah.. well, I do now, bit of a long story,” chuckling awkwardly as he takes the majority of your tomatoes to the counter, lightening the load.

“Oh well, that’s cool..” you nod to the cashier who asks if you’d like a bag or multiple bags in your case, “I’d love to catch up but I’ve got a bit of a tomato crisis, uh..” digging in your pocket for the company card.

“Yeah definitely… here let me,” he grabs one of the jam packed bags under his arm, “I’m gonna assume these aren’t all for you?” leading the way to the parking lot.

“Oh no, I fucking hate tomatoes.. I messed up at work so it’s my job to fix it,” loading the bags into your dusty old car, “here, take my number and we can plan something.. it’s been so long,” grabbing for your phone in your apron.

“I uh- I actually have your number,” he nods, not bothering to get his own phone out.

“I’ve changed my number since high school, Steve.”

“No, yeah I know.. I got it from Robin, I was s’posed to call you when I got back..” rubbing his thumb along his forehead and into his hair, “I’ll give you a call later and we can do something,” smiling softly as he closes your back door.

“Oh, okay.. yes please call me, I- uh I really have to get back,” sliding into the driver's seat, fumbling with your keys, as you roll the window down to continue the conversation.

“I will, I hope your tomato crisis.. gets better,” shrugging awkwardly as you start the engine. Wincing at his choice of words.

“Me fucking too,” rolling your eyes as you pull off, not entirely registering what had just happened, focused on getting these stupid vegetables back to the restaurant.

It’s not until an unknown number flashes up on your screen that you think about it again. He’d left it until you were right in the middle of stuffing dinner down your throat to call of course.

“Hello?” you muffle into the phone, chewing on the lukewarm piece of chicken.

“Hey! It’s Steve.. you said to call so.. I called,” he sounds nervous, like he was calling a stranger and not you.

“Oh hey.. sorry I’m eating,” covering your mouth as you loudly swallow, “how are you?”

“Yeah I’m good, hope your crisis turned out okay,” laughing into the receiver.

“Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad.. thank you for your help, you saved me from squishing a ton of tomatoes.”

“Of course,” he clears his throat, “would you wanna grab a coffee or something tomorrow? I take it you’re busy with your.. tomatoes but I’m free pretty much whenever.”

“Yes.. yes erm-,” you set the phone onto loudspeaker and flit through the bookings for tomorrow, it wasn’t insanely busy and you were sure they would manage without you for an hour or so, “does ten sound good for you?”

“Ten is perfect,” you can hear his smile through the phone, “I’ll see you there then, enjoy your dinner,” still sounding as awkward as ever.

“Okay.. I’ll see you then, then,” making a mental note for tomorrow that you’d probably end up forgetting anyway.

You end the call, locking your phone and finally giving all your attention to the cold plate of food in front of you.

“Who was that?” Eddie appears out of nowhere, frowning as he walks into the office.

“Hmm? Oh, my friend Steve,” devouring the chicken without a second thought as to why he was even questioning it.

“Your friend? That you’re going for coffee with…?”

“Were you listening to my conversation?” blinking up at him.

“No.. I overheard you- don’t change the subject, you’re ditching work for a date?” he’s scowling, coming to perch on the desk.

“It’s not a date,” you warn, prodding the fork into his rib, “he’s a friend from school and we’re catching up while it’s quiet tomorrow, is that okay with you?” shaking your head, not that you were genuinely asking for his approval.

He narrows his eyes, “I suppose..” he takes the fork from your hand, helping himself to your dinner, “it’s just coffee?” asking tentatively as his greedy ass tucks in.

“Oh my God yes, it’s just coffee,” he was incredibly jealous for someone who was not your boyfriend.

“Okay okay.. sheesh, no need to get defensive.. date whoever you want,” shrugging as if he couldn’t care less.

“You’re the one getting jealous, not my fault you never ask me to go for coffee.”

“Because we spend every waking moment together anyway,” repetitively banging his heel into the desk, irritating you to no end. “But I’ll make sure to ask you to go for coffee from now on.. don’t want some loser taking my place.”

You huff, pulling the plate away from his greedy hands, “are you done?”

He shuffles backwards, still picking at your food despite your obvious attempts to get it away from him. “Okay okay.. I’m done.”

Eddie, in fact, does not drop it.

He’s still pouting when you climb into bed, sighing to himself like a pathetic old dog. Except now, he’d become desperate and slightly weird about it. Making all sorts of promises and hypothetical dates for you two to go on.

“Why don’t we go for coffee tomorrow? I’ll even pay,” walking his fingers along your side.

“Eddie please, can you stop? Who am I in bed with right now? Because it’s not Steve, I can tell you that,” exasperated by his incessant attempts to piss you off.

“Okay.. okayy,” retiring this tired bit for the night at long last, “you’re still taking me to work, right?” settling his hand on your waist, cuddling into your back.

“Yes, you bum,” switching the lamp off before setting your head on the pillow.

“I’m not a bum,” feeling him frown against your back, “it’s not my fault you refuse to get in my van.”

“It’s a death trap, I’d rather risk walking along the highway,” smiling into the darkness.

“Yeah whatever, good night,” he mumbles, pretending to be pissed off until you feel the tiniest, sweetest kiss to your shoulder.

You’re running late, as usual. Something about the bookings being fucked for tonight meaning you were either going to have a full restaurant or have absolutely no one show up.

It didn’t matter to you, not right now anyway because you’re jogging along the sidewalk to get to the dang café before Steve thinks you’ve abandoned him.

You’re huffing and puffing when you shove open the door, making a royal fool of yourself as anyone would believe you’ve just sprinted in a marathon to get here.

Steve jolts up the second he hears the door go, giving you a small wave from his table in the corner. It’s a relief that he hadn’t just up and left considering you were fifteen minutes late.

“I am so so sorry,” you say hurriedly, sliding into the other chair, “another crisis and obviously I’m the only one who’s capable of fixing things so..” you stop your rambling to look at him properly, “sorry- you don’t care, shit did you order?”

He chuckles nervously, “yeah.. I didn’t know what you wanted so I didn’t get you anything,” he stands up, “what d’ya get?”

“Uhh a cappuccino would be great.. thanks,” setting your bag down on the vacant chair beside you.

You chat about nothing and everything for a while until Steve turns the conversation back to high school. Now, you and Steve had a weird relationship during high school; hung around the same group, had a massive crush on the guy and was pretty certain that he at least liked you too. It had just never amounted to anything.

“I remember in school, you always used to cook shit for us.. it’s crazy that you’ve got your own restaurant now,” shaking his head in slight disbelief.

You’d bring tupperware full to the brim with whatever random shit you’d cooked up the night before. Forcing your friends to eat it and share their opinions no matter how harsh they could be.

“It’s not really my restaurant,” sipping the cappuccino he’d kindly bought, “I just run it and make sure it doesn’t burn down or go bankrupt,” laughing to yourself.

“So it’s technically yours..” fingers fiddling around with the empty sugar packet, “I’ll have to come by sometime, I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

“I mean, I could probably get you in tomorrow.. if you wanted?”

“Well yeah, that sounds great,” smiling earnestly across the table.

“Great! I’ll text you the details later but you should definitely bring your wife, I’d love to meet her,” you vaguely remember seeing the extravagant wedding pictures on Facebook a few years back.

You hadn’t paid much attention as to who he’d married just recalled noticing the absolutely gargantuan manor house in the back and how stunning her dress was.

His smile fades and his mouth opens to speak but doesn’t manage to squeeze anything out. You get the feeling that that might have been the wrong thing to say. Immediately wanting to slide down your seat and hide under the table.

Steve takes it well though, laughing softly, “Ah.. not anymore but uh- thank you for bringing that back up,” playfully shaking his head.

“Oh no, oh my God.. I’m sorry,” grimacing because of your big fat mouth, “I thought I’d seen it on Facebook but maybe that wasn’t you.. oh fuck.”

“No.. it probably was me, we just- yeah not anymore,” wiggling his empty hand in your direction, only just now are you noticing the lack of a ring.

“I’m sorry,” smiling apologetically, “I’ve gotta ask though.. what happened?”

He sits back in his chair, preparing for the absolute novel of a story he was about to tell, “well, my dad moved me to New York, wanted me to learn how to be a man or whatever,” waving his arms about, “and I met the love of my life- I thought I met the love of my life.. we got married and it was great for a little while but she..” he inhales, recalling the still bitter memories, “..obviously didn’t feel the same way,” you’re sat eager eyed, waiting for the real gossip, “she was fucking her boss.. whole time.”

“Shittt…” baring your teeth in a pained expression, “that’s awful Steve, I’m so sorry,” gingerly patting his outstretched arm, “what a bitch.”

He nods along, “yeah she is,” his fingers drum a rhythm into the table, “that’s why I’m back here… I’m sick of New York.”

“God,” guilt rising into your chest for being the one to bring that back up, “at least you’re home now, right? Must be nice seeing everyone again,” your eyes flitting to your phone that had lit up for the umpteenth time.

eds:) : when r u coming back??

eds:) : helloooo?

eds:) : stop fucking ur boyfriend and come back 2 work

eds:) : i’m being serious now we need u

Steve follows your gaze to your phone screen, realising that you’d been sitting here for a while now and he’d just pulled you from your work to talk about his messy divorce. “Work?”

You look back at him, “yeah.. I’m gonna have to run, but I’ll get you a table for tomorrow,” pushing your chair back, grabbing for your bag, “bring whoever.. I’ll text you the details!” offering him a small smile as you rush out of the busy cafe not bothering to wait for his reply.

Eddie is just as irritating as expected when you get back, hanging off of your arm the second you walk in the door.

“So, you just had coffee? You were gone a long time, man,” an attempt to play off his jealousy, though it was hardly working.

“Don’t call me man, and yep, just coffee. Like I’ve said a hundred times before,” hanging up your bag and tying the apron around your waist.

“Right.. he wasn’t tryna do anything though, was he? ‘Cause I can tell him straight if you need me to,” hanging around your ankles like a lost puppy dog.

“He’s in the middle of a divorce. I don’t think you need to do anything, big boy,” gently patting his arm.

“Ohh so that’s why he’s back and trying to fuck you now.. I get his game.”

You turn to face him, sandwiched between his body and the rusty lockers, “will you just relax? Please,” running your hands down his chest.

Eddie frowns slightly, but nods, “he’s got nothin’ on me anyway..” a silhouette of a smirk forming on his face, “you know who’s givin’ it to ya good,” planting his lips on yours before you get the chance to express your utter disgust.

You’re smiling when he pulls back but push him away from you regardless, “do not ever say that shit to me again,” tightening the straps around your waist, walking away from the freak and into whatever hell awaits you in the kitchen.

It’s not very surprising that Steve comes in alone, your heart aches a little seeing him sat at the table on his own.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is watching your face with a foul scowl on his. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you announce that you’re going to see how he is, practically snarling at the thought.

He knows the dish in front of him is Steve’s order, he’d audibly criticised the fact that Steve had removed the mushrooms from his food, is he a fucking toddler or something?

His eyes dart around the room, pursing his lips as he prepares to maybe just let the glob of spit fall out of his mouth and accidentally into Steve’s childish dinner.

“Don’t,” Tina’s hand clamps over his mouth, stopping his despicable plans in motion.

“I wasn’t actually gonna do it,” he protests, glowering at his co-worker. He definitely was going to do it and she knew it.

“Leave him alone,” flashing him that universally understood look that tells him not to even dare, “can you blame her, though? Meow,” grinning as her eyes flicker to you and Steve through the tiny window.

Eddie kisses the back of his teeth, whipping the dish towel at her, “ha ha very funny,” she’s desperate to rile him up as much as possible, taunting him with her mean quips.

His eyes slide to the window, met with the image of you absolutely cracking up at something Steve had said. It was the kinda laugh he loved to force out of you, usually late at night when you were overly tired and a little hazy. Unheard by most people. It was a slight comfort to know that Steve definitely wasn’t that funny, he could almost bank on it.

It’s like torture watching the pair of you interact for what feels like forever. Pulling his eyes away, deciding to go for a cigarette instead of putting himself through any more of that.

The air outside is still, it’s getting colder again but it seemed like Indiana was still hanging onto the dregs of summer; the sky illuminated with streaks of pink and orange. Maybe that’s what he was doing? Desperately clawing to keep your thing alive all the while you were trying to wriggle out of it.

He’s harshly pulled out of his self-pitying cloud, “Eddie?” you call out of the door, bounding over to where he was slouched against the brick wall, “thank you for doing that.. he said it’s great,” your toothy grin making an appearance.

Eddie grunts something in response, trying desperately not to think of you smiling at Steve like that.

“What? You okay? Why’re you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” he shrugs, lying through his teeth. He couldn’t help it, his heart twisting and contorting with every mention of that prick's name.

“Yes you are,” sighing softly, “you’re actually jealous? I thought you were just joking,” stepping toward him as he throws the cigarette to the floor.

His eyes eventually find yours, “I’m not.. jealous,” curling his finger into the bow of your apron strap, using it to pull you in, “I don’t get jealous,” another blatant lie.

“Mhm is that right?” you giggle, his behaviour over the past few days had proven that statement to be false. Wrapping your arms around his waist as your cheek begins to rest on his chest.

Desperately trying to convince himself that this is a sign. That if you’d really wanted to, you’d be in there, doing this with Steve. But you’re not. You’re here. You’re clinging onto him and everything is fine.

The door handle at the front of the store rattles a couple times before whoever is behind it gives up and knocks, you all look at each other slightly confused before Eddie takes the plunge and goes to answer. You’re standing behind the counter with a guarded expression, not prepared for whatever crazy was trying to get in at stupid o’clock in the morning.

Steve is standing behind the open door with an apologetic smile, holding up a takeaway cup obviously bought for you. Eddie is less than thrilled, skulking back into the kitchen with the most horrendous scowl plastered on his face.

“I’m sorry.. I should’ve text first,” kicking the door shut behind him, offering out the warm cup for you to take.

You breathe a sigh of relief, “yeah.. that would’ve been a good idea, thank you though,” gladly taking his offering.

“I just wanted to say thank you for last night, I didn’t catch you before I left so thought I’d stop by,” sipping on his own coffee, poised in the middle of the restaurant floor.

Eddie’s stood leaning against the wall that separates the kitchen from the front of house, arms crossed against his chest. Disapproving glare set solidly on Steve.

“Yeah absolutely, I’m glad you liked it,” smiling fondly at the man, sipping appreciatively on your cappuccino.

“I uh- I have a question for you,” his eyes flit to Eddie who was still stood with his eyes narrowed, scowling, “in private.. if that’s alright?”

You spin to look at Eddie, nodding towards the back, “I’ll meet you in my office in a minute,” shooing him off, “please.”

He snarls back at you, looking back over his shoulder to shoot daggers into Steve before eventually disappearing into the kitchen. For someone acting so jealous, you’d think you’d have been in a committed relationship for years.

Rolling your eyes as you trundle closer to Steve, “ignore him.”

“He a handful?”

“Mm and a mouthful sometimes,” perching on one of the tables, totally oblivious to your innuendo.

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, blinking ferociously as you finally catch on.

“Oh no- I just meant he’s like.. rude,” stumbling over your words, cheeks beginning to burn.

“I know what you meant,” Steve assures, though he looked a little flustered himself.

Your eyes squeeze shut, “just continue,” rolling your hand, desperate for him to forget you’d opened your mouth.

He clears his throat, “so I was talking to my buddy.. he owns Garson’s in the city and he was saying there’s a spot opening for a sous,” glancing at you, “I just mentioned your name and I’ll give you his number but he said he’d love to meet you,” his mouth twitching into a smile.

Well, that was not at all what you were expecting.

In fact, it was a massive curveball ball that you’d not rehearsed a response to.

Garson’s was insane, they’d just earned their first star and everybody who was anybody was trying to get a reservation. It would be career defining to even stage there.

“Oh wow… Steve I actually don’t know how to reply to that,” placing your coffee onto the table in fear of dropping it on the floor.

“Well obviously think about it, I’ll text you his details later, he seemed pretty eager to get someone in so.. don’t take too long,” drumming his fingers onto the table.

“Yeah.. right, holy shit,” you remark, trying to take it all in. It’s unclear what to even say to him in this situation, thank you seemed too small but slathering his face in kisses was probably a step too far.

“I gotta go, let me know what you decide,” his smile honest and genuine as he grabs his coffee and heads to the door.

Just before he slips out, you jump back into action, “thank you!” beaming with pure unadulterated joy.

He nods, disappearing into the street as the door slams shut behind him.

You can barely contain yourself, practically skipping through the kitchen to go and find Eddie who you were absolutely certain was not going to share the same level of excitement you possessed.

“What’s got you so happy? He ask you out on a real date finally?” turning up his nose without you saying a word.

“Noo..” you chime in, still riding the high, kicking the door shut behind you, traipsing over to rest your hands on Eddie’s shoulders, “so.. Steve said there’s a position going in Garson’s and it’s basically mine if I want it..” struggling to contain your grin.

His hands falter, brushing down your sides to now hang limp beside him, “what?” Unsure if what he had heard had been correct.

“There’s a job at Garson’s and it’s basically mine.. isn’t that great?” grabbing at the back of his neck. You were expecting a little more happiness than this, you can’t lie.

He looks almost offended. Features screwed up in pure confusion, as if you’d insulted his mother. “So you’re leaving? Some fancy job pops up from your fancy pants boyfriend and you’re suddenly abandoning us?”

“Wha- no? I’m not abandoning anybody,” removing your arms from his shoulder, “this is an opportunity to actually do something with my career, show everyone what I’m capable of,” you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just pretend to be happy for you.

He stands up, the chair making a god-awful noise behind him, “so you get to come in here, change everything and then jump ship as soon as something better comes along?” eyes that once looked at you with pure adoration now full of disgust.

You’re gobsmacked. Utterly speechless that he was acting like such a petulant jerk. You hadn’t seen this side of him since that night so many months ago in this very office.

“Eddie, what has got into you? This is good news! You didn’t expect me to stay here forever, did you?”

“I don’t know,” exasperated, “I just didn’t expect you to run to the next best thing so soon,” he looks venomous, mean.

“I’m not! He’s my friend and he’s helping me out.. why are you being like this?” he may as well have torn your heart from your chest and stomped on it in front of you.

Eddie scoffs, running a hand over his mouth, “your friend… who you haven’t spoken to in years suddenly has this great new job for you and has absolutely no ulterior motive? Ha, right.”

It finally clicks in your brain, he doesn’t really give a shit whether you stay or go. This was about hating Steve and being a jealous loser despite still not asking you to be his girlfriend.

“That’s what this is about? You think Steve.. what? That he wants to fuck me? You’re pathetic, do you know that?”

“It’s not about that,” raising his voice, chest puffed out. This was the Eddie you’d met and hated six months ago. You were sure you’d never have to deal with that prick again. “I don’t.. I don’t care what or who you do, I just think you’re a traitor and I don’t want anything to do with someone like that.”

Your face falls, blinking rapidly as the tears prick in your eyes. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat. He could be an evil prick when he wanted to be and before, it never would’ve upset you this much. But now it felt personal, like you’d let him in only for him to use everything you’d told him against you.

“Get out,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction at least, waiting until the door is slammed in your face to let them fall.

Humiliated and utterly pathetic as you flop into the chair, letting the tears fall free.

If he was trying to convince you to stay, then he’d failed. Majorly.

You’re hidden in the office for the remainder of the day. Courtesy of Eddie’s horrible words.

And he’s just a ray of sunshine in the kitchen. Clattering about as he drops pans, recklessly launching knives and utensils onto the counter.

Marcus has had enough of his tantrum, tapping on his shoulder, “let’s get some fresh air, yeah?” steering Eddie towards the back alley.

He slides down the brick wall, cigarette poised between his lips while Marcus mouths something to the rest of the beady eyed staff.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Marcus asks, he’s genuine but stern. Has talked the boy down a multitude of times but this seemed different.

“She’s fucking leaving..” blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth, “some stuck up restaurant that dickhead Steve got her into.. that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Marcus’ mouth opens but doesn’t speak, deciding to get down to Eddie’s level, perching next to him on the floor, “and why’s that made you so angry? She break up with you as well or somethin’?” struggling to understand why he cares so much.

“No,” Eddie glowers at the floor, “you can’t break up if you’re not together. I’m just.. I’m pissed off, she came in here.. changed everything and now she gets to just move on like it’s nothing.”

Poor Marcus is trying to piece it all together in his head. Settling on the only sensible conclusion that maybe whatever was going on between you and him was perhaps a hell of a lot deeper than either of you were admitting.

“So.. you’re pissed that she made this shithole better? You sure that’s it?” questioning the validity of Eddie’s anger.

“What’re you tryna say?” Eddie snaps, gritting his teeth together. How dare Marcus not believe his incredibly flimsy words?

“That you’re not really angry ‘cause she’s moving on, you’re pissed because of this new guy and you think he’s.. he’s gonna take your spot or something? I can see right through you bro,” clapping his hand emphatically on Eddie’s shoulder, having caught him red handed.

Eddie glares at the man, snarling but unable to respond. Because he was right. Eddie is a pathetic, insecure loser who can’t bring himself to just admit to you that he was jealous of Steve. It was easier for him to just make you hate him than to be honest with you about how he felt, at least that way you didn’t have the opportunity to shut him down. You couldn’t reject him if you didn’t know.

“You’re gonna fuck this up forever if you keep acting like this,” Marcus sighs, getting up from the floor, “get in there and apologise or you’ll just push her right into his arms and I really don’t wanna deal with you if that happens,” flashing him a stern but well-meaning glare before disappearing back into the kitchen.

His eyes squeeze shut, and as much as he didn’t want to hear that, he knew he was right. Self-sabotage had always been his forte except this time he was truly terrified of the possibility of losing you. And he wasn’t going to let that happen.

There’s a quiet knock on your office door and you’re just about prepared to bite the head off of whoever dares to disturb you.

“Come in,” you bark, dropping the pen onto the desk in frustration.

A very meek Eddie peeks around the door, testing the waters to decide if it’s safe to fully come in without you throwing something at him.

Nothing collides with his head so he pushes the door open, holding onto a plate of pasta he’d made especially for you. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, still deciding on the right words to say.

“You haven’t eaten all day..” he decides on, gingerly placing the plate in front of you on the desk, “you don’t have to eat it but don’t throw it away,” stepping back from the desk with extreme caution.

You’re taken aback, not at all expecting the kind gesture, blinking at the delicious food in front of you. “Can I have a fork..?”

“Shit yes I got one,” digging in his apron pocket for the utensil, laying it down next to the plate gently.

“Thank you,” you nod, poking your fork into the food. It is delicious and it was still warm which is an even better bonus.

He smiles slightly, “I wanted to say.. I’m sorry for being an asshole, you should..” trailing off into silence, swallowing the lump in his throat, “you should go for it, it’s a great opportunity,” reassuring himself even if he didn’t quite believe it.

You chew slowly, apprehensive about his sudden change in attitude. This surely hadn’t been a conclusion he’d reached on his own and you wonder just who in the kitchen had given him a pep talk before sending him in here. You appreciated it nonetheless. As weird and complicated as you guys were, you weren’t quite ready to give it up already.

“Really?” you look up, trying to gauge his reaction. It was evident that he was putting on a brave front and he still had some apprehensions about it all but for you he was willing to ignore them.

Your heart swells. Which makes you feel a little sick. In a good way though, well, you think so anyway.

“Yeah.. you’re a great chef and you deserve better than this shithole,” one side of his mouth twisting into a smile. The words are heavy and difficult to get out, but they’re true. He means it and would really do anything to ensure you were happy. Even if it did mean swallowing his pride and letting you follow that douchebag Steve.

You stand from your chair, rushing over to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you..” resting your chin on his shoulder. His arms wrap around your waist, placing a soft kiss upon your forehead.

He was going to miss these little moments the most, he thinks. Shaking his head slightly when his mind flits to the thought of you in some other kitchen doing this with someone other than him.

“You want some food? Don’t wanna eat this whole thing myself,” pulling away from his grip, motioning back towards your desk.

“Thought you’d never ask,” masking the ache in his heart with a sloppy grin.

If his uncle had taught him anything, it was that you had to make sacrifices for the people you loved. Or thought you loved. Whatever.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to show his stupid little face again and it irks Eddie to know that you were probably texting with him this entire time. Getting excited about this new position with another man. Blergh. It was knocking him sick.

You look over Steve’s shoulder to give Eddie a small glance, smiling ever so tenderly as you disappear into your office. That should be enough confirmation that he truly had nothing to worry about. It was just a job. Oh God, what if you find someone else to bicker with? Look what had happened to you two.

That sicky feeling returns and he wants to bolt. But he doesn’t, he’s big and brave and instead chooses to focus on finely dicing some onions until you reemerge from your office. Whenever the fuck that would be.

It must be a whole half an hour before Steve walks through the kitchen, giving Eddie a sly pat on the back on the way out. Smug prick. He just grips the knife tighter, waiting for you to confirm that you’d be gone next week and that he should really start moving on before you left.

“Ed’s can I talk to you outside?” your voice snaps him out of his pity party, giving the rest of the crew what looked like a sympathetic smile, you’d tell all of them the bad news later.

He knew this was it. You were about to lay it all bare, tell him it’s okay, maybe we can still be friends? I hope you understand but I have to go and work at this fancy restaurant with my fancy high school boyfriend, sorry!

Reluctantly walking into the alley way, the alley way you’d shared many sneaky kisses, reassuring words and that one time you’d got carried away and almost gave him a hand job right then and there. It was painful, the once comforting aura of the brick walls had since vanished.

He’s already bracing for the worst, keeping his back to you as he walks further down the path. It’s the only way he could be sure that he wouldn’t end up begging on his knees for you to stay. And even then he couldn’t guarantee that wouldn’t happen.

“Will you look at me?” your voice echoing through his veins.

He does, turning on his heel excruciatingly slow. Bottom lip starting to sting as his teeth cut into the skin.

“When are you going?” solemn and miserable, honestly trying his hardest not to start pleading with you.

“Never,” shaking your head, “I’m staying here,” feeling incredibly smug. You looked it too, nose scrunched up as you grin at him.

Fuck. He’s not even sure if he’s heard that right. But the blood rushes back through his body and he almost crumbles, falling to his knees to thank whichever being up there had answered his prayers. The glum look he’d seemed to possess had vanished, grinning like a fucking maniac as he bounds over to you. One minute you’re on the floor and the next you’re being spun around, his arms almost crushing you.

“What? Why’d you change your mind? I- fuck I’m so happy,” setting you back on solid ground, much to your relief.

“Well, the thing is.. there’s this guy who works here, he’s a bit of an asshole but for some reason I really like him and he’s convinced me to stay,” fingers digging into his biceps, still afraid that you might become airborne at any moment.

There’s not time to catch your breath before he’s crashing his lips into yours with great force, sending you flying backwards against the wall. His hands grabbing at anything he could touch, travelling the length of your body to brace your cheeks. Keeping you steady, making sure this was actually real. Christ, he thinks he loves you.

Scrap that, he’s fucking certain that he loves you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic

218 notes · View notes

charlesandmartine · 2 years ago

Text

Wednesday 8th March 2023

Rockhampton is a friendly place of almost 80,000 which makes it the 22nd largest city in Australia. Many of its inhabitants are either graziers or in the supply or support of the cattle industry. Others use Rocky as a dormitory town working in the mining industry in Blackwater. Well that's the statistics. It has an airport and it has botanical gardens with a zoo. So within easy walking distance that is where we went. It is literally around two corners from where we're staying but the look of incredulity on the face of the lady in the tourist information kiosk at the zoo that we walked you might think it was two counties away. We are both of the same mindset that zoos ought not be necessary, but we hurried to catch the start of the talk on crocodiles. It really revolved around one particular specimen, the Colonel a salty type. He was about 40-50 years of age, measures in at 4.3m and weighs 450-500 kg. You can understand why this might not be a precise figure because he is happy where he is, enticing onto the Boots weighing scales could be tricky. Remarkably the Colonel started life in the wild, but was upsetting the eco system of the Northern Queensland farm stocks so they caught him and shipped him off to the Karoona Crocodile Farm with an idea he might be useful stock for breeding. Sadly he had two girlfriends both of which he ate. This did nothing for his CV on the dating site so it was thought a more solitary life was more suitable. Which is how he ended up in Rockhampton Zoo. He is an opportunistic killing/ eating machine of immense capability and agility in the water despite mournfully looking at the keeper in the corner of his pool hoping for a titbit or two. Or even a small child perhaps.

Dingos, cassowaries, wedge tailed eagle, kangaroos, Emus were on offer as well. The croc man also told us about the Dingo or as the farmers lobby like to refer to as Wild Dog which gives it a bit of a reputation. Supporters of the Dingo say he is maligned and should be seen as part of the eco system. Arial shots of the Dingo fence say the land is greener on the Dingo side where they will attack kangaroos and other plant/ grass eaters thus allowing vegetation to thrive more.

The botanical gardens were beautiful and despite a cyclone coming through a couple of years ago and removing some 50% of trees the remaining grounds were neat and rich in wildlife. The lilly lakes were teaming with turtles and birds.

We returned to the apartment and then all hands to the pumps as we started to pack. Two cases needed to go to the railway station in readiness for the trip tomorrow to Brisbane. Then dash back filling the Nissan with petrol and taking it back to Mr Avis at Rockhampton Airport. We are now pedestrians again after 4 weeks.

It will be a very early start in the morning. The tilt train leaves at 7.10am!

Another BBQ tonight washed down with SB. We shall sleep well.

ps Rather alarming signs saying snakes spotted. Is this a disclaimer? Second most deadly snake has been spotted among others.....

2 notes · View notes

angelofdiamond · 1 year ago

Text

So first of all I don't find it fair to go against Viziepop because she and her team are trying hard in creating shows that people like and secondly you absolutely cannot compare Stolas with Chris they are totally different! The former is more suitable for an adult audience and is sexually obsessed, although sometimes he has tender moments that I love, and the latter is literally neglected by his parents, his grandfather is being hypocritical and only considers him when Sonic and his friends appear, does he have servants? Yes but he's never given any sign that he doesn't appreciate them and for the friends talk, they're friends he's bonding now wasn't it already a close bond in short because of his status Chris has been kind of excluded. If you don't like the show of Vices that's one thing but to make a comparison with two characters that have nothing to do with each other by writing a post with the hashtag: " anti-Vices" then it's another sleeve because it's no longer a post but a further incitement to hate. And for the issue of Chris's parents, these two individuals are hypocrites(although they did some good things but they are still hypocrites) because if you really regret that you are not spending more time with your son and you have a lot of decision-making power, just do it don't wait until your son feels sick and then say, " if I want to see my son how he is nothing can stop me from jumping on a jet and coming" however for the beauty of 13 years you never did and caused him such pain despite everything the character never showed signs of ingratitude or selfishness or do being spoiled

Stolas Is Like Chris Thorndyke, Privilege Creator Pets Which The Narrative Tries So Hard To Feel Sorry For

Seriously, Stolas is practically like the Chris Thorndyke of the series where he's a character who is given tons of focus due to their relationship to the main character, the narrative tries so damn hard to make us feel sorry for him but end up not caring due to how forced it is, and he's always shoved in places where he doesn't have to be.

Chris and Stolas are supposed to be the woobie due to be lonely rich people. The former because his parents arent around that much and Stolas because of his bad marriage to his wife and he was distant from his father. The problem with Chris is he had tons of people like his school mates, servants, and even freaking grandpa to make keep him company which makes him having distant parents seem just forced sympathy. The same thing with Stolas because his forced marriage and one dimensionally evil wife is just there to justify him cheating on his spouse, while also making treat his supposed love interest like a toy.

And again the focus, Chris is shoved everywhere that he takes up scenes originally made for other characters like Tails and Amy. The same thing with Stolas who practically has more episodes than fucking Millie does who is only shown as being Moxxie's wife and nothing else. They are basically the Poochies of the series.

And at the heart of it, they come off as immature brats who are overly obsessive over their supposed friend/love interest. Seriously, Chris risked the world being destroyed just because he wanted Sonic to say which made many people turn against him. The same thing with Stolas where people instead of thinking his so-called love for Blitzo is admirable think he's putting everything (including his daughter) for some imp he played with as a child. Their obsessions instead of enduring make them look like pathetic wimps who can't realize what is truly important in life or the situation.

#helluva boss #sonic #sonic x #chris thorndyke

48 notes · View notes

xechowritesx · 2 years ago

Text

made for lovin' you || e.m.

summary → after years of silently pining for your best friend, you finally accept a date at your favorite dive bar. but things never go as planned, do they? alternatively, jealous eddie, too many whiskey shots, and a friendship shattering, almost confession that leads to some delicious smut.

word count → 5.9K (yeah, yeah, i'm a wordy bitch, idk what to tell y'all).

warnings → insufferable pining (a real idiots to lovers), cursing, fucking in the back of eddie's van, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, please!), squirting, daddy kink.

extras → don't really have an excuse of this other than i'm entirely whipped by this man. as always, please give me some feedback! comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated and the askbox is open for requests!

“i literally have nothing to wear.” you protest, for what feels like the hundredth time, sighing heavily with disappointment.

still, you continue shuffling through your rather small selection of clothing, grimacing at the apparent lack of options whilst hoping something suitable will magically manifest itself.

“then don’t go.” eddie immediately suggests, half-chuckling. you brush his comment off with a roll of your eyes, trying instead to focus on putting together a semi-decent outfit.

to say that eddie had been uncharacteristically awkward lately was, in fact, the understatement of the century. the shift in his behavior had began shortly after you agreed to go on a date with none other that jason carver’s right hand man, andy.

from the moment you’d accepted the invitation, eddie had come up with an impressive amount of reasons as to why you had to cancel - it was dumb to start a relationship with graduation just around the corner, andy would undoubtedly try to take advantage of you, and maybe this was all just a mean prank concocted by jason and the entirety of the basketball team.

in turn, you’d done a pretty decent job refuting each and every one of his incessant pleas to bail, somehow managing to produce reasonable, well-thought out rebuttals. but a small fraction of your mind couldn’t help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive behind eddie’s seemingly legitimate concerns.

could it be that eddie was jealous? that the thought of you with another man frustrated him? just as quickly as you had begun to contemplate the idea, you shoved the thoughts to the back of your mind, rationalizing that he was simply being an overprotective best friend. besides, now was certainly not the time to contemplate your rather confusing relationship with eddie.

“oh my god!” you gasped excitedly, a face-splitting grin forming on your lips. you'd finally found your long-lost, favorite pair of leopard pants tossed just behind your laundry hamper.

“what happened?” eddie queried at your sudden excitement.

“i know what i’m gonna wear!” you giggled, collecting a few additional items from your closet. “i’ll be right back!” you added, hurriedly exiting your bedroom.

the trailer you shared with your mother was similar to eddie's and, arguably, far too small for the pair of you. the bathroom, of course, was no different. you shuffled into it sideways, leaning back to shut the door and making quick work of removing your clothes in the cramped space. as you shrugged out of the oversized metallica shirt that hung from your shoulders, you silently wondered where you’d acquired it from, though you were almost certain you’d stolen it from eddie the last time you'd helped him with his laundry.

you quickly slipped into your pants, before tugging on one of your all time favorite belts. you proceeded to squeeze into the only push-up bra you owned and slid into a cropped, black tank top. you took a moment, then, to touch up your makeup - you reapplied some powder, refreshed your black liner, and swiped on mascara. you ultimately decided on a deep, crimson red lipstick, applying it carefully onto your lips. satisfied with your appearance, you head back to your bedroom.

“well, what do ya think?” you ask, hands fidgeting behind your back.

eddie sits at the very edge of your unmade bed, leaning forward and resting his head between his hands. at the sound of your voice, he perks up and takes a moment to inspect your outfit.

his big, doe eyes somehow look larger than ever as he takes in your appearance, slowly raking over every curve and indent of your body. he notes that you’ve opted for an outfit that accentuates your curves, a noticeable shift from your usual repertoire of oversized band tees and hoodies.

you're clad a cropped, black AC/DC tank top that displays a considerable amount of cleavage and skin tight leopard pants that hug your hips and ass firmly. the ornate chain belt you’ve chosen draws attention to your snatched waist as well as your exposed midriff. eddie swallows thickly before meeting your eyes once again.

“you tryin’ to get laid tonight?” the question falls from his lips teasingly, as he effortlessly shifts back to his usual, flirty persona. “cuz you look good enough to eat.” he adds with a mischievous smirk.

“yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants, munson.” you joke in response, actively choosing to ignore the butterflies that have formed in the pit of your stomach.

you watch as eddie pushes up onto his feet, easily towering over you as he closes the distance between you, substantially. you look up at him, swallowing back the faint desire to kiss him, silently wondering why you had agreed to this stupid date in the first place.

“i'm gonna give you a ride,” he doesn’t give you the opportunity to decline, “there’s no way i'm letting you get in a cab lookin’ this good.” he adds.

your relationship with eddie was confusing and nearly impossible to describe, especially in moments like these - caught somewhere between friendly teasing and aggressive flirting. in fact, it'd been this way for as long as you could remember. you definitely weren't dating nor were you lovers, but calling him just a friend felt utterly and completely insufficient.

neither of you ever really acknowledged or discussed the odd dynamic you shared, choosing instead to remain in an uncomfortable in-between; a perpetual game of "will they, won't they" that drove everyone that had the misfortune of being around you absolutely insane.

and, to be perfectly frank, that’s likely why you had accepted such a random date invitation. you were tired, exhausted even, of pining after eddie, year after year, to no avail. graduation was indeed just around the corner, and after giving eddie what felt like plenty of opportunities to make a move, you’d grown incredibly frustrated. you were convinced he did not reciprocate your feelings and that it was finally time to move on.

“whatever you say...” you wink, turning on your heel and heading toward the front door.

eddie watches as you shuffle through the living room, shrugging into a cropped leather jacket he’s sure belongs to your mother. he’s entirely mesmerized by the sway of your hips, inhaling sharply as you bend at the waist to slip into a pair of black platform boots. the position gives him a fantastic view of your ass, one that will no doubt remain etched in his memory for the weeks come. he coughs to shove down the heat that rises up his neck, cramming his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep himself from reaching for you.

“ready?” you smile, looking back to find eddie already looking at you.

there’s an expression strewn across his features that you can’t quite decipher.

“uh, yeah, let’s go.”

the walk to eddie's trailer takes less than a minute, his beat-up van parked crookedly as always. you smile, happy not only to save yourself a cab fare but also to spend a little extra time with eddie. no doubt, his familiar and comforting presence will work to steady your ever increasing nerves.

you both slide into the van with practiced familiarity, a pleasant silence forming between you. as eddie pulls out of the trailer park, you’re already skimming through the expansive music selection nestled in the glove compartment. you easily find the mixtape you’re searching for, one you’d made for him on his birthday a few months ago, handing it over with a pretty please. though eddie’s eyes remain trained on the road ahead, he obliges, taking the tape and slotting it into the player.

the ride to downtown isn’t particularly long but eddie still manages to drag it out as much as he possibly can without drawing suspicion. he drives just under the speed limit, braking as soon as he spots a yellow light, and taking his time at every turn and speed bump. you're entirely unaware, focused instead on adjusting your hair, humming along to the music, and observing the passing scenery. eddie side-eyes you casually, enthralled by your beauty, struggling to formulate a single, believable excuse to turn the car around.

much to his dismay, eddie comes up with nothing, left with no choice but to pull into the dingy parking lot behind the hideout. it's a shitty little dive bar, favored by the older teens of hawkins for its lack of supervision. simply put, as long as you looked of age, ID checks were omitted all together. you had eagerly agreed to meet andy here for your date, the prospect of a couple free drinks and some dancing at your favorite bar enticing you.

as the engine comes to a stop, you realize you’re about fifteen minutes early. eddie hopes you'll wait with him in the car, giving him a few extra moments to come up with something to say. instead, he finds himself cursing internally as he watches you unbuckle and start exiting the van.

“thanks for the ride, munson!” you smile widely, an air of excitement radiating off you.

“anytime, princess.” eddie responds, matching your smile weakly. “keep an eye on your drinks. and be safe!” he urges.

“always am!” you remind him, giving him a small wave and making your way toward the bar’s entrance.

what little nerves you’d felt up to this point increase tenfold as you enter the hideout, hands suddenly clammy and hot. you look around to see if andy has arrived and, much to your relief, he has not. this gives you an opportunity to get yourself settled and pound a few drinks to calm your nerves.

you survey the seated bar area, opting to claim two seats at the very corner, with an excellent vantage point of the entire bar. lloyd, the sole bartender on friday evenings, approaches you with a gentle smile. he's middle aged and incredibly kind, happy to see a familiar face.

“why hello there, pretty lady.” he greets you, as he always does, placing two coasters onto the wooden bar. “i'm assuming you're waitin' for someone?” he adds, motioning to the empty stool you've positioned beside you.

you nod.

“i've got a date.” you explain, wiggling your brows excitedly. lloyd chuckles.

"well, i can't wait to meet the lucky fella.” he grins. “shall i get you the usual while you wait?”

"yes please!" you smile.

by the time lloyd asks if you want a refill, it’s 9:17 PM and andy still hasn't arrived.

and, while there’s slight pity in his tone, lloyd remains as sweet and attentive as ever. he reassures you that he’ll bring you as many refills as you’d like and even goes as far as to offer you a plate of nachos, free of charge. you politely decline, rationalizing to yourself that basketball practice probably ran late and that andy would arrive at any moment. after all, he was only running seventeen minutes behind. and though lloyd nods in agreement, you can’t help the total humiliation you feel.

each minute feels god damn near eternal, ticking by slowly and tauntingly. your nerves and excitement steadily morph into a sinking feeling that you’ve been stood up.

it had all felt too good to be true - a conventionally attractive jock asking you out, whilst you were clad in a hellfire club t-shirt and sat next to the recently acquitted murder suspect and town pariah, eddie munson, who you happened to call your best friend.

still, you had agreed to the date, undoubtedly encouraged to do so both by your high consumption of cheesy rom-coms and the burning desire to finally get over eddie. your thoughts spiral, uncontrollably, as you remember how hard eddie had tried to dissuade from this date. you realize, suddenly, he’d been trying to protect you from precisely this outcome.

by 9:32 PM, you shamefully begin collecting your belongings and tossing some cash onto the bar, when you’re interrupted by a familiar voice.

“sorry i’m late, sweetheart.” eddie makes a big show of apologizing, his voice loud enough for everyone in a considerable distance from you to hear.

actually, you’re sure the entire bar hears.

“eddie…” though you're surprised by his sudden appearance, you can’t help the smile of relief that moves across your lips as you look up to meet his eyes. you take him in, fully, noticing he’s shed his earlier casual look for one that’s a little more dressed up.

he's clad in a deep burgundy button up, which remains undone dangerously low, revealing much of his pale, tattooed chest. it's tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans that cling to him in all the right ways. he's topped off the look with his usual worn out leather jacket, matching black leather boots, and his signature silver rings. you finally manage to tear your gaze away from his body and meet his eyes.

“like what you see?” he teases, with a wiggle of his brows as he slides into the stool beside yours. he casually wraps his arm around the back of your stool and you unconsciously lean into him, happy to feel the warmth radiating from his frame.

“you know i do.” you manage to tease back, licking your lips as you speak. “will do a shot with me?” you add, looking up at him through your lashes. you do your best to look adorable, pouting your lip in the way you always do when you want something.

“whatever ya want, princess.” eddie is smiling, radiantly, and calling over lloyd.

one shot turns into several. you find yourself happily wrapped in eddie’s arms, swaying rhythmically on the makeshift dance floor in the center of the bar.

eddie's massive hands are warm on your waist, guiding you with ease to the beat that reverberates from the massive speakers. in turn, your arms are wrapped around his neck, fingers absentmindedly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. while you’re certainly not drunk, there’s a noticeable, warm buzz thrumming through your body, one that’s gently dulled the ache of having been stood up. though, you suppose that eddie also had something to do with it.

“how’d ya know i got stood up?” you ask curiously, realizing that eddie had arrived out of the blue, with near impeccable timing.

“what do you mean?” he looks down at you with confusion. you roll your eyes.

“you showed up without me calling,” you explain, “so i’m wondering how you knew andy never showed."

“ah,” eddie pauses, he hesitates, briefly, “i actually had no idea you’d been stood up.” your curiosity quickly turns to confusion.

“then why did you show up?”

there’s a brief, noticeable lull in the conversation as eddie quietly contemplates his response. you feel him tug you closer, his gaze meeting yours almost sheepishly.

“i was fully intending on crashing your date.” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. “had a whole speech and everything.”

“you were gonna crash my date?” your mind is suddenly racing, heart beating faster and faster with each word. “why?”

eddie sighs heavily, wondering how you could be so impossibly oblivious. what little courage he’d managed to muster up until this point begins to leave his body, abruptly so. he stops swaying, stilling the both of you. his hands remain firmly on your waist as his bottom lip tugs between his teeth.

“don’t make me say it.” eddie pleas, softly, eyes wide and affectionate. “you know why.” he tries, leaning impossibly closer, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

his eyes remain trained on yours, a faint smile across his features as he lovingly watches the gears turning in your mind.

oh.

the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, knocking the very air out of your lungs. it happening. it's finally, fucking happening.

eddie doesn't give you much time to contemplate or process what he's essentially almost confessed, instead, he's pressing his lips tentatively against your own. his movements are gentle and unsure, almost as if he's testing the limits. but his lips, god, his lips - they're soft and plush, yet still firm as they press into yours.

you hesitate, only momentarily, as your brain short-circuits. all the while, eddie's grinning against your lips, using your surprise to his advantage. he takes the lead, with confident ease, using the opportunity to find his way past your lips. his tongue is warm as it teasingly drags against yours, his slender fingers pressing and exploring the exposed skin of your midriff.

you're breathless, trying to keep up with eddie, using your hands to find purchase in his frizzy, messy curls. eddie grunts as you tug, delving into your mouth with such fervor it's as if you're the very source of oxygen keeping him alive. a low moan escapes you as his hands move to your ass, only to be interrupted by lloyd's disgruntled voice.

"ay! ay! lovebirds!" lloyd shouts, instantly catching your attention. you break apart, managing to steal a glance at eddie as you do - he's all smiles and sparkling eyes. meanwhile, you can feel yourself turning several shades of cartoonish red that feel humanly impossible.

"yeah?" eddie chuckles, nervously shifting his weight between the balls of his feet. he keeps an arm around your waist, holding you to his side.

"as happy as i am to finally see you two together," lloyd confesses fondly, motioning between you, "let's keep it family friendly, yeah?"

you snort, left hand shooting up to your mouth in a vain attempt to hold back your laughter. eddie's just as giddy, a ball of energy, practically vibrating beside you, waiting to explode.

"my bad, lloyd!" you try, offering him the most innocent smile you can manage. eddie watches you with nothing but adoration as you wave a hand apologetically in lloyd's direction.

"yeah, we were just about to head out, actually." eddie announces, smiling like a bumbling idiot. he's quick to take your hand, intertwining your fingers effortlessly, as he guides you toward the bar.

without so much as another word, eddie is tossing several bills down onto the bar and gathering your belongings. you follow suit, mindlessly so, entirely enthralled by his presence. even now, as he's half-rushing you out the door, eyes as wild as his hair, there's a radiance about him that sends butterflies bursting through your stomach.

"slow down!" you giggle, half-stumbling over your feet as you trail behind eddie. he's eagerly making a beeline for the van, turning back and smiling at you in a way that makes it impossible to be mad at him.

"slow down?" eddie repeats in disbelief, as if you've just asked him the most ridiculous question he's ever heard. "i've been wanting to kiss you for as long as i can remember, y/n," he confesses, nearly out of breath, "gonna need more."

for a second time that evening, eddie's words have left you completely and utterly speechless. he ushers you carefully into the back of his van, shutting the doors behind himself, and climbing over your form. you fall back onto a disarray of discarded clothing and blankets strewn about, leaning back onto your elbows to really look at him. he hovers, briefly, almost as if awaiting permission.

"think i've been waiting just as long, eddie." you admit, like a blushing school girl.

eddie's smiling as you're speaking, chuckling before he's closing the space between you. his movements are deliberate, now, as he presses against you in a bruising kiss that sends electricity shooting through both your bodies. it's all tongue and teeth, with clumsy hands eagerly exploring new territory. your legs wrap around his waist as he slots himself between them, his mouth moving past your lips. he kisses your skin as he descends down the line of your jaw and settles at the crook of your neck.

the sounds that leave your mouth are sinful, shit, they're down right poronographic, and eddie can't get enough. he attaches himself to your neck, sucking, nibbling, and marking your skin with love bites and bruises. your nails dig into his shoulder blades and he can't help but rut himself against you, his erection growing with each moan and whimper he's able to draw from your lips.

"eddie..." you're gasping for breath, completely and unabashedly wrecked.

if it were anyone else, you'd be ashamed of how desperate you sound. but it's you, and it's eddie, and it's years of pinning and wishing and hoping finally coming to fruition.

"don't worry, i gotcha, princess." eddie promises against your abused skin, making his way back up to your lips.

eddie kisses you with a sense of urgency that has you absolutely buzzing, your body arching up into his, begging for more. he steadies you with shaky hands, his movements revealing he's just as desperate as you feel. his chest is rising and falling rapidly with ragged breaths, his warm, inviting pupils blown wide with lust.

every touch, every kiss, every sensation is far better than any dream or fantasy your imagination has concocted over the years. and by the way eddie's erection remains firmly pressed into your inner thigh, you know the sentiment is mutual. he unexpectedly pulls back, fully separating your bodies, and taking a brief moment to commit you to memory. he sits back on his heels, frantically pushing the hair out of his eyes to carefully observe you.

you're a complete mess - red lipstick and runny mascara smeared across your skin, lips swollen and wet from kissing. your hair is sprawled around you, like a makeshift crown of sorts, chest heaving with broken breathing. eddie decides, then and there, that you are the most beautiful person he has ever had the privilege of knowing.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you're hyper-aware of his gaze, the way his eyes move up and down your body.

"because i'm so fucking in love with you." eddie concedes, with a playful chuckle and goofy grin across his lips. you're positive your heart finally bursts at his words, a face-splitting grin moves across your lips.

"do remember freshman year, when i confessed i liked the beatles and you learned hey jude because it was my favorite song?" your question catches him entirely off-guard, yet he nods, remembering all too well. "that's when i knew i was in love with you. still am. not sure why i agreed to this date." you ramble, hiding your face behind your hands.

eddie is quick to remove them, pecking kisses across your cheeks, down your nose, and onto your lips. these kisses are different than before, playful and immature. he's smiling as he continues the attack on your face, eyes gleaming in a way you'd never seen before.

"this isn't ideal," eddie hesitates, nervous and unsure. "we're in the back of my shitty van, it smells like weed and my dirty laundry, and we've been sucking face like horny teenagers." he pauses, briefly, as you both laugh. "but i mean it, y/n." he struggles to repeat his earlier confession, but quickly realizes he doesn't have to. not when you're smiling up at him, nodding with a knowing expression.

"i know, eds." you reassure him, reaching up to caress his face in an affectionate gesture. he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. "but if you don't fuck me soon, i'm gonna think you're lying and ask andy out on a second date." you add, playful as ever.

"jesus fucking christ, y/n!" eddie's grunting and laughing, already leaning into you. "you're gonna be the death of me."

you watch, eagerly and without protest, as eddie positions himself comfortably between your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. his hands find you like pulling magnets, holding you tightly and tugging you into him as he finally reunites your lips.

you both move frantically, now, having finally acknowledged the unspoken feelings between you. and eddie becomes a man possessed, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring and asserting dominance with ease. he begins dry humping you in earnest, his thrusts matching the rhythm of lips.

"eddie," you moan, "please." your hands tug at his shirt as you grind your hips up to meet each of his thrusts.

it's entirely embarrassing to contemplate, but you're absolutely soaked, cunt clenching around nothing as you move in perfect tandem with eddie, chasing the pleasure that begins to invade your senses.

"please, what?" he hums against your lips, expertly guiding your movements.

despite the layers of clothing separating you, eddie's cock somehow manages to catch your clit with each thrust. your head involuntarily lulls back, eyes fluttering closed as eddie gradually increases the speed of his thrusts.

"tell me what you need, baby girl." he instructs, watching hungrily as your expression contorts in pleasure. the sounds and expressions you make are so much better than anything he's ever imagined and he hasn't even made you cum yet.

"please..." you repeat, again and again, like a broken prayer, unable to form a coherent response. you figure he'll understand, leaning forward to find his lips.

instead, eddie quickly and harshly tugs you back by the hair, looking down at you with a dimpled smirk that sends waves of anticipation and arousal coursing through your frame.

"use your words, princess." eddie tuts, licking his lips as he halts his movements all together.

you whine as he holds you in place, entirely still, audibly protesting as he hovers above you. the sudden lack of contact is unbearably sobering and you find yourself trying to grind back up into him. he only chuckles, holding you in place with ease, watching you expectantly. his hands are firm against your waist, powerful even, and you're positive you'll have marks in the morning. the thought thrills you.

"no more until you use your words, pretty girl." eddie insists. "you gotta tell me what you need."

"need you to touch me." you're gasping as you speak, struggling against eddie's unrelenting grip. he smirks. "need you to fuck me, eds."

the way you say his name, so fucking wrecked, the way you look up at him, with lust-blown eyes, it's all too much.

finally, and much to your relief, eddies relents and resumes kissing you. he shifts his attention, however, nestling himself between your legs and kissing his way down your body. you're practically writhing beneath him, hands carding through his curls, trying to gain purchase.

"eds, baby, please." you whine as his mouth latches onto the skin just beside your navel, sucking and biting hungrily. his nimble fingers make quick work of your chain belt, finding the waistband of your pants and tugging impatiently.

"up." eddie grunts, tapping your hips. you oblige, leaning back onto your shoulder blades so that he can remove your pants. "are you fucking kidding me?" eddie groans in lustful disbelief at realization that you're not wearing any panties. he very nearly creams himself as he rips the leopard pants off your body and tosses the offending material aside with little care.

before you can fully comprehend what's happening, eddie is alternating between kissing your inner thighs and dragging his tongue slowly over your heated skin. you're jerking at the sensation, tugging his hair impatiently, trying to keep what little of your sanity you have left.

"oh my god..." you breathe, brokenly, as eddie presses his thumb experimentally against your clit. he circles the bundle of nerves slowly, mouth still working up and down your thighs, as he sets an unforgiving pace.

"can i taste you?" he looks up at you with those big doe eyes, licking his lips in what can only be described as hunger. you're nodding, furiously, because you don't trust your voice.

eddie finally dips down and laps at your folds, tongue hot and heavy as it teases your hole. he showers you with affection, kissing and sucking every inch of your pussy as his index finger pushes into you. he finally wraps his lips around your clit, sucking the nub deliciously, and pushes a second finger into you.

you're sliding your fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots, knees buckling as you grow weaker with each of his movements. he reads you like a book, alternating between lapping at your hole and sucking your clit, curling and scissoring his fingers expertly inside you, pushing you steadily toward orgasm. you're so incredibly worked up you're practically vibrating around his fingers, walls clenching and contracting.

eddie's fingers are dragging inside you, pushing and pulling all at once, steadily firm with pressure. he bends and pushes them down just right, working tirelessly to help you climax. in turn, you've lost all sense of your surroundings, repeating his name like mantra, over and over, nearly choking.

"eddie, eds, i'm so close..." you manage, tears brimming your eyes as your stomach tightens with familiar pressure.

eddie doesn't back off, no, instead, he's increasing his pace. his swollen lips drag over your folds as he alternates between wrapping himself around your clit and showing love to your entrance. you're hips move of their own accord, riding his tongue, thighs wrapping tightly around his head.

you climax, screaming eddie's name loud enough to wake the dead. his hands on your waist are the only thing grounding you in reality, a firm reminder this isn't all some incredibly vivid daydream. your body is limp and entirely overwhelmed, head rolling back and eyes fluttering closed. eddie watches your thighs, still shaking, as he laps up the remnants of your orgasm.

"god fucking damn it," you chuckle, "that was the best orgasm of my life." eddie smirks, entirely satisfied with how thoroughly he's made you fall apart.

"best orgasm of your life?" eddie repeats, chin and mouth glistening with a mixture of your arousal and climax. he's never looked hotter.

you reach out for eddie, despite the exhaustion you feel, palming his erection through the fabric of his jeans. you're applying just the right amount of pressure to the underside of his cock and eddie's twitching, rutting and thrusting against your hand, taking any relief he can get from you.

"still need you to fuck me, eds." you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

there's a shift in the atmosphere, the air thick with anticipation.

eddie's nodding mindlessly, hands fumbling awkwardly with his belt and jeans. you giggle as you help him, tugging the material and aiding him as he kicks off his boots, followed by his jeans, and briefs. a small gasp falls form your lips at the sight of eddie's unclothed cock, long and hard, slightly curved to the left.

"you ready for me, baby girl?" eddie smiles down at you, gently. you're absolutely beaming in post-orgasm glow, nodding eagerly.

eddie leans down and finds you lips yet again, taking you in a gentle and passionate kiss. as his tongue explores your mouth, he drags the head of his dick up and down your soaking folds, collecting as much slick as he can before he's pushing against your entrance. you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him as close as you can, legs wrapping around his waist.

a guttural moan leaves the both of you as eddie begins sliding into you, his thick, hard length dragging deliciously deeper and deeper into you. despite your previous climax, your walls still struggle to take him in, stretching to accept his impressive size.

"god, you feel so fucking good." eddie emphasizes, his voice almost unrecognizable, deep and destroyed. he stills himself, once he's at the hilt, giving your body an opportunity to adjust.

you're grateful for the reprieve he offers you, shakily breathing through the dull pain, inhaling and exhaling as your body gets used to the feeling of eddie inside you. he's buried himself in the crook of your neck, cursing against your skin, throbbing inside you.

"you okay, y/n?" eddie asks, you grind your hips up in response.

"eddie, move, please."

eddie, ever the gentleman, obliges, setting a slow, passionate pace. his thrusts are gentle and loving, every inch of his cock deliberate and calculated. and while his pace is slow, it's powerful nonetheless. the finesse of his hips has you moaning, creating tight knots in the pit of your stomach once more.

"faster, need you to move faster." you beg, chasing the feeling of pleasure that crashes through you.

"i gotcha, y/n, i gotcha." eddie hums, increasing both the speed and force of his thrusts.

the van shakes at eddie's sheer force, the windows fogged, air humid. his hips are relentless, the sound of your slick folds and his balls slapping against your cunt intermingling and resounding loudly all around you. your body reacts favorably to the new pace, convulsing with sheer ecstasy. eddie's grunting and cursing as your pussy sucks him in, swallowing him whole with each thrust and contracting around him. he's driving you back with each thrust, the top of your head making repeated contact with the center console between the driver and passenger seats.

"i'm getting close..." you moan, nails digging into eddie's shoulder blades.

"don't cum until i fucking tell you," eddie commands, finding your gaze, "wait for daddy."

that word, so filthy and dirty, falling from eddie's swollen, bruised lips, as he's balls deep inside you, sends you into overdrive. you're silently talking yourself down, gripping onto eddie, forcefully trying to keep yourself from climaxing. eddie, in turn, only grows more unhinged, chasing his own high, hitching your right leg onto his left shoulder.

"almost there, baby girl, i'm close." eddie reassures you between grunts and there's tears streaming down your face.

"need to cum, daddy, please." you're sobbing now, voice ragged and hoarse.

eddie can feel you shaking against him, body contorting, desperate to feel release. you're arching up against him, harder with each thrust, tits pressing deliciously into his chest. he slots a hand between your bodies, finding your clit with ease and swirling his thumb sinfully against it.

"cum for me, y/n." eddie finally allows, thrusts growing sloppier and infinitely more primal. "say my name."

"eddie!" you're screaming, like a goddamn banshee as your climax hits. you tighten and clamp down around eddie's cock, squirting your release all over yourself and eddie.

"fuck...." the feeling is unlike anything eddie has ever experienced and it shocks him to the core. his thrusts stutter, momentarily, before he's spilling into you, hot, white cum filling you deliciously. he rides out his orgasm, worsening your sensitivity, watching you in disbelief as he finally stills his hips.

"that was..." you try, eddie pecking your lips lovingly.

"that was definitely the best orgasm of your life." he chuckles, smirking. "and mine."

before you get an opportunity to respond, the back door of the van is being tugged open and eddie is scrambling to cover your exposed body.

"freak, have you seen-" you scream with surprise, eyes widening at the sight of a horrified andy looking on. "what the fuck, y/n?" andy's shouting now, too, covering his eyes as he swings shut and slams the van door.

you look up at eddie and you're both bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, cheeks red with a mixture of embarrassment and post-coital exertion. you cannot believe that andy actually showed up, nearly an hour and half late, to find you naked and tangled between eddie's legs.

"should i chase after him and ask him for a second date?" you joke, gently pushing back a few stray curls from eddie's eyes.

"yeah right," eddie bites back, grinning, "as if i'd share my girl with that jackass."

eddie falls, entirely spent, beside you, tugging you into his chest and wrapping an arm protectively around your shoulders. you, in turn, wrap an arm around his waist and lay on his chest, craning your neck to look up at him.

"your girl?"

"yeah," eddie is beaming, "my girl."

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #reader insert #smut #got a little carried away with this one lol #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

8K notes · View notes

chamomileteainabuttercup · 3 years ago

Text

Bobacobb scenario:

Okay so

(with thanks to @vvitchering who bounced the ideas around with me)

This is a dream of a wish of a figment for The Book of Boba Fett (which, if Timothy Olyphant isn’t going to be in it, it’s strange that he was on a chat show with his Cobb Vanth hair and beard at about the right time to have been filming for it, so I have a reasonable hope we’ll see more Cobb if not anything like my more heated imaginings)

Rumblings of the new kingpin making his mark have reached as far as Mos Pelgo, including the fact he wears a distinctive suit of green and red Mandalorian armour. Cobb is taken by surprise when he receives a message from Boba summoning him to meet at the palace. On one hand, it doesn’t sit well with him for anyone to summon him anywhere and he fears it’s a trap, but on the other he feels he does owe Boba some kind of courtesy based on the whole armour thing and he is curious about what kind of person Tatooine is dealing with, so he makes up his mind to go.

When he gets there, he’s obviously struck by the whole Boba Fett Presence and quickly gets his hackles up at what he perceives as the arrogance of the man, lounging on a throne looking Like That, and bounds up on the dais to tell him off standing right in front of him, glaring down, while Boba just looks him up and down appreciatively. (Fun with levels.). And then Boba gets to his feet, and even though he turns out to be several inches shorter than Cobb he finds himself taking a step back in deference to his sheer force of personality.

And then things get weird because Boba starts talking to him about co-operation and ruling with respect, and acknowledging him as a leader and saying that based on his observations when he was tracking him for an opportunity to get his armour back, Cobb is the kind of person he wants on his team. Cobb rode here rehearsing what he’d say if Boba threatened his town, or tried to coerce him into something. He wasn’t prepared for respect, much less a job offer. He’s flummoxed.

Seeing that, Boba tells him he’s not looking for an answer straight away. Take as long as he needs to think it over. In the meantime, Cobb’s come a long way to meet him and it’s the least he can do to put him up overnight. And maybe Cobb would do him the honour of attending a dinner party he’s giving this evening, hosting some other potential allies. Cobb glances around at the palatial surroundings and at his own dusty travelling clothes and says with a little salt that he has nothing suitable to wear.

“Don’t worry about that,” Boba says. “I’ve put you out. This one’s on me.”

And so Cobb finds himself a few hours and a visit to a tailor droid later at the ritziest party he’s ever been to, wearing the sharpest suit he’s ever had on, holding a fancy cocktail and surrounded by powerful people who’ve literally bought and sold guys like him, and regretting that he agreed to come until he falls into conversation with this very well-dressed, handsome, friendly man - brown skin, bald head, kind of stocky, husky voice - who seems down to earth, not like the rest of these people, and finds he likes him very much. He didn’t catch his name and he’d sure like to know for later. He hasn’t noticed that various staff have been discreetly preventing anyone interrupting their conversation to speak to his new friend. He makes a little joke about Fett keeping all his guests waiting and Mr Handsome smiles and says, “Excuse me a minute.”

And he goes up onto the staircase and addresses the room to welcome his guests. And Cobb is flummoxed again to realise that this is Boba Fett.

He’s mad at him again now, because he feels stupid, because he feels like Boba tricked him into liking him, because he feels out of place in these surroundings anyway so he’s extra sensitive to any embarrassment. He’s fuming going in to dinner and impresses/alarms the other guests with how quick and ready he is to argue with Boba Fett, insisting on satisfactory answers. What’s really annoying is how Boba just keeps listening to him and seeing his point and addressing his concerns in a reasonable way. And doesn’t let anyone else talk down to him or dismiss him. And… shit, maybe Boba didn’t try to trick him at all, maybe he assumed Cobb recognised his voice, and expected to see him out of armour.

So he’s surprised, but not really displeased, when Boba dismisses everyone else after course three of seven and moves his chair down beside Cobb’s and says he just wants to talk to him.

#bobacobb #it’s a date now #bobf #boba fett #cobb vanth #is this full of clichés YES #do I care NO #I’m going to get Harlequin romance novel all up in this space western

64 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Phone Call Anxiety

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When wanting to make quality merch, one needs a quality team there to produce and work on quality ideas. Great minds think alike. Great eyes see alike and great hands make alike - the three keys to the formula of creating a clothing line that will be fashionable and up to his brand. Luckily, Corpse knows just who to call.

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your wonderful request, I absolutely loved the idea! Sorry you’ve had to wait for it to be turned into a fic for so long, but I still hope you come across it and give it a read in which case I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

He’s not a fan of phone calls. Anyone who knows him even remotely is very well informed on Corpse’s distaste for phone calls and upholding a conversation over the phone. He’d even go as far as to say talking to a person face to face is less stressful for him than that previous option.

But still, seeing as how the person he’s trying to reach lives in a different state and is rather busy all the time, arranging an IRL meeting is basically impossible at the moment, and sending her a text results in running the risk of having the text overlooked or completely lost in the sea of notifications she probably gets on the daily.

Therefore, a phone call was his only proper way of reaching her. And it’s what’s got him pacing the room with his nervousness peaking. He doesn’t know anything about this girl, nothing concrete at least. He was referred to her by Jack who brought her up in their passing conversation when Corpse mentioned how paranoid he was regarding his upcoming merch project. He specifically stated he doesn’t want anything basic and he wants the clothes to be fashionable, suitable for anyone no matter the age or gender and to be endurable. With all the love he has for his fans, he doesn’t want to give them anything less than what they deserve - the best.

“My friend’s the person you’re looking for.“ Jack said enthusiastically and confidently, “She helped me design the latest merch line I put out and I’ve never been more satisfied with my own merch. I’m planning on offering her a position in Cloak for her birthday. Make sure not to let that one slip out if you give her a call though.“ He warned half-jokingly.

Bottom line, with that kind of intro, Corpse couldn’t help but let his interest be piqued. And so, he asked for this girl - Y/N’s contact info from Jack before he went to surf through her social media where she thankfully posted plenty of pictures of her creations, never failing to mention specifications in the caption of each picture so the viewers would get the perfect and most detailed idea of how high the standard for her work is.

And so he’s finally managed to talk himself into dialing her number that’s been sitting in his phone for weeks now. As he paces his living room, his nerves chewing him out like a dog would with a toy, listening to the ear piercing ring of the dial waiting to get picked up by the girl he’s trying to reach.

Just then, Corpse’s head turns so that his eyes meet the glowing red numbers on his digital clock on his desk and he damn near hangs up the call right away - it’s half an hour past midnight. Fast as lightning, he removes the phone from his ear, his thumb flying over to press the red ‘end call’ button. Just then, a faint ‘hello’ reaches his ears, coming from the phone’s speaker. She’s answered the call.

He hurries to put the phone back up to his ear.

“Hey, sorry for taking so long to pick up, I ought to clean my desk eventually cause my phone was literally BURIED under a pile of papers.“ A cheerful sing-song voice rattles his stale and sleep deprived consciousness, as if awakening him from a half-dream state. “You’re either a wrong number caller or a last minute client, aren’t you? Need something done urgently?“

Corpse is taken the hell aback by her strong and downright awing first impression. Not to mention her energy at an hour unsuitable for calls. Lord knows he wouldn’t have picked up if her were in her spot. With the intention of not wasting any more of her time than necessary, he hurries to explain his situation. “Y/N, right? Um no, I’m neither actually. I was told about you by a friend, he said you were a real miracle-doer with fashion design.” He trails off for a second, not completely sure of how to hold this conversation, “Uh, sorry for the odd timed call, I lost track of time. I’ve been meaning to call you for hours now but I...I was nervous.” He cringes the second the word leaves his lips, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he wants to leave her with a great, better than realistic impression of himself but he does and as of now he deems his attempts as ultimate failures.

He hears her giggle from her end, rifling through what sounds to be papers, “Yeah, I’m her. And boy is it refreshing to get someone who’s calling with an actual purpose.” She sighs as if a weight’s been lifted off her shoulders, “And don’t worry about the phone call anxiety. Makes two of us, to be honest.”

This catches him off-guard. The last thing he’d expect is for this girl to have phone call anxiety. In fact, she appears to be a natural, God-given talent at carrying conversations and upholding chit-chat with people. Maybe he’s a little too quick to judge - probably, considering he’s ‘known’ her for less than five minutes and knows nothing but her occupation, her name and the state she lives in - but that bubbly persona she greeted him with gave off the impression that it’s immune to any and all kinds of social anxiety - or anxiety in general. To hear such an honest and counter-to-assumptions confession on her part rattles him a tiny bit. In a good way though.

“How does that work for you? Isn’t your whole job depending on your phone conversational skills?“ He doesn’t mind that he didn’t phrase that too perfectly or that he straight up blurted it out. He knows he’ll be understood. She’s obviously a person who understands. Not just something specific, but everything. She simply understands. How he drew this conclusion and how accurate it is, he may not know until further notice.

“Well...“ she sighs as if genuinely looking to give him a proper answer, “You see, after doing it for so long and having been caught off guard quite a few times with some absolutely absurd orders, I’ve grown prepared of literally ANYTHING and I have a line prepared for anything the caller has to say. I just no longer let them catch me off guard and it’s fine. Helps avoid any possible awkward silences.“

Corpse’s eyebrows shoot up, her explanation only raising more questions rather than providing answers. But he’s not gonna be the annoying dumbass asking those questions at close to 1AM and bugging her. After all, if she agrees to this partnership, they’ll be hearing and potentially seeing a lot more of each other soon. “Impressive, honestly. You’re gonna need to teach me sometime.“ He’s unaware he’s smiling until he catches his reflection in the window. However, he doesn’t bother hiding it. This conversation is actually making him feel good, serving as a reminder that he’s not the only one who periodically goes through turmoil over small things.

She giggles again, this time the sound manages to draw a blush out of him, coating his cheeks, “I’d typically stray for revealing my secrets to professional success, but I’m willing to make an exception for you...” she pauses for a second as though she’s just now remembered something, “Oh shoot, I don’t even know your name.”

He wheezes out a nervous laugh, realizing he never introduced him, “Oh yeah, sorry, that’s my bad. My name’s Corpse, nice to meet ya.”

“Nice to meet you too, Corpse.“ Y/N replies, sounding pleased but teasing simultaneously, “Now tell me, you didn’t call me about my phone call secrets, did you? What may be the real purpose of your call?“

Oh shoot, he himself almost forgot what he was calling for. Luckily, the reference designs displayed on his computer screen remind him. “Right, well, I’ve been thinking of launching a new merch line either this month or the next, depending on how long the procedure will take, and I needed someone great on my team to make some merch actually worth the money people are paying for it. And, as I said, I was told you were in that ‘someone great’ category.”

“Told by who, if you don’t mind me asking?“ She briefly cuts him off, her voice now giving away the fact that she’s half-absent-minded in this conversation, added evidence be the ruffling of more papers on her end.

“Jack. I mean, Sean. You know, Jacksepticeye.“ Corpse explains, contemplating whether he should’ve ratted Jack out like that. Hearing the sound of delight Y/N lets out eases his worries ASAP though.

“Oh Gosh, I haven’t seen that cutie in so long! He’s like a brother to me so a friend of Jack’s is a friend of min-“ this time she cuts herself off so abruptly Corpse thought the line was cut or she hung up on him. She doesn’t let him wonder for long though, “Wait, wait, wait....Merch? And you’re friends with Jack?“ She pauses for a second once again, once again not a long enough second for Corpse to speak up. “You’re a famous YouTuber, aren’t you?“

He was completely unaware of the fact Y/N hadn’t realized he was someone famous yet. In fact, he didn’t think of it because he thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to her considering she’s friends with Jack-fucking-septiceye! In his mind, his ranking is far lower than Jack’s - despite that mindset being absurd - so the last thing he expected was for her to have some sort of impressed reaction to have been talking to him on the phone this whole time. Hell, she doesn’t even know his full YouTube name or what kind of content he produces.

“WAIT!“ She shouts urgently, startling him a tiny bit, “You’re Corpse Husband, aren’t you? Oh my God, yes you are, how didn’t I put it together sooner? Ah crap, I really need more coffee for this.“

“No! No, you need more sleep.“ Corpse hurries to correct her but is very clearly ignored or overlapped with the many sounds that are coming from her end, “What are you doing?“

“You’re getting the first rough sketch of a design by tomorrow morning.“ She says, taking a sip of whatever beverage she’s acquired for the purpose of keeping her awake, “You go ahead and get some sleep, I know exactly what I’m doing. Don’t worry about it.“

“I’m not worried about the design.“ He hurries to say before she, God forbid, hangs up on him, “It’s 1AM, woman, you need sleep! I don’t need those designs done by tomorrow. Hell, I don’t even need them this week!“

“You don’t, but I do.“ Y/N says, sounding almost breathless because of what seems to be overwhelming excitement, “You don’t get it - I’m designing merch for Corpse fucking Husband! You have any idea how crazy that is?“

“I personally would say it’s underwhelming. I mean, I’m no Pewdiepie, after all.“ He says, now sat at his desk with his free hand rubbing his temple as he stares at the designs he’s pulled up on his screen, ones he probably won’t need given that he’s now working with a professional.

“Oh, shut it.“ She chuckles, “Shut it and get some sleep, ok? I’ll talk to you in the morning.“

“Noooo...“ He leisurely stretches the word, “Tell me, Y/N, do you have Discord?” She clicks her tongue instantly, giving him a signal that the question he’s asked is bordering into the territory of ridiculous. He playfully rolls his eyes, “Alright then, lemme find you. If we’re partnering up on this, we’re both staying up.”

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t fully trust me with this? Like, I won’t be offended, I get it.“ She murmurs in-thought, the sound of clicking evident on her end.

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t want me bothering you and want me to leave you alone?“ He mimics her statement, smirking to himself as he pulls up Discord, knowing he’s already won.

She huffs and tells him her Discord info, quickly adding a small comment, “...but only because great minds think alike. I know we’ll be getting along on this design pretty nicely.”

“Yeah, yeah, right, sure, whatever you say.“ He laughs, “Accept my friend request and let’s drop this phone call.“

“Hey! - um, before we do that, I just wanna say a quick thank you.“ Y/N murmurs quietly, as if half-hoping he doesn’t hear her.

“For what?“ Corpse asks, his brows furrowing, unsure if they’re on the same page about this gratitude.

“For never once triggering my phone call anxiety.“ She admits, “I mean, I know I said I have lines prepared for every conversation scenario possible, but you totally caught me off-guard.“ She giggles a tiny bit, now sounding dangerously close to nervous, “But, not in a bad way, if that makes sense. Sorry if it doesn’t, I need more coffee.“

“No, no, it does!“ He hurries to reassure her, “It really does. And thank you too. Thank you for, you know, tolerating my BS at this hour. God knows I would’ve ignored your call if our roles were reversed.“

He hears her scoff and can’t help but laugh, “Huh ok, I see.“ She says, sounding greatly triggered and mock-pissed at his confession, “I’ll make sure to think of that next time you call me after midnight. Or at all, ever.“

Laughing his butt off, the only thing Corpse can think of in this moment is:

Damn, this girl and I are gonna get along

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

292 notes · View notes

ichigoromi · 4 years ago

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐈𝐓 | 𝐌𝐒𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 | 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

GUYS AND GIRLS AND MY NON-BINARY MATES! IT'S OKAY TO STOP WHENEVER YOU WANT. DO NOT FEEL OBLIGATED TO CONTINUE JUST BECAUSE YOUR PARTNER WANTS. CONSENT IS BOTH WAYS.

Okay, yeah, I just want to put that out because I've seen some of my acquaintances or heard stories going through some traumatic shit because they weren't ready but were forced to go through it.

Pairing (s): MSBY Four — Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shoyo, Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem! reader, all characters are aged up!

Genre: romance, fluff

Warning (s): mentions of sex, pre-marital sex, suggestive themes, toxic friends, peer pressure, sexual assault not suitable for 18 and under. 18 and under DNI.

a/n - not going to lie; I always feel uncomfy while writing kissing or seggs scenes because I have no idea how it feels. Do people really suck their partner's tongue while making out? I have tons of questions, but my irl friends are like me, we have no knowledge abt kissing...

Enjoy~!

Bokuto Koutarou

Bokuto is your first boyfriend, and he is your first for everything.

He is always patient and never rushes you.

You two always do things at your pace because he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable.

But, you know that sooner or later, you two would have sex.

And the thought of it scares you.

You were brought up in a traditional and conservative family; sex was never really mentioned.

Most of your friends are experienced and often give you advice on how to do it.

Some of your 'friends' told you that he will leave you if you don't have sex with him soon.

You're an insecure individual, so hearing those, you can't help but feel obligated to have sex with him soon.

Bokuto has a high EQ, and he easily noticed that you were feeling upset.

Since you didn't want to worry him, you reassure him that you were okay.

After three years of dating, was he going to leave you because you two couldn't have sex because of you?

Bokuto pulls you onto his lap, and you gently loop your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. You kissed him back with as much passion as he was, and he sneaks his hands underneath your shirt to massage your stomach gently.

You softly moaned when he slips his tongue into yours, and he playfully sucks on it.

He stops kissing your lips and slowly kisses his way down to your neck, and sucks on your collarbones, leaving light love bites on them. Your breath hitched when you felt him cupping your breast; you immediately pushed his hands away.

At first, Bokuto felt a bit taken back by your reaction, then he saw your glassy eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong? You can tell me." He tries to touch you, but you shook your head.

"I'm not ready...I don't want to do this, Kou. Are you going to leave me?" Bokuto was confused; why the hell would you come to a conclusion that ridiculous just because you didn't want to have sex with him?

He cups your face and makes you face him.

"Babe, it's okay if you're not ready. We don't have to do this if you don't want to. We can stop. I'll never leave you. Was it those friends of yours again? Dump them. If my baby doesn't want to have sex, then we shall not. We shall do it when you're ready, okay? Don't feel pressured by them; we do this at our pace. Now, do you want to watch a movie and cuddle?" You meekly nodded your head, and he kisses your forehead and on the lips.

Bokuto went back to the room and came back with a big fleece blanket.

"Virgin or not, I will always love you. Don't listen to the rubbish they are talking about. If you wanna have sex, we can do it. As long you are comfortable, that is all I want. Don't blame yourself, okay?" He flicked your forehead when he noticed your sad pout.

He set up the TV and dims the lights in the living room. You sat in his lap, and he wraps the blanket around the two of you as the movie starts playing.

"Kou, I love you. Thank you for being so understanding." You thanked him and kisses his cheek.

"I love you too." Bokuto pulls you closer and kisses the top of your head.

Miya Atsumu

Atsumu loves you a lot.

You were the first girlfriend he has brought home to his parents, and Osamu approves of you.

It seems like he has found his match. His fans were glad to see him in a relationship where he is genuinely happy.

Before Atsumu, you dated a couple of guys, and it was all bad experiences.

Your first boyfriend forced you to give your virginity to him, and he was older, so you thought that was what you're supposed to do in a relationship.

The second guy just took advantage of your vulnerability and exploit you in the worst possible ways.

You met Atsumu while working as a pilates instructor, and their's team trainer introduced you to him.

And you two have been dating for about two years after knowing for about a year.

Sex...you two did talk about it, but you were just not ready to do it after all the traumatic experiences.

And, he was okay with it.

You felt bad because sometimes you can hear him touching himself, yet you can't help him with his needs.

"Tsumu, let's do it." You climb into his lap and captures his lips into yours. He was surprised, but nonetheless, he loves kissing you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

His hands crept up to your inner thighs, and he starts massaging your thighs.

You felt a bit squirmish and slight discomfort, but you ignored it and starts kissing down his neck, leaving love bites, and you helped him removed his shirt.

Atsumu knows you well, and he noticed your expression. Even though it was subtle, he noticed how you were slightly uncomfortable and when he touches you, you flinched by reflex.

All the small actions that you unconsciously do make him realised that you were forcing yourself to do.

"Hey, we don't have to do it if you're not ready. You don't have to force yourself." Hearing him say that, you broke down in tears.

He holds you securely and pats your back in a comforting manner as you cry.

Even though you wanted to do it, he sensed that you were uncomfortable and decided to stop you. He noticed that you were not ready and immediately stopped and comforted you; it made you realise that he is not like your exes.

"Babe, we can do it when you're ready to do it. No need to rush yourself; I can wait. I'm not going to leave just because we are not having sex." He comforted you and nodded your head.

You lifted up your head, and his heart ached at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks.

"I'm sorry for not being able to things like a normal couple. I just thought that you might leave me if we don't have sex..." He shook his head and cups your face in his hands.

"I can wait as long as you are ready to do it. I'm not going to leave you just because we can't have sex. If I have any urges, I'll just touch myself or something. I want you to feel that you are safe with me and under no pressure. If you don't want to have sex, we don't have to. Is that clear?" He stroke your cheeks gently.

"Thank you for being so patient. I just feel-" Atsumu shuts you up by kissing you on the lips.

"No more feeling bad in this house! Let's watch your favourite show and order takeout, okay?" He was desperately trying to comfort you.

"Okay, I'll stop feeling bad. I love you." You leaned in to kiss his lips.

"I love you too. Now, I'll go get you one of my hoodies and we can cuddle more after I go calm myself down. See you in a bit!" He pecks your lips and rushed off to the bathroom.

Hinata Shōyō

He may look innocent, but Hinata probably has more experience than you.

But this guy has tons of patience when it comes to you.

You knew him since young since he was a neighbour of yours.

After graduating high school, you two reconnected and started dating shortly.

So, you two have been dating for three years, and there has never been a dull moment with him.

However, your friends ask about your sex life, but the two of you literally did nothing. The most you guys did was make out.

It's not you guys are super pure or innocent; you two felt there wasn't a need to have sex.

But how long can he last without having sex?

So you decided to ask him directly about it.

The two of you were just chilling on the sofa after dinner. You snuggled against him, and he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him. When you two entered into the relationship, you guys promised each other to always be open.

Communication was the key to a stable relationship, and it was bugging you.

"Babe, are you okay without having sex? We've been going out for three years, and we never had sex. I just want to know your opinion about it." It was direct, and he never expects to have this kind of talk with you.

He thinks for a moment and hugs you tighter.

"Well, I am fine without it since I've been so busy training. I just want to spend time with you, sex or no sex; I love being around you. And, it's your body too. When you are ready, you can just tell me. No need to rush." He kisses your cheeks, and you nodded your head.

"Okay, I just want to know. You know, because my friends are talking about how sex is the one factor keeping their man. What about you?" You poked his cheeks, and he pouts.

"I'm not that horny! Anyways, I love coming home to your cooking and how you decorate our apartment and our dates! Not all relationships are like that...Or perhaps, you are the horny one in this relationship?" He scooted over from you and gasped.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic self.

"You are the horny one! I caught you doing it in the bathroom!"

"You did it too! You left your dildo by the bathroom counter!"

The two of you burst out laughing at each other.

"Alright, we can do it whenever you are ready. Wait, we are going to miss the show! Turn on the TV!"

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Both of you are pretty direct in your relationship since you guys prioritise communication.

The talk of sex never really come up in your conversation.

You two have not moved in together yet but are looking at potential places to move in together.

Your parents were happy to hear you two were finally getting your own place after dating for five years and are engaged now.

Both of you rarely have the time to meet since you both are busy, but Sundays are meant for dates.

Your friends are shocked to hear that you and Sakusa never have sex throughout your relationship, not even once.

Maybe you two could just keep in your pants 👀.

Obviously, you two almost did it, but both of you stopped each other before it went further.

Sakusa himself has a lot of restraint but sometimes, seeing you in his shirt and cooking in his kitchen really turns him on.

He stood up from the sofa and approached you from the back. You jumped slightly when he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned his chin on your shoulder.

"Wait a bit; good food takes time to cook. You can have some strawberries if you're hungry. My uncle sent some from his farm." He was not looking for some strawberries.

Sakusa softly kisses the nape of your neck; you accidentally let out a moan when he sucks on your sensitive spot. His naughty hands slyly sneak under your shirt and touch your stomach, leaving feathery touches below your bra.

He never stops kissing your neck, and you knew this might end up in the bedroom if you don't stop him and no dinner for you two.

"Kiyoomi, stop. I'm not ready yet." You told him firmly, and he stops immediately.

You turn down the stove and turns around to face him. He looked away, feeling guilty that he lost his rationality when he saw you in his shirt.

"Hey, don't feel bad. I stopped you, didn't I? That's all that matter." He lets out a deep sigh and pulls you into his embrace.

"I'm sorry. Seeing you in my shirt, I lost my rationality. You look so damn hot in it." He confessed, and you burst out laughing.

Sakusa frowned and cups your face to make you look at him.

"Fine, I won't laugh but get those strawberries and get out of the kitchen." You loop your arms around his neck to bring him down to your height for a kiss.

He lets you go and got the strawberries to the living room but his eyes were admiring your back as you return back to cooking.

YAASSSSSSS! I'M DONE!

I'm so happy that I have finished writing this! Hope you all enjoyed this! Thank you for reading!

Stay safe and healthy!

With love,

Rosalie🍓

338 notes · View notes

7-ratsinatrenchcoat · 2 years ago

Text

WHY I HATE HAWK

why I hate Hawk: an essay/list

I hope this will provide suitable explaination as to why I will never write Hawk into any of my fanfics. (this is /j but also /srs but also /j)

Hawk the pig is a character many SDS fans love. They claim that he's adorable, he's relatable, he's stupid in a cute way. These people are wrong. Hawk is a stupid character who only causes inconvenience at best and tragic events at worst, and as a fan and author I cannot fucking stand him.

Let's start with the minor stuff. Season 1, we're introduced to this pink menace as a pig Meliodas just found in the cellar he woke up in after the Sins were framed. He eats trash within the first minute we see him onscreen, and if that's not bad enough, is fucking allergic to personal space. Good lord, the pig cannot leave Meliodas alone to save his goddamn life. He's lucky Elizabeth thinks he's cute.

Which he's not, by the way- his eyes are too small and beady, his ears are just weird, and if his appearance is somewhat aesthetically appealing then his attitude and personality ruins it.

He's arrogant and cocky, which aren't bad character traits if there's development later in the arc, but Hawk only exists for plot convenience and has zero character depth other than being a little bitch.

If anything could have redeemed him, it would have been his sacrifice at the end of s1 to save Elizabeth and Meliodas. It was sad, he had some good last words, I was sad when he died. But now he stays dead and the moral is to appreciate the people in your life who love you unconditionally, right? Wrong. He immediately comes back to life, and the moment is lost. Okay, but he learned a valuable lesson that even he is not indestructible and everyone has their own weaknesses, right? Wrong again! Absolutely nothing has changed about him, and these events are completely blown over for the sake of Hawk continuing to be a convenient plot device, only adding to the list of reasons why he is annoying as hell.

Another reason related to season 1, tying back to his complete disregard for personal space, is every time we see him tie up Meliodas in his own bed. I don't think I have to say much more than that. It was fucked up. I can hear the comments now- Oh, but Rat, he was just trying to protect Elizabeth! It was a wholesome intention! Yeah, and I don't give a shit! Give Elizabeth some spine and make her put her foot down about the groping situation and set some boundaries. It would honestly be a really good development to her character (going from a crybaby people pleaser to an independent and decisive member of the team). Meliodas is too much of an epic simp not to listen to her, and he pays attention to whether she's not bothered by it- but that's a rant for another day. The point is that Hawk is messing with what is objectively the best couple in the show and stealing Elizabeth's chance for character development. Just because you don't have any doesn't mean you have to steal the chance from everyone else.

Season 2, according to Netflix, is only 4 episodes long, so that is what I'll be referencing here. The first episode in this season is focused on Hawk causing problems, derailing the Sins' entire plan for the day by freaking out over absolutely nothing. Honestly, it's just pathetic. Of course Meliodas saves the day by turning it into a game, but without his quick thinking that could have made Elizabeth upset. Gods forbid Elizabeth is anxious.

Season 3. Oh boy. Hawk literally only serves as an introduction to power levels this season, and doesn’t even do a good job of it. He just whines about how he has a power level of 3,000 (he doesn’t) and how everyone else is beneath him. Even when he finds out two/three of the sins have higher power levels than him (they all do. Elizabeth does. He’s not special), he somehow manages to backhandedly compliment them into boosting his own ego. The best thing he does this season is make the teams even during the pre-Vaizel fights, and even then just does absolutely jack shit to help Escanor. If you really squint, I guess you can kind of understand why Hawk might be necessary to hold Merlin’s Aldan so everyone can watch Meliodas vs. the Ten Commandments, until you remember it can literally fucking float.

All Hawk does in this scene is state the obvious and make Elizabeth sad, which is grounds for immediate execution in my book. In the undetermined amount of time it takes for Meliodas to drag his ass back from Purgatory, Hawk only exists to give Elizabeth some semblance of company, but if I was her I don’t know if I would love to have a naive, self-centered bastard pig next to me who's only capable of talking about himself while I grieved my dead soulmate. I wouldn't be surprised if he was super insensitive about it too, and spouted some shit like 'rip to Meliodas, but I'm different'.

Finally, in season four, we get an answer as to why the viewers have had to put up with this balloon-shaped fucker for so long. Aside from being just incredibly unhelpful while the curse is activated, Hawk is revealed to be an instrument of the Demon King in spying on our protagonists. Talk about helicopter parenting. But other than a brief reaction and getting Ban into purgatory (see what I mean about plot convenience??? Merlin could have done that if she wanted to, she’s the most powerful mage in Brittania. Make Merlin absolutely OP 2k22.) Hawk is just… okay with this. Goes about his day as he usually does, fully aware that our beloved bitch-ass DK is hanging out behind his eyes. Does he just not care that he could be actively compromising the plan to rescue (ie. smack some fucking sense into) Meliodas by giving a 4k view of what’s going on behind enemy lines?

With 100% honesty, I don’t understand why people love Hawk so much. He’s selfish, straight up fucking ugly, and only exists for Nabaka to use as a scape-pig for his plot holes. Have some critical thinking skills dude, you can get more creative than that. Hawk also robs Elizabeth of her much-deserved character development at every given opportunity, and generally is just a burden after the new seasons. 0/10 character, drop this fucker immediately.

#hawk sds #seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #nnt #/srs #/j #but also /srs #who wants pork i'm cooking bacon

10 notes · View notes

yourmcu · 4 years ago

Text

Emotional Support Mode

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

in which the reader is the loner, antisocial daughter of Tony Stark and the other Avengers including her father never acknowledge her presence (they thought some sort of interaction made you uncomfortable) so she becomes friends with Friday instead - Tony probs finds out and it’s gonna be all cute n fluffie once he realizes -

Word count: 2,243

a/n: hi just wanted to write fluffy tony :)) also I used they/them for friday’s pronouns

Warnings: angst n fluff, friday’s a bit more advanced (not like they aren’t already but) bc they could almost act like a literal human here.

read it on ao3!

You arrive back at the Avengers facility, shoulders slumped and just tired in general since you have a lot of homework and projects to do from school, most of them due by the end of the week. You also have exams later in the week.

“Hey, Fri,” you huff as you make your way to the elevator.

“Welcome home, Y/N. Where do you want to go?”

Yes, you're very close with the A.I that they started calling you by your first name. “To my room - and uh, will you remind me to read two chapters in my history book after I’m done with all my homework? I also have this project, I just need some measurements later, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

It’s going to be a long night, you sigh heavily just thinking about it. Now you’re probably wondering, ‘you live with the Avengers! Why don’t you ask Tony and Bruce for help? Maybe Steve and Bucky for your History test?’

Yeah, well... you barely talk to any real person you live with. Maybe it’s you, you always thought you're making the team uncomfortable. You don’t even talk to your own father often which is kind of depressing on your part.

You love them, they’re like your extended family, but it just isn’t working out. Maybe they just don’t like you. Up to this day you still wonder why Tony took you in when you were just a baby (you were a mistake from one of his one night stands) - he had the choice not to.

“I’m assuming you zoned out again. You have arrived to your room five minutes ago.” Friday announces.

“Y-yeah sorry,” you shuffle out of the elevator and swiftly head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I also asked if I should inform Mr. Stark that you have arrived home.”

“No, no thanks. He’s busy and... probably wouldn’t care anyway,” You mutter the last part as you pile the books you need on your desk. “Can you put my study playlist on, please?”

----

“What time is it, Friday?”

“7PM. I was about to remind you to take a break.”

You get up from your chair and stretch, halfway through the last of your homework which is a two page essay. “You’re too kind, thanks pal,” when you walk out your room to head to the kitchen and grab a snack, the lounge is empty, kitchen empty,

“The team’s on a mission? I thought they had the whole week off,” you say before gulping down a water bottle.

“I checked the security footage: they left about an hour ago. Captain Rogers was talking about getting dinner.”

You put the bottle down. “Oh,” you try to mask your disappointment. This isn’t your first time being alone, they always left you here when they had a mission of course but... well, it’s not like they want you around them. “I’ll - I’ll just make myself something later, then. Not a big deal. I have to study anyway.”

Another hour later, the Avengers are back. They're all conversing happily as they pile in the lounge. Peter's rambling about upgrades for the Spiderman suit while Tony's typing away in his phone, nodding at everything he says. Everyone else is arguing about the TV channels and talking about the new restaurant they ate at.

Rhodey shifts, looking around. “Why do I feel like we forgot something?”

Natasha looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

“I assure you, I brought Mjolnir with me this time.” Thor butts in.

“No not that, what time does Y/N get home from school?” No one answers. It’s not like any of them know. It's natural that Rhodey would be worried about his goddaughter (even if they rarely talk). He turns his head to his best friend who’s now walking away with Peter, an arm around his shoulder. “Tony, where’s Y/N?”

He doesn’t hear since he has his full attention on his protégé.

“I’ll start making this tomorrow, I guess. I still have to buy materials.” You mumble to yourself, but you hope Friday's listening to everything you say just to make you feel less lonely. You swipe the hologram of the blueprint away and place the thick books in front of you.

“I would like to recommend a suitable study plan.” they state.

You rub your eyes, sighing, “I’m already halfway, I would’ve considered it earlier though.”

“This is only a recommendation, feel free to ignore it.”

You push yourself away from the desk and mutter a “go on,”, fiddling with your pen.

“Asking Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes would give you more details for your History examination, since the pair were originally from that time period. The same goes for Mr. Banner for your Science examination, I believe he has seven Ph.D’s, you may also approach Vision for the same topic. Mr. Stark has all the necessary materials for your project in his lab. Would you like me to-”

If only it were that easy. It should be easy, the thought alone makes you really nervous. “No, I - I appreciate the recommendation, Friday, but - I think I can do this on my own.”

“But you’re tired and it is almost midnight. I would help you myself but you specifically told me not to.”

They’re not wrong. Your eyes are starting to droop and you barely understand anything you're reading. You're also fighting back tears - why is talking to your family so hard?

“I can sense sadness. Would you like me to activate emotional support mode?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds great right about now.”

----

“Crap. Guess we lost track of time again, kid,” Tony wipes his hands with a rag while he looks at the time on his computer. “You better get home. I’ll send May a text for keeping you this late.”

“Okay, thank you Mr. Stark. I’m just gonna use my suit-”

“No. Happy will drive you.”

Peter knew better than to argue and insist so he just nods and smiles sheepishly. A minute later Happy came ‘round to take him home.

Tony turns back around. “Friday, make a new project for me please, I’m adding minor upgrades to the Spiderman suit.”

“Not now, boss.”

Oh. He did not expect that. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N is currently opening up. I would like to give her my full, undivided attention. Please come back after fifteen minutes or so.”

Tony doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that. He never sees her outside her room anymore that he kinda forgot she existed tonight - oh fuck, they didn’t bring her to dinner with them.

“Well,” he exhales. “What is she saying?”

“That would be an invasion of privacy.”

“I’m her father-”

“Are you, sir?” Friday’s clever remark makes him stop abruptly.

It’s pretty clear that he’s been a shit father. Not only does he ignore you all the time but he treats Peter way better than his own flesh and blood. The Avengers on the other hand, they were nice people, but just didn’t understand so they try their best to get out of your way.

You were afraid of rejection, afraid to interact, because you had no idea what everyone thought of you. Did they like you? Did you make them uncomfortable? Did they want you around? What about Tony, did he really want a daughter in his life? Because you noticed he’d be better off with a son, yeah, like Peter goddamn Parker.

Tony sighs, walking out of his lab and heads to the mini bar to grab a drink. He needs to think: there's absolutely nothing wrong about you, he just didn’t do his job right, you thought he didn’t care, you thought nobody did. Even Friday is turning against him, doing a better job of comforting and being there for you.

“God, I’m such an asshole,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. He drinks his last shot and heads to the kitchen. “She still awake?” He calls out.

“She is.” Friday has a bitter tone.

He's hesitant to ask again, feeling really bad for not knowing this simple question - “what’s her favorite beverage?”

----

“How do you feel?”

You sniffle. “Well y’know, better than before. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks, Fri.”

“You’re welcome. Also, Mr. Stark is outside your door.”

“W-what?” You put away your books and straighten up, rubbing your damp eyes. “You’re serious? Okay, uh, let him in?” It's more of a question.

“Alright.”

You turn to face your desk as Tony enters the room, holding two steaming mugs. He sits at the end of your bed, just right next to the chair you're sitting on. “Hi,” he gives you a small smile and hands you a mug.

What’s the occasion?

“What’s this?” You ask quietly before taking the mug from his hands. Tony's being gentle and soft, it's odd but you’re not complaining.

“Green tea with honey. I... I thought I saw you make that stuff once.” He says, not mentioning the fact that Friday told him that.

“Oh, well, yeah,” you take a small sip. He added a bit too much honey but other than that it was good. “I thought you preferred coffee, though,”

Tony shrugs, his eyes glistening when he looks at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

“Did - did you want something, Dad?” You always found yourself awkward, couldn’t even make conversation with someone for long, always wanted to get straight to the point so it could be over with.

He looks like he wants to say something but he just averts his gaze to you, his hands, the floor, then suddenly he leans in and hugs you. Your feel your heart swell and body warm up, it’s a new sensation for you after all, you rarely get hugs from people. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I’m such a bad dad, I don’t deserve you. I even forgot you when we went out to dinner.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I had loads of stuff to do earlier anyway, so, but yeah I was just - I just overreact, I’m sensitive. I don’t blame you and the others for not liking me, I know there’s nothing like-able about me, I’m not like Peter-” You ramble, tears now leaving your eyes again.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” Tony says as he pulls you closer to him, head resting against his chest while he rubs your back comfortably. “Y/N Stark, you are smart, brilliant - I was just an ass for not acknowledging that.”

“I know you’re just saying that to-”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he now places his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Tell me who built their first engine when they were eight?”

You blush, “Dad-”

“No, come on, I wanna hear it.”

“I did.”

“Yes you did. And who made a completely functioning robot at their middle school science fair that blew all the teacher’s minds?”

You’re trying to hide a smile, recalling the memory, “I did.”

“And who,” Tony gets up and walks to the bulky looking thing that you covered with a sheet, pulling it off, “is currently building a computer from scratch?”

“Dad! That’s still a work in progress,” he messily places the sheet back and chuckles.

“My point is, you’re a clever and talented girl, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down. And you don’t have to be shy around your family, those idiots have been dying to get to know you but since you don’t talk much... they don’t want to force it. We love you,” he says. “I hope you forgive me ‘cause I really wanna make it up to you. I’m not calling Peter in for a few weeks.” Tony sits down beside you again.

You couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. “You don’t have to, if you need him for something then-”

“-then you could help me instead, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m really sorry for being such a lonely freak,” you yawn, getting back into Tony’s open arms. “I love you.”

Tony tucks you in and lies down beside you, “I love you tons, kiddo.”

You snuggle into his chest, feeling his steady breathing while he rests his chin above your head.

----

It's morning. The Avengers are gathered at your open bedroom door.

“Are you getting all of this, Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Steve turn that shuttering sound down!” Natasha hisses at the super soldier who's doing his task, taking pictures.

Steve almost drops the phone and has Bruce fix the volume for him.

They’re all watching you and Tony cuddle together, still fast asleep.

“Do we have to stay here until they wake up?”

“Unless you have a great way of waking them up, yes. Now shut up.”

“If you think about it we definitely look creepy right now.” Sam comments.

“It’s their fault for having the door wide open all night!” Clint says.

Tony's actually awake the whole time, listening to them bickering. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of here before I make all of you polish my suits.” With that, the team races down the hall, pushing each other to get away first like literal children.

2K notes · View notes

hawkeyedflame · 4 years ago

Note

In your head did Roy and Riza fall for each other right away or was it a slow burn? If it's the latter then when did they realize their feelings?

Literally don't even look at me, I don't know.

Rating: Gen | Words: 1,368 | AO3

They were always friendly with each other while Roy studied under her father, but they didn't define themselves as friends. She cooked, he was polite and helped with chores when he had time. He accompanied her to the market to help carry the groceries home. They talked when they were near each other, but they didn't go out of their way to make time. They didn't stay up all night deep in conversation, nor did they go for aimless walks in the woods together. They worked together if she needed his help, and chatted lightly. He did not consider for a moment altering his path to accommodate her into his future (they simply weren't that close), but he enjoyed her companionship when he happened to have it as they lived their separate lives, side by side. He is four years older than her, after all.

She missed him more than she expected to, when he left for the academy. The house felt less alive, and somewhere in her heart, she did too, although she couldn't place why.

Roy was the closest thing she had to a friend, and her father knew that. And even though he was angry with Roy for choosing to go into the military, he still told Roy that Riza possessed his flame alchemy, still stood by his decision that Roy should be his successor, if Riza found him suitable.

And she did find him suitable. It was in those weeks of Roy studying her tattoo, helping her sort out her father's estate and go through his belongings that they truly bonded. She needed a friend so badly, someone to share her grief with, and after all it's pretty hard to sit in a room with someone for hours on end and not eventually talk to them. Riza told him about her mother, about growing up in this empty house that was no longer a home, how her skin burned where the tattoo needle carved arcs and channels into her back. Roy listened, and he hurt for her. He told her how his parents died when he was young, how his aunt was his only family, how he hated the conflicts at the borders and how he wanted to protect the citizens of Amestris as a state alchemist.

Riza stood in the backyard, arms curled tightly against her chest as she watched Roy test his arrays. She knew every failed transmutation meant more hours spent sitting on the couch rifling through alchemical texts looking for anything that might help him as he pored over his notes, occasionally cross-referencing her tattoo, careful not to brush his fingers against the skin. It was dull work, but when he finally got it right, when a brilliant arc of flame lit up the late evening sky, she felt his excitement as strongly as she felt her own sadness. Because this meant he was leaving soon, and somehow he had taken up a spot in her chest that she hadn't even known was empty.

Something felt different when he left to take his exam. She felt, suddenly, like they'd meet again. She couldn't explain why. She walked him to the train station and he hugged her and it was such a natural thing even though they'd never hugged before, and in that moment she wanted something but whatever it was, he did not give it to her. He could not have.

Riza went home and enlisted in the military that same day. They made an exception for her age, because she would be 17 early in the semester. She met Rebecca at the academy, and though they became fast friends, Rebecca never managed to convince Riza to go on any double dates with her on the weekends. Riza would politely decline, and Rebecca would pout, but never push the issue.

She didn't expect her next encounter with Roy Mustang would be through the scope of her sniper rifle. She'd heard that the state alchemists had been brought in, but she didn't want to believe that he would be among them. She knew she was deceiving herself; she had seen the smoke, she knew it couldn't be anyone else. Still, when she shot the Ishvalan descending on Roy and his companion, she felt bile rise in her throat, and it had nothing to do with the man she'd just killed.

And god she was angry. She was so, so angry. But with whom, she couldn't say. Roy, her father, the military, this fucking desert, all of it. It didn't last long; Roy found her in camp later, and she could see in his eyes what she'd been burying in herself. The anger fell out through the bottom of her chest, and the vacuum it left behind nearly choked her with grief. That night she curled up in her cot and, for the first time since she'd set foot in Ishval, she cried.

For six long months, Riza worked adjacent to, but rarely with, Major Mustang. On the days she was assigned to watch over his sector while his unit worked, she kept her senses sharper than usual. Perched in her sniper tower, she refused to avert her eyes from the hellfire of the flame alchemist. Every day she swallowed the emotions that soldiers couldn't afford to have, and every night she laid awake in bed, trying to understand how she’d gotten here.

On the official withdrawal day, he found her again (he'd gotten really good at that), burying an Ishvalan child. She wanted to hate him, she really did. But she knew she couldn't hate him as much as she hated herself. And she still needed him. She asked him to mutilate her back, to destroy her father's life work, to set her free. It was a deception. She could never be free. Her mistakes already caused suffering beyond her capacity to atone with her short, worthless human life. But he agreed, though it caused him great pain, and she knew at that moment that he was still an honorable man.

She returned to the academy to finish her final year, and the months passed in a haze. Her back healed slowly, but her emotions fought to remain as raw as they had been for the past eighteen months despite her best efforts. Rebecca didn't even try to ask her on dates anymore, nor did she ask about the war. Riza told her only the safe things to say, and left out all the rest. She didn't bat an eye when Riza announced she planned to apply for an adjutant position in eastern command, under the illustrious Flame Alchemist, who had risen through the ranks quickly and was in want of an assistant as he built up his team. Rebecca did and did not understand this decision, and wisely refrained from asking, not that Riza would have known how to explain.

When she received Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang's summons a mere day after she'd submitted her request, she knew she had the job. Still, apprehension settled deeply in her gut as she knocked on his office door. She withdrew into the strict professionalism she had grown into so easily in the academy; it had always suited her natural demeanor anyways. She had anticipated his surprise, but she was not prepared for his forwardness: she would be in charge of his back. To protect him, or to remove him. Riza did not misunderstand the blatant admission of trust. The ache in her chest eased a little.

When Riza thinks about it years later, she doesn't really know when she fell in love with him. There was no pinpoint, no flashbulb moment. It came quiet, certain, steady and sure. She had always been his, and though it took a little longer for her to understand, he had always been hers, too. She'd never asked, because it was not the appropriate thing to do, and he had never told. But when she met his eye across the office, when he brought her a second cup of coffee on a busy morning, when they said their goodnights as he dropped her off on those days they'd worked past dark, she could feel it.

Their love, simply was.

#my writing #fmab #fma manga #royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #otp: even into hell #fma headcanon #sort of...#first of all anon you have fucking ruined me #second of all i now want to freaking write this exact same thing but from roy's perspective instead #how dare you do this

82 notes · View notes

scripts4dreamers · 4 years ago

Text

When you know

AN: There’s nothing like getting drunk and singing karaoke to bring two people together.

Characters: Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia

Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

Prompt: “Hey ! Can you do a spencer imagine about him bringing his crush to the bar with the team and they have a drunk karaoke night and he confesses his feelings for her ? 🥺”

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

By the time the phone finally rang, it was nearly 8pm and you’d drifted off into a restless sleep on the couch in your living room. The sound woke you up and you groaned at your empty apartment, fumbling around until you felt the cool metal against your skin.

“Mmhmm?” You hummed, still half asleep.

“Y/N?” Spencer said.

Your heart jumped at the sound of your friend’s voice. You’d been waiting for him to call all day but, when you glanced at the clock and saw how late it was, you decided that you couldn’t let him know that.

“Go away.”

Even through the phone you could hear Spencer shift his weight from one foot to the other, “Y/N/N I’m sorry-“

“No, stop it, I’m still mad at you,” you interrupted without any real malice, “you promised me dinner, Spencer Reid. It’s 8pm.”

“I had a case,” he laughed, “what did you expect me to do? Rush home before we were done?”

“No, that would be unreasonable,” you answered, rolling onto your back, “I expected you to do your job faster so that I wouldn’t have to spend hours wasting away in my apartment.”

“Wasting away?”

“Wasting away!” You repeated, “you should see me, Spence, I’m positively faint from hunger.”

He chuckled through the phone and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice slipping away. The thought made you smile. If there was anything you prided yourself on, it was your ability to make Spencer Reid smile. He may have been a genius, but you were funny so, if you think about it, who was the real winner?

“I’m serious!” You insisted, “I should take you to court, mister. I’ll have you know it’s illegal to keep a girl waiting like this on a Friday night.”

“I think your definition of illegal could probably use some brushing up,” Spencer teased, “and by the way? It’s doctor.”

“Oooooh I’m sorry,” you smiled, “Doctor.”

Spencer laughed again, and you felt a familiar tingle rush through your stomach. You’d known Spencer for quite some time now but, no matter how often you talked, there was something about his voice that always made you weak at the knees.

You’d met at a coffee shop near your house when he’d tripped over your bag and nearly turned your crisp white work shirt into a soggy, caffeinated mess. As it happened, the coffee had narrowly missed you, and you’d insisted on buying him a new one, forcing him to sit down and relax. You’d ended up talking for nearly an hour and, when you arrived the next day, Spencer was already there, with your coffee order in hand. After that, well, you’d been inseparable.

Spencer hummed, “How about I make it up to you? My friends and I are going out tonight, do you wanna come?”

You sat up, “Friends? What friends? Your crime fighting pals?”

You could practically hear him roll his eyes fondly, “You know we’re not technically crime fighters, we’re closer to detectives in the classic sense.”

“Okay, fine, your detective buddies. Either way I’m so there. Where should I meet you?” You replied.

As Spencer listed off the address you rushed to your room, searching the closet for something suitable to wear. You’d never met Spencer’s friends before and you knew you wanted to make a good impression.

—————————

When Spencer hung up, he was somewhere between nervous and excited. It had been too long since he’d seen you face-to-face and the idea of you being right there in front of him in less than twenty minutes was nearly intoxicating.

“She’s coming?” Morgan asked.

“He looks way too happy for her to have said no,” Prentiss smiled.

“Ooooo we get to meet her?” Garcia asked, clapping her hands with excitement.

“It’s about time,” Morgan agreed.

Spencer blushed, “You guys promised you’d be nice.”

“What? I’m nice!” Prentiss argued.

“Yeah, Reid, you've got nothing to worry about. We’ll all be on our best behavior around Lover Girl, I promise,” Morgan said, crossing his heart.

“Derek,” Garcia chided, slapping his arm softly, “her name is, Y/N and she’s about to become my new best friend.”

Spencer smiled as Morgan and Prentiss jumped in, each arguing as to why you were more likely to be their best friend. It comforted his nerves, knowing how much his friends already cared about you. It made sense, after all they’d been listening to him talk about you for months now. In fact, it was Garcia’s idea for him to go back to that coffee shop in the first place. He’d never been more nervous than he was that day, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and hoping you didn’t think he was an absolute creep for getting the order right.

Luckily, you hadn’t, and that had been the start of the most agonizing few months of his life. They were incredible, of course, because you were incredible, but he’d also never felt more out of his depth. He’d had crushes before but with you things felt different, more urgent somehow, like the clock was ticking his time with you away. Maybe it was because he knew he wasn’t right for you, that he worked too much and kept you waiting and never had enough time, and he was just waiting for you to get fed up with waiting on him. Maybe it was because you were so wonderful that it didn’t make sense for someone to not be crazy about you, someone who could give you everything you deserved, someone who definitely wasn’t Spencer. Either way, every moment he had with you was precious, which is why he’d waited so long to introduce you to the BAU. He may have been an adult but, in his heart, Spencer Reid was still an only child and he’d never been good at sharing.

His phone beeped.

Hey! I’m outside...come say hi?

“Shhh!” Spencer said, his heart jumping into his throat as he waved his arms around to silence his friends, “everyone shut up! She’s here.”

Garcia squealed, “Really?”

“Be cool, babygirl,” Morgan smiled, “what are you waiting for, Lover Boy? Go get her!”

Spencer fought down a smile, “Okay, let’s go over the rules: no talking about work, no making her feel weird, no mentioning me talking about her, no inviting her to join the FBI for no reason and no embarrassing stories. Got it?”

“You’ve got it,” Prentiss promised, “like Morgan said, best behavior.”

Garcia looked like she was about to explode with excitement, but she nodded anyway and Morgan wrapped an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, giving Spencer a wink as he did.

“Deep breaths, kid,” he said softly, “it’s gonna be fine.”

Spencer nodded and pushed himself up out of the booth, shooting his friends a double thumbs up as he half walked, half jogged his way to the front of the bar.

When he saw you he froze for a second, his heart literally stuttering in his chest as he took you in. You were beautiful, the small part of his brain that was still functioning supplied, so beautiful that it actually hurt to look at you. He thought he’d be used to the way you made him feel by now but, whether it was the distance or some other magic unique to you, every single time still hit him like a ton of bricks and he was suddenly twelve years old again.

Just then you spotted him, and your face lit up with happiness, shocking Spencer back into action. You rushed over and pulled him close, letting him bury his face in your hair, breathe in your soft, fruity smell and relish in the sudden rush of comfort he felt being in your arms again.

“Spencer!” You cheered as you broke apart, holding onto his forearms and looking him up and down, “Oh my goodness, look at you! You look so nice.”

“Look at me? Look at you!” He responded, trying not to let on how hard he’d tried putting his outfit together, “Not bad for someone on the very brink of starvation.”

“Ah, you flatter me,” you joked, letting him go and adjusting your purse strap.

Spencer noticed the way you were shifting on your feet and fiddling with the hem of your jacket and he felt his heart pinch.

“Hey,” he said, “are you nervous?”

You laughed breathlessly, “That obvious, huh?” You smiled and shrugged, “I don’t know, I just want to make a good impression. This is your family, I want them to like me.”

Spencer bumped your shoulder with his, a rush of happiness bubbling up in his chest at the way you said family. He’d never told you that about the BAU, you’d just known. Just like you’d known a million little things about him that he’d never thought anyone would ever know. Just like you’d known on that first day that he needed someone to talk to. You just knew, and wasn’t that it’s own sort of genius?

“They’re gonna love you,” he assured, injecting sincerity into every word, “trust me.”

You nodded and took a deep breath in, steeling yourself against your nerves and forcing on a smile, “okay. I’m ready.”

And with that, Spencer walked you in. As soon as you stepped into the bar he felt your muscles tense. It was a small bar, cosy and warm, with a stage and a microphone set up for karaoke.

“It’s a karaoke bar?” You hissed, “You didn’t tell me it was a karaoke bar!”

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Spencer shrugged, “here we are.”

“Y/N!” Garcia greeted, jumping up, “Hi! I mean, hello! I’m Garci-Penelope! I’m Penelope!”

Spencer smiled as he felt your muscles relax and Garcia pulled you into a hug. You laughed, but responded just as enthusiastically.

“Hi! I-uh-I guess you all know my name then,” you grinned.

“Oh shoot,” Garcia said, “sorry, I broke a rule.”

Spencer shot her a panicked look, flushing bright red as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Don’t mind Garcia,” Prentiss cut in, rescuing Spencer from having to explain, “we're all just really glad to meet you. I’m Emily.”

She reached out to shake your hand and, with that, you took a seat next to Spencer and normal conversation resumed. Morgan and Garcia launched back into their banter while Emily asked questions about your job and when you’d moved to the city. It was easy and normal and...so, so strange.

Spencer was almost painfully aware of how close you were; your leg brushing his under the table, your shoulder nudging his with every little movement you made. He tried to stay focused on what was going on at the table, tried to follow the conversation and add value, but he couldn’t keep the stories straight. Time didn’t make sense anymore. Spencer was completely lost in the unbelievable happiness of having all the people he cared about in one place.

At some point during the night, an immeasurable amount of time later, Morgan bought drinks. That was a mistake. It was a mistake because now you were tipsy and your head was on his shoulder and Spencer thought his head might actually explode with the effort of not blurting out how much he liked you right then and there. You were laughing at something Emily had said, just chuckling like it was the most natural thing in the world and Spencer felt his heart literally swell.

“We should sing!” Garcia said suddenly.

You gasped, slapping Spencer’s thigh with excitement, your whole face lighting up like it was christmas.

“Yes! Yes yes yes! We should sing!” You agreed, “Don’t you think, Spence?? Don’t you think we should sing?”

Spencer laughed and shook his head, “No! No, I don’t sing. Trust me, you don’t want to hear that.”

“Pleeeeaaaaase?” You whined, turning to face him fully and fluttering your eyelashes, “please, Spence?”

Damn those eyes, he thought to himself, feeling his skin flush under the weight of your stare. Maybe this would be easier if he was drunk. He couldn’t say no to you at the best of times but, when you’re pouting at him like that, with full puppy dog eyes? Oh yeah, he was beyond putty in your hands. Spencer could practically taste Morgan’s smug look.

He rolled his eyes fondly, giving in to the inevitable, “What would we even sing?”

Somehow, your smile grew infinitely bigger and Spencer’s heart did that thing where it jumped into his throat and stuttered at the same time.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” You turned to Garcia, “Well? You coming, ‘Nel?”

“You betcha!” Garcia smiled, pulling you up and towards the stage.

At the last second you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s hand, laughing your head off as you went. His skin felt like it was on fire where you touched him, little shocks of electricity running through every inch of skin that touched yours. It was a little ridiculous really, how quickly Spencer lost his head when you touched him. All that genius, all those years of schooling sharpening his mind into a finely crafted machine and all he could think about was the feeling of skin on skin, and the smell of your hair.

The stage was sticky. The microphone was pitchy and jarring. Everything was way too much, and completely dull at the same time because all he could see was you. You and Garcia were hunched over a screen, laughing and talking as you picked a song. The music started and you grabbed the microphone, smiling over at him like it was nothing. Spencer knew he should be nervous, he should be hating every second of being up on stage in front of a group of strangers but, for some reason, he wasn’t. He was happy and calm and like ten other adjectives that almost never described him in the hours after a case, but that seemed to follow you around like a shadow.

You opened your mouth, too drunk to be properly singing, but still sober enough to be almost on key, “Here’s the thing, We started off friends-”

Garcia joined in, “It was cool but it was all prete-end, yeah yeah,”

“Since you been gone!”

You waved him over and Spencer followed, letting you point out the screen where the words appeared line by line. To be in front of the mic, Spencer had to lean in towards you and woah that’s close. He could count every single eyelash and see individual flakes of glitter against your skin, but he pushed the image down, tucking it away into the back of his mind somewhere for him to take out again when he was alone. All this happened in a split second, just long enough for Spencer to remember where he was and snap back into the present.

“You dedicated, you took the time,” The three of you sang together, trying to stifle laughter when Garcia tried to harmonize, “It wasn’t long before I called you mi-ine, yeah yeah, Since you been gone!”

You closed your eyes, throwing your head back as you sang and drawing Spencer in even closer.

“And all you’d ever hear me say Is how I picture me with you! That’s all you’d ever hear me say!”

You opened your eyes, turning to Garcia as the music swelled.

“But since you been gone! I can breathe for the fiiiiiirst tiiiiiiime, I’m so moving on, YEAH YEAH” you screamed together, even Spencer giving into the music for a moment, “Thanks to you! Now I get! I get what I waaaaaaaant! Since you been gone!”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and, when he did, you met his eye and followed suit, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laughed together, Spencer wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you up so that you could support Garcia as her back up singers. It was silly and goofy and fun, and Spencer didn’t really want it to end because it meant he could be close to you. It meant he had a reason to be close to you that wasn’t just his own selfishness and it felt like you wanted to be close to him too.

As the song came to an end and Garcia warbled out a final, “since you been gone”, Spencer found himself just looking at you, something thrumming just below the surface in his chest. His arm was still around your waist, just a friend supporting another friend, that’s all, totally innocent. Except that it wasn’t because he was looking at you like you were salvation and he could feel it happening, he just didn’t care. Because it was obvious, wasn’t it? It was obvious that he loved you. He’d maybe always loved you, ever since that day at the coffee shop and maybe that was okay. Maybe it was okay that he loved you even though he didn’t deserve you because, well, you knew him. You knew Spencer in a way that only one or two people in his entire life had ever known him and you still seemed to like him, you still looked at him like he was something special and precious.

Garcia pulled you both off the stage, bowing to the smattering of applause from the crowd and the whoops and hollers from the table where his friends were sitting. Instinctively, Spencer tugged you back, shooting Garcia an apologetic look, which she accepted with a nod and a subtle smile. His heart was in his throat but, when you turned and looked back at him, tilting your head in confusion, he felt sure.

“Hey-uh-can we-” he paused, smiling sheepishly as he felt himself flush, “can we talk, quickly?”

You frowned, concerned, but nodded and let him pull you aside, and Spencer loved you so much for it that he wanted to scream. Looking around, he managed to spy a somewhat empty corner of the bar, far enough away from the stage that you’d be able to talk without having to raise your voice. It wasn’t perfect, if he’d known-well-if he’d known how tonight was going to go he would have planned something more romantic, but he didn’t and the idea of knowing how he felt and not telling you about it made him feel sick. Because it all made sense now, the sense of urgency, the way his crush on you had never felt like a crush, the way one conversation with you felt just like three hours of uninterrupted reading. It all made sense and he needed you to know, right now, before he got called away on another case and you were apart for God knows how long. He needed you to know.

“Spence?” You asked as soon as you were in the corner, “What’s going on, did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! No-Y/N-you’re-” he started, forcing himself out of his head and back into the moment, “you’ve been incredible. You are incredible, which is sort of what I wanted us to talk about-or-no not exactly?” he rambled, his thoughts and feelings tripping and stumbling over one another in an attempt to find just the right combination of words for the way he was feeling, “I mean it is-you are-but I realised that you’ve always-ugh, sorry-”

“Hey,” you chuckled gently, taking one of his hands in both of yours, “it’s okay, just slow down. We’re not all super geniuses, you know?”

Spencer paused, taking a deep breath and letting his thoughts catch up with one another. God, you really were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, some part of him noted, and your smile….When you smiled at him like you were right then, like he was the only person in the room, like there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there in that dingy karaoke bar, all his fears just kind of...went away. He could still feel them, if he really tried, but they were distant, locked up in another room, behind a metal door with a padlock on it. They were so far away and you were so close and wasn’t that more important?

“I’m in love with you,” he heard himself say, “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I know that-I know that you don’t owe me anything, and I’m not trying to pressure you, or force you to do anything, I just thought you should know because-because it’s the truth, and I think you deserve the truth.” he paused, wishing that he could gauge some sort of reaction besides the slight widening of your eyes, “And the truth is that I’m in love with you, Y/N, and-”

Thankfully, you kissed him before he had to figure out how to finish that sentence. He barely had time to notice you leaning in before your lips were on his, soft and sure, like you were answering a question, or saying a prayer. Everything else faded away, nothing was as important as you and, without even thinking, Spencer kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Your fingers threaded through his hair and he sighed against your lips, some small part of his brain wondering if kissing was supposed to feel this good. Had it ever felt like this before? Had he ever wanted like this before? No, not until you. Because you were different, you’d always been different and, if the way you whispered his name against his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip was anything to go by, you’d always been his, and he just hadn’t known it.

He could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in your arms with the burnt sugar taste of your lips on his tongue, but eventually you had to break apart, even if it was only to breathe. Thankfully, you stayed close, resting your forehead against Spencer’s as you basked in the moment.

“I-love you too,” you chuckled breathlessly, “in case that much wasn’t blatantly obvious.”

“You know, I’d like to say I had a hunch,” he responded, “but I really didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning forward to press another, much gentler kiss to his lips, “What, you thought I dressed like this for Morgan?”

There was something sinful about being able to let his eyes trace your body like this so openly, something private and intimate that made Spencer want to blush.

“I-uh-I tried very hard not to think about who you dressed like that for, actually,” he admitted, and then quickly continued, “not that you dress a specific way for anybody, or that there’s anything wrong if you do it’s just-you know-women can dress how they like, and there’s nothing intrinsically identifiable in the way a woman dresses that allows a person to truly know what she wants or doesn’t want. Not that you want anything, I just-”

You cut him off with another kiss and Spencer melted into it gratefully. He could feel you smiling into the kiss and, for once, he was grateful for his rambling. For once, Spencer Reid couldn’t think of a single thing he’d change about himself, because you loved him and that was too good a thing for him to want to mess with.

taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes

#jordsie #jordsie writes #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid headcanons #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x you

583 notes · View notes