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writingouthere · 1 year ago

Text

exboyfriend!Sukuna x f!reader.

cw: smut, outdoor sex, angst, controlling behavior.

Your date was a disappointment.

The guy wasn't an asshole or anything, but at some point he'd talked about cryptocurrency for ten minutes straight without you saying a word and there was no coming back from that.

"I had a great time," he tells you as you stand on the subway platform after finally escaping the restaurant. You nod noncommittally and wonder if this is the part where he asks for your number. You're calculating the risk/reward of giving him a fake number and having him potentially call it while you're still right in front of him when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you.

"I doubt it," the voice says and you close your eyes. Maybe if you wish hard enough you can develop teleportation and not have to deal with this.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" your date asks, his voice only wavering a little as he looks at your ex-boyfriend. Honestly, you admire him. The sight of the tall, heavily tattooed (alleged) criminal was usually enough to make people cross the street to avoid him but not this accountant? Investment baker? Dentist? Fuck, he'd talked about his job for thirty minutes and you had not been listening. You would have guilty if you weren't actively judging him for not even noticing your lack of engagement.

Whatever, he probably wasn't brave, he was probably just an idiot.

Sukuna seemed to agree as he laughed again and put his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm her boyfriend."

Your date looked at him, looked at you, and seemed to be weighing if this was worth one mediocre date. He seemed frozen for a second until Sukuna took a step forward and the guy's previously dormant survival instincts seemed to awaken and he booked it down the train platform.

Once he was out of sight, you took Sukuna's hand and dropped it off your shoulder like a fallen leaf that had got stuck on your jacket.

"Are you following me, now?" You wouldn't have put it past him. You turn to face your ex who looks not only unrepentant for his little routine but vindicated. Or maybe he just looks vindictive, you can never tell.

"Are you going on dates with any loser that asks?" He tosses back and you roll your eyes.

"You didn't even meet him."

"So, he wasn't a loser? And you weren't deciding if it was worth giving him a fake number and having him call you right then?"

You hated that he knew you so well.

"He seemed the type to call," you concede and Sukuna scoffs.

"Absolutely, that fucker is. Women have been giving that dumb fuck fake numbers since he was begging for them with his little Nokia flip phone."

"Is Nokia still a thing?" you ask and Sukuna glares at you.

"Do I look like Google to you? Hey, don't try to district me, princess. We were talking about how you seem to have gotten it into your mind that you can cheat on me with any guy with a pulse."

"I'm not cheating on, we're not together," you tell him as your train pulls up. You don't bother protesting as he follows you on it, even though you know the old apartment you used to share is in the other direction from your new place.

"The fuck we're not," he seethes. The other riders look at you and you see one or two guys deciding if it's worth trying to get involved but you're more concerned about the teenage girl who looks ready to fight this asshole for you. God, you loved women.

"You're making a scene," you tell him and he looks ready to make the scene Oscar worthy before you give him the look that used to make him not call your friends' babies ugly when you went to birthday parties.

"Where can we talk then?"

"I'm not taking you to my place," you say and he sucks his teeth.

"Then let's go home."

"You mean to your home."

Sukuna looks furious but you're not in the mood. You had just spent the past two hours on a terrible date, which made you think about how dating was just going to be like this until you found a new boyfriend or gave up, which then made you think about your break up and how up until a few months ago, you thought you would never go on a first date with anyone ever again.

You hated that Sukuna had put you here and you hated that you still loved him.

"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

You're so tired, Sukuna is so close and it's been so long since you got to smell him or feel his warmth. Your apartment was still barely furnished but everything in it was new and it still didn't feel like home. The one sweatshirt of his you'd let yourself take had stopped carrying his scent weeks ago, and just being close to him now, it made something in you relax. Like you were finally home.

"There fucking is," he hisses and now he's so close you can make out the scar on his jaw and the fullness of his lips. You used to tease him that you'd never met a man whose lips were as soft as his. He may have looked like tough shit, but you would never catch him out of the house without lotion and chapstick.

You wondered if he was still using the cherry chapstick you had bought him at the grocery store the week before you'd broken up.

"Are you going to marry me? Are you going to give me a baby?"

"Princess-"

"Then there's nothing to talk about," you say and you thank whoever's watching that the train is pulling up to your stop. You get off and Sukuna is right on your heels.

"You don't even want those things right now, why the fuck does it even matter?"

"I want them eventually and if you're not willing to give them to me, then I just don't think I need to keep wasting my time."

You're roughly dragged into a nearby alley and tossed against a brick wall. Sukuna's hand cups the back of your head, taking the force of the slam and you hate that he watches out for you even when he's being a controlling jackass.

"Being with me is wasting your time? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Not your girlfriend," you snap back. "Let go, I want to go home."

"Fuck you," he tells you and you're about ready to fight him, grown scary man or not when he leans down and his lips are on yours.

They taste like cherry chapstick.

His hand on the back of your head tightens, his thumb pressing against your neck and making you shiver. His other hand is pressed tight to your jaw and when you gasp against his mouth, he presses down as if he can hold you open and consume you so you can't leave him again.

His muscled thigh is in between yours and you can feel the rough texture of his jeans, the same pair he wore to work, the same pair you'd put through the washing machine a thousand times, rub against where your legs are only covered in tights. The shorter than usual skirt meant to entice your date, and instead it was being taken advantage of by your ex-boyfriend.

Sukuna let go of your face so he could put his hand underneath the fabric of your skirt.

"New outfit?" He teases as his hand slides to the top of your tights.

"Got it for my date," you snap and he growls at you before he rips the seams of your tights. Before you can complain, he's dragging them down your thighs and diving into your panties so he can get to your cunt. The underwear is new too and a pained noise leaves you at the sensation of them snapping against your inner thigh, both at the pain and the thought of how much they cost.

"I still have those blue ones you like at home, the ones you wore for my birthday last year," he tells you as he slides his finger down the seam of your cunt. You're wet and it annoys you because orgasming has been a bitch to achieve since you had to start giving them to yourself again.

"You can keep them," you tell him and he bites your lower lip between his teeth, they'd always felt too sharp for a man and you know you're a twitch or a less than playful nibble away from a busted lip.

"They're not really up for wearing anymore anyway."

You want to ask him what he means by that as he kisses down your neck and thrusts one finger into you, the slide almost unholy.

"So fucking wet, your cunt was always better at talking than you were."

The sensation of being filled even though it's not enough it's not enough begins to itch at your need to be satisfied as your mind fills in the gaps of his previous words.

You can imagine Sukuna in the bed you used to share, the dark blue sheets and the comforter covered in a black pattern that had reminded you of the marks that covered his body. One hand holding your favorite pair of panties and the other his big cock, that sometimes you missed even more than him.

Did he use the panties to jerk off with, the fabric just an expensive tissue for his cum? Did he hold them to his nose and pretend he could still smell your pussy on them in the bed that used to smell like both of you? You had tried watching porn and reading smut, the stuff you had relied on before you were together, and nothing compared to what it felt like to come from his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

The only times you had touched yourself when you were together were when Sukuna had wanted to watch, his commentary pushing you to the edge. He had always known what to say.

Good girl, now try two fingers for me. Not enough? Do you need my cock? Fucking slutty princess, eh?

No matter how demeaning his words were, you had never felt true shame because his desire for you was always apparent. Sukuna never held back praise where he felt it was deserved, and he had always been quick to let you know that what you were doing was pleasing him.

"Pay attention to me, princess. I'd hate to think I was boring you." The words are laced with cruelty and the added pressure of a second figure is harsh, too soon, and still not enough.

The hand in your hair tightens, but the grip still careful not to mess it up beyond repair. Something you'd been adamant about in the beginning days of your relationship. The gentleness of it, of him, makes you cry out.

Since Sukuna was the only one who still seemed cognizant of how you were in an alley, only a right turn from being on a public sidewalk, he was quick to catch your moan in his mouth. Nearly purring in reply, a ridiculous thing for a ridiculous man to do.

"Fuck, that's it. No one else can make you feel like this, this cunt is fucking mine."

"Yes," you hiss out in agreement. Pleased with your concession, Sukuna's thumb swipes over your clit as he continues his punishing rhythm with his fingers. You can hear how wet you are as it echoes off the brick around you. Even though it's cold outside, you feel almost too hot between the warmth of his body shielding yours from the world around you and the heat that's continuing to build up in your core.

"So close, I know you are. Beg me, princess and I might let you come," he whispers in your ear and you would feel embarrassed of the whine you let out if you weren't so close.

"Please, Sukuna. Please, let me come!"

"I don't know. Not sure if I should reward you since you've apparently being going around giving this pussy to fucking anyone."

You shake your head. "No, I haven't slept with anyone since we broke up."

Sukuna kisses you so hard, you're grateful for the hand behind your head because you know his knuckles must be bruised from the force he kisses you with. Sukuna pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours and you hate that you find that hot. That this whole thing is hot.

For a second, the softness in his eyes takes your breath away and you almost forget about where you are and what you're doing and why it's the worst idea you've ever had. He's just Sukuna, the love of your life and you miss him so much.

You think he might say something crazy like he loves you or even propose but then the softness is gone and he just grins at you.

"Alright, come then, you've earned it."

With permission granted, Sukuna focuses his attention on your clit in just that way you like in the way that only someone who's done this hundreds of times could do. He's definitely leaving hickies around your collarbone and neck, but for now they feel good and when you come, you bite your lip knowing it will be bruised. A reminder of how you're an idiot when you look at it in the mirror tomorrow.

Still soft with your orgasm, you reach down to return the favor but Sukuna grabs your hand.

"I'm not walking around with cum in my jeans," he tells you, kissing your palm. Typical of him, to end something crass with something sweet. You sigh as he puts you back down on the ground. You pull up what remains of your tights, the fabric uncomfortable on your quickly drying thighs. Your ripped panties lie on the ground and Sukuna looks at them forlornly before shaking his head, dirty alleyway panties apparently being too much even for him.

Sukuna grabs the bag you'd dropped when he'd kissed you and gestures for you to exit the alley. A few passersby give you strange looks but you figure if you were going to be arrested for public indecency, it would have happened already.

"I guess we're going to mine," you say. "I live like another two blocks this way."

"I know," Sukuna says already heading that way.

You blow a piece of hair out of your eye. "Of course you do."

When Sukuna actually types in the passcode to your building you almost lose it, but you're tired and honestly you had kind of expected to just come home to him already in your apartment at some point. Sukuna had never been great at respecting boundaries. Or the law.

You unlock the door to your apartment, it takes everything in you not to ask if he already has a key. You don't want to know. He follows you in and the two of you sit at the dingy two person table you have set up by one of the only windows.

"Cozy."

"Fuck you." He smirks in that way that has always made you want to punch him and you're reminded that you're currently wearing shredded tights.

"Sukuna, you wanted to talk. So talk."

The smirk leaves his face and he looks at his nails, pressing his thumb against the one on his pointer finger and then looking through the 'o' formed there. "You left."

"I did."

He looks at you. "Why?"

"You know why," you say, tired again.

"Sure, you want to get married at some point. You want a baby at some point. I don't see what that has to do with us, right now."

"Because right now leads to that some point. It doesn't just happen. There are things I want, that are important to me. If they're not important to you, then I need to find someone who has the same priorities as me."

"Because I'm not your priority," he says and this is the rehash of an argument you'd had a thousand times. Sukuna was selfish and possessiveness and while that had always granted you a certain security, it had also been a chain you'd constantly worn around your ankle. You weren't going to defend your time at work or with friends to your boyfriend. That belonged to a different time, to different women and it had been a nonnegotiable early in your relationship that he figure that shit out with himself.

"Sukuna, I love you but I'm not going to give up what I want for my future because you don't want it. You don't have to want it, in fact I appreciate that you've been honest about it-"

"So appreciative, you left me," the words are almost snarled and you sigh.

"That's not fair. You can't be mad I want something else, the same way I'm not mad that you want something else. It's not a character flaw to not want to get married, or to not what kids. It just means you have a person out there for you who shares that view. Because it's not me."

"Why can't it be enough to just have a life with the two of us?"

"It's not about whether or it's enough, it's about me wanting something else."

There's a pause. Sukuna claws at the dents already in your battered table and deepens the grooves as you try not to flinch at the sound of his nails bearing down on wood.

Finally, he responds. "You know, I spent my childhood, my teens and a lot of adulthood raising Yuuji because our piece of shit parents couldn't be bothered and let me tell you. It's fucking hard. It is constant and they need so much for you. I didn't do anything but work and watch him for almost two decades and I don't want to do that again. I want my own life."

"I understand," you tell him. "That was a lot, even if you did a great thing by taking him in."

"It wasn't because I was nice. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a murderer. And you want me to fucking watch Bluey with some brat."

"You may not be nice but you do right by the people you care about. I also don't think you've murdered a baby, it would probably be okay."

"That's more incidental than a conscience choice," he says and you know he has to hear how ridiculous he sounds.

"Alright. I respect your decision but for what it's worth, we're not kids anymore and you wouldn't be doing this alone. I think Yuuji turned out pretty great because he had you, and I think any kid of our would be lucky to have you as a dad."

"You would really do all that with me," he says and his voice is as close to wonderous as you've ever heard it. "You really are a lost cause."

You try not to react, remind yourself that this is always how Sukuna responds to affection. He'd laughed at you the first time you'd told him you loved him. You'd punched him and broken your hand on his chin. He'd told you he loved you in the ER as the attendant resetting your hand looked on in horror.

"I think that's enough for today. Thanks for stopping by and for the orgasm, appreciate it," you say, rising from the chair. You walk the short trip to your door and open it. "Hope you have a safe trip home."

Sukuna stays seated. "That's it?"

"Yeah, Sukuna, that's it."

"And if I said I could do this, I could give you those things."

You think about it and look him over. How his hands twitch as if only his ego is preventing them from clenching. The clear trauma that was informing his previous stance.

"I'd say take some time and maybe talk to someone. I don't want to do this with someone who can just bring themselves to bear it. I want them to be as excited as me."

"That's asking for a lot from a guy."

"But someone will do it." Sukuna looks angry again and when he steps in your space, you push him gently away with your hand. He goes to hold it and even the familiar scrape of his calluses against your skin can't make you waver.

"Bye, Sukuna."

Sukuna looks at you, waiting for you to give in you know but you won't.

He leaves without another word.

When the door to the stairwell slams shut, you finally let yourself cry.

----------

It's been a month since you've seen Sukuna and you're on another date.

The guy is unoffensive. He gave you a hug when you met up and he'd made a joke about the plethora of other couples at the restaurant. You two started playing a game where you tried to guess how many dates each couple had been on?

"Three, she's finally figured out she can't put up with how he chews no matter how nicely coiffed his hair is," your date says as you take another sip of your drink.

"That's a second date, his chewing is a commit or quit type of deal and she looks ready to go. Bet they didn't eat together on their first date."

"Is he telling the plot to Dune, he has not stopped talking since we sat down," he says and you giggle despite yourself.

You've just started on the couple both looking determinedly at their phones by the window when your phone rings.

"Sorry, I need to take this," you say and he smiles.

"No worries, I'll let you know how many times she misses her mouth while looking at her phone."

You wave as you go to stand outside. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"Hey."

"Hey, princess. Bad time?"

"No, just, what do you want?"

"Well, I'm planning this first date with this girl and I'm having trouble figuring out how to explain something."

You want to throw up, what kind of test is this?

"What do you want to say?"

"Well, I've heard that it's important to be straightforward with your intentions, so you don't waste anyone's time."

"And what are your intentions?" You manage to spit out and he laughs, his smugness almost seeping out the phone.

"Well not anytime soon, but eventually I think I'd like a little brat. You know, prove to Yuuji that he wasn't a fluke."

You heart is pounding and you hate him. You love him.

"Uh huh."

"And I guess it would probably be easier to do that if we just got married. You know, taxes, healthcare, I still don't have healthcare but my wife will and I've heard you can add people to that."

"This proposal is the fucking worst one I've ever heard," you say, trying to ignore the fact you are now crying in front of a restaurant. People walk by giving you pitying looks, probably think you got stood up.

"It's not a proposal, it's a framing of intent."

"Why do you talk like such an old man, we are almost the same age?"

"Why do you talk like such a brat?"

"You know-"

"Probably," he says and you laugh despite yourself.

"So when is this date?"

"Tonight," he says. "You can wear that dress you're wearing, it looks perfect on you."

"Are you fucking here, you creep?"

"That's no way to talk to your future husband and no. That place is a shithole, I'm at our usual."

"Good, I've missed it. No one makes my drink the way I like it," you tell him and he hums.

"Well, it will be waiting for you when you get here. So get here soon."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

Sukuna hangs up and you stand there. There's a perfectly nice guy inside. One who makes you laugh and who maybe one day you could grow to love.

But there's another guy across town who is sitting at your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite drink. His lips taste like the organic chapstick, he claims to be too tacky to be worth wearing but keeps it in his pocket anyway. He built all your furniture and let you paint your bathroom green even though you live in a rental. He's held your hair back when you were sick and cleaned it up even as he bitched at you for the mess and done a rather cruel impression of you retching.

There's another guy that you love.

So you go back into the restaurant to tell your perfectly nice date that something has come up.

Maybe you're a fool, but what else could you do?

Maybe this will be a series, idk. Being an adult is weird. This is def ooc but you know, let me work through things and call them fiction. That's what this account is for.

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk #sukuna

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writersdrug · 4 months ago

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For bartender ghost and waitress reader, what about some fluff? Small things like rolling silverware or saving some of the food from messed up orders for each other when they know they haven’t eaten?? Also, your writing is absolutely phenomenal and it is keeping me going!! Keep up the great work!

Bulleted post bc I'm lazyyyy but thank you babes!!

Simon's job revolves around the bar, and yours revolves around the restaurant floor. Still, that doesn't stop the two of you from mixing your sidework together, just to have extra time with each other. Price never seems to mind, as long as the work gets done.

You'll stand behind the bar and chop the citrus fruits the way Simon showed you, while he replaces the empty kegs and cleans the taps.

Rolling silverware was no longer his job once you were hired, but he regularly joins you at a booth after your shift is over and helps. He polishes the utensils while you roll them in napkins, and he listens as you ramble on about your day.

Before the bar opens, when he takes his smoke break, you take a snack break. Sitting on the stairs in the alleyway, eating the loaded fries Soap made, while he leans against the brick wall of the adjacent building. You badger him with questions about his time in the task force, and he begrudgingly answers them all (he's preening at the way you listen with such interest).

Sometimes he'll text you before you show up for the day: "need some fruit and bitters for the bar, Sevvy's?" And you know to meet him a bit earlier at the bar, so the two of you can head to the corner market down a few blocks. He carries the basket while you dig through the crates of fruit, insisting on picking the best ones - if it was just him, he'd grab the ones off the top that don't appear to be rotting. But it's you and him, and he's happy to let you drag him from place to place and take up all his time.

You once video called him late in the morning. He immediately worried something was wrong - but when you just started your usual chit-chat, propping your phone against your bathroom mirror and doing your makeup, he realized you were just being domestic. And it warmed his soul more than he cared to admit.

Now, it was a weekly occurrence. You start a video call with him, and the both of you talk as you go about your day. He'll only stop when he has to run into the brewery and discuss the next order with the brewmaster, but even then, he's got one earbud in and his phone tucked into his pocket.

Not much but enjoy!

#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty

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captainreecejames · 9 months ago

Text

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill.

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up.

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating.

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him.

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque.

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #Charles leclerc x fem!reader #Charles leclerc smau #formula 1 #formula 1 smau #formula 1 imagine #read #danielle writes

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oct0bra1ns · 9 months ago

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Can I please request, four platonic yandere brothers with helpless y/n who only grew up relaying on their brothers

My god, i take so long to answer, anyways teehee, im finally answering things yayayayay my trip back home is uh not going to happen i think, very sad, anyways also omg, four brothers also also, im lazy so for now, their names are numbers :p

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

Having four brother to look after you is probably great when you're young but a pain when you're older, combined with the fact their yandere behaviour it's probably hell on earth.

You have to ask them permission for any and everything you do, and unless they say yes, you won't be able to do anything. If involves a friend, one or two will always be hiding in the background in case something happens.

The eldest, One, makes all his brothers report everything to him, where you go, what you do but he himself, never steps in to stop you from doing something, instead, he'll have Two or Three do the dirty work.

One is your beloved brother, who'd never do anything to make you upset, he may be pulling the strings but he'll never out himself as the villian.

One probably has the best job out of all the brothers and he has no problem handing you his card to go buy whatever you want, eat whatever you want. Hell, he takes you to expensive restaurants every now and then.

Even if you ask for a luxury car, he'll get it for you, no questions asked.

What his parents couldn't do, what they couldn't buy you, he'll buy it for you, he'll make sure you never lack in anything, whether it's something you need or something stupid, he'll hand it to you.

Having a good job, also means he's quite busy, but he makes time for you no matter what, one call and he'd drop everything to come to you, after all, his company should be more than equipped to deal with things in the absence of their CEO.

Two is the second eldest, the more strict brother, one who seems he'll scold you for sitting the wrong way, when in reality, he'd never do anything like that.

Despite being the one who finds a way to spoil all the plan One disapproves of, he makes sure to let you down gently, how horrible of an idea it is, how dangerous the outside is, especially when you're so looked after by four brother, the world is not as kind as they are.

Being a professor, Two is out most of the day but when he comes back, he always makes sure you have something to eat or buying something you want to eat. There isn't a single day he doesn't come back with a trinket in his hand.

Two is the brother you go to when you're having trouble with your assignments, he'll take all the time he has to explain it to you, no matter how busy you are, no matter how many assignments he has to complete, he'll always ready to explain things to you If you ever go into the same field as him, he'll pull some strings to get you into the same college he works in.

Two knows better than anyone how much you hate when people raise their voice at you, after all, he was the one who always comforted you after you got yelled at for not being able to understand your school work.

Two does not hesitate to go argue with the teacher if he sees and mishap in your grades, Two has years of experience and multiple connections, he'll make sure that teacher never gets to grade another paper again or if you get a lower grade than expected, he;ll go through the paper with you.

Three is someone who quiet, but the moment he opens his mouth, only sarcastic sentences and insults fall out of his mouth and even you as his sibling are not immune to this, although, he might tone it down so he doesn't get smacked by One again for making you upset.

Three is the brother you'd call after getting in a fight or if people were being creepy towards you, he wouldn't hesitate to break their nose off, and he always reaches the spot suspiciously fast.

Three might not be as rich or smart as the other two but he sure as hell knows how to deal with problems through violence. It's the only way he knows to look after you, you who used to get into ridiculous arguments, who used to stand there and accept every insult, not doing anything afraid to disappoint One or Two. He used to deal with people back then, he used to drag you away when your parents were fighting over something stupid, if he could he would have made sure you never has to see those things but back then, he wasn't as strong nor was he as capable as he is now.

Three is the brother you go to when something goes wrong with your car/bike, he'll fix it up for free, arguing how it got this bad because you took it to some random mechanic outside.

God forbid, Three ever find out a mechanic overcharged you with something, he'll go down there and pick a fight before demanding One to shut down the place.

Four is the youngest and closet to you in age, someone who's always up and about. He'd be dragging you to different places to try out different things.

Always going against One and taking you places, One disapproves off, claiming how you'll be completely safe with him and that nothing could go wrong.

Four knows how much it upsets you when Two or Three stop you from going somewhere when everyone is busy, so he makes it a point to take you there whenever he's free.

Four has always been stuck to your side like glue, back in school when no one wanted to sit with you and now when all your friends happen to be busy all the time.

He'd make it a point to show how awful your friends are, hanging out with others while ignoring you everytime. Unlike the other three, Four doesn't mind if your feelings get hurt a bit, perhaps sitting in a cafe, waiting for your friend for hours will teach you how unreliable they are and how much better your own brothers are, when they drop everything to come attend to your needs.

Of course, he doesn't go too far, four is well aware how one already disapproves of his ways and the last thing he needs from his brother is a lecture.

#octo answers #yandere x darling #tw yandere #yandere x reader #octo writes #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #platonic yandere #yandere x gn reader #platonic yandere x reader #yandere platonic #yandere writing #yandere male x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere brothers

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kaivenom · 26 days ago

Note

Hey same person who asked for OP DILF x MILF reader

How about them reacting to MILF reader having a kid? (Even funnier if it was like luffy or zoro lol)

OP DILFS dating a MILF who has a kid

Characters: Mihawk, Doflamingo, Crocodile, Smoker,Shanks.

A/N: Two things. First one: i love this, i really had a good time writing it, you have great ideas my dear anon. Second one: exams are finally oveeeer, so i would be trying to update more than usual to get all the requests out of the hoven for everyone.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

After taking care of Zoro and Perona, he thinks that he is ready for everything.

One day you were both on the kitchen and he like ussual is reading paperwork.

"It looks like the new generation it's going strong, this kid seems a good swordsman." he shows you the picture.

"Drac, i think it's time for us to talk." he almsot felt fear for a moment, "that kid it's mine, not like you and Zoro, literally that is my son." his mind exploded, you never saw him that concerned.

"And when will you have said this to me?"

"I am telling you now... you know how difficult it's to date at our age, especcially being a woman who already has a kid?" he nodded and pushed you closer, "i planned on telling you soon, i just, didn't know how, i was expecting something like this to happen to have the oportunity to tell you.

"You are lucky i already have practice with that green haired boy... call him, we can set a dinner and i can meet him formally, maybe even bond?" you coudln't help but smile and kiss him.

Donquixote Doflamingo

He already has experience with children since he literally adopted a lot of them.

One day someone robbed on the royal treasure chamber of Dressrosa and he was furious, he was looking for you to help him relax.

"My dove, i need some of your assistance on my d..."

"And when i tell you i date someone your best idea it's to rob him? you are lucky i found you and your stupid friends before he did? and.... " you finally became aware of his presence, but his eyes were already glued to the teenager.

You grabbed your child by the collar of the shirt and went to the door, your previous angry look bacame softer seen how Doflamingo's eyebrows were frowning.

"This is my son... i called him to Dressrosa so you could finally meet him but he decided to 'prove you'... i dont know what was on his mind. I have the treasure located and coming back to the chamber."

"You have a child." Doflamingo looked at the verge of an aneurysm, gritting his teeth.

"I do, please, don't punish him... i thake the responsability." his lips curled in a strange smile, like he was trying to fake it.

"I am honored to meet your son, it's impressive to know how skilled he is, maybe he can join court..." clearly Doffy was having a hard time trying not to kill you son.

Sr. Crocodile

Experience 0, oblivious 100%

He was on his office, doing work and you appeared with your son.

"Croc..." he turned the chair and looked at you both, "dear, i told you i don't need more agents... i don't know how you contacted someone with such a high bounty but i don't need it." and he turned the chair again.

"This is my son..." Crocodile was thankfull for being backwards to you cause he choked on the cigar.

"Your what?"

"SIr Crocodile, i am (Y/N)'s son, i was hoping to meet you and bond a little, i wasn't expecting a job... but if you give it to me i am not going to complain."

"You already have a job as bounty hunter, don't try to take advantage of this." you poked your son's cheek under Crocodile's surprised look.

"I..." he cleared his throat, trying to sound serious and prepared, "pleasure to meet you child, i would have appreaciate it a warning."

"I warned you, i left a note on the fridge that said 'special meeting today, i have a surprise'" your son started to laugh.

"That sounded like a booty call, jajaja, maybe he was expecting you to come here in lingerie." you punched your son on the head to make him shut up.

"I can make a reserve on the restaurant we both like and i can know you better." he tried to sound profesional but your son was right, he tought you would give him a sexy surprise, not this.

Smoker

He was really tired of dealing with teenage pirates.

He spent the last week chasing and fighting agaisnt a new supernova, he was tired and just wants to get home to you.

"Hello love." he said while hanging his uniform, then he got to the living room and saw that same supernova playing cards with you, "i don't know what you are doing here bastard but you are not going to hurt my..."

"Relax old men, i was just paying a visit to my mother." Smoker got his mind reset.

"Smoker sweetie, this is my son."

"How couldn it be your son? you are a marine."

"Same happens with Garp, but he is a grandfather.... i think maybe this is a nice time for you two to meet." you were really nervous but tried to sound chill and smooth.

"Oh mother, we already know each other, thi sis the man that has been chasing me all week." the moment got worse every second and you wanted to hide, but you felt Smoker sat next to you and put his arm on your should, "noooo, cut the romantic things, i am going to throw up."

"Don't talk to us like that, yesterday i was furious that you were so childish but right now, i wont tolerate you talking to your mother or me with such a disrespectful tone." you had to hide a laugh, he clearly was getting his frustations out but at the same time trying to be nice. "so tell me, how can a son of a marine officer become a pirate?"

"Well..." and you knew that this would be a long night.

Akagami Shanks

Since Luffy and Uta, he was out of the parenting thing, for now.

You were sleeping and suddently canons started to burst on the ship, you got dressed and prepared to a new day at board.

"I am xxxxx, and i will defeat you, Red Head SHanks."

"On your dreams, child." canons were still bursting when you got on the ship and saw the attacker of the ship.

"Mom?" "Son?" you both said at the same time, Shanks mouth touched the ground.

"Come here you little prick, how could you blow the ship of your mother's fiancee."

"You are engaged? i didn't got the letter nor invitation, you don't love me or what? i know we don't live together anymore but..."

"I sent it yesterday, it should get to you in a couple of hours but... we took the covers of various newspapers, how could you not saw it?"

"You know i don't read that bullshit..." you both were yelling at each other from the ships, until Shanks decided to finally talk.

"And when i was going to know this?"

"Today!" he coudln't even talk, his mind was going to fast, another problematic child.

"Boy, stop blasting canons and get on the ship... i love your mother and i want to marry her, i can kill you."

"You are not going to kill me, i am going to defeat you."

"You can try, after the wedding and only if i am looking." you yelled at him and went to Shanks, "leave him, he is excited in reality to meet you."

"I must recompose myself, i must make him see i am a good stepfather."

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 6 months ago

Note

Please can we have more Yan justice league?

Maybe the reader has a boyfriend in the military so she doesn't see him much and when he comes back to visit, the go on a fancy date before they crash it?

It would make it even better if they reacted to the boyfriend about to propose to her!

A Day in Life: Heartbreaks

Synopsis: A day in your life where your yanderes find a secret of yours and tell you another one.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Modern!40s!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Tw: Bucky you’re one of my fav characters from Marvel, I'm so sorry I did u dirty😭; Heavy mentions of cheating and NO forgiving; Stalking; English isn’t my 1st language.

Word count: 1k

Requested? Duh.

Extra notes: I should be studying instead of writing this. Also omg I got so many requests in just a few hours, thank you very much!! I'm writing them all!!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Since most of your days became filled with stress and anxiety, you started appreciating even more moments where you could just forget all your problems, from small ones — like, lack of motivation to go to the gym, bad hair days and an ingredient you forgot at your fridge and became rotten—, and big, out of your control ones — like seven superheroes, who you see almost everyday, stalking you.

Your boyfriend getting back was one of the best dic(k)strations.

Bucky was a sergeant, he spent weeks, even months, away from you on missions. It was hard, but you were both busy people, so your mind was usually too stimulated to think about boy problems only all day, most adults were, and you believed the hard work would be worth it one day. The future was hopefully bright.

The League never mentioned him. Actually, some of them implied more than once that they thought you were available, so they probably didn't know about your relationship. You didn't use much social media and your boyfriend got especially busy this year, so it made sense.

He paid for you to get your nails done earlier and took you to a nice restaurant. After that, Bucky took you for a walk around the city, lively and beautiful even at night, and stopped at the park where your first date happened. Everything was fine, until he got on his knees. Suddenly, seven, mostly colorful, figures descended upon you from out of nowhere, screaming.

— (Y/N)! YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM! — Flash’s voice startled you, confirming your suspicions to who the group was.

You growled.

— SERIOUSLY? LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S MY DAY OFF! — Bucky, who had swiftly gotten up with his fast reflexes as soon as the heroes charged, blinked at the sight. He looked between you all.

— Doll? What’s this? — You looked apologetic at him.

— Sorry, Bucky. Since I got my job, my bosses got… Protective over me… — You didn't want him to get hurt. Bucky and his friends had a great sense of justice and hated bullies. He would surely want to do something if he knew the true extent of things. You also didn't want to ruin the vision he had of his idols.

Since their obsessive behavior started, you just counted your lucky stars that they would just get tired of you one day or wouldn't sabotage your relationships. They seemed fine with you having friends, but dating was different.

You turned to the League.

— Go! — They shook their heads.

— You can't trust this bastard, darling. We have proof of his betrayal to you. — You looked at Wonder Woman skeptically and crossed your arms. Bucky gulped.

— Oh, really? How so? — You raised an eyebrow.

Batman fiddled with his wrist computer, a second later, a protection was shown and different pictures and videos of your man talking and being very intimate with someone very familiar to you appeared. Your stomach churned and your heart ached.

— This is fake! Doll, you have to believe me! — Bucky cried out and got in front of you, holding your shoulders, trying to cover your vision from the images. You took a step back and kept looking at the images.

The League had more than enough means necessary to fake all of this, but you knew Natasha was Bucky’s ex, and they were still friends and coworkers, even with their intense heartbreak. You sometimes got insecure and worried since they spent so much time together, but he always told you you had nothing to worry about…

You gulped.

The League was all glaring at his back while he shouted a hundred words per minute, desperately trying to convince you he was telling the truth.

Superman growled and walked forward until he grabbed Bucky by his shoulders and pulled him away from you.

— Stay away from them, you asshole. (Y/N), I would never do that to you. — You ignored Green Lantern's words, like you were doing since the pacifier incident. You knew he was getting desperate and that made you specially scared, but at least he gave you some distance.

— Not now. — Batman took a step forward. — A few hours ago, we discovered your relationship. For security reasons, we searched, and found these pictures and conversations from his second social accounts, that he uses to commit his cheating.

— He didn't try to hide much, he thought he wouldn't get caught. — Flash stated.

— I-I need more proof… These could be old… — Your first words spoken made Bucky shut up. Mind scrambling for something.

— Let the Lasso of Truth speak for him. — In a second, the Lasso was thrown around Bucky's torso and he was squirming. — Speak, you worthless mortal! — Wonder Woman ordered.

Bucky was able to struggle for a few seconds, before he blurted out.

— It's truth! It's truth! I told her we broke up and started dating her again! I thought I could have you both at the same time!

You gasped. Your hand shot to your chest.

Flash was on your side in a second, trying to hug and comfort you, but you pushed him away. You started crying from heartbreak and anger.

— HOW COULD YOU?! — You glared at him and pointed at his face.

— Doll… I swear I love you both. But I'm also narcissistic, insecure and look down on women. — The Lasso was really doing its job. You laughed humorlessly.

You had nothing to say anymore. No reason to stay. You took advantage of his tied arms and got close, punched his nose, and stomped away.

The League contemplated going after you and trying to bring you comfort, but Batman and Martian Manhunter decided to just let Bucky go (after intimidating him so as to not get close to you again) and follow you discreetly, watching you from the shadows, intervening only if necessary.

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newtkive · 1 year ago

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practice - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader, mentioned platonic marcus x reader

summary: The sudden changes at your work prove to be a lot to keep up with, but Carmy notices your efforts where you think he’s just a tough boss. He proves to be more than that when he finds you pulling an all-nighter at the restaurant.

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: none really, anxious reader, ooc!carmen (he would never let mistakes fly like this lmao), kinda fluff at the end

a/n: this is basically how i would react working there bc i almost have an anxiety attack every ep watching carmy yell at everyone. sorry for any typos!

The fast moving pace that Carmen Berzatto brought to The Beef was something extraordinary. The skill of his professional chef background was carried over into the small hole in the wall that otherwise would have never changed if it wasn’t for him.

His drive was contagious, even infecting the staff you knew like the back of your hand. You never would have thought your coworkers, ever comfortable with a stagnant pace, would become accustomed to such change around their second home.

It was great to see your favorite people quickly see their own potential thanks to Carmy’s vision. The only problem was you.

You were falling behind, and quickly.

You tried to convince yourself you could keep up as things changed. But your mind was faster than your barely skilled hands and you were terrible at cutting ingredients evenly during a rush and you always somehow got sliced or burnt and your eyes always stung from the onions you were stuck prepping because that was the one job you couldn’t fuck up but hated— to put it simply, you sucked.

The faces of your coworkers reflected what you feared every time you turned around to take a breath, heels of your hands rubbing tears from your eyes as Carmy screamed profanities at the crew. Tina’s eyes would linger on you, brows raised and silently asking if you were okay. You would nod and blink the tears away before jumping back in. By the end of every shift Ebraheim would pat you on the back before leaving, and Sydney would send you a small, sympathetic smile and wave while you tied your shoes on the bench near the locker.

Each time you could see the sympathy in their eyes and it made you hate yourself even more.

You were used to sandwiches; assembling simple ingredients between a hoagie bun on a slow Sunday surrounded by the people you called family. Cracking jokes here and there, no pressure to make things completely perfect, which ended up making things perfect. So much so that regulars even seemed disappointed to see you up at the register some days instead of in the kitchen assembling their lunch.

Carmy wasn’t blind, he could see exactly what was going on, which was why he didn’t pick on you as much as he did when he first arrived.

The first couples of weeks that Carmy was there he noticed the difference in your station compared to everyone else’s. Organized, cohesive, clean—save for the multiple drinks you always had. You worked at your own pace, not slow but definitely not up to par with Carmen’s standards. You made it work though, cutting ingredients almost perfectly and whipping up sandwiches and other specialties not a second too late.

The change happened when Carmy upped the stakes and encouraged—or yelled at—everyone to be as quick as they possibly could. His yelling was off putting, and you didn’t respond well to much other than positive reinforcement.

The chef didn’t notice until the uneven bread and too-thin tomato slices lead back to you. He was quick, marching over to you with a purpose; if it was a cartoon, his hair would be alight with fire. “Chef!” His voice was hard and urgent, because he didn’t have time to deal with this.

As he approached, he noticed your hands shaking as you held the dull shitty knife, head whipping up and cheeks red, all but heaving from the pressure. So much pressure.

“Yes Chef?” You asked attentively, waiting for him to explode.

Carmen had all intentions to do just that, tear you a new one, tell you that you’ve been here long enough to know how to cut a fuckin’ tomato the right way but he paused. The look in your eye was wild and scared. His face fell, obvious turmoil behind his blue eyes causing a change in his decision. You waited with bated breath, but what you were expecting never came.

Instead, Carmen did his best to be calm and set his hand on the counter, leaning a bit. “I want you to show me how to slice that tomato.” He said.

“What?” You were confused and it was clearly written on your face. So were your nosy coworkers who exchanged looks and shrugged, expecting the young man to wail on you with his words.

Looking over your shoulder at the others, you tried to exchange weary looks with anyone but Carmy pulled you back in with his words. “Don’t worry about their shit. C’mon, show me.” He said again, motioning to the tomato sitting on the cutting board, looking at you expectantly.

After a beat of weariness you did what he asked. With an exhale your knife pierced the red skin and cut it, your wrist dragging it back and forth to cut all the way through. You gave a few more slices, doing your best to ignore his scrutinizing gaze.

Reviewing your slices, you mentally pat yourself on the back at the sight of them perfectly even and a fairly thin. You turned to look at Carmy, and he seemed to have an epiphany as he stood there holding his chin. Eyes flickering up to you, he nodded. “You know what that showed me?” He asked, and before you could answer he continued. “You’re competent, you did that shit with a dull knife. Don’t cut ‘em too thick or too thin, you have no excuses.”

He should feel ridiculous, like he was coaching a baby how to do the easiest job in the world, but for some reason Carmen was able to swallow his irritation and try to guide you.

You nodded, back straightening and hands sweaty. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmy was about to walk off but stopped himself, turning back around, eyes boring into yours as he grew more serious. “You hear me yelling, you listen, but I need you to focus, Chef. You can do this shit, I’ve seen you pull through before. Don’t let my mouth get to your fuckin’ head.” He said low enough just for the both of you to hear.

He was close, blue eyes staring right at you, the smell of the kitchen clinging onto his apron. It should’ve been intimidating, and it was a little, but you knew this was his version of offering comfort and maybe even some sort of apology.

“Heard, Chef.” You said just as quietly back.

There was a second of him staring, before he simply walked away without another word, leaving you to your own devices. Whatever he said seemed to put some perspective into your work, because you didn’t have anys setbacks for the rest of the day.

On the way home, sitting on the train with headphones in your ears and a jacket wrapping you up tight, Carmy’s words swirled in your head. You knew you could do this, and you could somewhat see in Carmy’s eyes that he had faith in you too. It was just a new world you were all suddenly thrown into and it was hard finding your place. On days where you felt like a baby fawn standing on shaky legs, wobbling and failing to find your footing, you had to keep going.

A single word rang in your mind.

Practice.

Your apartment was pretty small and shared with a roommate, so you lacked the accommodations and tools to really do all you wanted. Aside from that, you didn’t want to be the rude roomie who clashed pans in the kitchen all night long. So, as you made your way off the train you didn’t leave the station. Instead, you waited for the next ride to the city and headed straight for The Beef.

The sun set as you approached the back door, humming a tune as you pulled out a spare key—one that definitley would be confiscated once Carmy found out about it, probably clambering about it not being safe in the foreseeable future—from under the fuse box outside and unlocked the door.

You entered the kitchen, brows immediately raising as you saw all of the kitchen lights on. Slowly moving forward, a sense of anxiety grew as you knew no one would usually be here except for Carmy, and you really did not want to get a talking to from him right now.

Turning the corner, you sighed in relief when you saw the familiar stature that belong to Marcus. He had his phone out, recipe pulled up in front of him and a song playing softly from the speakers that he sang along to. You chuckled softly, alerting him of your presence. Head snapping up at the sound, he almost looked like a deer in the headlights as he met your eyes.

Similarly to you, he let out a relieved sigh and sent you a smile. “Scared me, Y/N.” He laughed softly, hands whisking again.

“Sorry.” You apologized, tugging your coat off. “What’re you doing here, man?” You asked as you headed over to the lockers and shoved your stuff away.

Marcus shrugged. “Could ask you the same thing.”

“Practice.” You said simply, shrugging and tying your apron around your waist. Approaching the kitchen, you started gathering a few clean pots to start your work.

Humming and nodding, Marcus gave you a knowing grin. “Same here.” There was a beat of comfortable silence as you gathered a knife, cutting board, and an onion before washing your hands. “I actually stay here sometimes overnight. It’s easier, that way I won’t waste time going back and forth from home.” Marcus explained.

Surprise filled your features and you sent him an impressed look. “Wow, no wonder you’re getting better fast.”

He chuckles bashfully, filling another mixing bowl with flour and whatever else he desired. “Eh, I guess.” The shrug of his shoulders made you laugh before you turned back to your own work.

With one last question of Marcus asking if you minded his music, and you affirming that you didn’t mind at all, he turned the dial on his bluetooth radio up and you both fell into a comfortable rhythm; Marcus in his corner and you on the stovetop.

By the end of the evening you prepared a vibrant beef braciole dish that a few of the others had been practicing since Carmy introduced it. You brought it to one of the stainless steel counters with two forks, setting it next to the two pieces of cake Marcus had sliced up from his recipe of the evening.

You both dug in, humming in satisfaction as you tasted each other’s creations, sharing impressed and ‘holy shit’ expressions that made the other laugh.

“This is fantastic.” Marcus said, another mouthful of beef being added to his mouth.

You laughed and shook your head, muttering a thank you, trying to swallow down your surprise. Marcus could tell, because he doubled down. “No, really, Y/N. This is the best one I’ve tasted yet, aside from the big Chef.” He said with a grin.

Shaking your head, you gave him your appreciation. “Thank you, Chef. I can say the same thing from you.” You motioned with your fork to the cake. In truth, his words pushed you and affected you more than you lead on.

The both of you fell into a rhythm, whipping up treats and savory meals almost every day after work. Marcus playing music at his own station, you timing yourself relentlessly to try and replicate the fast pace of the open hours of the restaurant. You sometimes even found yourself staying overnight, taking turns with Marcus to use his sleeping bag—he insisted where you didn't want to overstep, but sleep called you and his pillow was comfy.

Relentless practice proved to keep you on track and up to pace with everyone else, slowly but surely. The impressed glances shared between Tina and Sydney every time you had them taste a dish or were quicker than usual were enough, but Carmen was ever the critic. A new menu soon graced The Beef alongside their regular sandwiches, and it was a tough menu to master. You almost had them all down pat, practicing relentlessly for almost four weeks now after work.

However, every time you presented a steaming spoonful of stew, or a perfect bite of chicken piccata that everyone else in the kitchen seemed to love, Carmen would bite into it, hum, and shake his head. "Good." He said every time.

"Good like.. good good? Or good but start over, it's trash, throw it away?" You would ask, clearly waiting with baited breath on a slow day.

Carmy shook his head again. "It's not ready yet, Chef." And then he would be off to collect more expo receipts and leave you there disappointed, shoulders deflating in defeat.

"I think it's great, Chef." Marcus would smile, hands busy working on dough for his unmastered donuts. You would offer a sad smile in return, marching off to assemble another hoagie and handing your failed dish to a waiting Richie in exchange for an appreciative rub of his hands together. The negative feedback only spurred you to improve your craft as much as you could.

It was a rare occasion that Marcus didn't stay at the restaurant overnight. He left early in a frenzy after a phone call, muttering something about his mom's nurse needing him. Offering comfort wasn't your strongest suit, so you bid him luck and made a mental note to bring him his favorite coffee during work later in hopes to cheer him up.

At the same time you were plating what felt like your dozenth chicken piccata of the week, soft footsteps approached the kitchen. As soon as the timer went off behind you, you whipped around and hit the top, a harsh exhale and wipe of your forehead following the silence. You felt proud, plating and finishing your dish in record time without any hiccups.

A soft chuckle brought you out of your stupor, head snapping up to meet bright blue eyes from across the kitchen. There stood Carmy with his unruly curls, white tee and brown jacket he was beginning to pull off. In place of his usual stoic face was an amused expression, clearly not expecting to see someone in the kitchen at this hour.

You froze at the sight of him, but his soft smile eased your shoulders a bit. “Smells good.” Carmy said as if it was the most casual thing, hanging his jacket by the lapels on a hook. He sat on the bench, beginning to change his shoes into nonslip ones.

Stuttering, your cheeks turned pink. “O-oh, uhhh, thanks.”

“You’re here early.” He said back, standing now and readying to tug on his apron.

Brows furrowed, you looked above him to glance at the kitchen clock. Big red numbers read 6:15 AM and your brows raised in shock. Before you had a chance to respond, he walked closer, beginning to talk again. “I’ve noticed you and Marcus are always here before anyone else.”

You shrugged, nervous smile gracing your lips as they upturned slightly. “Ah, yeah. We both wanted to practice. Y’know, catch up with everyone else.” You explained. Conveniently, you decided to not mention the instances of spending the night, figuring it would be a little to embarrassing or earn you a talking to.

Carmy was now approaching the other side of the counter where you stood, hands tapping the steel. His little smug smile didn’t leave his lips as he nodded. “I also noticed a few things missing from our inventory.” His words were clearly teasing, but they made your face run pale.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, Chef. Take it from my paycheck, please—I didn’t even consider—“ The rambling was embarrassing, and his head shake cut you off.

“No, stop, Y/N. I'm teasing you.” Carmy laughed softly with a small smile, clearly endeared. The use of your name made you bashful.

A beat of silence followed, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. Carmy glanced behind you at the dish that laid perfectly plated, motioning to it with his hands. “Let’s see if your hard work is paying off.”

Blinking in surprise, you obediently nodded and turned to grab the dish. Sliding it in front of him, you gathered a fork and knife. Carmy grasped the utensils with a ‘thank you’, fingers brushing yours. It didn’t take long for the chef to dig in, eyes immediately closing once the first bite hit his taste buds.

“So.. what do you think?” You plucked up the courage to ask after he swallowed.

Carmy looked up at you, lips curling upwards and a proud look dawning his features. “Great, as usual.”

Usually those words would make you excited, but Carmy had a habit of complimenting your dishes before declaring how they weren’t good enough just yet. You simply nodded, swallowing thickly as he took another bite and savored the taste. “What should I change?” You asked, straightening your back in preparation for the inevitable criticism.

Humming, Carmy shook his head, the same amused look as before coming back. “Nothing, Chef. It’s perfect.” He said firmly. Those words made your breath leave your lungs, hands becoming clammy, and before you knew it you were grinning.

“Really?” You asked, not able to keep your excitement together.

Carmy let out a full laugh at that. “Really.” He confirmed.

You clapped your hands together before covering your face, hiding the grin as best you could. It had been awhile since you felt so elated due to cooking, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. You felt like the whole month of dedicating your time to cooking was culminating to this moment. Carmen watched you with soft eyes, taking in how happy his words made you. You turned back to him, giving up hiding how ecstatic you were. “I braised it differently this time, could you tell? Well, obviously you could if it’s good this time.” You rambled on, a bit of a giggle in your voice.

“It’s always this good, Y/N.” Carmy suddenly said. His words had you pausing, tilting your head playfully. Hand trailing along the counter, he rounded it to stand next to you.

"What do you mean?" You asked, smile falling a bit. The man's words echoed in your head and you looked around the room as if to try and find meaning from his statement. Surely he didn't have you remake the dish for no reason, right? But Carmy's strong posture and raised brows, waiting for you to figure it out yourself, made you think that's exactly what he did. Sobering up, you scoffed and crossed your arms as you sent him a look. "Are you serious? This whole time..." You trailed off.

"Yes, this whole time." He said, leaning on the counter with one hand, eyes not leaving you. "I needed you to bust your ass, Chef. I knew you needed the practice, so I gave you the motive." Carmy explained. The scrunch of your nose made his chest hum with something warm, akin to looking at a kicked puppy that he wanted to scoop up and reassure. Guilt washed over him a little bit as he feared he was acting more and more like his old Chef, but he pushed those feelings down as best he could. He did this for the right reasons, unlike that dickhead in New York did to him. There was no berating and preying on insecurities, just some tough love.

Sighing, you were torn between being angry and feeling grateful that Carmy saw this potential in you. You didn't know what to say, so you blurted out exactly how you felt. "I'm embarrassed."

Carmy frowned, ducking his head to catch your eyes where you looked down a bit. "Why are you embarrassed?" His voice was soft, tiptoeing as to not make you more upset.

Allowing him to meet your eyes, you curled into yourself at the attention. "Because I've made a fool of myself these past few months." You murmured, spilling your guts to your new boss for some reason that you didn't know. Maybe it was the quiet kitchen, or the sudden defeat you felt, but your mouth was faster than your mind.

A small 'no, no, no' left Carmy and he shook his head, reaching a hand out to place on your shoulder. "Don't be. I came in and turned shit upside down, it just took you a bit more practice to get the hang of things." His hand started to rub your arm comfortingly, leaving heat where he touched. You knew this must have been a form of an apology in his own way. The words didn't come easy to Carmen, but he tried to convey it the best he could.

Leaning forward, Carmy mustered his best stern expression, wanting to keep your gaze so you couldn't look away and distract yourself from his next words. Your breath caught in your throat, not used to this proximity. "I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself too."

Heat encapsulated your cheeks and you nodded, spurring him to nod as well. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

As soon as Carmy saw your shy smile he gave one right back to you. Still close, he radiated heat that made it all the more difficult to calm the butterflies growing in your stomach. Eyes never leaving each other's, the air grew tense as the dust settled. Unlike the usual sandwich smell, an aroma of a clean linen scent came off of him as you realized he must have showered before coming here. Carmy never would admit it, but your perfume filled the air for him, making him linger longer than he should have. The blink of your stare looking up at him made Carmy's chest tighten, and he immediately pulled himself out of whatever trance he was in.

Clearing his throat, Carmy let go of your shoulder and backed up a bit. "No more all-nighter's here. Okay, Chef?" He tried to seem playful to rid himself of awkwardness and whatever that just was.

Mouth falling open, you gaped at him. "How did you know?!"

Hands up in surrender, Carmy just shrugged. "A Chef never tells his secrets," He began, heading over to the drying rack to busy himself, playfully adding, "And someone kept leaving the spare key out, so I figured." The smirk he sent you made you grin and roll your eyes.

Carmy would never tell you he knew because that's what he used to do. Before he got the hang of things in his earlier days as a chef, late nights in the restaurant kitchen and a half hour of sleep was the norm for him. As you began cleaning up your work the chef's gaze lingered on you, blue eyes studying your form with a thoughtful look. Carmy shook his head, smiling to himself and starting his work. He reckoned he saw himself in you more than ever.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #the bear imagine #carmy berzatto imagine #x reader #carmen berzatto imagine

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nouearth · 6 months ago

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“POLKA DOTS AND MOONBEAMS”

steve rogers x male reader.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 & 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓—headcanon [ 4.1k ] 〳 part one

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒—male reader 〳 domestic!au 〳 mid-century!era 〳 'roommates' 〳established relationship 〳 secret husband!steve 〳 mentions of period-homophobia 〳 brief quarreling 〳 sexual content: top!steve, bottom!reader, love-making, breeding, milking, praising, verbal, dirty talk, body worshiping, guidance.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who coasted the city and was on a mission to find the best spaghetti and meatballs with you.

‣ "Verdict?"

‣ Steve's gaze looked right past the fork held before your lips, watching your mouth and expression twist and turn like the spaghetti noodles around the fork prongs prior.

‣ "It's good... not great. The sauce isn't as thick as I'd like for it to be... but it tastes fresh? Basil leaves adds a nice balance to the acidity... but the meatballs are a little overcooked. What do you think, Steve? I'm too picky, aren't I?"

‣ It was written all over your face. Satisfied, but not impressed.

‣ Unlike the last restaurant where you two had the misfortune of eating bloated pasta noodles and watery red sauce, this place was edible and especially generous with their serving.

‣ Decent, if Steve had the chance of writing a one-worded review for the paper.

‣ "You're not picky, just particular, but I agree. Red sauce is good—Padrino's still better. Meatballs are pretty tough, aren't they... but I do like the flavor of them. You can tell they used a fattier mixture compared to the rest. A lot of garlic too, which makes up for the lack of it in the sauce..."

‣ "Not as good as Mama's?"

‣ "The moment we find a spaghetti that's as good as your mother's, is the day we find a way to squeeze water from stone, (M/N)."

‣ "Don't mention that to her. I don't need her ego to be any more inflated than it already has been."

‣ Dates like these were never boring.

‣ No matter how many times Steve had watched your face wrench in disdain or light up in surprise, he always found it a joy to watch you participate in this arbitrary—now routinely—idea of critiquing spaghetti and meatballs so earnestly.

‣ To be fair, it wasn't like you two had a slew of options to make dates seem... more like dates.

‣ In fact, there shouldn't have been any options offered on the table in the first place.

‣ Any intimations that you and Steve were on a date would've been subject to a location change.

‣ Most likely, a candle-lit dinner in a jail-cell, dined over cold hard concrete, and Steve was sure the spaghetti and meatballs served there was going to clutch last place in his ranking.

‣ Though, Steve was hopeful that the romance would still be alive and well had it ever come to that point.

‣ You had a thing for restaurants with a gimmick.

‣ "Seven out of ten sounds about right?"

‣ "What about dessert? We can't leave without getting the tiramisu, Steve."

‣ "Since when did we factor in desserts for the scoring?"

‣ "What—since we started. Don't tell me you've been only ranking the spaghetti and meatballs... it's all about the experience, the... the je ne sais quoi—heard that on the radio once!"

‣ "The je ne sais quoi—this is why I wanted you to be the one logging everything down, (M/N)!"

‣ It took more of a toll on him than it did on you.

‣ Well, if it did, then you did a stunning job at maintaining your usual optimism.

‣ Whenever you two were out in public, Steve felt hammered by this distance pushing him apart.

‣ It was a conscious effort on both ends—a natural one that pertained to the business of being in a homosexual relationship

‣ Or just being a homosexual, period.

‣ Steve understood it. He abode it. And he hated it.

‣ Often, when the conversation between you and him would come to a slow, Steve would look right past your shoulder, right at the lucky couple who were in his sight-line—a gentleman with an impressive mustache and his lady—and simply stare.

‣ His thoughts wandered.

‣ The gentleman was unabashed in his public flirtations with the woman.

‣ Massaging her hands, tending to the aches in her knuckles with firm, but appeasing presses.

‣ The smell of his cigar was pervasive, but the lady didn't seem to mind. It seemed like she thought it was rather charming when he blew a smoke towards her face.

‣ One hand would run up her arms in several strokes, rough callous grinding down her goosebumps, and the man would compliment how soft and supple her skin was.

‣ The lady would bat her eyelashes, giggle at the man's public display of affection whilst also maintaining some sense of courtesy to halt his advances when a pair of curious eyes were enough to render her cheeks scarlet—like the lipstick she had worn for the evening.

‣ Steve hated this restraint. This lack of freedom that forced him to talk to you as if you were his co-worker.

‣ To look at you as if he had no affection for you whatsoever when that was further from the truth.

‣ To touch you as if you were an infection that could cost him his life, and him to yours.

‣ That wasn't completely off from what society thought of people like you and Steve, was it.

‣ "It's not nice to stare, Steve... quit it."

‣ "If I can't even look at my own lov—you, what else am I supposed to do?"

‣ "Steve—come on, not now. You know how it is. It's hard, I know. But... we can't just be cooped up in our pad and wear out its virtues. It's nice to go out every once in a while, even if—it has to be like this."

‣ "It's just not—fair. Maybe—maybe we can do something. It doesn't feel right if we're doing nothing about those bar raids too. They're increasing, you know? Becoming more violent and—"

‣ "Hush. People are staring to look."

‣ "Why do you seem completely fine with this? Hiding ourselves—"

‣ "Look, I don't like it as much as you do. Hell, it's killing me on the inside that I can't even smile at you like how it would naturally come. But I'm okay with hiding—because it's for my safety, and most importantly, for yours. I don't ask for much, but I've envisioned the near end of my life to be fulfilled and labored with no regrets. With a house where I can harvest my own apples from my own tree. With a lazy pup that knows better than to eat through my laces. All of that would be possible because I hid—no—because I endured. And I would heavily prefer it if you would join me in that life. Call me a coward, spineless, or selfish, but I don't want it to be our last, Steve. It's terrifying—to know that any day I could lose you to violence and persecution, myself included. So, please—just hold it out for longer—that's all I ask of you."

‣ Most of all, Steve hated that he was envious.

‣ He wished he could be the one wiping sauce stain off your lips.

‣ He wished that he could hold your hand over the table and stroke the ring on your finger that you could've kept on.

‣ He wished that he could stop the tears from welling in your eyes like he often did back at home.

‣ He wished that he could tell you that he loved you, either with a mouthful of meatballs or none at all, because in the end—it would've felt better than communicating those three words with three taps of his foot to your shin.

‣ You nearly reached over for his hand to calm him down, but pulled your back straight upon the fright of a passing waiter and opted for the cipher that was could only be cracked between you and Steve.

‣ Three gentle kicks to his shin, once more to his other leg, and Steve sighed for pardon, returning the cipher gently to your own shin.

‣ He wished he could openly compliment how handsome his husband looked tonight, ramble how grateful he was to have you in his life, or complain about how you kicked him a little too hard, but that was all well and fine because it meant that you were still present.

‣ Freedom—All of it, the positives and negatives, without the looming threat of a policeman pummeling you and Steve with a nightstick afterwards—because that was normal.

‣ Because that was life.

‣ A life that will pay in the long run.

‣ "Check, please."

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐄.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who ambled the misty street of Brooklyn Heights with you, the night dew giving everything a hazy look as you and Steve passed through moist air, side-by-side.

‣ "I was brash tonight, Steve. I apologize."

‣ "No, no... you were right. If anything, I was being a fat head. I was out-of-line. I'm sorry."

‣ "You were right too, you know. It's not fair. It's not that I don't want to do anything about it, I really do. I just—it can't be the two of us tackling something bigger than us. Everyone is petrified, Steve."

‣ "I know... but if we somehow all come together in some kind of union, then maybe—we can call for a difference. Show them that enough is enough. Show them that fear is no longer something they can instill in us."

‣ "Like a rebellion or something?"

‣ "Well, if it has to come to that, then so be it."

‣ "You know a guy, don't you..."

‣ "I know a guy."

‣ "Is it Bucky?"

‣ "What—how'd you know?"

‣ "Steve, you only know one guy."

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who was detoured into a dark alleyway between business building blocks. There was the droning sound sound of night, the low and humming resonant as the city had fallen asleep, all but two guests.

‣ "(M/N), what are we—"

‣ "All that quarreling made me forget to tell you how dashing you looked tonight. You know I especially like your hair combed back like that, Steve-o."

‣ He didn't need much of a hint as to what you were getting at.

‣ Squeezing in between a narrow passageway that would luckily only admit two bodies at a time, you and Steve were obscured from any wandering eyes.

‣ From judgement of the world.

‣ "Steve, you ought-ta listen to me more. Blue polka dots look darling on you."

‣ "If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted me to wear a pink tie, darling."

‣ "Pink would've made me sauced my pants..."

‣ "You. Are. So. Vulgar."

‣ Shadows cast over his squashed body against yours, the moonlight only lighting the parts that mattered the most right now.

‣ The laughter that left your mouth after each peck Steve would grace you with.

‣ The lips that had him feeling withdrawal symptoms after an unbearable few hours of watching you lick sauce off your lips.

‣ The hand that tug Steve closer by his tie.

‣ The eyes that drew Steve in closer, until the tip of his nose touched yours.

‣ "Have I told you how much I love my cologne on you, darling?"

‣ "Have I told you how much I prefer your cologne rubbing off on me, as opposed to me spraying it on directly?"

‣ Slowly, breathing, pacifying; Steve's invisible stubble made your mouth twitch with a scratch, one of your many quirks he found himself silently obsessing over.

‣ And that was enough to push him over the edge, and finally kiss you like he'd wanted to since the evening had started.

‣ It was slow, almost careful like Steve was afraid of breaking you.

‣ Steve wasn't expecting this self-restraint from you. He wasn't expecting your hands on his jaw, tenderly massaging at either sides to keep your hands preoccupied while he slid his tongue alongside yours.

‣ He wasn't expecting to hear his own pulse because you were so stubborn in maintaining this control—you refused to summon urgency by vaulting your moans into the back of your throat.

‣ But Steve knew you more than he knew himself. He knew how you liked your eggs in the morning. He knew the perfect temperature for your bath. He knew you from the mole on your back, to the stance when you were impatient.

‣ He knew that if he led one of your hands right here—feeling the cusp of his growing bulge—that you'd give Steve what he wanted, and fall completely apart.

‣ And Steve knew that—by the eager palm of your hand, shoving into his unbuckled pants and groping—he was right.

‣ "Steve—just fuck me right here, yeah? I can't take it anymore."

‣ "Honey, we don't have any slick..."

‣ "Then give it to me raw. Use your spit. The rain. I don't care, I need you—"

‣ Your lips were warm and soft when Steve kissed you from rambling into the void again. His hands were against your stomach and chest, and your moans sent shivers down his spine.

‣ "Christ—turn around."

‣ Against the brick wall, teeth sinking into your forearm, you took Steve in without any regrets. Cold sweat breaking over your skin like evening dew collecting on window sills.

‣ "O-oh, fuck—slowly, Steve—"

‣ You could feel Steve's heart beat against your back, pushing further into you, huffing into your neck.

‣ "I love you."

‣ From then on, you and Steve lived without any regrets.

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who relished every inch of your body; with his eyes, with his mouth, with his hands, with his body, with his being—until you found yourself transported wholly to all different kinds of sensations, and he'd repeat to discover new ones for you.

‣ "You're good at this, you know."

‣ "Humor me?"

‣ Steve was mouthing at your inner thigh, one hand stroking your leaking cock, and the other pumping his Vaseline-slicked fingers into you.

‣ He looked up from his eyelashes, teasing your sack with a lick.

‣ Another lick, because he liked being distracted by your body arching off the bed, crinkling the sheets in the process.

‣ "Good at loving me. You know what I want, what I need—just like that. Putting another finger into me without asking of me if you can. Twisting—fuck—turning me out, all based on how my body responds to you."

‣ "Well, it's not difficult to gauge what you need. Your nails dig into the sheets when it's too much. Your fingers and toes curl when the pleasure's coming in. Your hips roll—when you need more, or a new fix. I'm no magician you're making me out to be, (M/N).

‣ "You notice all of that? That's embarrassing... and here I thought I was being alluring..."

‣ Steve layered his thick cock in slick, capping the tin and tossing it to the bedside counter after.

‣ He teased your prepped rim, observing how the ring of muscle would catch a string of his pre-cum and latch onto it with a clench.

‣ At the sound of your moan, at the sight of you toying with your nipples, at the torn decision between preening—you knew that he liked the sight of you biting your lips—and ceasing his taunts.

‣ Steve's cock veins pulsed, his cock pleading for him to fill that delicious hole before him, otherwise it would live in agony for as long as it could leak.

‣ "I do, and it's not embarrassing. I love how you—mm—like that. I love how you immediately wrap your arms and legs around me when I finally push my cock inside of you.

‣ "Oh, Steve—"

‣ "I love how you call my name, just like that. Say it again."

‣ "Steve..!"

‣ He pressed his forehead against yours and groaned with you. His hips racketed off your ass in a slow, but increasing rhythm.

‣ You held onto him, hands over his neck, anchoring him close until the only way you could have your fix of air was through Steve's lips.

‣ Steve's mind was empty, except for the thought of your hot tongue roaming into his mouth and the swelling grasp your walls had around his loving cock.

‣ "Like that... I love how I can decipher every meaning behind the way you call out to me."

‣ "Fill me up so well, Steve—baby. Can feel you deep inside of me. Ruining me with your cock. Your balls slapping against me, God—Steve!"

‣ Your moans tasted delicious on his tongue. If they were seeds, they'd bloom colorful hybrids of fruits because your love for him couldn't be defined by one singular hue.

‣ You were an array of colors—a prism conjured by the way Steve loved you.

‣ Red, because you were gritting your teeth as Steve had you taking him balls-deep, filling you up to the brim, and stretching you to the shape of his pistoning cock.

‣ "Fuck me harder, Steve—"

‣ "You're taking me so well, darling..."

‣ "When have I not?"

‣ Orange, because Steve rendered you speechless except for a few gasps, with his cock grazing your prostate and his hand over your cock, stroking while kissing at your neck.

‣ "O-oh, fuck—oh, fuck!"

‣ Yellow, because you were on top, straddling Steve's lap and yielding to the nearing high that you both had been gauging.

‣ You took your sweet time to make love to Steve with your body. Hands braced on his chest, combing your fingers through the light hairs, deeply rocking back and forth on his cock after a couple of lighthearted bounces.

‣ You marveled over his well-built body, following the contours of his muscles with one hand while silently admiring his broad chest, perky nipples, and wide shoulders with your tongue.

‣ The smell of aftershave on him was infectious when you came up for a brief kiss. You kissed at his lips, then his chin, licking at the short blades of stubble before pulling away to preen again.

‣ Your back straightened and you spread your thighs apart for Steve to get a good look at how hard he was making you.

‣ Your cock throbbed, swollen a pronounced shade at the tip, bouncing to the rhythm of your hips, all while you devoted your mouth and tongue to Steve's thick fingers, suckling and laving your tongue over every digit, every vein, every knuckle—thanking him for opening you up so well with the slick of your saliva.

‣ Steve was absolutely keen on watching you worship him with one hand tucked behind his head, the other stroking your cock when he would finish appraising your body with a couple of fond strokes.

‣ "God, look at you. You're so beautiful. I could do this all day, watching you ride every vein on my cock..."

‣ Green, because you built up enough energy to reverse your straddle and take the lead for once. You wanted Steve to see all parts of your body, especially the asset that had been drawing out those glorious moans deep from his gut.

‣ You knew it was a pretty sight that would teeter Steve closer to the edge.

‣ Sweat ran over the plump mounds of your ass as you were propped up on your forearms, slamming down onto his thick cock.

‣ Skin rippled when your ass repeatedly hit his groin, and then prickled, when Steve grabbed a handful of your sweaty flesh out of pure enchantment before swatting it as a stimulus to your slowing hips.

‣ "How's the view?"

‣ "Stunning..."

‣ Blue, because your body was covered in shivers from the way Steve had captured you into his arms and pummeled icicles into you from behind.

‣ Kneeling upright, Steve had embraced you tightly, supporting your core with a flat palm while simultaneously engaging his, thrusting into you.

‣ His hand was around your throat to feel every vibration that would squeeze from your throat and then pour into his mouth like a saucer of milk as he swallowed your sweet moans.

‣ Like Steve's cock, his other hand was equally uncompromising. He squeezed into the pulsating veins of your cock, stroked your shaft, and teased your glans with a thumb.

‣ When you sank back into the dip of his hips, Steve would propel you forward with a strong thrust, forcing you to fuck his closed fist in midst as he held you from ever retreating back on all fours.

‣ He loved that dazed look on your face. Wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Flushed like how you were abashed by his compliments to your novice cooking, yet only a hundred times worse.

‣ He also loved the way he had fucked you into being inarticulate, muttering a slurry of words—warnings of you coming soon, Steve would later learn after turning his ears up.

‣ "Steve, stop, stop—I'm going to c-come—seriously—"

‣ "Come for me, (M/N). I want to see you stain the bed. Want to see you come because of me. Only me. Want you to drench my fist and—Christ, there we go..."

‣ Violet, because you were red, and Steve was blue.

‣ You spilled heavily over his fist, shooting large, thick ropes of cum over the bed sheets. The sound of the cum splatters making your cheeks run hotter than the warmth drawing out of you.

‣ Each spurt shot further and further the harder Steve pounded into you and milked your orgasm with unrelenting strokes to your shaft.

‣ His thighs slapped into yours, resonating the bedroom with a sharp thunder that was sure to wake up the tenants.

‣ His cock punctuated deep into your guts, hard and sweet against your prostate.

‣ You cried out as Steve battered your insides with his cock, with his undying love for you. Biting into your shoulder to contain his groans, but Steve had enough of this restraint, of constantly holding himself back.

‣ He growled behind your ear, filtering out the resentment society had instilled in his body as he let his grunts loose, replacing that bitter feeling with the antithesis of knowing that he wanted to live life to the fullest.

‣ With a house that grew oranges alongside your apples.

‣ Steve thrusted harder.

‣ With an indifferent cat that couldn't care less about your torn shoelaces.

‣ Your moans hitched at the sharp snap of his hips, his cock digging somehow deeper into your guts when he pushed you lower into his groin.

‣ With a fulfilling life that was lived without regret.

‣ Steve felt himself come undone upon the last thrust. Every fiber of his muscle unraveling like pointe shoes after intense wear.

‣ He held you tight as he shuddered against your, his pulse anchored and soothed by the palm of your head on his cheek, stroking him affectionately.

‣ Silken white, he spilled his hot seed deep inside of you, weakly propagating the warmth from the outer rim of your raw, swollen hole, then to the deep depth of your walls and prostate, milking himself until he was jelly in the legs, until you were creamed, from inside and out, with his thick cock.

‣ You and Steve shared one more kiss, another breath, heaving and panting like you two had never kissed before, before his stance eventually gave out and made him collapse over your body.

‣ "Think—I might bump the restaurant earlier up a few spots, (M/N)..."

‣ "Why's that?"

‣ "Must've put some kind of aphrodisiac in that spaghetti... I'm deeply spent."

‣ "I disagree. It must've been that couple! I told you it was all about the experience—that je ne sais quoi that I've been talking—"

‣ "You really aren't going to stop saying that, are you?"

‣ "Shouldn't have fixed my radio if you knew you were going to be disappointed, Steve."

‣ "That's where you're wrong. If you think anything about you is disappointing to me, then I'm not being a great husband, am I?"

‣ "Well, look at you being all sappy tonight."

‣ "Too much?"

‣ "Never too much. I'm far too gone to ever think otherwise, Steve-o."

‣ "Me too, darling. Me too."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x male reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfic #nou.fics #x male reader #male reader insert #male reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #captain america

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ncttytrack · 1 year ago

Text

"Not your type?" - l.hs (m)

“Oh, Sweetheart.” He says and looks at you with a massive smirk, his hand never leaving your soft cheek. “I heard everything"

Summary: Your new summer job was great. The salary was great and the scenery was beautiful. But what made the job perfect, was your hot older co-worker Lee Heeseung, who you swear is not your type.

Genre: SMUT, Co-worker!Heeseung x reader.

Words: 3,7k+

Warnings: HardDomHeeseung, Heeseung is lowkey mean, chocking, creampie, lowkey size kink, degradation kink!!!, reader is lowkey a masochist...

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☠︎︎♡︎☠︎ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙︎ ☠︎︎♡︎☠︎ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☠︎︎♡︎☠︎ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You load dirty spoons and plates Into the dishwasher, sweat running down your neck. It was a hot summer day, and while the average person your age is down by the beach sunbathing, you are working at your new restaurant job. When you applied, you didn’t actually think you would get it, but here you are during your vacation from college. Not that you could really complain, it is a nice restaurant you are working at by the coast. It’s always sunny, you are surrounded by people wearing little to no clothing because of the hot weather, and the nearest sea is just about ten meters away from you. The perfect summer job for someone who is in a desperate need for money.

But there is one thing that makes working there difficult.

The first day on your job, your boss wanted an experienced college to help you out. For example, showing you how to load the dishwasher, the different courses on the menu, what you should do after the restaurant closes - and so on and so forth. What you didn’t know however, is that the man getting the “help the new coworker” mission, would be the hottest man you have ever seen in your life.

Lee Heeseung.

When Heeseung showed you around on your first day, it felt like you became 16 again. Every time his eyes met yours your whole body would tingle, only being able to look into his eyes for 3 seconds before looking away. Every time he asked you a question, you became a stuttering mess trying to compose yourself. It was really difficult, and because you two always seemed to get the same shifts, you couldn’t avoid him either. Not that he seemed to complain, he probably loved the attention he got from you. That is what you at least internally tell yourself.

You did however get close to some of the people working at the restaurant over the last two months, one of them being your now close friend Sunoo who was your age. That is what is peculiar about this working place, everyone is about the same age. Over the age of 17, but younger than 24. And because of the young staff, it wasn’t an unusual thing that people hooked up with each other. And the first time you heard about it from Sunoo, you couldn’t help it but get almost too excited.

“Are you serious!?'' You shout with a shocked expression, the food you chew almost flying out of your mouth. Sunoo laughs, putting a hand right in front of his mouth. “Yeah, it's true! And can you please whisper, we don’t want the others knowing what we are talking about”. You look at him with big eyes, before looking around making sure that people aren’t listening to your conversation.

You lean in and begin to whisper. “Like who?” Sunoo leans in as well, right by your ear. “Which ones have hooked up with each other? Well where should I even start. Um, well there was this one time with Yujin and Jay, and oh! Yunjin and Hee-“ you cut him off abruptly, not wanting him to mention Heeseung.

You lean back beside him, trying to act casual. “Yeah I get it, I get it, you don’t need to continue!” You look away from him, but Sunoo looks at you. “What, do you like Heeseung? Y/n…” He says and punches your shoulder playfully. Your face turns beet red, trying not to unveil the secret you so desperately have been hiding for the two months working here.

“What do you mean? Heeseung? Nooo he is like, sooo not my type” You say trying to sound convincing. “Not your type?” Sunoo says, not convinced by your false statement. Instead of answering him, you look away and shake your head confidently.

Sunoo suddenly smiles teasingly, grabbing your arm and leans in. Because of his sudden touch, you look at him surprised. He maybe leaned in a little too much, though he is so close that you can feel his breath tingling your neck.

“You know what I think?” He says slowly, making sure to pronounce every syllable, and looks at you with innocent eyes. You get nervous, not knowing what he is about to say and try to look away. “What?”

His smile gets bigger, and he continues while having a teasing pout on his lips.

“I think that you want big, sexy, Heeseung to grab your tiny, little, fragile body, push it against the hard wall of the storage room and manhandle you with,“ he makes his voice lighter, trying to mimic yours “his, big, manly hands, and strong arms”

Your mouth gapes open and you begin to laugh nervously, hitting Sunoo playfully several times until he backs away from you. You shake your head. “No! No! It’s not true!”

He looks at you and laughs while hitting the table in front of you. “Are you serious? You are lyiiiing! That is totally what you want!” You shake your head “No! I promise I-“.

Before you can continue defending yourself, you get interrupted by Sunoo rolling back his eyes. “OhmaGAWD, You are so BIG! Don’t stawp Heeseungie-“

Sunoo suddenly stops, and look away at someone standing in front of your table. You slowly look towards the same direction Sunoo is looking. You begin to internally panic.

“Um I think your 30 minute lunch break is over”.

It’s Heeseung.

You and Sunoo look at each other.

Omg, did he hear all that?

Heeseung is looking at you two confused, did he interrupt something?

“I mean, I need to get my lunch break too” Hee continues, looking down on the salad he picked out. He seemed…nervous? Before you could make this situation even more awkward, you and Sunoo quickly grab your dirty dishes and walk away trying to ignore Heeseung's intense gaze.

You could hear Sunoos' quiet laughter beside you while walking away from Heeseung. You look at him.“Promise me to never do that again Sunoo! And why are you laughing!” You whisper-scream trying to sound intimidating. “What?” He laughes, “It was sooo funny!”

You look at him with a worried expression. “But what if he heard everything?”

“So what! Just wait until the next Friday-night shift you have with him, drink the last 30 minutes at closing, and see what happens!”

You look at him, smiling. “Are you allowed to drink on the job?” Sunoo looks at you and grabs your shoulder. “I don’t know? But what I do know, is that amongst the older coworkers-“ he points his finger towards Heeseung and the others, “it’s a Friday-tradition, and if you want what I think you want…then you know what to do” He says and winks, walking away to help a customer.

And here we are, the Friday night shift. It would be embarrassing to admit, but the night before you did a 3 hour long everything-shower. Every inch of your body was shaved, scrubbed and cleaned. You were partially oozing vanilla. You hope that if something happens he doesn’t acknowledge the small wound you got from shaving too enthusiastically. Even though you put on matching underwear, an inch of you silently hopes that nothing happens. What if something goes wrong? What if you do something wrong? You try not to get too anxious, afraid that the nervous sweating will smell more than the perfume you put on this morning.

The final customer walks out of the restaurant, and you look at the clock. It’s exactly 30 minutes before the shift ends, which means it’s cleaning and drinking time.

“Is it your first time on a Friday-shift?” The voice behind you, surprises you, making you do a small jump out of fear while looking over your shoulder. Heeseung looked down on you with an amused expression. “Did I scare you? Sorry I didn’t mean it” You try to say anything, but the scary thought of you stuttering is enough for you to stay quiet. You tap your foot on the ground trying to fill out the quiet atmosphere while looking away.

Heeseung tilts his head, while biting his lips, trying to hold in his laughter. Why is she so cute? “Um… So..If you don’t know already, we have a tradition where we drink during cleaning so it makes it more fun. I mean, it is Friday soo” You look up at him again trying to act as if you don’t know about the “tradition” - as if Sunoo didn’t tell you a week before. “Oh, well, that sounds fun?” You answer.

Heeseung looks at you with bright eyes, turns around and grabs two glasses of beer, probably around 50ml, and hands it to you. "Perfect! You drink beer, right?” He says and looks at you. To be honest beer is the least you want to drink right now, but not wanting to be a burden, you take the big glass. You press it against your mouth, looking up into his eyes, while swallowing a big gulp of beer. You feel the bitter drink hit your tastebuds. Heeseung takes a deep breath, looking at your lips while you swallow the beer. Does she know what she is doing?

You put down the glass, it is already half empty. “It tastes better than what I imagined!” You say, feeling the courage entering your body with every second because of the alcohol. Before Heeseung can answer, you pick up the glass again, only for him to take it from you. You look up at him irritated “I think you might slow down on that, the beer is extra strong and we don’t want any…accidents”. Heeseung says, bringing his hand up, laying it on your cheek. His thumb strokes your top lip, swiping away foam left from the beer. Your breath hitches, and you stop moving. Heeseung's hand leaves your cheek, before walking away, leaving you with a beating heart.

Your body is swaying to the music coming from the speaker Sunghoon brought from home. The Broom you are holding gets heavier, the alcohol making your body weaker every minute. You don’t really remember how much you drank. Was it two glasses? Maybe Three? You don’t really care. All the staff members working this shift seem to be having a great time. Jay and Sunghoon were singing their brains out while putting up chairs on the tables, and Jake leaned towards the wall, holding his drink while laughing at his friends. You try to look around for Heeseung, but you can’t see him anywhere.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder, and you look back to see Heeseung looming over you. Why does he always sneak up on me like this?

He looks at you with an innocent smile, pointing back at delivery boxes filled with vegetables and meat. “It seems like the food supplies are here, do you mind helping me load the boxes into the storage room?” He says. The storage room? Omg the storage room! That’s where the hook-ups that Sunoo talked about happen! You look at him trying to calm yourself, hoping he didn’t notice your body reaction to the word ‘storage room’. You look at him, confident enough to talk back without stuttering. “It seems like I am done cleaning the floor, so I can help you”

He looks down on you, grabs the broom from your hand and leans it against the nearest wall. “Well come on then”. He says, picking up two boxes, and walks away, signaling you to follow him. You do so, lifting a heavy box with vegetables in the process.

The storage room is in the far back of the restaurant, and it’s now when it finally hits you that you two are completely alone. Even the others were too far away for you to hear, and only the music from the speaker was the sound reaching your eardrums. Trying to do your best, you turn around towards the shelves, stacking up cucumbers and carrots.

While opening up the second bag a hand suddenly leans on the shelf in front of you. You already know who it was, but decide to look back anyway, thinking he needs to stack up this shelf as well. Heeseung is looking down on you, his other hand resting in his pocket before bringing it up and grabbing your chin - making you look up at him. You could smell the alcohol from his lips, and you were super close, only a few inches keeping you apart. “W-what are you doing?” You say almost pathetic, as if you already don’t know the answer.

Heeseung lets out a small laugh and bites his lips. “I think you know, not that you should be complaining” You look at him confused, before realizing what he might mean. He looks at you and sighs, leaning down right beside your ear and whisper sensually. “I think you want big, sexy, Heeseung to grab your tiny, little, fragile body and push it against the hard wall of the storage room and manhandle you with his big, manly, hands and stroooong arms. Or isn’t that what Sunoo said?” You look back at him trying to object before feeling his hand leave your chin and meet your lower back, pushing you towards the shelves, making you drop the bag of cucumbers on the floor. He pushes his leg between yours, rubbing it against your core to tease you.

You try not to let out a moan, bringing up your hand in front of your mouth to muffle the sound. “Don’t think you can hide those sweet sounds from me princess” Heeseung says and grabs both of your wrists and puts them above your head. His other hand is now playing with the hem of your shirt, slightly brushing against the side of your stomach. Too drunk by his touch, the only thing leaving your lips are your heavy breaths. Heeseung grabs your waist and pushes you harder down against his leg, making you grind on him. The sudden friction is making you moan, and you tilt your head back to lean on his shoulder. His hand now leaves your waist and unbutton your shorts, sliding his hand over your panties.

A smirk forms on his lips when he can feel how soaked you are, and only from using his leg. He lightly touches your core with the tip of his fingers, making you let out a small hiss. Getting inpatient, he turns your body around making you face him and he let goes of your wrists. He grabs your shorts harshly, pulling them down with your panties in one go. You gasp by the sudden movement while Heeseung crouches down so he is eye-level with your core.

While licking his lips, he puts his finger between your folds. “Aww, baby, you are completely soaked already!” He says amused, trying to hold himself back so he doesn’t tear you apart then and there. Not wanting to wait anymore, you let out a small groan. “I know, I know, baby. Heeseungie is going to take care of you ok? Do you want that?” He says and looks up at you while rolling his head to the side, his fingers still lightly touching your folds. You desperately shake your head and down. To your surprise, he stands up and grabs your chin. “Use your words baby, only good girls get what they want.” You look at him with pleading eyes, hoping that he would spare you from the embarrassment.

He suddenly slaps you hard against your check, making your gasp. “I said use your words y/n” he says, his soft voice not matching his hard demeanor. He grabs your chin harshly. “Hee, please, I really want you” He looks at you and shakes his head. “I’m not sure I understand, what do you want me to do baby?”

You can’t take it anymore. Your whole body is aching for his touch, and the only thing you want right now is Heeseungs cock buried deep inside of you. You look up at him with tears in your eyes. “I want you to fuck me”

Heeseung wraps his hand harshly around the back of your neck, and pushes your head towards his, passionately kissing you. His tongue slides in your mouth while you feel his hand massaging your clit. You leave his lips, letting out a moan by the feeling of his rough hand pleasuring you. He takes off your shirt, not sparing a single second before unclipping your bra. He starts licking your nipple while his hand starts massaging the other. Cum is dripping down your leg and he kisses you down your stomach down your thigh. He drags his tongue against your leg to taste your cum, from your inner thigh up to your core, pushing his nose up to smell you. “Mm, baby, you smell so sweet”.

You feel his tongue circling your clit, making your head fall back towards the hard shelf behind you. Your hands grab his soft hair, a feeling Heeseung can’t get enough of, he loves how good he makes you feel, and how weak you are for his touch. Wanting to bring it one step further, Heeseung pushes his tongue inside your soaked pussy, making sure to push it as far in as possible. His hands grab your thighs harshly for support, and you roll your eyes back at the feeling. You know his harsh touch is going to leave bruises tomorrow. Heeseung speeds up his pace, using his nose to touch your clit while his tongue is deep inside of you. You begin to feel a clump in your stomach, and by the way you are pulling Heeseungs hair he knows you are close.

But then, he stops. You look down on him, disappointed and confused. “Why did you stop? I was so clo-“, before you can finish your sentence, Heeseung stands up and turns your body around. He leans down towards your ear “Don’t think we are stopping yet”. His nose brushes against your neck. He takes a deep breath to take in your sweet vanilla scent, before sucking your neck - making sure to leave a bruise. You tilt your head back, feeling both pain and pleasure from his actions.

He then stops, unbuckles his belt, and pulls down his pants, and that’s when you feel it.

You feel how his cock teases your wet fold and he is big, really big. At least 9 inches, if not more. Not wanting to wait anymore, You need to feel him inside of you, you whine “Just fuck me already!”. He slaps your ass, leaving a red mark and making you shut up. “Eager now are we? Don’t forget who is in charge here”

Before you can talk back you feel his cook slowly entering your hole, making you let out a moan. His hands meet your waist, pulling you in on his cook deeper. He is so big that it is actually difficult to take all of him, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you begin to bleed because of his size. He is stretching you out completely. “Common princess you can do it”. He says between heavy breaths, encouraging you to take his length completely. “Oh god, you are so tight” He says, pushing the last part of his cock into your pussy.

He waits a few seconds, so you can adjust his big size, before beginning to slowly slide his entire cock out of you. You look back at him, “Why did you take it ou-“ you say, before he harshly slams it back fast and deep into you. Your body slams on the shelves and you moan from the pain. You are not sure anymore if it is blood or cum sliding down your leg, but you don't care. The only thing you care about is the man behind you, pushing his deep length inside of you. Using you, for his pleasure, like his personal fuck toy.

Heeseung grabs the front of your neck while he fucks Into your tight little pussy, tilting your head back so he can take over your mouth, and your tits are bouncing with his thrusts. He then stops kissing you, still holding your neck almost shocking you till your light headed. You From the feeling of his large cock ramming into you to his hand on your neck is almost too much for you to handle, and you begin to see black spots forming in front of your eyes as if you are going to pass out from pleasure. “Aww are you about to cum? Do you think Heeseungie should let you cum?” He teases you, not slowing down one bit.

“Please Hee, please let me cum” You say desperately, trying to hold in your orgasm before Heeseung lets you cum. He fastens his pace and the before steady thrusts turns into sloppy, and you know he is about to cum soon as well. “You want me to fill you up with my cum baby, be my little cum slut?” Sweat is running down his back, and his hand leaves your neck and he instead grabs your waist to deepen his thrusts.

It’s not long before you both cum, his filling you up and leaking out of you when he pulls out his length. You are breathing heavily, and you feel too weak to stand on your feet. You lean back on Heeseung, your whole body aching because of him, and he hugs you from behind, kissing your neck. You feel his naked sweaty chest on your back, you can’t believe how tal he is compared to you.

“How much did you actually hear from mine and Sunoos' conversation?” You ask, breaking the silence, while turning around still leaning on his chest. He lets out a slight chuckle, one of his hands holding your waist, helping you stand, and the other grabs your shin. His thumb sliding across your bottom lip, playing with it, wanting to slide it into your mouth.

“Oh, Sweetheart.” He says and looks at you with a massive smirk, his hand never leaving your soft cheek.

“I heard everything”

The moment you slam your front door you pick up your phone from your pocket to call Sunoo. “Sunoo, you have NO idea what happened at the shift today”

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gpcwsl · 15 days ago

Text

Leah Williamson x Waitress!Reader

- Hard to focus -

MasterList

Warnings: kissing?

It’s a typical Friday night, and the restaurant is buzzing with activity. You’re weaving through tables with practiced ease, balancing plates and drinks, when you hear the loud laughter of a group that’s just been seated in your section.

As you approach their table, you immediately recognize them. Arsenal Women’s team. Leah Williamson sits near the middle, her blonde hair loosely tied back, her smile lighting up the entire room.

You swallow the slight nerves creeping in and put on your best professional smile. “Good evening! Can I get you all started with some drinks?”

The group turns their attention to you, tossing out orders and banter as you jot everything down. Leah is quiet, her gaze fixed on you as you write. When you glance up, her blue eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of the table disappears.

You clear your throat, breaking the moment. “I’ll be back with your drinks,” you say, giving a polite nod before walking off.

As the night goes on, you can’t help but notice Leah’s eyes following you every time you pass by. She’s subtle—her teammates are far more obvious. Beth Mead nudges her, whispering something that makes Leah roll her eyes and mutter a response.

When you return to their table with their food, the teasing starts.

“So,” Beth says, leaning forward with a grin, “do you always get this quiet around attractive waitresses, Leah?”

“Beth,” Leah warns, shooting her a sharp look, though her cheeks flush slightly.

You smile politely, pretending you didn’t hear, but your heart races a little faster. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” you ask, addressing the group.

“Actually,” Katie McCabe cuts in, her grin just as mischievous as Beth’s, “do you have a name? For, you know, great customer service purposes.”

You give them your name with a small laugh, feeling the weight of Leah’s stare.

The rest of the meal is a blur of stolen glances and light teasing from Leah’s friends. By the time you bring the check, Leah is the one to take it, her hand brushing against yours as she does.

“Thanks for putting up with them,” she says softly, her smile more reserved but just as captivating.

“It’s no problem,” you reply, feeling warmth creep into your cheeks.

As the team gathers their things and heads out, Leah lingers behind for a moment. “You work here often?” she asks, her tone casual but her eyes giving her away.

“Yeah, most weekends,” you say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Leah nods, hesitating for just a second before pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling something down. She slides it toward you.

“If you ever feel like getting dinner instead of serving it,” she says with a small smirk, “give me a call.”

You glance down at the paper—a phone number. When you look back up, Leah’s already walking out the door, her teammates grinning and giving her a hard time as they leave.

You can’t help but smile, tucking the note into your pocket.

You finish your shift that night with a lingering smile, Leah’s number burning a hole in your pocket. By the time you clock out, the restaurant is quiet, and you finally have a moment to replay the evening in your mind. Her smirk, the way her gaze seemed to follow you, the way she lingered just a little longer than she needed to.

When you get home, you stare at the piece of paper for what feels like forever before finally picking up your phone. You type out a simple message, hesitating before hitting send.

You: Hi, Leah. This is the waitress from tonight. Hope I’m not texting too late.

To your surprise, the response is almost immediate.

Leah: Not at all. I was hoping you’d text.

You feel a flutter in your chest, and before you know it, the conversation flows effortlessly. Leah is charming, funny, and easy to talk to. She asks about your job, your interests, and even jokes about her teammates embarrassing her.

Leah: They’ll never let me live it down, by the way. Beth and Katie have been on my case since we left.

You: I could tell. They seemed relentless.

Leah: You have no idea.

The conversation stretches into the early hours, and by the time you finally say goodnight, you’ve already agreed to meet for coffee the following week.

A week later, you’re sitting at a cozy café, nervously sipping on your drink as you wait. When Leah walks in, wearing a simple sweater and jeans, her hair loose around her shoulders, she spots you instantly and smiles.

“You look even better out of uniform,” she says as she sits down, her tone teasing but genuine.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply, earning a soft laugh from her.

The date goes by in a blur. Leah’s easygoing nature puts you at ease, and the chemistry between you is undeniable. She tells stories about her teammates, her career, and her life outside of football, and in return, you share bits of your own world.

By the end of the date, Leah walks you out of the café, her hands tucked into her pockets.

“I don’t usually do this,” she says, stopping just outside the door.

“Do what?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Get this distracted by someone,” she admits, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. “But you… you make it hard to focus on anything else.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world seems to slow. Leah steps closer, her hand brushing against yours.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” she asks softly.

You nod, unable to form words, and before you know it, her lips are on yours—gentle, warm, and everything you didn’t know you’d been waiting for.

When she pulls back, her eyes meet yours, and the smile that spreads across her face is enough to make your heart race.

“Dinner next time,” she says, her voice low but certain. “And this time, I’m paying.”

After that magical first date at the café, you and Leah fall into a rhythm that feels almost effortless. The texts come daily, the late-night calls stretch into the early morning, and every moment you spend together only deepens the pull between you. But there are moments—electric, heart-racing moments—where neither of you can ignore the sheer magnetic attraction that keeps building.

It’s a Friday night when Leah surprises you at work, waiting by the exit just as you’re finishing your shift. She’s leaning against her car, hands in her jacket pockets, her hair slightly tousled by the wind.

“I thought I’d take you home tonight,” she says casually, though the smile she gives you is anything but casual.

“I could’ve taken the bus, you know,” you tease, stepping closer.

Her eyes soften, and she tugs you gently by the hand until you’re standing right in front of her. “I wanted to see you,” she admits, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Before you can respond, the skies open up, rain pouring down out of nowhere. You let out a squeal of surprise, but Leah doesn’t move to run for cover. Instead, she laughs, her eyes locked on yours.

“You’re going to get soaked!” you shout over the rain, but she just shrugs.

“You too,” she counters, stepping even closer until her hands are on your waist.

And then she kisses you. It’s slow and deliberate, her lips warm against yours despite the cold rain falling around you. Her hands slide to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, and the world around you fades into nothing but her.

By the time you pull away, both of you are drenched and breathless. Leah grins, brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. “Best rainy night I’ve ever had,” she murmurs.

A month into your relationship, Leah invites you to stay over for the first time. You wake up in her bed, tangled in the soft sheets, with her arm draped lazily across your waist.

She stirs before you do, her lips pressing against your bare shoulder in soft, lingering kisses.

“Morning,” she whispers, her voice husky with sleep.

You turn to face her, smiling as her hand trails up to cup your cheek. “Morning,” you reply, leaning into her touch.

She closes the small distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that starts slow but quickly deepens. Her hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel her heartbeat against yours as the kiss intensifies.

When you finally break apart, her forehead rests against yours, her eyes half-lidded as she grins. “I could stay here with you all day,” she murmurs.

“Who says we can’t?” you tease, and Leah laughs, pulling you back into another kiss.

It’s a big match for Leah and the team, and you’re in the stands, cheering louder than anyone else. When Arsenal clinches the win, Leah’s face lights up as she scans the crowd, her eyes immediately finding you.

Later, at the post-match celebration, you’re standing off to the side, sipping a drink, when Leah sneaks up behind you.

“Hey,” she says softly, wrapping her arms around your waist. She smells like fresh grass and victory, and the warmth of her body against yours sends a thrill through you.

“You were incredible out there,” you say, turning your head to look at her.

Leah doesn’t reply with words. Instead, she spins you around, cupping your face in her hands before pulling you into a kiss. It’s passionate, almost desperate, like she’s been holding back all night. When she pulls away, you’re both slightly breathless.

“I couldn’t wait anymore,” she admits with a small smile. “I needed to kiss you.”

You smile back, your fingers brushing against the back of her neck. “Anytime, Captain.”

The rest of the night is a blur of laughter, stolen kisses, and soft touches. By the time you leave, Leah’s hand is firmly in yours, her teammates shooting you knowing smiles as you walk out together.

One night, as you’re both curled up on her couch watching a movie, Leah suddenly pauses the screen. You turn to her, confused, but the serious look in her eyes makes your heart skip.

“Hey,” she says softly, brushing a thumb over your hand. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” you ask, your voice equally soft.

She hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching yours. “I’ve never felt like this before,” she admits. “With anyone. You… you make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel.”

You feel your chest tighten, your hand reaching up to cup her face. “Leah…”

“I mean it,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “You’re it for me. I don’t know where this is going, but I know I don’t want it to end.”

Tears sting your eyes as you lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s soft but filled with all the emotions you can’t quite put into words. When you pull back, you rest your forehead against hers.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper.

Leah lets out a shaky breath, pulling you into her arms. “Good. Because I don’t think I could let you go.”

#arsenal women #woso community #arsenal #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso soccer #woso #wlw community #wlw post #wlw yearning #wlw blog #wlw love #wlw #waitress

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celeste-clearwater-06 · 6 days ago

Text

The Kitchen Window (pt. 1)

(Bayverse! Raphael x F! Reader)

desc- (your peace in a quiet, less than fancy apartment is being disturbed by noises in the late night hours of New York. it's none of your business- until it is.)

warnings - some mild violence

word count - 3.1k

Since you moved into that inexpensive apartment complex in lower Manhattan, you’ve remembered the alley outside of your little kitchen window being shady. Littered with garbage, cold, and dark enough during the day to shade any odd or illegal happenings. And the manhole, set dead centered, right beneath the fire escape. Late every night, like clockwork, you can hear it clatter open, all the way from your bedroom. Loud. Obnoxious. And, up until recently, absolutely none of your business to handle.

You’ve witnessed more than your fair share of crimes in that alleyway, and frankly (not that anyone could blame you), you’d wanted nothing to do with whoever or whatever was responsible for making all that noise. Whoever it was, messing with the manhole cover and clambering up the fire escape ladder, seemed completely uninterested (or unimpressed) with your quaint little home. No break-ins, no uninvited visitors, or robberies. The only thing they disturbed, were your sleeping hours. You had to wake up early for your job, and the scrape of heavy steel against concrete echoing up brick walls at the ripe hour of one in the morning was enough piss you off royally.

But alas, with the fear of interfering with some criminal activities and getting your uninvolved ass kicked, was enough to keep you in your bed and away from the windows, when your tired eyes blink open. So you keep to yourself.

Until you couldn’t.

A Friday is what keeps you up late one night. No work to be expected at 6 on a Saturday, a box of takeout from a locally owned Chinese restaurant, and the newest season of your favorite show playing on the tv in your room to keep you comfortable. You settle in your bed, a comforter pulled up to your waist, and a flimsy box of the best white rice and orange chicken you’ve ever tasted. You snicker at the thought of eating in your bed without anyone telling you it wasn’t allowed. Your mother would kill you. But you indulge anyway. This is what adult freedom is all about, isn’t it?

The show starts, and you shuffle your butt further into the mattress and take the first bite of the Chinese that warms your insides. So good.

The tv hums and you watch intently, taking small uninterested bites as the character reveals an insanely unexpected plot twist, when your phone buzzes somewhere off to your left and it pulls your attention from the tv. As you reach for it, the box of food tumbles and spills out onto the blanket. Fucking great. Just your luck. A dramatic and childish groan spills from you, annoyance apparent. What idiot forgets napkins when they’re eating in their bed? You could just hear your mom’s chastising now. Phone forgotten, you carefully slide from the bed and rush out to the kitchen to grab paper towels to clean up your mess.

The moment your foot hit that first cool, floor tile is when everything became your business.

The kitchen is dark, besides the warm, overhead light above the stove. It’s enough to light up the counters and paper towel rack on the wall, where you reach to pull a few from the roll. You glance at the stove clock.

1:03

The scraping of metal outside the adjacent window to your left pulls your attention away. You don’t know why your heart is racing. It’s always the same noise, at the same time, every night. But you're close now, close enough to let whoever is out there catch a glimpse of you in your window and draw unwanted attention to yourself. So why are you tiptoeing your way over to it, and leaning over the sink to peak outside in the dark?

It’s hard to see 2 floors down, but the room is just dark enough to let your eyes adjust and focus on the manhole, already covered again. There are whispers coming from below the fire escape, deep, masculine. And multiple voices that are fighting to stay quiet, but still harshly exchanging words. A quiet laugh. The words are hard to make out with them being just barely loud enough and overlapping.

“Come on. Quit goofing around.”

The steel balcony begins to tremble. They were climbing. The shadow of the top of one of the strangers' heads barely appears before you duck down quickly to the tile in fear of being seen.

“Hurry up Lee!”

“I’m trying, the metal’s slick!”

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, almost drowning out their hushed voices and clanking of metal as they scale the ladder. Their shadows in front of the moonlight, huge and quick, are scattered across the floor. You wanted to just keep to yourself, to mind your own business, and avoid any and all unnecessary stress in your simple life, but that didn’t override the urge to turn and try to see what was going on just beyond the window.

Still crouched on the floor, eyes peeking above the counter, you see the silhouette of a foot leave a step and disappear above your window as they continue to scale the metal scaffolding. Their voices continued to quietly trail and climb up the side of the complex until they all but vanished from your earshot. It seemed the strangers were gone, and you were back to whatever comfort you offered yourself. Of course you were wrong. Just a few seconds longer, you could have waited, to bring yourself slowly from the floor, knees popping (curse your family’s poor joints) and a hand on the countertop to keep your balance. You lean forward once again, trying to peek upwards for any sign of the culprits.

A deep grunt and heavy thud on the balcony right in front of your face jolts your eyes directly forward to meet deep green eyes just beyond the glass. Your heart drops to your stomach at the suddenness of it all, a scaly, scarred beak-looking mouth opens in shock.

What. The fuck.

You want to shout, but nothing except a pearl-clutching gasp comes out when you stumble backwards and your ass makes contact with the hard flooring. You just wanted some napkins.

And now there’s a towering, impossible looking thing outside your window. A giant, dark, mountain of pure muscle, is staring back at you, looking twice as horrified as you feel. When you blink, whoever it is is gone, already clambering up the fire escape.

You scramble up onto your feet once again and reach to yank the window upwards all the way and stick your head out. They’re gone, all of them. Above you, there’s shouts echoing on the rooftop. You can’t bring yourself to come out. It’s not supposed to be your business. So then, why is it that when you look down and see some sort of steel, three pronged weapon on the balcony, glinting in the moonlight, that you decide to climb out and bring it through your window.

Now it's your business, as you hold it in your shaking hand in the quiet of your little kitchenette and wonder what the hell just happened.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The next week is quiet. You haven’t heard that all too familiar echo in the alley as you sleep. Not that you’d really been sleeping anyway. Or going to your locked kitchen window. You just sit in your bed, scrolling on your phone through countless news articles of strange noises in the midnight hours of New York. And the weapon rests on your bedside table for you to stare at as you recall the near traumatic experience a few night’s prior. A token of your bravery. Or whatever you want to call it. You’ve run your fingers over its sleek metal prongs many-a-time. A sai, you figured out, after an easy google search. They typically come in pairs, which meant that it was probably the twin to an identical one the stranger had. You’ve concluded it was an accident in their scurrying away out of terror. Ironic. Typically a strange, massive alienistic creature thing wouldn’t scurry from a defenseless person. They probably didn’t want to be seen. Also ironic, since that was also your goal. And here you sit on your couch remembering those strikingly human eyes. The more you sink in thought, the more curious you become, the more questions you ask yourself. And the more you want to see it again.

Your mother would advise against it of course, ever the worrier. And her voice is nagging in the back of your head telling you to just keep to yourself.

“New York is not as safe as it is here,” she warned you, “It’s best to just be careful. Keep your nose out of things you’re not involved in. You’ll be better off that way.”

Now you can’t.

You wonder if the other strangers looked like the one you’d seen up close. Were they as huge and mysterious as it? Did they have their own weapons? Were their eyes as strong in color and captivity? That was the kicker. Because as mortified as you had been, they seemed to just take hold of your every waking moment and painted onto the back of your eyelids every time you blinked.

You wanted to see them again, out of what you could only describe as morbid curiosity.

What else seemed to be so shocking was the fact that as large, and almost dangerous, as they looked, they wanted nothing to do with you. Or anybody for that matter. They were sneaky. And they’d been using your alley, since you moved in, and likely long before then, to get access to your rooftop and go along their merry way. You had nobody to talk to about this. Not that you had many friends to begin with anyhow. Besides your surface-level coworkers, and pleasant enough neighbors, you really had no one. Maybe your brother. But Vern was always busy with his own stuff. Off lollygagging in ego-land. It was funny enough you moved to New York to be closer to him, and yet you kept your distances with such different jobs and responsibilities. Big town, big dreams Vern, and little old, simple, you.

You know he would think you're something shy of insane if you told him something like this. Whatever. You were fine on your own.

And so you’d figure this one out on your own.

It took a full shift at your job to try and pull together some sort of idea, and what you had in mind didn’t seem too crazy. Though it seemed to drag on forever, another weekend came to you, a late night where this time you’d feel prepared enough to see this stranger again. It was a great idea in theory. Leaving the window just slightly open, and setting the sai on its sill. You realize, to an outsider it would look like a mousetrap. Like bait. But maybe a peace treaty could be taken from its exterior appearance. Maybe. You, at the very least, could just let it sit and allow the weapon’s owner to be reunited with it. And you did.

Waiting in your room seemed like such a trek from the kitchen, for such a quick shadow that kept to themselves in the night. You’d hoped to at least catch another glimpse of them in the moonlight. So you take to the hiding spot from the night prior, crouched close to the floor right under the sink, leaning against a cabinet and watching the oven tick its way to one. You waited. Time slugged its way along.

1:07

1:20

1:34

Disappointment sunk in your gut as you watch the clock roll and no sign of the sai’s owner. Until you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the fire escape. Your heart races like it did the first time, as they climb higher up and land gently on the main footing. You peek your head just slightly to hear a quiet huff, and a hand reaches through the window and settles on the weapon.

You stand quickly, to try and stop the silhouette, and catch those eyes again. It’s not anyone you’re expecting. It’s a man, in a black baseball cap and dark clothes, and a wild look in his eyes.

“What are you doing?!” You don’t mean to shout but it startles him and he lets go of the sai, leaving it to clatter loudly into the sink. He stares at you, long, hard, and without a muscle in his face twitching, he’s moving towards the open window, and reaching for you.

“Stop! STOP!”

Your arm is snatched in an iron tight grip and he’s roughly trying to drag you out onto the fire escape. Pulling away seems fruitless, but the counter serves as a barrier between the two of you. It presses rough into your lower stomach as you struggle.

“Come on babe,” he grunts, low and foul. A hand reaches into the pocket of his hoodie, while the other holds your wrist through the passage of the window.

“Let GO!” You don’t want to see whatever he’s pulling from the sheath of his pocket, and you don’t even get the chance before a blur of pure strength lands on his right and knocks him over, losing his grip on you and sending you flying backwards onto the floor. You can’t see the man anymore from where you sit, gawking at the mountain of a figure that far surpasses the height of your window. They tower over his trembling voice that floats into your kitchen.

“What the hell ARE you?!” You hear him move up to his feet, huffing out shaky breaths.

“Your worst nightmare.” Their voice is a low, brooding, masculine growl that rumbles from their throat, “the fuck do you think you’re doing, breaking into some girls house, huh?”

They reach down and with zero effort, lift the man from his feet by the collar of his jacket, as he squeaks out a pathetic noise. You can’t tear your eyes away. They turn and throw him onto the stairs. He yelps, and you hear a punch make contact with the side of his face. They lean down close to his face, just out of your view. You can’t bring yourself to stand, or bring any attention to yourself. It’s none of your business what they say.

“If I see your face around here again, you’re a dead man.” They say in a hushed voice, “you hear me?”

The man doesn’t say anything, just shudders out a weak breath. You assume he nods

“Get the fuck out of here.”

They grab him again and turn back the other way before you hear him shout like a kicked puppy. He hits the ground with a pained cry, and then it’s quiet after his sobs slink away into the night. And as it stills, your saving grace is staring back at you through your window, eyes shadowed. They lean down just slightly enough so that you can hear.

“You okay in there?”

His voice is softer now, still low in pitch, but, far less fucking mortifying. You catch the lilt of a Brooklyn accent.

“Yeah,” is all that you can breathlessly muster. It’s all he needs to turn and leap up the stairs. You jump before you can process and practically shove your whole upper half out of the window.

“Wait!”

He’s nearly at the top, but when you call out, he stops. You get a good look at the silhouette in front of the early morning moon. Huge, broad shoulders slump with an annoyed, defeated huff, behind an armored shell. A fucking shell. He doesn't reply, waiting for you to say something.

“Is this yours?” you ask. It’s hesitant and gentle, like consoling an injured animal.

Your outreached hand holds the sai out to him. He turns to look, eyes widening at your offer. You’re surprised when he leaps back down to your balcony and you flinch back into the window, arm still outreached but shaking. The clear view of him makes your lungs stagger. A giant turtle. Huge rolling muscles, scales and scattered scars are looming far past your height and staring down at you. You feel infinitely small. Those striking eyes flick undecidedly between you and the outstretched hand, enveloped in a red bandanna that wraps over his head.

“I’ve been looking for this.”

A huge, three fingered hand pulls it from your grip. You can feel the tough scales brush over your soft skin, and you don’t even try to hide the amazed shudder.

“Thanks.”

You can’t think of anything to say, just staring up at them in astonishment as he pulled the other identical weapon from a hilt on his hip. A soft upwards tilt of the mouth indicates a smile. It disappears when those eyes are suddenly locked onto yours again.

“Got something you wanna say?” Suddenly the gruff exterior you witnessed not moments ago was back, as he shoved the sais in their respective hilts, and crossed impossibly huge arms over a broad chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered out. His eyes softened again, but not fully breaking the intimidating show they put on. To you, it seemed like a surprise to this savior that you were thanking him for saving your life.

“Yeah don’t mention it,” he turned, “Look out for yourself,” he was trying to leave, bracing to scale the steps once again.

“Wait.”

You shot your hand out without thinking, touching one of hjs arms, cool textured skin over rolling muscles. His head whipped around in surprise, eyes wide. You immediately yanked your arm back through the window.

“I-I don’t…Sorry,” you squeak out, “Tell me your name.”

The turtle squinted just slightly. A deep green, scanning, gauging, trying to see if you were playing at something. Suspicious. Untrusting.

“Please.” You huff.

“Your worst nightmare.” His grin surprised you.

And with that, he was gone. You watched, an incredulous, idiotic smile crawling it’s way across your features, as he vaulted up the top of the stairs and then pushed off to the adjacent roof of the building with an unbelievable amount of strength, tails of that unforgettable red bandanna flitting behind him, and he took off into the early hours of the morning. You're left hanging, bewildered, out of your kitchen window.

A fucking turtle. Is all you can think.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

EYYYY WHAT DO Y'ALL THINKKKK??? I love how part 1 turned out, and I'm writing another part as we speak but I'm SO excited to see where this goes!!!!!! thank you all for your continued support on this page, and don't forget to PLEASE REBLOG !!

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THANK YOU BABES 💕🩷🧼💓🫧

taglist!! [ @ladyofparchments @well-its-not-human-anymore @raphaelsrightarm @chiliiscereal @milkytheholy1 @moxfirefly @raphsgrl @leosgirl82 @thelaundrybitch @rheawritesforfun @imthegreenfairy86 @aurora-the-kunoichi @angelhazeisaweirdo @raisin-shell @fyreball66 ]

#xreader #bayverse raphael x reader #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt raphael #raphael #raphael x reader #part 1 #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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secretlyazombi3 · 5 days ago

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Sweet Things ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎𖹭

leon kennedy x gn! reader

๋࣭ ⭑⚝word count: 1.2k words ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ SFW, 2nd person, no specific version of Leon, you’re an agent, established relationship, fluff :33

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ summary: You and Leon are both agents, you happen to be assigned a job on Valentine’s Day, ruining your plans with Leon. But, by fate, you run into Leon as he’d been assigned to a mission that’s coincidentally linked with yours.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ a/n: short little treat for Valentine’s Day soon !! >_< i'll probably write smth else on valentines day too idk

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Eugh.” You mumbled in disgust as you looked down at the corpses of a couple of zombies a few feet away from where you stood. You wiped down your top, attempting to remove the sticky red blood, instead you smeared it into the fabric, staining your clothes.

“Great.” You muttered in annoyance. The universe really seemed to be working against you today.

You were supposed to be enjoying a nice candle lit dinner with Leon right now, but atlas, you two never seemed to catch a break. Instead of enjoying a romantic date, you were assigned a mission at work to contain some new zombie outbreak at the outskirts of the city.

You already hated having to clean up the messes made from bio-weapon bullshit for the government. But on Valentine’s Day of all days?

You scrunched your nose as you caught a whiff of the rotted flesh melded to the bones of the zombie corpses in front of you. You shook your head before taking a few steps back, keeping a firm clutch on your gun.

You glanced around, making sure you were safe before you began reloading your gun. “Area cleared,” You mumbled into your walkie talkie before you leaned back and waited for further instruction from your higher ups.

Your gaze drifted down as you waited for a response, quietly hoping that the other teams had contained the outbreak by now. But of course not, right, nothing seemed to be going your way.

Through the thick static emitted from your walkie talkie, you were clearly close to being out of range, you heard the voice of your higher up telling you to advance forward. Your shift just wasn’t over yet.

Think positively, you thought to yourself. All those fancy restaurants are probably fully booked today, there'll be more room tomorrow, and all the chocolate goes on sale after Valentines.

As you stepped forward, attempting to avoid stepping in the red sludgy blood beneath you, you continued to quietly convince yourself that it’s no big deal that you’re working on Valentine’s Day.

You snapped out of your head once you heard a gunshot snap through the air. Was that someone on another team? Nobody was supposed to be in this area besides you, it was your duty to clear out the zombies whilst everyone made sure no infected escaped into the city.

Your mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. Were the other sectors overrun with zombies, forcing your colleagues to flee towards less crowded areas? Was there someone here who wasn’t supposed to be?

You kept your gun in hand, your finger lifted away from the trigger, you were disciplined, but your anxiety was telling you to keep your finger on it just in case.

Your heart rate spiked as you turned the corner. You saw a man in the midst of fighting a few zombies, taking most of them down with a few kicks.

Your muscles relaxed slightly as you recognized the blonde man in front of you. Leon. You felt your lip curve ever so slightly into a smile seeing him.

This was certainly, well… unexpected, to say the least, but definitely welcome. Maybe the day wouldn’t as shit as you thought.

You raised your gun, aimed and fired a few shots at zombies to assist Leon. Leon clearly was taken aback at first, not knowing where the shots were coming from at first until you fired some more and he traced them back towards your direction.

Leon scoffed a bit as his eyes landed on you. He clearly wasn’t expecting to run into you during his mission, either.

Leon took down another zombie, his arm reaching to his aching shoulder once the zombie hit the ground lifelessly.

Leon muttered your name breathlessly, his breathing a bit laboured after the fight.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Leon remarked. “You’re not hurt, are you?” You shook your head. Your expression softened as you heard his voice. Today, you wanted nothing more than to spend your time with Leon. This surely wasn’t half as romantic as you initially envisioned in your head, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Could say the same about you.” You replied. “Didn’t even know you were assigned a mission today. Did they just call you in?” Leon kicked the corpse’s body aside to make it easier for him to approach you. “Yeah.” he replied.

“You here to help contain the outbreak? We could really use some help.” You asked.

“No, they sent me in to track down the people responsible and capture a sample of the virus. I wish I was here to spend time with you, especially today.” You shook your head and scoffed. “You’d want to spend time with me here?” Leon had a sheepish smile on his face he was clearly trying to suppress. He shrugged. “I mean, yeah.” “I don’t think I could imagine anything less romantic than being here. I mean, the stench is just awful.” You replied lightheartedly.

Leon simply scoffed in response. “We can make it romantic,” he replied simply.

Leon paused for a moment before eyeing you up and down.

“You look good in red.” Leon commented.

You became confused, you weren’t wearing red. You looked down at your outfit and realized Leon was referring to the blood that had stained the fabric of your clothes. “Shut up.” you replied playfully.

“No, I’m being serious. You look damn good.”

You couldn’t suppress the smile creeping up on your lips. This definitely wasn’t how you wanted to celebrate your Valentine's Day with Leon, but at least you had something.

You could tell Leon was still eyeing you, eyeing your body, admiring your body. And you couldn’t help but do the same right back. You could see Leon’s muscular body through his outfit, of course you were going to stare…

Static crackled through the speaker of your walkie talkie, breaking the tension in the air between you and Leon.

You could barely make out the words, you were definitely out of range now, but you knew for certain that it was a sign to get back to work. You had to help out your teammates.

“I think that’s a sign I need to move up.” You said, sounding slightly disappointed.

Leon’s expression went back to how it always looked, a bit blank. “Right,” he replied.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up, drive you to dinner…” Leon said with a slight smirk.

“Please don’t drive me.” you joked.

“I’m not that bad at driving.”

“Mhm.”

You moved forward, aiming to walk past Leon, who’s eyes never seemed to leave you. “Wear red tomorrow.” Leon said. You smirked and nodded. “Will do.” You replied.

“And please, keep yourself safe out there. Don’t do anything stupid.” Leon added.

“I’ve never done anything stupid.” you protested, pouting your lip ever so slightly. “Mhm.” Leon replied.

Your eyes drifted down towards Leon’s lips, and you couldn’t help but move forward, fluttering your eyes shut as you kissed Leon and pulled away as quickly as you had moved forward.

Leon was visibly a bit taken aback by the suddenness. He blinked a bit as he simply stared at you, trying to hide his flusteredness as he searched his fuzzy mind for some snarky comment he could make. “See you tomorrow.” You said simply as you continued moving towards the next area you were supposed to clear.

Leon cleared his throat. “See you then.” he replied as he watched you walk away.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #fanfiction #resident evil #leon kennedy x y/n #{¬ºཀ°}¬ z writes ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

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mischievousmoony · 7 months ago

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𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷 ⟡ 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; it's your first day on the job and james is your trainer . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 2.4k

⟢ warnings/tags: is profanity a tw pls lmk actually, coworker!james, coworker!marauders, accidentally wrote an anxious!reader, trying out that headcannon where remus is a bit of a hothead, only lightly grammar checking this series bc i just wanna have fun w it

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: here, bc i gotta chill and write something light for once. i think this will be an ongoing fic. also im not beating the mentioning tea in ever fic allegations anytime soon how does this always happen.

“Welcome in! How many in your party?”

“Oh! No, I’m Y/N. It’s my first day.” Your fingers pitter patter nervously on the host stand.

“You’re the new waitress!” the bubbly hostess exclaims, “I’m Mary! It’s so nice to meet you. Stay right there, I’ll go get the manager.”

She disappears into the busy restaurant, leaving you rocking back and forth on your heels nervously.

Mary, you repeat the name in your mind, recalling what she looked like so that you wouldn’t forget who the name belongs to. You had a thing with learning names—you just hated forgetting them. It felt so humiliating to have to ask someone to remind you of their name. One time, you worked with someone for months and their name lived on the tip of your tongue the entire time. Luckily, they quit before it ever came up.

“There she is! Ready for day one?” The manager, Nate, greeted as he followed Mary back to the host stand.

Not in the slightest. You always hated first days, with all the pressure to make a good impression. Not to mention it’s only the start to the slow climb over the learning curve. You hold out hope that everyone will be as nice as Mary seemed, it would make today a lot easier.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you say, straightening out your black shirt. The dress code for this job was essentially the color black from head to toe. You used the lack of a formal uniform to your advantage, expressing your personal style as much as you could within the confines of business casual.

Nate clapped his hand together, “Right, first up is a tour and introductions. I have all your paperwork already, right? So, after that we’ll get you in an apron and find someone for you to shadow.”

“Sounds good,” you try sounding cheery and excited, only for you to start worrying about whether or not you sound too eager.

“So, front of house is up first. You’ve already met Mary, our lovely hostess—“

Marry wiggles her fingers at you as a playful wave while she takes a phone call, “Yes, we do takeout!”

“You don’t need to worry about the host stand, but I’ll show you the book so you can get a feel for the sections and how we operate. We’ll only give you a small group of tables at first…”

You try to commit everything Nate says to memory, wanting to do well here. You really need this job. Rent isn’t cheap, especially without roommates. And you really don’t want a roommate. Plus this place pays their servers well, so you want to be good at it. You really really need to listen to Nate if you’re gonna be good at this.

But, jeez, Nate seems like he loves to talk. He’s going on and on and on and you’re fighting back a yawn when Mary swoops in like a hero, telling Nate she needs the book back to make a reservation.

“Sure, I think you’ve got the idea of it anyway, right?” Nate asks.

You blink, “Oh, yeah. Sure do!”

Shit, you think. You totally zoned out.

“Great, let me show you to the bar,” Nate says, already walking away.

Another reason why you really want to work here was for the ambiance. It’s a contemporary place with a grungy interior, all while remaining slightly upscale for restaurants in this area. Another upside was the live music. If you’re gonna be working, at least let it be somewhere nice with good music.

“Sirius! New server’s here,” Nate interrupts the bartender who’s in the process of mixing up a cocktail. You introduce yourself with a shy smile as you study him, trying to make a permanent link between his name and face in your mind.

Sirius the bartender—mischievous gray eyes and long black hair. He wears half of it tied up in the back of his head, surly to avoid having it fall in his face while he mixes drinks.

He puts the shaker down and rolls up the sleeves of his satin black dress shirt, “Hey there, doll, y’alright? Natey not being too boring for ya?”

“Alright, back to work, Sirius.” Nate says, sounding snappy.

You follow Nate to the back of the restaurant.

“This is the kitchen—“

“Who the fuck rang in scallops? We’ve been 86 scallops all fucking day.”

“Don’t look at me! Was probably James, the bloody dolt.”

“This seems like a bad time,” Nate spins on his heels and ushers you out of the kitchen quickly, “Whoever trains you will get you acclimated to the kitchen later. That’s Remus, just so you know, head chef.”

You nod, not having anything else to say as you begin to worry everyone won’t be as nice as Mary.

You want to take a moment to commit Remus’ name to memory like you had Sirius and Mary’s, but you only caught a glimpse of him. Still, you were sure you wouldn’t forget who the name belonged to now that you’ve had such a lovely first impression.

Next, Nate takes you down a hall, past the bathrooms, to show you his office and the staff area complete with a rickety table for breaks and some lockers. In the corner are two plastic bins with fading sharpie scrawled across the front of them: CLEAN and DIRTY. Nate reaches into the “clean” bin and picks out a slate gray apron.

He hands it to you, and you try to tie it the way the server in the kitchen had it. Nate starts leading you back out into the dining room as you continue to fiddle with the ties.

As you dart around the restaurant, the “fast-paced environment” detail from the job listing is really starting to materialize, and this was only the tour.

“Right, now where are my bloody servers.” Nate mutters under his breath, “Slacking off by the host stand, of course.”

There’s two servers at the host stand: a girl with red hair hanging in two braids on either side of her face and a tall boy with glasses. They’re huddled with Mary, looking like they’re sharing hot gossip.

You and Nate make it to the host stand at the same time as the other server from the kitchen.

“Hey, team!” Nate says, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Chef’s fuckin’ pissed at you,” she says to Glasses.

“What I do!?” He asks, whipping his body out of the huddle. Mary and the red-haired girl keep talking without him.

“Thinks you rang in some scallops,” she shrugs, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of her face.

“Why would I do that? We’re 86.”

“Yeah, but I forgot,” she says nonchalantly, leaning her back against the host stand.

“And you let him think it was me!?”

“Oh yeah, obviously. Anyway, I should probably go tell my table they’re not getting their scallops.”

“Servers!” Nate interrupts loudly, finally making your four new coworkers quiet down. You feel all eyes suddenly train on you. You smile through the uncomfortable sensation of your stomach lurching.

“We have a new member joining our team today. Please give a warm welcome to Y/N.”

“Hi,” you flash a smile to the new faces in front of you.

“Welcome!” The red-haired girl returns a bright smile of her own, “I’m Lily, I love your earrings.”

“Marlene,” the blonde says plainly.

And finally—

“Hiya, Love. I’m James,” the one with glasses says coolly as he rests an elbow on the host stand. He exudes confidence, and it makes you want to shrink into yourself.

You try to study the three of them to commit names to faces.

Lily—fiery red hair, kind eyes, and a fair complexion with a sprinkling of freckles.

Marlene—you like the way her blonde hair is cut into a shag. She also kind of intimidates you, so you really want to remember her name.

James—glasses, tousled dark hair, very attractive. That last part probably wasn’t a necessary attribute to help you remember his name, but it was true. He has a tall, toned frame that would’ve made him seem intimidating if not for the way his eyes transformed into the physical embodiment of sunshine when he smiled. Were your hands getting sweaty?

“Alright, great. Introductions are done, now I need someone to be a trainer.” Nate claps his hands together, waiting for a volunteer.

“I have to go give a table bad news, so-”

Nate cuts Marlene off before she can hastily run away, “Wasn’t gonna ask you anyway.”

James is eyeing you, sizing you up it seems, when he pipes up, “I’ll do it.”

Marlene snorts. “Weren’t you saying an hour ago that Nate better not dump the-”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Marls,” James says through clenched teeth, glaring sideways at her.

You felt like quitting on the spot, thinking that you were obviously a burden on these people. Being a burden to James, specifically, felt particularly embarrassing. It had your face heating up.

“Great! Thanks James,” Nate says, “Y/N, you’re in good hands. I’ll be in the office if you need anything. The rest of you, get back to work!”

With a reluctant groan from Marlene and a “nice to meet you” from Lily, the small crowd disperses. All except for you and James.

“I’m sorry you got saddled with training me.”

“Aw man, no! Marlene was just-” James cuts himself off with a sigh, “Fine, I didn’t think I’d want to train today. But I changed my mind, so don’t feel like you’re a burden or something, alright?”

James seems pretty genuine, so you digress. Not without a joke first, though.

“Just remember you asked for it later when you get tired of me.”

“I have a feeling that’s not gonna happen,” James says, a certain playfulness dancing in his eyes.

As a new party walks into the restaurant, James leads you toward a nearby order station so that you’ll be out of the way.

“So, you’re gonna wanna forget everything Nate told you,” he says as you walk, “I’m gonna show you how we actually run this place.” He shoots a boyish smirk over his shoulder.

“That shouldn’t be very hard, I don’t think I was awake for any of it,” you admit with a chuckle.

“Ooh, I’m gonna like you!” James swings his body around when you reach the order station, “We love Nate slander here. Behind his back of course.”

“That’s worrisome,” you say, trying to find a comfortable way to lean against the terminal. You end up just standing up straight, “He seemed kind of nice.”

“You ever work in a restaurant before?” James leans toward you, looking coy, and you do your best not to shrink away from him.

“Yeah, I was a hostess.”

“You ever been friends with any of your old managers?”

You think about it for a minute, “No.”

“Exactly,” James leans back and you feel your shoulders relax at once. “He’s alright, but he’s still the boss. Plus, it’s good for server morale to have a common enemy.”

James earns a laugh from you, and he smiles brightly as if it’s the biggest honor.

“So, when do you get off?”

“I’m closing, I think.”

“Nate has you closing on your first shift? Diiiiick move.”

“He asked first and I told him I could handle it.”

“He shouldn’t have asked.” James insists, then he waves it off as if deciding what’s done is done, “That’s alright, you’ll be able to stick with me. But in light of that, I’ll make today easy for you. You can watch while I take orders, and I’ll show you how I ring them all in here,” James pats the POS terminal, “And you can help me get bread and refills out to tables mostly. I won’t make you take orders today ‘coz it’s a bit rowdy in here, but maybe if we’re sat with an easy table we’ll see how you’re feeling.”

You nod along, not having anything to say, not that you had the chance. James is a fast talker and you’re beginning to notice how full of energy he is. It’s a tad amusing, and it’s beginning to show on your face.

“What?” James asks, eyes flicking down to your growing smile.

With a slight shake of your head, you say, “You a big coffee drinker?”

“Y’know, I get that a lot,” James reaches into the underside of the order station, and pulls out a canned beverage, “But I’m partial to these.”

Your face scrunches up as James takes a sip of what you like to call battery acid in a can.

James makes a big show of acting refreshed, emitting a long sigh when the can leaves his lips, “Not your cup of tea, I take it?” James raises an eyebrow.

“My cup of tea would be actual tea. Or coffee-“

“Coffee’s any better?”

“A million times, yes.”

“I beg to differ.”

“You can’t be serious.”

James’ eyes light up like you’ve just handed him a prize, “You’re right, that’s the bartender. ‘Ave you met him?”

It takes you a moment to register what he means, and then you’re rolling your eyes, “Oh, I’m gonna hear that joke a lot from you aren’t I?”

“You’re gonna hear that joke all day from everyone, Love, it’s a house favorite.”

As you’re about to quip back, Lily squeezes between you two to ring in some food.

“James, enough flirting. Some of your tables are starting to look pissed,” she says, tapping on the screen quickly to get the order in.

“I’m not flirting,” James protests, but the wink he shoots you begs to differ.

Lily takes a break from noting modifications for a sandwich order to look at you, “James is always flirting, you’ll learn to ignore him.”

James is looking at you over her shoulder, shaking his head and swirling his index finger by the side of hers, mouthing “she’s crazy.”

As Lily resumes removing tomatoes from the order, she catches James in the act and swats his hand away, “Seriously, James, they’re starting to flag me down because they haven’t seen you in ages.”

James clutches his hand close to his chest. His eyes flit between you and Lily, a mock-horrified look on his face that communicates “see, I told you she’s crazy!”

“Who?” he asks.

“Your tables, you dunce,” Lily hisses, but there are notes of humor in her voice.

James bares his teeth as grimaces and checks his wrist for a watch that doesn’t exist, “Bollocks, look at the time. Come Y/N, I’ll show you how to turn an angry table into a happy one.”

You have to stifle a laugh as you follow James to his tables, mentally adding him to the list of reasons why you really want to work here.

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bradshawshawaiianshirt · 3 months ago

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the perfect first date | bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

rooster watches you go on failed date after failed date, often being the one to rescue you with a ride home at the end of the night. When you tell him you've never experienced proper romance, he's shocked, and makes it his mission to take you on the perfect first date, he just wasn't planning on falling for you in the process.

warnings: fluff, some strong language, that's about it i think

length: 4k

You shivered as you stood outside the restaurant, silently praying that you wouldn't bump into the disastrous date you'd just left as you waited for Rooster to pick you up. He was always your first call in situations like this and it seemed like he really didn't mind. Often, if he knew you were going on a date, he'd wait up for you to make sure you were okay. He'd told you that once after a few drinks at the Hard Deck.

You and Rooster had been friends for a while, ever since you both got called back to Top Gun. You'd never been close while you were both actually at Top Gun, but with the stress of the mission you'd all been called back for, a close friendship between the entire group blossomed. Of course, you'd had a major crush on him back when you'd studied there, but you'd never tell him that. You and Phoenix laugh about it sometimes, he'd never even glanced your way at Top Gun, and now the two of you were great friends, go figure.

You shivered again as the breeze got stronger, before finally seeing Rooster in his signature blue bronco. You grinned and got in the car, fastening your seatbelt quickly.

Rooster chuckled, "Somebody's in a rush to get home." he said as he pulled away from the restaurant.

"You bet your ass I am." you replied, finally feeling comfortable enough to relax, "I swear, that might be the worst date I've been on yet."

He rolled his eyes playfully, "And where did you meet this guy again?"

You paused, "Tinder." you muttered.

He slowed the car as the lights in front of him turned red and shifted to face you, "Most of these 'dating app' guys are only after one thing, you know that right, sweetheart?"

Your stomach always did a flip when he used nicknames like that. Even though you were definitely over your childish crush, you also weren't blind. Rooster was hot and there was no denying it.

You ran a hand through your hair and leaned your head against the window as he began driving again, "I know. For once I just wanna be, I don't know, romanced."

Rooster frowned and glanced at you, "Romanced? What do you mean?"

You shrugged and gazed out of the window, "I guess I want to know what it feels like to be taken on a proper date, something really cheesy, you know? Like where the guy buys me flowers and everything-"

"You've never had a guy buy you flowers?" he cut in, shocked.

You turned to look at him and shook your head, "No. Never."

You could see the gears turning in his head as he continued, "So, hold on, you've never had anything even remotely romantic happen to you? Ever?"

You tried to think, but ended up shaking your head when you realised that you didn't have any striking romantic memories at all. All your life, work was your main focus. Of course, you'd had a couple relationships, but you'd never been surprised with a planned date or a romantic weekend away, and they mostly ended up dumping you in the end anyways, often saying you were 'married to your job'.

Rooster huffed as he pulled up to your apartment, parking and turning the engine off before facing you, "That's just... That's insane, everyone deserves romance."

You chuckled slightly, "I guess it just doesn't happen for some people, Rooster." you shrugged slightly and opened the passenger door, climbing out of the car, "Thanks for saving me again, see you tomorrow night for drinks?"

He nodded and watched as you walked into your building, wanting to make sure you were safely inside before driving away. You were on his mind the whole drive home. Well, not you specifically, it was mostly the fact that you were really missing out. He wouldn't tell most people this, but he loved romance and being romantic in general. Hell, for him that was the best part of a relationship.

Okay, maybe not the best part.

When he got to his place, his mind was set. He was going to teach you that romance can happen to anyone, it just takes a decent man to do it. Then, maybe you'd stop going on these shitty dates and meet someone who actually deserved you.

The next night, he made his way to the Hard Deck like usual. You were already there with the rest of the squad, but he had to stop on the way. He glanced down at his passenger seat where a bouquet of roses lay, again huffing to himself that no man had ever gotten you flowers. What type of shitheads had you been dating? He pulled up and parked, quickly grabbing the flowers and making his way inside, looking effortlessly cool with his aviators hanging low on his nose.

He saw you immediately, sat by the pool table and chatting with Phoenix. He took a deep breath, wondering why he felt so nervous all of a sudden. It's not like he was asking you on an actual date, he was just doing this to help you out.

He walked towards you and you turned as you saw him, eyes glancing down to the roses held tightly in his hand, you grinned, "Don't tell me you're on Tinder now too, who are you meeting tonight?"

He stopped in front of you and Phoenix and held out the roses, "You."

You took them from him gently, you face frowning in confusion, "Me? Wha-"

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said last night." he began, as Phoenix looked between the two of you confused, "It isn't right, so.. I'm going to romance you." he smirked.

Phoenix raised her eyebrows, "You're gonna what?"

"Rooster, what are you talking about?" You asked.

He straightened up, his smirk breaking into a grin, "I'm going to take you on the perfect first date, show you how it's done." he said, "I'm going to raise your standards, sweetheart."

There was the stomach flip again.

"So," he continued, "tomorrow night, 7 o'clock, be ready." he winked, before turning away and joining Bob and Hangman at the pool table.

You slowly smelled the roses he'd given you, trying to hide your smile. Phoenix snorted, "I don't know what's going on, but looks like you're pleased."

You cleared your throat and quickly placed the roses onto the table near you, shaking your head, "It's not like that, we're friends. He's just being dramatic."

Phoenix nodded and rolled her eyes, "Typical Rooster."

Later that night, Phoenix approached him at the bar, "Please explain what your plan is here."

He took a sip of beer, "What are you talking about?"

She gestured to you, sat chatting on the other side of the room, "This 'perfect first date' shit," she chuckled, "seriously Rooster, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that she needs someone to treat her right for once so she can stop dating assholes-"

"What then? Date you instead?" she smirked and crossed her arms.

Rooster frowned, "That's not-" he grunted, glancing at you across the room, a fleeting thought entering his mind of what it would be like to date you.

Phoenix smiled, patting his shoulder, "Don't go catching feelings." she smirked as she grabbed her drink and walked away.

Rooster chugged the rest of his beer. You were friends and you had been for a while, if he was going to catch feelings, he would have already. That's what he told himself as he ordered another beer.

When it hit 7 the next night, you really didn't know what to expect, or where all of this had come from. You knew Rooster was a gentleman at heart, so maybe your words had struck a nerve in him. Either way, you decided you had nothing to lose, this was just one friend helping out another.

The buzzer in your apartment rang, and knowing it was Rooster you let him up, opening the door once he knocked.

"You know," you said, grabbing your purse from the counter behind you, "I could have just come down to meet you."

"No way." he replied, holding out his arm for you to take, "The guy always comes to the door."

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, taking his arm as you both walked downstairs to his bronco. You reached for the handle of the passenger door but Rooster beat you to it, opening it up for you to get in, "Are you serious?" you giggled, as you climbed in the passenger's seat, "This is old-school stuff, no one does this anymore."

"Correction," Rooster began, leaning over you to buckle your seatbelt. He paused by your face, "None of the assholes you date do this anymore." He noticed your cheeks redden slightly and suddenly found it difficult to look away. He smiled slightly before straightening up, "The right guy will."

He shut your door and made his way around to the drivers seat, then buckled his own seatbelt and turned on the engine.

You bit your lip, "You know, it's really nice of you to do this Rooster but-"

"Rooster?" he frowned playfully, "This is meant to be a first date, sweetheart, it's only right you call me by my actual name."

You chuckled slightly, before sighing in defeat, "Fine. Bradley."

Rooster could've sworn he felt his heart skip a beat as you said his name. He was pretty sure it was the first time he'd actually heard you say it, maybe aside from when he'd first met you in the early days of Top Gun. He was so focused back then, wanting to be the best of the best, that he'd never spoken much to you. He liked the way it sounded, he'd always thought you had a sweet voice and a part of him wanted to hear you say it again. He shook his head a little, reminding himself of the situation.

"Good." he said curtly, clearing his throat, "You wanna put some music on?" He grinned and glanced at the stereo, "Press play."

You raised your eyebrows at him, before giving in and pressing play, causing one of your favourite songs to come blasting through the speakers. You quickly turned to him in awe as he explained, "I remembered that one night I played this for you at the Hard Deck on the piano, I know you love it, so I got the CD."

You smiled brightly at him and again, he struggled to look away, especially once you started singing along. He sang with you, glancing over at you whenever he could, until the song ended.

"Perfect timing," he said, "We're almost there."

You glanced out the window as the beach came into view. Rooster saw you were confused, but it only spurred him on, excited to see if you would like what he planned. A part of him really wanted to impress you. He parked up as you turned to him, "The beach? Rooster what-" He cleared his throat to cut you off and you sighed, "Bradley, what are we doing here?"

Yep, there was no way you were ever calling him Rooster again.

He grinned, "You'll see," then he quickly got out of the car and rushed to open the passenger door for you, holding out his hand, "M'lady," he teased.

You couldn't help but laugh, taking his hand and stepping out of the car. He opened the back door and pulled out a picnic basket, before taking your hand in his again, "Ready?" he asked and you nodded, walking alongside him towards the beach.

You both walked in silence, but it wasn't awkward, in fact it felt comfortable. Rooster glanced down at your hands, he liked how big his were compared to yours, but somehow they fit perfectly together.

Eventually he stopped, reluctantly letting your hand go and placing the basket onto the sand, "What do you think, sweetheart? This a good spot?"

You chuckled and nodded as he took out a blanket and laid it carefully on the ground. You both sat down and he placed the picnic basket in between you, "I hope you're hungry, I got all your favourite things."

He opened the basket and you peaked inside, seeing all of your favourite snacks as well as a bottle of wine, "How did you even know all my favourite foods?" you asked.

He grinned, "I asked around." he reached into the basked and pulled out two wine glasses, "Would the beautiful lady like some wine?"

Your cheeks felt warm as you nodded and watched him pour you a small glass. You took it from him as he poured his own and once he was done, he turned back to you, "So, tell me about yourself."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What are you talking about, you already know me."

"Nope," he tutted, "This is a first date, right? I don't know anything about you yet, but I want to, that's the whole point."

You chuckled, "Wow, most of the time the guy just goes on and on about himself."

"That's because they're shitty guys," he grinned, "So, tell me about yourself, even if I've already heard it, pretend I haven't."

"Okay, uh," you paused and tried to think, "well, I'm a pilot in the Navy."

"A pilot, huh?" Rooster nodded slowly, trying to pretend this was news to him, "And what's that like?"

You smiled, "It's.. a lot. I love it though, I wouldn't give it up for anything." Rooster's smile mirrored yours, because he felt the same way about it, you continued, "Some of the guys I work with can be a real handful though."

His head tilted to the side and he smirked, "Oh really?"

You nodded, "Especially this one guy, got a real silly callsign too, something like.. Duck? Chicken?"

You giggled and he snorted, "Silly huh? Nah, I bet he's cool, gotta be handsome too."

You pretend to think it over, tapping your chin in thought, all the while your smile never left your face, "I guess he's okay." you shrug eventually, taking a sip of wine.

"Just okay?" Rooster raised his eyebrows as you giggled. He'd always know he loved your laugh, but somehow he loved it even more when you were laughing at something he'd said. It was the third time so far he had to remind himself of the situation.

"Fine, he's very handsome." you grinned, "Maybe not as handsome as Hangman but..."

Rooster chuckled, shoving you playfully, "Shut up." he laughed, secretly hoping that wasn't what you actually thought.

You sighed dramatically, "At least Hangman actually acknowledged me while we were at Top Gun."

Rooster smiled slightly, "Guess I just knew how much of a distraction you'd be back then."

You snorted, "Or you were going through a moody teenager phase."

"That's probably true, yeah." he nodded slowly, chuckling to himself.

You smiled, "It's fine, that was years ago anyway. I'm glad we're friends now."

He smirked, "Friend-zoning me on the first date? That's just cruel, sweetheart." You giggled again, and Rooster felt his smile get bigger. He realised he'd never had a date where the conversation flowed so easily, even though this wasn't technically a 'date', he wondered if things would be different if it was.

Your rested your head on his shoulder as the sun began to set, "Wow." you said in awe, "The sunset's beautiful."

Still thinking everything over in his head, Rooster nodded, glancing down at you. He could see the sunset reflected in your eyes and you looked so relaxed, content, "Yeah it is." he muttered, even though the sunset was the last thing on is mind.

A little while later, you'd packed up all the food and walked back to his car. He put the picnic basket on the back seat and opened the door for you again. You'd playfully rolled your eyes at him but said nothing, getting in the car quietly, feeling slightly disappointed the night was almost over.

Rooster noticed himself driving slower than usual on the ride back, trying to soak up all the time with you he had. He tried not to think too much of it, telling himself it was nothing as he arrived at your apartment. He walked you to your door, again insisting it was the 'gentlemanly' thing to do.

"I'm curious," you said, as you both stood in front of your apartment door, "All this tonight, is this actually the kind of thing you do on a first date with a girl?"

Rooster nodded, "A first date is important, sweetheart, I like to make a good impression."

You chuckled, "What about at the end of the night? How does the great 'Bradley Bradshaw' end the perfect first date?"

He smirked, "Well, for starters, I don't kiss on the first date, I wait until at least the second, it's just the way I was raised." he said, taking a step towards you, "but, there is something I do to, uh, leave a lasting impression."

You raised your eyebrows, "Go on."

Bradley smirked, agreeing to show you, "Okay so," he took a small step forward, so the space between you was nearly non-existent, "I gently tuck a piece of hair behind her ear," he said, doing so as he said it, "I look deep into her eyes and then I lean in to whisper," his voice was low as his lips came to your ear, "I had a really good time tonight, I'm hoping you'll let me see you again soon."

He moved back so was looking directly at you, your faces only inches apart, noses almost touching. His eyes felt stuck on yours and he felt this.. tug. Like he could easily just lean in and-

"You are so cheesy!" you giggled, pulling away from him and unlocking your door.

He cleared his throat, snapping out of whatever moment he was having, "It may be cheesy, but trust me, it works."

You rolled your eyes and stood in your door way, "I did have a good night tonight though, so thanks... Bradley. I definitely feel romanced now."

He shook his head slightly, forcing a smile, "No problem, sweetheart. Goodnight."

You smiled and said goodbye, shutting the door behind you as you walked into your apartment. Rooster really had delivered on his promise of the 'perfect first date', even he knew that as he stood looking at your door. He was about to knock, but decided against it, making his way back to his car instead. He didn't even know what he was planning to say, it was that stupid tugging feeling again that had almost overtaken him.

He barely slept that night, his mind was stuck on you and how much fun he'd had. Sure, he been on other dates but this one was so easy. He thought he'd have to force himself to be romantic with you, but in reality, it had felt like second nature to him as soon as he realised that all he wanted was to see you smile. That and the cute little surprised look you'd gotten on your face when you'd seen that he'd brought all your favourite food. Even when you were both singing in the car, he felt himself wishing it was an actual date.

He tossed and turned, thinking back to your time at Top Gun, back to when you two weren't friends. All this time you'd thought he never noticed you, but that was the problem. He had noticed you back then, you were hard to miss, he just couldn't let himself get distracted like that, plus he was still working through all the issues he had, so it was easier for him to not look your way. And now you were just friends. Friends.

It was around 3am when he woke up to a startling thought.

He had wanted to kiss you. He'd been so close until you pulled away and now all he could think about was what it would be like.

Damn.

He was so fucked.

Rooster tried to avoid you at work, but that only made him feel worse because he wanted to see you more than anything. You eventually found him at the end of the day anyways, walking up to him with a smile. How had he never noticed how pretty your smile was before. God, he was really spiralling.

"Hey!" you grinned, "I haven't seen you all day!"

"Yeah." he cleared his throat, "Sorry, been busy."

You nodded slowly, but the air felt tense and awkward. "I really enjoyed the other night, you've really opened my eyes, Bradley, or I guess I should get back to calling you Rooster now, right?"

Rooster shrugged, trying to seem as casual as he could, "Yeah.. right."

You smile, "Okay, then Rooster, guess what? I've got another date, and not from Tinder this time."

He stiffened, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, "Oh really?"

You nod, seemingly pleased with yourself, "Yep, it was a real meet-cute too. He helped me reach a top shelf at the supermarket and ended up asking for my number."

Rooster frowned, he didn't want another guy reaching high shelves for you, he could do that just fine. He didn't want you on another date with a guy at all. He really wanted to kick himself, he never would have felt this way if he hadn't taken you out. Then again, the more he thought about it, he'd always had a soft spot for you. Why else would he go out of his way to pick you up on a date night, instead of going out on a date himself. If he wanted to go out with someone, he definitely could, he'd been given enough numbers at the Hard Deck to know that.

He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, "Well, I hope it goes well."

You laughed, "I don't know. You've set the bar way too high now, as soon as he disappoints me, I'm leaving."

Rooster internally hoped he would disappoint you as you said goodbye and walked off down the hall, heading home for the day. A thought came to mind that if you were together, he'd be joining you on your drive home. Maybe you'd both stay up together and watch a movie, order some takeout, then after..

He blinked a few times and shook his head, trying to clear his mind quickly. Once he was home, he had another sleepless night, the thought of you with someone else nagging at him.

The night of your big date, Rooster found himself sat with his friends in the Hard Deck, checking his phone every few minutes in case you needed him to pick you up. The longer it took for a text to come, the more riled up he got, wondering if it was going well, if he was going to have to see you both together anytime soon-

"Stop moping." Phoenix chuckled, interrupting his thoughts. He put his phone back in his pocket as she stood in front of him, sipping her beer.

Rooster scoffed, "I'm not moping, I'm fine."

"No, you're not." she smirked, sitting herself down next to him.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Nat, I should be happy for her but.." he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, "It doesn't matter anyway, we're just friends."

She snorted, "So you finally realise you have feelings for her but it's too late because she's taken your advice and gone out with a decent guy, you both have really great timing."

Rooster frowned, "What?"

Phoenix put her beer down and faced him, "She had the biggest crush on you in Top Gun, don't tell me you didn't know."

Rooster's eyes widened, "She- No way."

"I can't believe you didn't know!" Phoenix chuckled, "It's just funny, she was convinced you'd never see her like that, I mean, you barely said two words to her our whole time there, and now.."

Rooster groaned, "She had a crush on me all that time and I missed my chance." his face fell into his hands as he mumbled, "I'm such an idiot."

Phoenix rolled her eyes, "Yeah, you are." he lifted his head and looked up at her, "You guys have been walking the line between friends and more than friends for a while now, I don't know how you don't see it, but she has feelings for you Rooster, just like you do for her."

"She's on another date right now with another guy-"

Rooster felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Hey are you free? Could use some saving right about now.

It was from you. Phoenix read the message over Rooster's shoulder, "Go get your girl."

You sat on a bench a few minutes down from the restaurant you'd left. Rooster was on his way, and really this was always the best part of a date for you anyways, joking around with him in the car on the way home. Yet you couldn't help but feel slightly dejected, since you'd really gotten your hopes up for tonight and the guy ended up being exactly like the rest.

You looked up as his bronco stopped in front of you. You were about to stand when the engine switched off and Rooster got out, sitting himself down on the bench beside you.

"You okay?" he asked.

You shrugged and nodded, "I'm fine, guess I just thought he would be different but he wouldn't even look up from his phone." you sighed, "Then he expected me to want to go back to his place, after barely saying two words to me all night! That was when I messaged you."

He nodded, "Good." he cleared his throat, "You had a crush on me back in Top Gun, huh?"

Your eyes went wide, "What? Who told you that?"

He smiled a little, "You know why I wasn't friendly with you back then?" you frowned in confusion as he continued, turning to face you on the bench, "Because when I first saw you, I wanted to ask you out, but I also wanted to be the best, so that had to come first for a while."

"I don't understand," you said, turning to face him too.

He chuckled, his eyes stuck on yours as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear, "I told you, I knew you'd be a distraction."

Your eyes met as you asked, "Wait- You liked me?" Rooster nodded, he was playing with a piece of your hair, twirling it around his finger, "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I've realised the crush I had on you never went away, and I've gotten to be the best, so now I wanna tackle the asking you out part." he replied, his hand coming to rest on your cheek.

You raised your eyebrows, smiling a little and leaning into his touch, "The perfect second date?" He nodded as you said, "Okay, Rooster."

He leaned in a little, "I think from now on you should call me Bradley."

You slowly nodded, smiling and muttering, "Okay, Bradley." He smiled back at you, before he leaned in and kissed you gently. His hands travelled from your cheeks down to your waist and his thumb began rubbing circles on your hips. Rooster was in heaven, your kiss every bit as good as he thought it would be.

When you broke away from each other, breathless and red-faced, he tenderly kissed your head. You smiled, "I thought you didn't kiss until the second date."

"If our second date has to be on a random bench for me to finally kiss you, then I'll take it."

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