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notsopersonalcharlie · 5 months ago

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My Belle

Biker!Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader fluff

Bucky is part owner of a mechanic shop and bar, but his girlfriend is the one who rakes in the big bucks, so who's to judge him (his friends) if he's just a little (very) whipped for her.

Notes: Based on this post and this post! In my own personal headcannon readers name is Noelle, which explains the nickname bell(e) lol. There will CERTAINLY be more installments of this story. Gif isn't mine

You muttered under your breath as you pulled your work shoes off your stockinged feet. There were runs at the toes because you were too lazy last night to cut your toenails. Too lazy and distracted by a certain biker coming home. The same biker who was waiting outside, who had kindly turned off the idling engine, but still waited on the sidewalk patiently holding an extra helmet.

Bucky looked down at his phone. The Howling Commando group chat was blowing up about some sports game and Bucky turned the notifications off before making sure you hadn’t messaged. You hadn’t. He checked your location, you were inside the building in front of him. He checked the texts again and then put his phone in his pocket. Staring at it won’t help, is what you would say. What did you know? Everything, Bucky thought to himself. Sam would have laughed in his face if he could hear the inner monologue.

“See ya monday!” Your team's receptionist called.

“Not a moment sooner!” You quipped back over your shoulder as you pushed open the glass double doors. All six feet and a bit of your biker were waiting on the sidewalk, tattoos peeking out at the neck and along the wrists speaking of one of your favorite features of his.

“Hi Buck!” He looked up and a grin split his usually stoic face.

“There’s my girl.” Two long strides and you were wrapped up in his arms, a warm kiss pressed hard to your lips. Bucky spun you in a circle.

“I missed you, belle.”

“I missed you too, Buck.” Anyone would have thought you hadn’t seen each other in days, but Bucky had stopped by only a few hours before to drop off your lunch.

“You’re not getting on the bike like that, honey.” You rolled your eyes, setting down your bags.

“I know, I forgot to grab my overpants this morning. Do you have extras?” Of course he did, you knew that, but it was the sweet pout and big eyes just for him. You knew he loved to take care of you, so if you “forgot” the pants, maybe it was just because he liked to know he was always prepared.

“Of course I do.” He waited as you slid the cargo looking pants up over your work bottoms. He stored your bags away as you did, and then sat down on the bike, making sure your helmet, the black one with muted flowers sprouting along the edges that he bought especially for you, was secure on your head.

You slid onto the bike behind Bucky, taking a deep breath of the mechanics grease and sweat smell that always seemed to live on his biking jacket, before snapping your visor shut. Bucky couldn’t help the way his heart leapt a little like always when you wrapped his arms around his middle and rested the chin of your helmet against the middle of his back. Two squeezes to check that you was ready or okay, two back to tell him you was good to go. Three squeezes to say I love you, four back to say I love you too.

Bucky started the bike and took off back toward the little house they shared just two blocks down from the Howling Commando. You watched the scenery passively, relying on Bucky’s expert riding to get you home safe. You was so glad it was the weekend. Work had been busy, all week you had found yourself calling Bucky, letting him know that you had to stay late, that you would call a rideshare home so he didn’t have to come. Of course every night by the time you were ready to go, Bucky was sitting outside, leaning against his bike. The only day he wasn’t, it was because he had to drive a few towns over that afternoon to pick up a special part for your car.

Instead Steve had been waiting with his own motorcycle, grinning ear to ear as he recited precisely the text Bucky had sent to make sure you was dressed properly and your helmet was on correctly.

“You know he has never, since childhood, through the service, after, never once, acting like this with a girl.” You just rolled your eyes, followed the instructions as you always did, and sat on the back of Steve’s bike and let him drop you off right in front of the white picket fence Bucky had insisted he would build when you first moved in.

“You there, belle?” You blinked and found that they had already gotten home.

“Yeah, just... thinking.” You slid off the bike, gravel driveway crunching under your feet. Bucky pulled your helmet off your head and his blue eyes were intent on your expression, his adorable little pout on his lips.

“What’s up?” You took the helmet from his hands, setting it on the bike before pulling his gloves off his fingers and then intertwining your fingers together.

“I love our life, Buck.”

“I love our life too.” He looked worried, the little crease between his eyebrows so endearing as always. You lifted one hand to rub your thumb to the spot, eliciting a smile from him.

“That’s all, baby. I want to spend every day of my life with you.” The grin grew, and you found yourself lifted in the air again, and seated back on the bike. His sweet demeanor towards you and his friends made it easy to forget that Bucky was six feet tall and made entirely of muscle, even if he had built up a healthy bit of relationship chub since you started dating. Bucky kissed you, soft in the dying light of the evening.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you too, belle.” You stood like that for a long while, till the glow of the sun was barely left in the sky and the automatic yard lights had turned on.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Bucky asked. Sweet, as always, but it was the same thing you did every night.

“I can get changed and we can head over to the bar.” And as always, “Only if you want, honey.”

Bucky put your things away, dirty lunch containers in the dishwasher and bag beside your desk in the living room, while you got dressed. It felt like it was a fresh start to life when you pulled on comfy jeans and one of the well worn and soft shop t-shirts. You grabbed a sweatshirt, and then paused and got another one for Bucky, before heading back into the kitchen where Bucky was looking at his phone.

“Howling Commando, huh?” Bucky joked. You nodded with a grin, tossing him one of his gray Army sweatshirts.

“Only if you'll let me be one."

"You're already an honorary member," Bucky responded, pressing a kiss to your temple. You walked down the road less than a half mile hand in hand. The bar must have been getting busy on a Friday night, because you hadn’t even made it within view before you could hear the rowdy sounds of your friends and regulars. The front patio was full of folks, some spilling over into the front driveway of the shop.

“Oh! Can I check on my baby?” You asked, popping up on your toes to try to look into the tinted glass of the garage doors.

“I thought I was your baby!”

“She was my baby first,” you shot back, already heading for the side door between the bar and shop. Bucky tossed the keys to you.

“Do you want your usual?” He was already headed toward the front door of the bar.

“Mmm, how about whatever cocktail special Sam is whipping up today?” He nodded and you unlocked the door, pushing into the dark mechanics shop. The side door led right into the garage, as opposed to the neat front office, or at least Yelena liked to keep it neat, and you fumbled in the dark momentarily to find the lights. They were slow to warm up, but you started toward where your car had been sitting for a few weeks, inoperable while Bucky painstakingly replaced every piece of the engine to make sure it was as safe as possible for his girl.

Bucky walked in the front of the bar after saying hello to a handful of regulars and service buddies who still stopped by. Steve was leaning against the front of the bar, and clapped him on the back when he sidled up beside him.

“Where’s your better half?”

“Checking on her baby,” Bucky waved for Sam’s attention, “Where’s Nat?”

“Trying to get her to take a break.” Yelena scoffed from where she was sitting on a stool on the other side of Steve.

“As if you could ever make her do that.”

“I said trying to,” Steve shot back as Sam walked over.

“Where’s your belle?” Bucky scowled at his friend.

“Wants whatever cocktail concoction you’re making. I’ll take the usual.”

The custom painted powder blue vintage Mini Cooper was more assembled than it had been when you checked in on it a few days ago, and as you got closer you could see that it was almost done, a few pieces were still sitting on Bucky’s workbench.

A slightly Russian accented call of your name identified it as one of the two Romanoff sisters, one who ran the front of the shop and the other the front of the bar.

“Yeah, I’m back here.”

“I figured.” Natasha appeared from the other side of a Cadillac SUV.

“She’s almost done!” You grinned.

“I heard. The guys put me on break and when I was refusing, Bucky said I should come make sure you didn’t linger too long.” You laughed.

“He hates when I mess with his work.”

“Then maybe you should come let him mess with your make up,” Natasha suggested.

“Are you flirting with me for Bucky?” you asked incredulously. The redhead laughed as you followed her out the side door, locking it behind you before going into the bar from the front. Multiple of the regulars called out your names, offering waves and grins, and the cacophony doubled inside.

“Finally! The better one! I have your drink right here!” Sam called. You smiled, taking the drink.

“Thank you, kind sir.” The bar was reaching capacity, pool tables in the back already in full swing. The waiters were a constant blur, Howling Commando Bar shirts identifiable in the bustle from the star logo in white.

“Buck said you had a long week at work,” Nat said, returning to her spot at the front of the bar waiting to intercept underaged looking patrons.

“It was a busy one. We’re tr- Actually, you don’t really care and I don’t really want to talk about it. Where is Bucky?” You responded good naturedly, trying to spot the brunet in the crowd.

“I think I can see Steve’s blond ass over there,” Sam said, pointing further into the bar. You took your drink and headed toward the general direction. Steve and Bucky were in the corner near the office, heads together.

“Hey Steve!” Both men looked up, eyes wide, at your appearance, and quickly took half steps apart.

“Not at all suspicious guys. Good thing you were special forces.” Steve smiled, and Bucky looked a little shy.

“Buck keeps trying to hustle me in pool,” Steve responded, “I have fallen for that many many too many years in a row. Your turn to carry the burden.” He pushed into the crowd, leaving you beside Bucky.

“What was that about?”

“Just business stuff. How is the Sam special?” You eyed him as you took your first sip, pleasantly surprised by the lack of a remarkable burn on the back end of the taste.

“Better than the last one.” Bucky's hulking presence should have been stifling or claustrophobic, but instead it was comforting. You looked up into sincere blue eyes and he leaned down, pressing warm lips to yours. Your hands slipped up around his neck, holding your drink out so the condensation wouldn’t drip down the back of his shirt. Bucky’s arms were strong and warm and one hand palmed your ass before pulling away. Bucky’s hand found its way around your back as you looked across the bar.

“You know, you guys really did something,” you said, “I know I say it all the time. But it's just amazing.” Bucky and Steve had wanted to start something after they left the service and with their penchant for drinking and ability to fix nearly any mechanized vehicle a bar and mechanics shop made the most sense. Three members of their team, Tim Gabe and Percy, had moved on with their lives, even though they stopped by when they rolled through town. Sam, the Romanoff sisters, Tony, and a half dozen more had joined the family since the start, but there were still plaques honoring the fallen Commandos above the bar.

“All we knew how to do.”

You spent the rest of the night drinking with regulars, Bucky beating them in pool and not taking money from them, and you running drinks and convincing one of the girls at the bar that Sam was actually sweet and coming by again couldn’t hurt.

“If that’s what kinda wing woman I get when I make a good cocktail, I should really do it more often,” Sam joked when the group of women moved off. Bucky appeared over your shoulder, sliding his pint glass over to his friend who refilled it.

“What’s that?”

“Just trying to get Sammy a girlfriend, since he blew his shot with all our friends.”

The bar was still in full swing when Bucky and you said your goodbyes, and if Bucky picked you up and carried you over his shoulder fireman style while you giggled the whole way home so they could get back a little faster, that was between the two of you.

Wonder what Bucky and Steve were talking about... Find out here right now!

#charliewrites #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky #james buchanan barnes #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #biker!bucky fluff #bucky x reader #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #yelena romanoff #notsopersonalcharlie

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zenlesszonezero · 8 days ago

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Join Zenless Zone Zero with Tsukishiro Yanagi, the deputy leader of Hollow Special Operations Section 6! Beneath her ordinary office lady exterior lies a meticulous, emotionally intelligent big sister to the team.

#zzzero #zenless zone zero #Yanagi #Gaming #Anime Game

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oldmannapping · 9 months ago

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Mama - a Red Hood fanfic

Directly inspired by this post by @webshood

Excerpt:

You don’t jack a car in Crime Alley. And you definitely don’t jack a car in Crime Alley that almost certainly has a child in it.

The “Welcome To Gotham: 10 Things You Need To Know” pamphlets that Harley Quinn earnestly distributed to newcomers to the Gotham underworld were very clear about Red Hood’s list of Dos and Don’t.

Among the top Don’ts were:

Crime in Crime Alley

Crimes against women in Crime Alley

Crimes against children in Crime Alley

Mama

It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been so goddam cute.

Felicia Aidia, barely a year old. Couldn’t quite walk yet, but she could stand unassisted for five seconds of startled jubilance before her own shock at the situation would send her flopping back on her adorable diapered butt. Huge almond eyes that were nearly black, wispy black hair and full pink cheeks, she looked altogether too cherubic to be real.

Felicia had been strapped safely in a booster seat, poking at the condensation on the window of the rideshare car she was in with her babysitter, when they were carjacked by an idiot with either a death wish or less situational awareness than a stoned beetle.

There was no other excuse for why this man jacked a She-Share, one of the brightly-marked cars in a fleet that was famous for being Gotham’s first rideshare company to boast child seats in every one of their vehicles at no extra cost.

They were famously affordable and primarily utilised by single parents in low-income areas such as Crime Alley.

You don’t jack a car in Crime Alley. And you definitely don’t jack a car in Crime Alley that almost certainly has a child in it.

Among the top Don’ts were:

Crime in Crime Alley

Crimes against women in Crime Alley

Crimes against children in Crime Alley

The car thief had shoved the driver and Felicia’s babysitter out of the vehicle but utterly failed to notice the giant car seat and the appropriately-sized child occupying it.

A city-wide Amber Alert was out within minutes, which honestly was pretty good considering it happened in Crime Alley and Gotham police liked to pretend that area was just a mysterious Bermuda Triangle kinda place where people just mysteriously went missing, who can say why, oh well, what can you do.

The police were fast but Red Hood was faster.

The vigilante was leaping across rooftops with the speed of a panther. One police helicopter pilot completely forgot their assignment and started following him instead of the stolen car. People livestreamed blurry videos of the car careening around corners that hadn’t yet been blocked off, panning up to catch a glimpse of red metal and brown leather streaking across the sky in pursuit.

The end was anticlimactic. Hood crashed onto the roof of the car from the awning of a deli like a feral beast and punched straight through the driver’s side window. He knocked the driver out and wrested control of the vehicle until it skidded to a stop a few blocks away from the official police cordon.

Before any officers got there, Hood had hogtied the unconscious car thief and carefully extracted Felicia from her carseat.

She let out a small, uncertain wail at the sight and sound of cheering locals, crowding close to film and too boisterous with relief to realise they were scaring a baby.

Felicia pouted. It had been loud, and then fast, and then unfamiliar, and then loud again, and suddenly she was outside, and she was supposed to be napping, and she didn’t know any of these people.

Wait, yes she did. The man cradling her protectively with one arm and holding the other out to the crowd, telling them to, “Back off, back off, give her some space,”, she’d seen him before. She didn’t know how but he was familiar. His big red face (no eyes, very strange, no mouth too! How did he suck his thumb?) wasn’t scary. He was the man on the wall painting! The big wall near the playground had a picture of him painted on it. The playground was safe, and he reminded her of the playground. He was holding her protectively and he was all nice and warm.

Felicia didn’t know many words. But she did know the word she used for the person who felt safest.

“Mama!” she said loudly, clinging to the red man’s arm. “Mama!”

“It’s okay, kiddo,” he said in a very soothing voice for someone without a mouth, “We’ll get your mom.”

A police officer arrived and tried to take Felicia away. She did not appreciate it.

“Mama!” she cried louder, torn between frustration and fear. No one ever listened to her! She reached for the red man. “MAMA!”

Well. Like we said. She was so goddam cute. All eyes were on her fat little face, her adorable, freshly-rescued, chubby little hands reaching out to Red Hood. Everyone was filming her on their phones.

And she called the Red Hood “Mama”, in a perfectly clear, tiny, adorable little baby voice.

Of course it went viral.

For a while, it was a fun in-joke between Gothamites. People playing vigilante bingo to see who they’d spot each night would jokingly ask each other if they’d seen “Mama” down by the docks. Goons blustered amongst themselves that “Mama” didn’t scare them, as they kept their heads down and prayed he didn’t notice them. One bold news website captioned a picture as “Red Hood/Mama” in a story about Felicia’s rescue, while the commenters lost their minds either rofl skull skull skull dying laughing or warning the editors that they should be careful in case the trigger-happy vigilante didn’t have a sense of humour.

Closer to Hood’s home though, the reception was different. And, to him, wholly unexpected.

It started with Felix, the 16-year-old who’d been a sex worker until Hood cleaned up the under-18 scene in the Alley, and who now helped shuttle street kids to the lowkey safehouses Hood and his team had set up. Felix was a good middleman the kids trusted to take them somewhere with food, water, electricity, and no one called CPS. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good compromise until Hood could clean the stink out of the city’s social services.

Felix was smoking on a stack of crates one night, chatting to a couple of his friends, when Hood strolled over.

“Hola, Mama,” Felix greeted casually, taking a drag of his cigarette as his friends choked.

Hood just sighed. “Not you too.” With a weary exhale, he got to business. “I got those extra blankets you needed for the safehouse on Cedar. They’re at the Warehouse B if you want to run them over tonight. Sheila knows you’re coming, she’ll sort you out.”

And so, with Felix not dead and two witnesses with big mouths to tell the tale, word spread. It was open season on Red Hood’s new nickname.

“Hey, mama!” called the girls on the corner as Hood checked to make sure none of the johns had gotten too rough.

“Mama’s here!” crowed the gays and theys across the block as he dropped off condoms and hot soup.

“It’s mama!” announced the receptionist at the shelter when Red Hood stopped by to do an inventory check.

Everywhere he went.

Whatever. It would pass. People’s attention spans were shot to shit, and the loudest viral jokes always burnt out the fastest. At least, Hood was pretty sure. He wasn’t really online much but it was impossible to exist in the world without hearing a few meme references, and they always seemed to die out fast. When was the last time anyone talked about Baby Shark? Or that kid who said “corn” weird? This would blow over.

Granted, it was taking a bit longer than Hood initially expected.

When Dick gleefully changed his name in the Family Chat, Jason ignored it. He never replied to that thing anyway.

When Red Robin said, “Mama, you’re clear,” in perfectly neutral tones during an otherwise routine surveillance operation, and several comm lines immediately muted themselves, Jason ignored it.

When Damian’s new black kitten, with huge blue eyes and a white streak on the forehead, was named Mama, Jason started to get annoyed. Even DAMIAN?

When Roy answered his call with, “Mama, I missed you!” followed by thirty seconds of unhinged cackling, Jason hung up the phone and didn’t speak to Roy for three days.

When Cass used the ASL sign for Mom to relay information to him during a mission brief, his shoulders dropped.

When Alfred gave him an exquisite pink cupcake on the second Sunday of May, Jason thanked him, left the room, walked into the nearest bathroom, carefully put the cupcake on the bench, and screamed into a towel for six minutes.

When Duke finished a story about growing up in the Narrows with, “Mama knows what I’m talking about, right?”, Jason was defeated.

Fine. They win. Everyone wins.

He worked so hard on a legacy. He dug out of his own GRAVE. He clawed himself back from insanity and anger and reclaimed himself, reclaimed Red Hood, reclaimed his home. He carved a new space for himself, not quite a vigilante, not quite a villain. He made his own rules. He built an empire.

And now, he’s FUCKING Mama.

Life isn’t fair. Sometimes the Joker kills you and you sever heads and butcher bad guys and build up a reputation and then one goddam adorable child says two goddam syllables and you’re fucking MAMA for the rest of your goddam life.

Fuck it. He’s going home. He’s too tired for this shit.

#batman #red hood #jason todd #dick grayson #batfamily #roy harper #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #harley quinn #batman fanfiction #crime alley #crack fic

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roosterforme · 8 months ago

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Covering the Classics Part 3 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna finally agrees to meet her new friends at the bar, she learns pretty quickly that the hot guy from the bookstore is actually Bob Floyd. But the fact that she ran and hid from him, thinking she'd never have to see him again, leaves her feeling mortified, and Bob is left to draw his own conclusions.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Anna took a deep breath as she swiped on some mascara and found her tube of lipgloss. She finally caved and agreed to go to the Navy bar that her friends couldn't stop talking about at lunch every day. She only had about five dollars in her wallet to buy a drink since she sold her car for rent money. She couldn't believe was going to take an Uber all the way to Coronado just to make an absolute fool of herself in front of this Bob character. And worst of all, she was still thinking about the hot guy with glasses from the bookstore.

"It's okay," she told her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "At least you're absolutely killing it at work. And you're having a good hair day." She dabbed at her lips, but skipped the concealer. Kevin used to love it when she covered up her freckles which made her never want to do it ever again. Every time she thought about him, her heart skipped a beat, but not in the fun way.

She counted to five and said, "Kevin isn't here." Then she put her makeup away and made sure her computer was plugged in so she could mess around online when she inevitably returned to her miniscule apartment within the next hour and a half. "Let's get this show on the road," she muttered.

The ride to the bar was uneventful, as she was sure the rest of her evening would be as well. Bob sounded like an absolute dream when Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics talked about him. Anna couldn't imagine him being outright rude to her after the two of them said he was sweet and had perfect manners, but she could already tell what his reaction would be: a kind but forced laugh, and maybe a halfhearted smile. And then Anna would probably get to watch him pick up a different girl instead if she didn't leave right away with her proverbial tail between her legs.

Maybe she should have stayed home.

"Here we are," the driver said as he pulled into a beachside parking lot as the sun started setting over the ocean. "The Hard Deck."

"That was quick," she murmured, wishing she could stay in the solitude of this backseat a bit longer as she climbed out. "Thanks."

The fact that every day in San Diego was warm and beautiful was going to take some getting used to. The weather almost never wavered here unlike back at home. Anna opened the weather app on her phone and scrolled to her saved location in New Jersey, and sure enough, it was raining there. She nibbled on her lip and checked her work email, dragging the toe of her beat up sneaker on the gavel parking lot.

She was just stalling now, wondering if her friends would even notice if she didn't show up. They just met her two weeks ago; they probably didn't even really like her that much. Her thumb hovered over her rideshare app as she thought about the two other women just going about their business like normal if she never went back to the weird tree at lunchtime. She was inconsequential to their day.

Anna pressed her lips together and tapped the app. There was a car two minutes away, but the guilt of having wasted eighteen dollars to come here in the first place was eating away at her mind. "Damn it," she whispered as she closed out of the app and shoved her phone into the pocket of her snug jeans. She started walking up to the sand covered wood planks that led to the entrance of the bar, and she didn't stop until she was inside.

Slow Ride was blaring from the sound system, and the place was pretty packed. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust so she could get the lay of the land, and when she did, she realized she was surrounded by mostly men. "Great," she mumbled, earning a few looks, probably because she had barely taken a step beyond the entryway before freezing up.

But as Anna made her way closer to the bar, a big guy in a khaki uniform winked at her and called out, "Hey, Red!"

She felt her cheeks warm up which was certainly not going to help with that nickname. "Oh no." Deftly, she squeezed her way through the many bodies until she had one hand resting on the bar. Why were all these men so attractive? And why were they looking at her?

When a different guy next to her turned and saw her, he stuck out his hand and said, "Hey, I'm Jackson."

"Anna," she replied, slipping her smaller hand into his very briefly before trying to take a step back. But she just ended up bumping into someone else.

"You gotta let me buy you a drink," Jackson told her with a grin. "Seriously. You're already the best part of my night."

Anna swallowed as she looked around for her friends, but she didn't see either of them. "Um... not yet. I'm not a big drinker."

Jackson laughed merrily. "Aww, honey. You came to the wrong place. Hey, Penny!" Anna watched the bartender turn around with her hands full of two martini glasses. "Can you get this one anything she wants on my tab?"

Penny laughed, and said, "You'll have to get in line, Jackson. You're number four on her roster already."

"Damn it!" Jackson complained with a laugh.

Anna's eyes went wide as Penny delivered the two drinks and then came back and leaned on the bar right in front of her. "By the looks of things, you won't have to pay for a single drink all night. So what'll it be?"

Penny had friendly looking eyes that made Anna feel a little more comfortable. "A ginger ale?"

"Coming right up," Penny replied, reaching for a pint glass and the soda dispenser gun without looking away. "I've never seen you in here before, so I feel like it's only fair to warn you that these guys can get a little relentless."

That was literally the last thing Anna wanted to hear right now. Even Jackson hadn't moved an inch away from her, and her hands were starting to sweat as the ginger ale came gliding across the bar. When she wrapped her hand around the cold glass, she told Penny, "I'm actually supposed to meet some friends here. But I don't see them?"

She smiled and said, "Give me a name."

Anna looked down into the bubbles of her drink and muttered, "Jessica Reed?"

The response was immediate but kind. "By the pool table. Where she always is. Oh, and do not challenge her to a game, because she will kick your ass."

Anna laughed as she picked up her drink. "Thank you so much. And um... could you thank whomever paid for my ginger ale?"

Penny nodded as Anna started to head for the pool table. Jackson pouted at her, and the big guy in the uniform called out, "Come back, Red!" She ignored both of them as she fought her way through the crowd, desperately trying not to spill her drink on anyone. There were a lot more khaki uniforms and even some one piece jumpsuit type things that had patches sewn onto them. She read a few of the patches as she got closer to the pool table. Harvard. Omaha. Halo. Those were some weird names.

"There she is. Anna!"

She turned her head when she heard her name, and she saw Jessica waving one hand in the air as she juggled a beer and a pool cue in the other. Jessica actually looked happy to see her as she stood there, all wrapped up in the arms of a guy that Anna couldn't fully see yet. And then her other friend was waving both hands in the air, too, so she waved back. "Hi."

Both women squealed, "Hi, Anna!" in unison, and it was honestly one of the nicest sounds Anna had heard in recent memory. She already felt better about being here now, and that's when she caught sight of who she assumed was Jake. And she was momentarily struck dumb.

The blonde man kissed the side of Jessica's neck and whispered something before releasing her, and then his green eyes met Anna's as he smiled. She decided immediately that he looked like a GQ model, and that was actually pretty fitting for what would pair well with Jessica.

"Hey," Jessica said, reaching for her hand and pulling her closer. "This is my boyfriend, Jake." She gestured over her shoulder to the GQ model who reached his hand out.

"Hi, Anna," he said with a southern drawl. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh. Same," she replied, biting her tongue before she told him she'd never heard of a man who was sweet enough to pack his girlfriend fancy sandwiches and also had the nerve to look like he belonged on a magazine cover.

"And that's Bradley," Jessica said mildly.

"My god," she whispered to herself. Her other friend was wrapped up in a pair of thick arms that belonged to a man with a mustache and alluring scars that ran along his left cheek and down the side of his neck into his floral shirt collar. He was every bit as good looking as Jake, but he had dark hair and eyes and looked decidedly a little bit rougher around the edges.

She blushed as she remembered the comment about how he and his wife liked to use math as foreplay in the bedroom. Right now, he kept pulling his wife closer for another hug and kiss while she playfully tried to escape his grasp, and Anna had to look away, because a flash of jealousy hit her like a brick.

"Hey, Anna," came Bradley's gravelly voice as he finally released his wife, and she shook his hand as well. "Sugar told me you're from New Jersey."

Sugar? Anna was definitely beat red in the face now. "That's right."

He laughed and reached out again for a fist bump. "Way better than all these west coast losers," he said over his shoulder, earning a middle finger from another seriously good looking guy.

"Stop trying to make her think you're cool, Beer Boy," his wife told him with an eye roll before he turned away to talk to the other guy.

The problem was, Anna already thought they were all devastatingly cool, and now she was standing here like an awkward fifth wheel. "Do you want a beer?" Jessica asked with a smile. "They have Sam Adams."

Anna didn't want to tell her about the scant five dollars in her pocket, and she also didn't want to have to thank one of the random guys who told Penny they wanted to buy her a drink, so she just shook her head.

Then her other friend said, "Well Bob is up at the bar right now. You just missed him, actually." She was smirking as she added, "He's probably getting himself a ginger ale, but if you want a beer or something else, he'd be happy to get it for you."

She made like she was about to call out his name when Jessica said, "Bob also likes ginger ale. And the bookstore in North Park."

Anna met her eyes before turning and craning her neck. "He does?" she asked softly, thinking about those pretty eyes and wire rimmed glasses and the smell of tea leaves. And then she saw him. He was here! "Oh," she gasped. He was Bob?

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

"Thanks, Penny," Bob said as he accepted his drink. Two of the guys at the bar were talking about a cute redhead, and all he could think about was the girl from the bookshop who decided after probably four minutes and seventeen seconds that she didn't want to talk to him anymore. He wanted to look around for this mysterious, new redhead, because if he was being honest, that was something he really thought was pretty, but what was the point? She was probably already over trying to talk to Bradley or Jake or Mickey.

Yesterday, Bradley told him to start wearing his uniform to the bar if he wanted more girls to talk to him, but Bob wasn't that desperate. He still had this fantasy where he met the girl of his dreams kind of organically. But maybe wearing a Dungeons & Dragons shirt wasn't the best thing he could have paired with his jeans tonight. Jake took one look at it thirty minutes ago and told him to go home and change into something else.

"Your girlfriend likes it," Bob had told him with a smirk, and sure enough a minute later Jessica was making a fuss over it.

But now he was making his way back to the pool table where the two couples were most likely on the verge of being indecent. Seriously, if Bob had to watch Bradshaw's hands all over his wife's rear end for one more minute, he was going to scream.

Then he saw her, and he nearly dropped his glass of ginger ale on the floor. It was the girl from the North Park bookstore. Red hair, brown eyes, freckles, kissable lips. She was looking back at him in disbelief.

Oh my god. He was hallucinating. He must be. Jessica was talking to the redhead who wasn't paying an ounce of attention to her, because she was focused on Bob. Her lips curled into a smile, and he thought he'd better make sure. When he glanced to his left and then his right, he didn't see anyone else who could be on the receiving end of that smile besides him.

"Bob!" called Bradshaw's wife. "Come meet Anna!"

Anna. That was the name of their new friend from the university. They talked about her all the time even though they just met her. They told him he would like her. But this was the girl who wanted that horrible Vonnegut book last weekend. This was the girl Mickey thought he imagined.

Apparently he hadn't stopped walking, because now he was right in front of the three women, and he had three pairs of wide eyes trained on his face. "I remember you," he said softly. "From the classics section." Her lips parted softly, and her pupils went wide as Bob asked, "Are you Anna?"

She nodded, her cheeks tinged with pink beneath her freckles. He almost groaned, because she was so much cuter in person than what his memory supplied. Nothing about her was flashy, which he almost preferred, but there was no way she wasn't the hot girl that those guys at the bar were talking about.

"I am," she replied. "And you're Bob?"

He glanced at the other two women, wondering what exactly they told her about him. They looked like they were both holding their breath as he held out his hand and said, "I'm Bob Floyd. It's nice to meet you. Again."

"I'm Anna Webber." She bit her lip, a look of embarrassment overtaking her features as she shook his hand gently. Then he remembered that she ditched him last weekend, leaving nothing but the book he'd already devoured in her place like some sort of parting gift. He released her hand abruptly and cleared his throat.

Now she looked a little hurt, but he didn't know what to say. He ran his fingers through his hair, his nerves getting worse by the second as the other two women practically vibrated with excitement on either side of Anna. "Uh, thanks for that book recommendation. I loved it," he said, barely meeting Anna's pretty eyes.

She gasped and asked, "You read it? You actually read it?"

Bob was trying to formulate another coherent response, but the urge to walk out of the bar was very strong. He was already embarrassed right now, and then he heard Mickey's voice as his friend walked over. "Holy shit, she does have red hair and brown eyes."

Mickey seemed to capture Anna's attention for the time being which really grated on Bob's nerves. Nat would never do this to him, and he couldn't wait until she got home from being deployed. Then Bradshaw's wife was in his personal space along with Jessica. "So she was the girl? From the store in North Park?" she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"The one you had instant chemistry with?" Jessica added hopefully.

Bob swallowed hard. "Yeah," he murmured. "It was Anna. But the two of you need to knock it off now, because it's probably not going to happen. There's just something about me that doesn't translate well. She kind of ditched me at the bookstore."

"What do you mean?" Jessica practically shrieked, and Bob had to hush her. "You're perfect for each other!"

He closed his eyes and shook his head, letting his awkwardness wash over him. "I don't know, Jess."

When he opened his eyes again, Anna was looking at him while she talked to Mickey, and Bob knew it would take even longer to get over the mystery woman now.

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

Anna couldn't believe Bob was the mystery man from the bookstore. Their chance meeting read like a piece of poetry that had no business being in her life, but the fact that she was meeting him for the second time felt something like fate. And she didn't like it. Not one bit.

He was so handsome, just like Jake and Bradley. Now Anna was wondering what they fed these men in the Navy, because Mickey was very good looking as well. But the more she spoke to him, the more irritated Bob seemed. And she didn't like how his brow was pinching above his glasses. Not compared to the way he'd looked at her in the bookstore.

Her mind was a mess right now. And then she remembered that she actually ran and hid from Bob last time she saw him. She started to panic and look around, silently coming up with an escape route, but it was too late.

"Let's play pool?" Jessica asked a bit cautiously, and that was when Anna fully pieced it all together. Her new friends from work were going to think she wasn't attracted to Bob, but that couldn't have been further from the truth right now. Frankly she didn't know what she should do, so she followed everyone over to the pool table.

Well, everyone except for Bob. He remained at the bar alone, and she couldn't really blame him for not wanting to talk to her after the stunt she pulled in the bookstore. But she was only trying to protect herself. Maybe she could explain that to him.

She was trying to decide if she would have hid from the most attractive man who had given her the time of day in years if she knew it was actually Bob. That's when she set down her empty glass of ginger ale because she was being handed a pool cue and told to team up with Bradley. She went through the motions, playing as well as she could while she chatted with everyone, but she found herself hoping to catch Bob's pretty eyes looking at her. Once she lost and handed the cue to Jessica, she saw him heading her way, and he had a glass of ginger ale in each hand.

"Anna," he said softly in that voice that left her shivering. She took the drink he offered her and tried to act normal, but she was still so startled by what he said earlier.

"Did you really read A Room with a View?" she asked quickly before she lost the nerve.

Bob smiled softly and met her eyes briefly before glancing at the floor. "Every word of it."

She bit her lip to keep from screaming. Kevin never once read any of the novels she suggested for him, preferring modern horror monstrosities instead. And then he went and actually turned her life into a horrific monstrosity which she should have probably seen coming. But right here in front of her was Bob who she had actually already met and formed a pitiful crush on, and she couldn't bring herself to say more than, "I'm happy you read it."

He was blushing now as he sipped his own ginger ale before saying, "Yeah, it was great. I wouldn't mind some more of your book recommendations, honestly. As long as you don't try to get me to read that Vonnegut."

"Cat's Cradle," she said with a laugh that had his gaze snapping back up to hers. His eyes were hopeful as she smiled at him, but she rubbed her hand along her forehead and said, "I'm sorry I... vanished. The other day."

"What happened? I told Mickey I needed a minute, and you were just gone."

She wanted to be honest with him, but she didn't know how to explain herself. And now she was starting to feel like she and Bob were in a fishbowl; so many pairs of eyes were looking their way with next to no subtlety. She cleared her throat and decided to avoid his question. "Have you read any Jane Austen?"

He looked a bit disappointed by her response, but he said, "I have not."

"I think you'd enjoy Persuasion. Or Northanger Abbey. What about Virginia Woolf?"

Bob shook his head. "I feel like I'm about to embarrass myself again like I did last weekend at the bookstore, but no, I haven't read either."

Anna practically moaned at his bashful expression and pink cheeks. He smelled so good, it was unbelievable. Why did she feel so drawn to him? Why couldn't she stop herself from taking a step closer when he muttered, "As soon as you said you knew what Cat's Cradle was about, I figured I was in way over my head. The classics kind of elude me. I'm actually more of a poetry buff."

"Poetry?" she gasped, heart pounding at an overwhelming rate as he swirled his glass of ginger ale around with nonchalance. As if he hadn't just said the sexiest thing any man had ever told her.

"Are the two of you just going to stand here and play footsie all night?"

Anna looked up to see Jake with a smirk on his face right in front of her. She didn't even notice anyone else in her vicinity before he spoke. Bob was shaking his head and already taking a step away from her when she asked, "Do you want me to text you some more recommendations?"

Bob froze and turned to look at her with a soft smile. "That'd be great." When she handed him her unlocked phone, he quickly added his number before handing it back to her. His calloused fingers felt even more exhilarating this time, which was very bad, because she'd already been thinking about the way he accidentally touched her at the bookstore on repeat.

"I'll send you some of my ideas," she muttered, pocketing her phone again before allowing Jake to pull her away toward the pool table again. She tried her best not to let her attention return to Bob over and over again, but she mostly failed. Sure enough, after a while, she saw another woman break the perimeter of the pool table and make a beeline toward Bradley before eventually turning toward Bob.

She was really pretty with shiny brown hair, and it made Anna uncomfortable when she touched Bob's arm. It wasn't fair. He was so lovely and soft spoken and handsome. He was even wearing a shirt Kevin would have never been caught dead in, but it made Anna smile. In another version of her life, she would have gone for it tonight. Instead she got to watch the brunette woman hand him her phone just like she'd done a few minutes prior.

"It's pretty late," she said suddenly even though she had no idea what time it actually was. "I'm going to head out."

Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics both looked a little alarmed. "Already?"

"Yeah," she said, setting down her ginger ale and trying to skirt past Bob and the unknown woman. She gave both of her friends a quick hug and said, "I have a lot to prepare for my upcoming classes this weekend."

"Let me walk you to your car," Bob replied immediately, slipping away from the brunette to be closer to Anna. "Maybe you can give me the titles of the Jane Austen books again?" His cheeks were flushed, and the other woman looked annoyed now which did make Anna smile.

"Persuasion and Northanger Abbey," she repeated for him as she started to walk past the bar sending a wave in the direction of the pool table. Bob was following her now as she added, "And I don't have a car, so there's nothing to walk me to."

"Persuasion and Northanger Abbey," he repeated softly to himself. "Will you let me drive you home then?" he asked hopefully. "All I had to drink was ginger ale."

Anna let herself look up at him before she shook her head. "I'll get an Uber, but thanks for offering. It was nice to meet you. Again."

"It sure was," he agreed as he continued to follow her all the way to the door.

With one last glance over her shoulder, she noticed the dark haired woman on her tiptoes looking around for Bob. "Your brunette friend is looking for you," Anna said softly before slipping outside into the cool night air and opening the rideshare app on her phone. Bob didn't follow her any further, and she rode home with disappointment and sadness thrumming through her body. She was out of cheap wine, but at least she had her favorite poetry website to keep her company.

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

Bob groaned as he nudged his glasses up his nose and pressed his fingertips to his eyes until he was seeing stars. "But I like redheads," he moaned to himself. He could not believe it. He really just couldn't get over the fact that tonight of all nights some random woman started to chat him up. Anna could barely look at him to begin with, but now he'd be damn lucky if she actually texted him the book recommendations at all.

His dream girl was Anna. Anna was the perfect woman he met at the bookstore. Anna was the one he'd been thinking about nonstop, but now he had confirmation that she wasn't into him. That's why she vanished last weekend. That's why she gave him the cold shoulder tonight when he was practically tripping over himself at the sight of her. She was perfect. He was just hopeless. He could keep thinking about her, but what was the point? Now that he knew she worked with his friends, he had to stop this crush in its tracks and try to save face.

"There you are, Robby." A hand snaked around his side to his abs, and he almost jumped a foot in the air. He hated being called that, and he hated that Anna saw this woman talking to him.

"Hi," he said cautiously, taking a step away from her.

"Is the redhead your girlfriend?" she asked, clearly annoyed now.

Bob sighed and said, "I wish."

She rolled her eyes and vanished back into the crowd, leaving him alone again. He never imagined he'd have such an eventful night involving the fairer sex. "Damn it," he whispered as he made his way back toward the pool table to his friends.

"There he is!" Bradley called out with his hands cupped around his mouth. "Big ol' Bob! Did you just give your phone number to not one but two women?"

His wife and Jessica both looked mad now. "I thought you liked Anna," Jessica snapped. "Once we realized she was the redhead from the bookstore, we thought you'd probably end up sneaking off with her or something."

Bob could feel the heat rising in his face. "Come on," he replied, giving Jessica a look. "There's no way that would have happened. And I didn't give that other woman my number. I didn't even want to talk to her." In a softer voice, he added, "She just started touching me for no reason."

Bradley's wife pulled Bob in for a quick hug as she said, "Pretty soon, you'll be as good at dodging them as Bradley is." She looked him in the eye and quietly asked, "Now what happened with Anna?"

"I don't really know." That was his honest answer. "I was excited to see her again. I guess I imagined she vanished in the bookstore like some sort of romanticized Cinderella fairytale or something stupid when in reality she just... kind of got tired of talking to me. She seemed a little uncomfortable when she saw me again tonight, so that must be it."

"I think you're wrong," she said with conviction that almost made Bob believe it himself. "Jess and I will ask her about it next week."

"Please don't," he groaned, shaking his head. "I'm going to go home. See you at D&D tomorrow," he told Jessica before stopping by the bar to pay for the ginger ales, but Penny just waved him on. He left her a ten dollar tip and walked out to his truck.

It wasn't even that late, and when he parked in front of his duplex, his elderly next door neighbor was still awake with her door propped open for her cat to come back inside. As Bob trudged up the shared walkway with his key in hand, she called out, "Robert! Is that you?"

"Hi, Suzanne," he replied with a laugh. "It's me."

She was sitting on her couch, and he could hear game show reruns playing as she loudly said, "You're home pretty early for a Friday night. Still haven't found a girlfriend?"

Bob groaned. He could kick himself for even mentioning that he wished he had a girlfriend a few weeks ago when he took dinner over for her one Sunday evening. "Still single," he confirmed as he headed for his front door which was all of ten feet away from hers.

She scoffed, and Bob saw her massive cat, Sylvester, streak back inside. "You must not be trying very hard, Robert. Handsome, strong thing like you."

It was like arguing with his grandma, so he just avoided it completely. "Okay, I saw Sylvester run inside, so I'm going to close your front door. Make sure you lock it before you go to sleep. Good night, Suzanne."

He pulled her door closed for her and then unlocked his, and he walked inside to find his copy of A Room with a View sitting on the coffee table. It seemed to be taunting him like it knew he'd seen the adorable redhead again. And struck out a second time. He was confused and hurt and annoyed, and he just wanted to go to bed and pretend like he wasn't as hopeless as he felt.

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

These babes need to get themselves straightened out! Anna, he thinks you're not into him! Bob, she's scared to admit she is! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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#robert floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x oc #robert floyd fic #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #covering the classics

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lingerina · 10 months ago

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝐎𝓥𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐈𝓥𝐄 － yu jimin

␥ karina x fem!reader ␥ 916 words 🚨 choking, overstimulation, dacryphilia (?), praise ␥ you swore to never work for a rideshare app again but getting laid off leaves you no choice. you end up becoming someone’s getaway driver, not realizing you’re in for way more than you bargained for. ␥ A/N inspired by this ask (and reblogs) from ages ago. also could be read as (sort of?) optional bias since i realized i never used her name here. 🧍🏻‍♀️ and it took me this long to write for my bias? 🤪

You never wanted to go back to Uber but after being laid off and having bills due soon, you had no choice.

You earned the most when you drove around the airport, downtown, and during late-night hours, which were windows to some of the craziest things you’ve previously experienced as a driver. You’ve gotten caught up in a drug deal and bank heist before, which was why you swore to never be an app driver again.

Every ride, you hoped that your passengers were normal law-abiding citizens who just needed a ride to the local market or something. Fortunately, they had been.

Until you made the mistake of driving off with a passenger who wasn’t the one that ordered a ride from you.

She had run up to your car—impressively in heels—and slammed the door shut as if she was being chased, shouting for you to drive off before you even get a chance to confirm you’re picking up the right person. Meeting her sharp eyes in your rear view mirror startled you into stepping on the gas because in the pit of your guts, you were uncertain if you were in harm’s way again and ignoring her might actually put your life on the line.

The ride had been silent, your actual passenger that you’d driven past being one of the only two thoughts crossing your mind after you had hovered a shaky hand over your phone, that’s mounted to the air vent, to cancel her request. You didn’t know where you were driving, and you couldn’t accept any other ride that were popping up on your app. There were more red areas on the map, indicating major activity and hefty tips that you could’ve gotten your hands on had you refused to let the mysterious raven-haired beauty in your car.

She stared out the window for what felt like hours. She didn’t utter a word and you were too afraid to ask questions. You aimlessly drove around, hoping she would finally say something and end this torture.

When she abruptly met eyes with you in the mirror again, you startled.

You tried to break the ice and asked for her destination, but what followed was more silence, a sudden request to park in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse, and two-word commands for you to step out and join her in the backseat where she ended up breaking you.

You’re seated on her lap with your back pressed against her chest and her hand wrapped around your throat. Taunting words brush over your ear, inducing a chill that ripples down your spine as three of her fingers are inside you. Your body horribly betrays you as your car echoes with the filthy squelches of your dripping pussy and your cries as she violates you.

Nonetheless, you part your legs wider and buck against her hand, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from your morals dissipating and your desire to be broken burning. With your leggings torn at your crotch and bearing the stains of your pleasure, you’re reduced to nothing but a moaning mess for a gorgeous stranger who may or may not be dangerous.

She squeezes tighter, her well-manicured nails threatening to pierce the soft skin of your throat, a low praise of ‘good girl’ uttered at the shell of your ear threatening the sliver of sanity you have left. You catch your breath when she releases her grip, which moves down your clavicle to tear at the collar of your tee. She yanks at your bra, unveiling your breast for the palm of her hand, and kneads in tandem with the pace of her fingers.

Your head lolls back over her shoulder, hoarse moans polluting your once-silent vehicle as she fucks you harder. Tension grips at your limbs, your toes curling as her curled digits reach that spot. The spot where you need her most.

“Come on, baby,” she purrs with a sly smirk. “Give it to me.”

You oblige on cue. Your eyes roll back as you soil her hand in the midst of ecstasy, your wetness dirtying her dress, her lap, and the back of the seat. She didn’t spare you mercy before, and she’s definitely not sparing you now.

She toys with you until you think you’ve given her your all. As soon as you fall limp, she slips back inside you and you swiftly ascend to your brink once more, the sensitivity blurring your vision with white dots as you gush all over her.

She refuses to let you recuperate. Just when you think it’s over, she makes her unwelcome return, her expert fingers repeatedly bringing you to ecstasy like a broken film. She gets off on your tears and pleas because they’re a stark contrast to you squirting all over her and dirtying your car in the process. When she’s had her fill, she shifts you off her lap like a discarded toy and finally steps out without a word, leaving you alone in the abandoned parking lot.

With the silence and post coital clarity setting in, you sit up straight and stare at the mess you made. You don’t need a mirror to know that you do not look presentable to customers at all.

Fortunately, it’s still early in the morning. You can rush home, clean yourself and your car up, and still have a whole day to earn money.

You just hope that you don’t have another potentially dangerous or salacious run-in again.

#girl group smut #girl group imagines #aespa smut #aespa imagines #karina smut #karina imagines

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navstuffs · 1 year ago

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5 stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Pairing: Re4!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon Kennedy is on his way to pick you up in 5 minutes.

Warning tags: SMUT SO NO MINORS, NSFW, porn with plot, car sex, roleplay of rideshare driver x passenger, ooc leon (he doesn't hit the car), masturbation (female), sex (p in v), public sex, creampie, image taken from google and edited by me

Author's Note: heeey, i had this on my draft sitting for so long and wrote this from 11 pm to 2 am, in a frenzy. i had so much fun writing, (not so much fun editing this picture let me tell ya), so i hope you enjoy it too!

my leon's masterlist

Leon Kennedy is on his way to pick you up in 5 minutes.

You blink at the message sent to your phone, confused. You had just finished a good walk in the park and could definitely walk back home, no biggie. The weather had been great, not too warm or humid. Your husband had other plans, clearly. You pinpoint your location to your driver, excitement growing inside of you.

Not even four minutes later, the black Range Over enters the park's gates, and you start giggling. Before getting in the car, you must laugh as much as you need, you think. If your husband was doing this, he had an excellent reason.

The car stops by your side, and you open the backseat door. Inside, a handsome and familiar face looks at you in the rearview mirror.

"Leon?" You hold back a laugh, simply giving a timid smile. Leon asks your name, and you confirm. "Would you mind if I rode in the passenger seat, Sir?"

Leon mumbles an inaudible "Not at all." You know just calling Leon "Sir" has already affected him. You close the back door, open the passenger's and jump right in. Leon is wearing a black baseball cap over his golden locks, and you control another urge to not chuckle. To complete the look, he wears one of his tight black shirts (which makes his chest looks huge) and the black pants you love on him.

Leon is staying in character: it is weird he isn't smiling at your presence, but you are to be blamed for this. He is trying, and it is your fault.

You were the one who revealed, while drunk, how interesting it would be to get fucked in a car by a rideshare app driver if, of course, he was Leon. You knew it was a silly fantasy, but Leon considered it a great idea to surprise you at the right time. And the moment finally came, when you left the house ready for a walk, wearing a green shirt and those tight pants.

"Is the AC okay, ma'am?" You are taken aback by how serious and smooth his voice sounds.

"Mhm, yes, thank you, Sir." But two could play into that game.

You can feel Leon staring at your gym pants, going up to your shirt and cleavage. You lied: the car was a little too cold, and your nipples, protected by your bra top, were starting to get hard, a fact that didn't pass unnoticed by your driver.

"Are you sure you are not cold?" Leon asks again, his blue eyes struggling to stay focused on the road.

"Maybe a little," You admit.

Instead of raising the AC temperature, Leon places his warm leg in your upper leg. Surprised by the sudden touch, you don't move as Leon caresses slowly.

"This help?" Leon murmurs, and you nod as his hand starts raising up slowly. "How do you plan on paying for this ride?"

"I have no cash on me. Or cards," You whisper, your body shaking with anticipation. Your eyes wander outside momentarily, not recognizing the empty road you are on and not even caring.

"I guess you will have to pay me in another way, then," Leon sounds decisive, a naughty smile playing on his lips.

"What other way, Sir?" You pretend to sound nervous, despite your body warming up.

Leon answers by firmly pressing his thumb against your clit, as the rest of his hands grab the middle of your legs. Bastard, who knew your body so well by now. He rubs circles through the fabric, an approval hum coming from his chest.

"I think this could work."

You moan back a frail "Yes," spreading your legs open so Leon can have easier access. Your worries about him hitting the car don't even come to mind: you would trust Leon with your life. And the windows are tinted, so fuck it. Your head falls back against the seat as Leon continues with the lazy strokes.

"Touch yourself. Pull your top up."

You follow as told, pulling your shirt and top up until your collarbone. The cold wind from the AC makes you wince a little, the seatbelt scratching against your bare skin. You don't mind, your nipples so hard Leon licks his lips with desire. He also notices your chills, and suddenly you have your husband back.

"Do you want to raise the AC, sweetheart? I don't want you to get sick, and my hand is quite busy down here."

You nod, raising the temperature before going back on, pinching your nipples, a fire spreading in your veins. Typical of Leon getting worried about you getting sick like he doesn't have his hand in the middle of your legs.

"S-sir...Leon." You moan desperately, and Leon grunts an answer. You think he might pull over any minute now, but Leon continues driving, despite his attention flickering between you and the road.

"Take your pants down. And your panties as well."

You take your gym pants down, together with your panties. When you place your feet into the seat, Leon momentarily loses control of the car, causing it to jolt to the left, but he quickly retakes control. You are going to be the death of him, spreading your legs like that, your body turned to him.

Fuck, Leon thinks. You look adorable, sexy, hot, spread like that, your pussy wet and ready for him. Your chest is rising up, and your face is heating up. He wants to stop the car and take you now, but Leon is committed to giving you what you want.

"Let-let me check" You hide a smile when Leon Kennedy stutters, but your smile disappears when your mouth turns into an "o" while he rubs his index finger, starting from your clit down to your entrance. He pulls in just the tip of his finger before pulling out.

Leon tastes his fingertip as if savoring it, making your stomach drop. You are so fucking glad you aren't driving this car, or you both would be dead by now.

"It should be enough as payment," Leon declares, not hiding his proud smile when he sees you even more embarrassed. He wanted to grab his phone and record it. Maybe next time, he thinks.

Without wasting any more time, Leon shoves two fingers inside of you. Your head goes back against the seat and the window, the cold feeling good against your warm skin. He rocks his fingers slowly, admiring your pleasure expressions.

"Look at the mess you are making on my seat," Leon says, smooth and proud. You look down, your wetness even more evident against the dark seat. Leon doesn't seem to care, pumping his fingers fast inside you.

"Leon," You moan, desperate.

"I know, sweetie, I know." It is your Leon back again. You barely know how your husband is holding up, keeping you safe as your eyes glance at the hard cock between his legs. Your hand tries to approach it, but Leon shakes his head, a blush rising on his cheeks. Not if we want to live, Leon thinks.

"It is about you now, okay? Be a good girl and touch yourself for me."

"O-okay." You sob. You take your fingers into your clit, rubbing in a circular motion, squeezing Leon's fingers even harder. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the knot on your belly. You are so close now.

"Open your eyes. Open your eyes, sweetheart."

You hear the command and obey, your eyes focusing on Leon's blue ones. He shares the attention between the road and your eyes. He is sweating, his other hand holding the wheel with his fists white. You want to touch him so badly, it hurts. Leon is panting now, jerking his fingers fast inside of you, your movements in your clit following the speed. You moan his name over and over again, finally releasing the knot in your stomach. You cum, tears in the corner of your eyes, as your head falls back. Leon only stops when your whole body just relaxes against the seat.

The car jolts when Leon finally pulls over and locks the car doors, but you barely seem to register a drunken smile on your lips. He pulls his fingers out, pulling them inside your mouth.

"This is my tip. Come on. Lick them clean."

You lazily lick his fingers back, still trying to catch your breath. When he considers them clean enough, Leon pulls his fingers out of his mouth, his eyes entirely focused on you and only you. Your Leon seems back, releasing you from your seatbelt to pull you into his lap. You can feel his dick against your ass as Leon rubs your back.

"You okay?"

"Mhmmmm. Where are we?" You ask drunkenly.

"I have no idea," He chuckles while you hide your face in his chest.

"That's why you didn't come in the walk with me, you were plotting, sneaky bastard."

Leon chuckles, letting you relax for a few moments. He looks outside the car for signs of human presence, but there is nothing, just trees. No other vehicle has even passed since Leon was driving on this road. He doesn't want to push you to do anything you don't want, of course, especially after how much energy you just used. You seem to understand, though, turning off the car.

"What are you doing?"

"Deciding for you. Come here."

You release Leon from his seatbelt, pulling him to the backseat. You finally kiss, Leon's body covering yours, his clothes reminding you he is too dressed.

"I probably won't last," Leon states apologetically. With his help, you undress him leaving Leon only with his black boxer briefs. Leon finally throws your bra and shirt far away. You want to argue those were your favorites, but he steals another hot kiss from you.

A car passes fast, illuminating Leon and your faces for a second before disappearing. It doesn't have to be an idiot to understand what is happening inside, especially with the now car's foggy windows. You pull his boxer briefs down, and his cock presses against your belly, causing you to chill. You lick your lips, adjusting your position in your backseat as Leon's forehead frowns.

"Hey. Don't worry about it: if it is the police, you can just show your badge and say it is a secret mission or something."

Leon chuckles, knowing you are probably right. He tries to say something, but you finally stroke his dick, just the tip, and Leon is trembling in your hands, his blue eyes glowing.

"Shit, sweetie, one second."

"We don't have much time, Leon." You argue, impatience. You wrap your legs around his waist with your back leaning against the window and the car seat. Leon stands kneeling in front of you, one of his hands at the window and the other holding the seat behind your head.

Leon enters you slowly, causing you both to groan. Leon is much louder than you, and the car starts shaking as soon as he starts moving.

"Shit, you feel so good. You liked your driver that much?" Leon teases, his golden locks rubbing your face.

"5 stars. Ri-right there, baby," You answer, holding him close to you. Leon knew precisely where and how to poke you with the right intensity. You try to stay silent, focusing on the noises of your pussy and Leon's groans. As his thrusts become harder without you even needing to ask, another car in a different direction passes, this time much slower, his high beam on. Leon notices your worried expression, pulling your chin back to look at him, and biting your mouth.

"Let them hear. I want them to see you are mine. Come on." Leon changes the angle slightly, and you scream, squeezing his triceps. He is thrusting so hard you can hear the car groaning. You forget about the existence of other cars and everything else, focusing your eyes on Leon's.

"S-so close," You sob, and Leon takes his hand to rub your clit. It takes two strokes until your body arches from the seat, shaking. You moan incoherently, while you close your hands in Leon's arms, as a way to keep you from passing out. Leon soon follows you, biting your neck as he cums deep inside of you, jerking his hips until the very last drop.

You two remain breathless. Leon's hair is damp with sweat, and he looks a mess. You kiss his cheek, looking at Leon's arm flexing so he doesn't put his weight on top of you.

"Are they gone?" Leon barely registers what you are asking, finally remembering the other car from earlier. He has to pass his hand over the window to take the condensations, searching. It seems that they left.

"They are gone."

"Bring me up, Leon, please."

He nods and gently brings you to your lap, still deep inside you. You just need a moment to catch your breath. You rest against his shoulder again, a happy and small smile on your face.

"Well, this tops the cowboy experience."

Leon chuckles, relaxing his head against the seat. When he starts feeling sleepy, Leon lifts his head, finding you already napping.

"I have to drive away soon, sweetheart. Before you fall asleep completely, why don't you wear your shirt and pants, okay?" You murmur something inaudible, and Leon smiles. He finds your shirt under his seat and your pants in front of yours and helps you dress, you more asleep than awake. Next, Leon pulls his shirt on and his pants, swearing low when he does not find his briefs. Guess he is going commando, then.

Leon leaves you half-lying in the backseat, placing your seatbelt before jumping back into the driver's seat. He gives you one good look, sleeping peacefully, before finding his cap on the floor and placing it on his head. It is time to take you home.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x female reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #IM SO SURPRISED I PULLED THIS ONE OFF #(off i won't tell you where)

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marvel-ous-m · 5 months ago

Text

✨ The Planets and the Fates (and All the Stars) Aligned ✨

WC: 4264 | Rating: T | Tags: Platonic Stobin, Famous!Eddie Munson/Guidance Counselor!Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute, Platonic HellCheer, Buckingham Mentioned | AO3 Link

Happiest of birthdays to the one and only @hairstevington !! You are such an inspiration and I'm truly honored to call you a friend. I hope that today is all you want it to be and more. Getting to know you through STWG has been one of the highlights of my year, and I will always have Sharkboy and Lavagirl to thank for that. <3 Taylor Lautner and his impact are frankly unmatched.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this very silly little platonic Stobin adventure, featuring Steddie and Buckingham Meet-Cutes

“Robin, do you seriously think that it’s a good idea to empty out our savings accounts so that we can fly across the country for a film screening?” Steve took a bite of his cereal and raised his eyebrows at her. They were seated on opposite sides of their thrifted dining room table, Steve eating cereal as a late-night dinner while Robin sat with him, splitting her time between scrolling TikTok on her phone and teaching herself how to cross stitch. It was her latest hyperfixation craft, and based on how long her craft kicks usually lasted, she’d be retiring this one in a week or so.

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

“I just got an advertisement for the Seattle International Film Festival, and the ad specifically showed me a clip of our movie, Steve!”

Steve hummed, taking another bite of his cereal. “Don’t you think it’s a little strange to call it ‘our movie’? We were extras, Rob, we were in it for a few seconds, if that.”

Robin let out a huff of annoyance, then turned her phone to face Steve. It was playing the TikTok she had described on loop, depicting a few split-second scenes from the various movies that would be shown at the festival. The scene that had been chosen from ‘their’ movie, Please Turn the Lights Off, was the ‘hotel lobby’ scene. Steve and Robin had portrayed rabid fans alongside a hundred other extras in that scene, screaming about the arrival of up-and-coming rockstar Robert “Bobby” Star to the hotel. They were, however, not visible in the split-second clip that Robin was now shoving in his face.

Apparently, Please Turn the Lights Off was a movie about overconsumption and parasocial relationships. Robin had found out as much a few months ago when the trailer dropped, and she’d gushed about how absolutely outstanding it looked. Steve wanted to see the movie, yeah, but he wasn’t exactly sold on the idea of dropping two paychecks to fly across the country to do that.

“It’ll be fun, Steve! It can be an adventure. How many other times are we going to get the opportunity to say that we attended a movie premiere for a film that we were in?” Robin pleaded with him, her eyes going wide and her lips forming a pout.

Steve huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Look, Birdie, I love you, you know that- but no matter what you say, you’re not convincing me.”

“Steve, do you have the hotel information? I have to call the Uber, and for some reason I can’t find the details on my phone.” Robin grumbled out her question as she scrolled through her emails, oblivious to Steve’s struggling with their bags at baggage claim.

Why had he agreed to do this again?

“I forwarded you the email two weeks ago, Robs. We’re booked at the DoubleTree- the one here next to the airport, not the one downtown.”

Robin hummed, then let out a soft, “Aha!” when she found the booking. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve gave a half-hearted “You’re welcome” in response, dragging Robin’s luggage over to where she was standing.

“Okay, I booked the Uber, I think we need to go… upstairs? No, downstairs. Yeah, we need to go downstairs and across the street in the next two minutes.” Robin shot Steve a blinding smile, then began to walk in the direction of the rideshare pickup, leaving Steve to handle the bags.

The things he did for Robin Buckley.

Finding the Uber wasn’t too difficult when all was said and done. Thankfully, the driver had been willing to wait for an extra few minutes while Steve and Robin navigated the twists and turns of Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. The drive to their hotel ended up being pretty short, too.

Once they got checked in, dragged the luggage upstairs, and arrived at their room, Steve was ready to fall over. Robin, however, seemed like she was ready to do the exact opposite.

“We should go downtown! Grab some drinks, explore the city- I heard that you can actually go up in the space needle. Isn’t that, like crazy? Oh, and it rotates!”

Steve dropped their bags by the bed, let out an exhausted groan, then fell onto the bed face-first. His response to Robin was muffled by the pillow he had fallen onto. “I am not going anywhere until it’s time for us to leave for the screening event tomorrow. I’m so tired.”

Robin huffed and flopped onto the mattress next to him, poking his arm. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad! We just had to leave our apartment at, like, 4:30am? That’s only two hours earlier than you usually wake up, I don’t know why you’re being such a baby about it.”

Steve sighed, rolling over onto his back. He gave Robin an unimpressed look. “If you’re still awake in an hour, even after I’ve turned off all the lights and put on Lo-fi, we can explore downtown.”

Robin grinned. “Deal.”

Low and behold, she fell asleep before Steve did.

Yeah, he kinda knew that would happen.

“I should have gone with the other outfit, right? This top doesn’t go with the pants. Do you think the top goes with the pants? Steve, I can’t go to our cinematic debut in an outfit that clashes.” Robin groaned, tugging at the sleeve of her button-up shirt as they walked into the venue.

Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shot Robin a reassuring smile. “You look great, Robs. You’re overthinking it because you’re nervous, the outfit doesn’t clash at all.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?” Robin frowned down at her clothes- a green button up shirt tucked into black slacks with a gray suit vest over top of it. “It’s not, like… too dull?”

“Nah, it’s nice! You look great. It’s a good shade of green, it really compliments your eyes.” Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket as he spoke. They were approaching the ticket reader, and he wanted to have it ready for the scanner.

Robin brushed her hands down her shirt to try and flatten out a few wrinkles, then let out a resigned sigh. “Alright. Thanks, dingus. For what it’s worth, your outfit is perfect.”

The person staffing the ticket counter scanned the two digital tickets on Steve’s phone, then waved them through. Steve kept his phone out as he navigated to their seats in the theater. “Really? I sorta felt like the pink shirt was a bold choice, but I had to pay homage to the pink streak in my hair from when we were filming this. Plus, y’know, pink and black- classic color combo.”

“May the pink streak of hair and the bet that she represents always live on in infamy.” Robin replied, dramatically lamenting the loss of the pink and the return of his natural hair color.

“I’m still in shock that somehow you knew Tommy Hagan had a crush on me in highschool before I did.” Steve pocketed his phone as they reached their seats, ushering Robin into the already almost-full row they had arrived at. He took the seat on the aisle and glanced around the theater for a moment, eyes widening when he realized how many people were present.

“Yeah, well, I’m still shocked that you never realized how many people were head over heels for you back then. Still, I’m glad it only took three shots for Tommy to make a move, I did not want to see Tommy Hagan more drunk than that, and I really didn’t want to take over laundry duty for a month. Laundry duty sucks.”

Steve gave a distracted hum. “I find it calming.”

“I don’t know how. First you have to sort dirty clothes, which, like, ew. Then you have to use different soaps, and god forbid you mess up the point at which you put the soap in, then you have to wait around…” Steve allowed Robin’s rambling to serve as background noise as he continued to look around the room. Did all of these people work on the film? A few people in the back of the theater looked really excited, which was sort of weird. It’s not like anyone important would be showing up to this thing, right?

The lights in the theater dimmed, and Robin quieted next to him, then slapped a hand against his arm. “Steve! Oh my god, it’s starting!” She hissed out her excitement in a whisper, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

His expression turned into an open-mouthed gape when the director walked onto the stage in front of the movie screen, joined by the leads in the movie- Eddie Munson and Tammy Thompson.

“What the fuck?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m really surprised that Tammy Thompson’s manager put her in all Gucci for this event, it’s not really her style. Still, you have to admit, it’s a look.” Robin muttered next to him. Steve honestly had no clue what she was even talking about.

Instead, his eyes were glued on Eddie Munson. “You didn’t tell me that the people were gonna be here.” Steve whispered absently, his eyes raking over Eddie’s outfit. Whoever his manager was knew how to style him, that’s for sure. His hair was all curls, styled perfectly to frame his face, and he was dressed in a floral-print black suit. He was wearing a maroon button-up underneath all the black, and the whole look made Steve… well, it made him feel some things.

“People? What people? Oh, shit, do you mean the actors? Steve, Stevie, light of my life, that is common sense, I fear. It’s a movie premiere, the cast is gonna show up. Didn’t you see all the goth-y teens waiting outside? They’re all here to meet Eddie at the meet and greet after.” Robin put her hand on Steve’s knee as she spoke, and Steve swallowed down the sudden bout of anxiety churning in his stomach.

The cast was here. Eddie fucking Munson was here. There was a meet and greet that was going to be happening. This whole movie premiere thing was actually a big deal, and the movie was starting, and Steve was about to see how much he actually made it into said movie. He was about to see his name on the credits at the end of the film and- holy shit, wow. Okay, he could see why Robin actually wanted to attend this thing now.

“..and, well, that’s why I felt motivated to make this movie. Eddie, Tammy, and the rest of the cast and crew really brought life to this story. I hope that you enjoy watching it as much as we enjoyed creating it! Without further ado, here is Please Turn the Lights Off.” The Director finished his welcome then stepped off the stage with Eddie and Tammy, and Steve’s attention shifted from Eddie Munson to the screen that flickered to life.

The movie was good.

Like, really good.

Like, made-Steve-cry-at-the-end, good. That’s a hard thing to accomplish. He didn’t even cry when he watched Coco. It was a close thing, yeah, but still, his point stands. He’s not quick to get emotional at movies.

“Wow. That was wild, that scene at the end with Bobby and his manager really killed me.” Robin began speaking the second the lights came up, loud enough that Steve could still hear her over the thundering applause from the rest of the audience. “I think I spotted us in three different scenes, Steve! How cool is that? They even got our faces at one point, isn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah, that’s- that’s really cool, Robs.” In truth, Steve had mostly forgotten to look for himself in the scenes with extras as he watched the movie. He did spot his face in the one instance where it had been shown, but the other two scenes that he and Robin apparently made it into, the two that she just mentioned? Steve had no idea what she was talking about.

The director got back on stage to say a few words, then encouraged people to line up near the stage if they wanted to do a meet and greet with the cast members. Fans crowded to the front of the room in seconds, while others slowly made their way out of the theater. Steve and Robin stayed in their seats.

“We should line up to do the meet and greet, yeah?” Robin nudged Steve’s arm, a teasing smile on her face. “I can meet Tammy, you can meet Eddie.” Her smile grew wider, and Steve groaned.

“Robin, he’s nice to look at, yeah, but he’s also one of the biggest up-and-coming stars in Hollywood right now. I’ll feel like… I don’t know, like a lovesick fangirl going up to him and saying hi.”

Robin shrugged at that, standing and pulling Steve up with her. “I mean, yeah, but that’s not really a bad thing, y’know? That’s why they’re here, they’re expecting that. Just, I don’t know, tell him that the scene of him having a breakdown in the bathroom made you cry, I’m sure he’ll be honored.”

Steve allowed Robin to pull him along, but gave her a deadpan, “I’m not telling him that,” followed by a glare when she glanced back at him.

“Well, you should tell him something. Looks like we’ll have a lot of time to figure out what that something is, seeing as we’re last in the line of at least a hundred people right now.”

Steve grimaced at the length of the meet and greet line. It was long, yeah, and it looked like it ended with them, seeing as the theater was otherwise empty aside from those already in line ahead of them, hoping to meet the stars of the movie.

It took almost an hour to finally reach the cast. They were lined up along the side of the stage, and each took a few seconds to sign a poster of the film that was included in the price of the ticket while chatting with the fans. Eddie was at the end of the line, next to Tammy.

Given that Steve and Robin were the final audience members in the line, the cast began to disperse as soon as they were done signing their posters and chatting with them. By the time they reached Eddie and Tammy, the rest of the cast had left in the theater, and the theater employees had started to clean up the venue for the next showing that evening.

Robin went straight to Tammy and immediately started gushing about her outfit. Tammy signed the poster and met Robin’s excitement with a pasted-on smile. Steve grimaced at Tammy’s rather obvious insincerity and made his way to Eddie, handing over the poster with silent anxiety.

“Hey!” Eddie greeted him with a smile and looked down to sign the poster, then did a double take, eyes going wide when he saw Steve’s face. “Wait- do I know you?”

“What?” Steve squeaked, eyes going wide. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No! I mean, not really? I mean, probably not, I just- uh. I was in the movie, for, like, a second. I was an extra. You could see my face in the crowd in the scene where you were playing the outdoor show, and I guess I was in other scenes too, but… uh, I don’t know which ones. I got kind of distracted and forgot to look for myself in the movie.”

“Huh.” Eddie squinted at Steve for a moment, then his eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh yeah! You’re pink hair dude!”

Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth dropped open in shock. “You remember that?”

“Yeah man, of course. You’ve got a hard face to forget.” Eddie winked, and Steve felt his cheeks flush.

“Oh, uh- thanks? I guess?”

“What happened to the pink streak, anyway?” Eddie frowned as he looked at Steve’s hair, presumably searching for the now-absent color.

“My friend Robin and I made a bet, and she had me get it after I lost. I had to dye it back to brown because I started a new job and-” Steve glanced Robin’s way, and was surprised to see her chatting with someone who was decidedly not Tammy. No, now she was talking to a blonde woman in stilettos and a power suit, who seemed charmed by Robin’s rambling.

“-uh, and, anyways, sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, talk your ear off or anything-” Steve was suddenly very aware that Eddie was the only cast member left in the theater, and that he was probably only here because Steve wouldn’t stop talking.

“No need to apologize! I’m having a good time chatting with you- trust me, I wouldn’t stick around if I wasn’t.” Eddie smirked. “So, you had to dye it back for work? What do you do?”

Steve’s anxiety calmed at Eddie’s reassurance, and was practically gone by the time Eddie was asking about his job. “Oh, I’m a guidance counselor at a middle school back in New York. It’s really rewarding to get to help so many kids. Middle school is a tough time, y’know? I just like getting to be there for them, being an adult that they can talk to about all the complicated stuff in their lives.”

Eddie’s eyes grew wide. “New York? You’re from New York? Did you fly all the way out here for this?”

“Uh, yeah? It was my friend Robin’s idea. She’s over there.” Steve pointed to where Robin was standing with the mystery blonde woman, and Eddie’s lips quirked into a knowing smile.

“Huh. Looks like your friend found my friend. That’s my manager, Chris.” Eddie chuckled under his breath. “Knowing her, they’ll probably be talking for a while- which is great, because that means we can chat a little longer. So, let me get this straight. You flew all the way across the country for a movie screening, for a film that you were an extra in, just… for what? The heck of it?”

Steve crossed his arms, growing a bit defensive at Eddie’s tone. “Yeah? I mean, Robin and I, we pick up odd jobs. She’s an art teacher at my school and we really don’t have much to do during the summer months. She’s the one who got us the extra gig when the movie was filming last summer. About a month ago she saw the advertisement for this and was like, ‘when else are we going to get to a movie premiere for a movie we were in’, and I was pretty against it, but eventually she pushed me into it and- look, I know it’s stupid, but-”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Eddie cut Steve off. “I think it’s really nice, actually. It’s cute.”

“Oh.” Steve swallowed down the rest of his words and tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, like, I did something similar for the first movie I was in. I think I had… one line, maybe two? I got so excited that I took a road trip to see the premiere down in Austin. I slept in my van and showed up probably reeking of weed, but it was a special moment for me. Granted, I planned on getting into showbiz for most of my life. Even though that doesn’t exactly seem like that’s your end goal, something like this can still be pretty special.”

Steve ducked his head to hide the blush that was slowly making its way up to the top of his ears. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Eddie nudged his elbow against Steve’s, then gave him a delighted smile when their eyes met. “So, New York? What area are you in?”

“Hm? Oh, we’re in Albany, but given how much Robin loves traveling to the city, we should really just move out there.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as he thought of the countless weekend trips to the city that they had taken.

“Ah, yeah- the city’s fun. I’ve got a place in Greenwich, actually. It’s not home, that’ll always be in Tennessee with my Uncle Wayne, but I’d say it’s the next closest thing.” He brought a hand up to his hair and began to fiddle nervously with one of the strands. “So, is it just you and Robin, then? No other roommates or, um… partners?”

Steve shook his head, oblivious to the intent behind Eddie’s question. “Nope, just us! Robs and I moved out to New York a few years ago, and we’ve seen a few people here and there, but nothing permanent- and, honestly, nothing for a while. Robin would rather go to shows in the city than sit through awkward first dates back home, and I can’t exactly blame her, y’know? First dates suck.” Steve registered the words he said after he said them, and felt himself go red in embarrassment. He really needed to get over his whole ‘oversharing-when-nervous’ thing.

Eddie smirked, amused, and opened his mouth to respond. Before he could, he was interrupted by Chrissy, who made her way over to them with Robin trailing behind her. “Hey guys, not to break this up, but Eds- we’ve really gotta get going. Your flight to LA leaves in two hours.”

Eddie glanced at his watch, then gave Steve an apologetic look. “Shit, yeah, we really need to head out.” He looked down at the poster, still gripped in his other hand, and huffed out a laugh. “Damn, all that talking and I never signed this for you! Here, let me jussst-” Eddie manifested a sharpie from his pocket and scrawled his signature onto the glossy print.

Eddie handed the poster back, his smirk having turned slightly nervous. Steve’s fingers brushed against Eddie’s when he took the poster back, and Steve bit his lip to hide the smitten smile that he knew was starting to creep onto his face.

“I’ll, uh, catch you later.” Eddie muttered with a blush, then stepped away to join Chrissy, who led him toward the back entrance to the theater.

Steve glanced down at the movie poster in his hand as Eddie and Chrissy walked away. His eyes grew wide when he saw what Eddie had scrawled there.

Eddie Munson

Let’s meet up in NY, pretty boy. I’ll make sure the first date doesn’t suck ;)

315-555-2595

Holy shit.

Eddie Munson just gave Steve his personal cell phone number.

Eddie Munson just called him pretty.

Eddie Munson just asked him on a date.

“Oh my god, Steve. Chrissy is, like, the best. She gave me her number! I’m sort of freaking out, I don’t know if I’ll ever meet anyone as beautiful as her ever again.” Robin sidled up next to him, her eyes still glued to the retreating celebrity and his manager.

Steve rolled up the poster and tucked it under his arm for safekeeping. At the same time, he decided to let his shock over getting asked out by Eddie take a backseat. He could tell Robin later, and she could help him figure out what to do next. For now, he’d much rather hear about Robin’s interaction with Eddie’s manager. “Let’s go grab a bite, Robs. You can tell me all about Chris while we’re out.”

Robin grinned and wrapped her arm around Steve’s waist. “Okay! Hey- do you still hate me for making you come all the way out here for the movie screening?” The question was clearly made in jest, and Steve couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him in response.

“Hate you? Nah, I don’t hate you. Maybe ‘despise’ is a better word choice?”

“Steven Marie Harrington, take that back!”

“Loathe? Detest?”

“I’m never speaking to you again.” Robin could barely speak through her laughter as she pushed Steve away.

“Nooo, whatever will I do?” Steve deadpanned his response, and earned himself another shove from Robin.

Steve let out an exaggerated oomph, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, letting his tone shift into something far more sincere. “Thanks for convincing me to come out here, Robs. It was worth the trip.”

“Yeah? Good. I’m glad you feel that way.” They exited the front entrance of the theater and crossed the street. As far as Steve knew, they didn’t have a destination in mind, but he figured a restaurant would pop up sooner or later. “Anyways, since you’re so grateful, I fully expect to be the officiant at your wedding with Eddie.”

Steve choked on the air he was breathing and doubled over with laughter, which sent Robin into a fit of giggles. She hadn’t even seen what Eddie wrote on his poster, but she always knew what was going on in his head, didn’t she?

“As if, Robin. Even if, in some strange turn of events, I did for some reason marry Eddie Munson, you wouldn’t officiate. Knowing you, you’d be in tears the whole time, and I’d much rather you be my maid of honor in that case so you don’t have to try and talk through your crying. My mind is made, and no matter what you say, you’re not convincing me.”

Three years later, Robin Buckley served as officiant of Steve and Eddie’s wedding- and yeah, she used a lot of tissues, but Steve couldn’t think of anyone better to perform the ceremony than his best friend, the person who helped him meet Eddie in the first place.

Besides, as far as Steve was concerned, Robin Buckley would always get her way.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #em writes #steddie fic #gift fic #platonic stobin #stobin #steve and robin #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #platonic hellcheer

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boxofbonesfic · 2 years ago

Note

I can't stop thinking of possessive fire fighter Thor 😌🥴

welp, nonnie, now I can’t either. maybe you weren’t thinking quite this dark, but… 😅

Title: Everloving

Pairing: Dark!Thor x Reader

Summary: A one night stand has worse consequences than you ever could have imagined.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Arson, Noncon, Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Implied Basement-Wife, Stalking, Breeding, Darkfic, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Minors DNI!

[divider by @firefly-graphics]

You stare at the ceiling over his shoulder as you catch your breath, your fingernails still dug hard into the muscles rippling beneath his skin. You’re still spiraling back down into yourself when he pulls back, leaning up on his elbows to grin dopily at you. His blond hair falls handsomely across his face, and the corners of his bright blue eyes are crinkled with his smile.

“See, Peach?” Thor says with a wink, his breath still a little short. “Told you I would take you to Valhalla.”

You raise a hand to your head, fingers curling in your hair as you laugh breathlessly. It’s a corny joke—and it was even cornier when he’d fed you the pick-up line in the bar, complete with his sultry little every girl needs a firefighter, Peach. It had been so corny you’d been left wondering if it was specifically engineered to get you to laugh yourself into his bed, but the earnest look on his face makes you second-guess your two minute drunk assessment. The firefighter’s uniform he’d told you about is hung up on the back of the door, too, lending credence to his honesty.

“Why is that funnier the second time?” You say, and he laughs. He eases up off of you, and your cheeks heat as you feel him slip out of your puffy, still throbbing cunt. You sit up, pulling his blanket up over your bare chest self-consciously. Thor, it seems, is just as glorious in nudity as he is clothed, back muscles rippling as he turns to the closet, and pulls out a hand towel to clean himself off. You hear a tinny sounding thud as he tosses the condom into the trash-can next to his desk. He offers you a towel and you take one, hurriedly swiping between your own thighs.

“Do you want to shower?” He asks over his shoulder. “My roommate’s won’t be back for a few hours, so if you wanted to shower and crash—”

“That’s okay,” You say quickly, snatching your shirt off of the back of his desk chair, using his blanket as a somewhat unconventional toga while you shimmy into it. “I should get going, it’s pretty late.” You flash him an apologetic smile as you tug up your jeans. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“No, it’s totally fine, they won’t mind. And maybe tomorrow we could get breakfast—”

“I don’t think so,” you say stiffly. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

“Right, right,” he laughs a little awkwardly, stepping back into his briefs. The elastic snaps as he pulls them back up around his waist. “Well, maybe we could go out another time?”

You answer him with a shake of your head. “Sorry, I just, um….” You blow out a breath, rocking back and forth on your heels nervously. “I’m not like… looking for a relationship. Right now.” You smile apologetically. “I just, you know. Just got out of one, and it was a whole thing, and I just… I’m not ready, right now for another commitment like that.” His face falls, the boyish grin on his face disappearing as he regards you.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, feeling the tension thick in the air between you. “I um. I had fun.”

“Yeah. Me too.” A look you can’t read crosses his face, and he lifts his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it. He doesn’t say anything else as you shrug back into your jacket and flee his room, navigating back down the dark hallway toward the door. Your sneakers are in a messy heap by the front door where you left them, and you step into them quickly, eager to be out of his apartment.

You pull up your rideshare app as you walk down the block, trying to put a little distance between yourself and Thor before you call. For some reason, you don’t want to do it right outside, not that you think he’d watch you through the window like some creeper—

Or would he?

Either way, you call when you’ve reached the bodega on the end of his block, and in five minute Jeffery in a white Hyundai Sonata is pulling up to the curb.

Omw home. Your text pops into the roommate groupchat, and it’s not thirty seconds before you see three different speech bubbles appear in the bottom left corner.

Heather: girl. it’s one-am!!!!

Bobbie: girl shut up, she was getting her back blown out by that hot blond lmao

Heather: twisted into pretzels lolll

Kirsten: none of you are asking the real questions. how was it???????

You stifle your laughter with your hands, glancing at the rearview mirror before responding.

I will be home in ten minutes. You all will just have to wait. You are, of course, greeted by shrill giggles and questions the moment you walk through the door. You deliver the details as painlessly as you can muster, choosing not to describe the heartbroken look on Thor’s face when you’d tried to let him down as gently as you could.

“I mean, you’re totally right. You shouldn’t jump into anything so quick, not after Jimmy.” Bobbie nods sagely at you in approval.

“I dunno. He seemed sweet,” Kirsten says dreamily. “Might be a nice guy.”

“He was looking for a serious girlfriend, K,” you reply, stretching as you turn toward your room. “And I am not doing serious right now. Bobbie’s right.”

After a hot shower, you flop tiredly onto your bed and burrow under the covers. You’re still a little sore from earlier, and you bite your lip, wondering if you’d made a mistake. No harm in letting him shoot his shot, right? That’s what Heather had told you in the bar when he’d first begun sending you drinks, and what had rung in your head when your casual conversation had become boldly flirtatious.

There are plenty of other fish in the sea for him. You turn over, pressing your face gratefully into the pillow, confident that by tomorrow morning, Thor wouldn’t even remember your name.

——

The smell of smoke wakes you, only seconds before Bobbie is hurriedly shaking you awake.

“Fire! Fire get up now!”

Blearily you sit up, registering the shrill beeps of the fire-alarm just before you choke on thick, hot smoke. It’s filling the room, curling against the ceiling as you sit up, shoving your feet into your slippers. Bobbie’s hand is tight around yours as the two of you race for the door, followed by Heather and Kirsten. The hallway is filled with the other residents, everyone rushing out of the building in a crushing stampede. You’re dizzy, your throat hoarse and your eyes red and watering as you and your roommates watch your lives billow up into the night sky.

The street outside is chaos as the firetrucks arrive, men in uniform pushing through the crowd. You’re still staring numbly at your burning apartment building when large hands land on your shoulders.

“Peach? Peach you okay?” Thor pushes up his visor, his face filled with worry.

“She’s inhaled a lot of smoke, she was the last to get out,” Bobbie says worriedly. You’re forced to agree—every breath feels raw, like you’d swallowed some of the fire yourself. “Is there an ambulance coming?”

“Yes, there is, but if it’s that bad, I should take her to the hospital now,” He says, snapping his visor back down. Thor’s grip is like iron as he steers you towards the back of one of the small response vehicles, and he hands you an oxygen mask and a little tank. “Breathe through this for a little while, Peach. You’ll feel better in no time.”

The street is clogged with vehicles, and Thor steers patiently around them while you sit in the back and try to catch your breath. The smell of the fire, the lights and the sound of sirens fade gradually behind you as you watch the building disappear in the rearview mirror. Eventually, all you can see is the thick column of smoke curling into the still dark sky in the distance as Thor gets onto the highway. His blue eyes meet yours in the mirror.

“How are you feeling?” He asks. The oxygen is certainly helping, though you aren’t sure if you’re supposed to be feeling quite this light and giggly. Oxygen deprivation makes you high right? Or is that something else?

“Like I almost got barbecued,” you say, lowering the mask. A hoarse laugh escapes you. “Sorry. But I did almost die.”

He smiles at you in the mirror. “It’s alright. A bit of morbid humor is to be expected.” You realize with a glance out of the window that you’re far past the hospital. It isn’t funny, but you giggle. In fact, he’ll be out of the city limits in another few minutes. “Besides, It’s probably the nitrous.” You squint at him.

“What?”

“Nitrous Oxide, Peach. In the canister.” He winks at you, though he’s spinning in the rearview—or is it my head? Your limps are limp and uncooperative as you tug at the mask, gasping for air as your vision tunnels. You get it off, but it isn’t enough, and you gape at the air like a fish as you try to swallow it down into your lungs.

Your ears are ringing, and black spots dance in your vision as you slump sideways over in the seat. The roof of the car swims in and out of focus as you gulp down lungful after lungful of air. You don’t know how long Thor’s been driving when he pulls over—twenty minutes? Thirty? But your head is still buzzing, your vision unfocused when Thor opens the back door.

“I am sorry you got hurt, Peach,” he says, managing to sound disgustingly apologetic as he reaches for you. You kick at him, but he’s so big and so coordinated and you are not, and he presses you to the seat, hovering over you like he had earlier this evening. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

His admission drags a ragged sob from your throat as your eyes widen. You wail, your struggles renewing themselves until you’re exhausted. Thor remains immoveable above you, like your efforts have done nothing but delay, and perhaps irritate him.

“You set the fire.” He doesn’t deny it.

“Magnesium shavings and alcohol.” He taps the tip of your nose with a finger. “I like you so much, Peach. I just… I couldn’t watch you go out again with someone else.” He catches both of your wrists in one large hand and pins them to the seat beneath you.

“T-Thor,” your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “S-stop, I—”

He hushes you with a kiss, moaning as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You whimper into his mouth and he swallows it hungrily, sucking your lower lip between his teeth and worrying it until it swells.

“I just want to start over,” he repeats your words from the bar, hours—a lifetime—ago back to you, dark sincerity dripping from every word. “Pick up and start over—”

“Shut up!” You cry, tears welling in your frightened eyes. “You don’t know me!”

“Maybe not yet,” he hums, dragging his lips down the salty tracks over the curve of your cheek. “But we have time.” The fingers of his free hand slip beneath the loose elastic waistband of your pajama pants to cup your bare pussy. He heaves a pleased sigh. “No panties? Peach you are truly a treasure.” He parts your lips with sure, unhurried motions, his fingers sliding through your folds.

You try to close your thighs around his hand, but he doesn’t let you, wedging himself between your thighs.

“P-please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—” You babble apologies that he doesn’t seem to hear, his touches ironically soft and unhurried. “Thor please—!” His lips crush against yours again, turning the words into a frightened squeak.

“What’s the matter, Peach?” He asks, trailing down your jaw and over your pulse point. “Nothing we haven’t done before.” Thor’s pleased little hum makes shame curl in your belly. You’re wet. You know you are, and you hate yourself for it as he draws his fingers back and forth, spreading the slick through your folds with practiced ease. “See? She even remembers me.”

Thor circles your entrance with gentle strokes, and you huff through your teeth to hide the whine that threatens to tumble from your lips. You hate him, his soft persistent kisses, the drag of his fingers through your traitorously aching folds. You hate it because it feels good, because he’s making it feel good, because it feels like you’re shattering into a thousand fractured shards in his capable hands, and you get the feeling that he wants you to.

Can’t fix what isn’t broken.

You whimper at the burning stretch of his fingers, the heel of his palm grinding deliciously against your clit. When you clench your teeth against the pleasure, Thor clucks his tongue at you.

“Let it feel good, Peach,” he coos, scissoring his fingers inside of you. Your breath hitches loudly in your throat, and Thor moans deeply at the sight, leaning down to suck a bruise onto your collarbone. “You don’t have to be in control anymore. You can let go.” He mumbles the words darkly against your skin as you feel his hips shift up.

“You can just let me—” Thor reaches between your bodies, tugging the band of his briefs down over the thick shaft of his cock. “Do the thinking for both of us.” He groans as it pops out from under the elastic, slapping against the puffy, slick lips of your pussy.

Thor’s lips part in a soft “o” as he slides his cock back and forth, eyes rolling up to stare sightlessly through the roof of the car. His fingers dig into the fleshy curve of your hip, the other forcing your wrists down harder into the seat cushion. Tears are leaking out of the corners of your eyes and running down into your hair, acceptance settling like lead as you realize this is happening.

The head of his cock throbs hard as he pushes it against your swollen clit. You push down on the pleasure as hard as you can, trying not to let it show on your face. It’s useless though, as your thighs begin to tremble around his hips from the steady pressure at your clit. You writhe, trying in vain to buck him off. You only succeed in pushing yourself against him, pleasure rolling in sticky warm waves up your spine.

“N-no, ah—” You’re cumming then, your words are lost in the choked sob that tightens your throat. Cheeks flush with heat, you turn tear-filled eyes to Thor’s. He looks at you with an manic kind of joy, his fever bright eyes drinking in every detail. Your pussy is still throbbing, clenching tightly around nothing when Thor begins to line the head of his cock up with your cunt. He sinks in slowly, cursing as you squeeze down around him.

“Better with no condom, isn’t it Peach?” He says hoarsely, chuckling. “Not that that one made much of a difference,” Thor sinks in to the base, the heavy weight of his balls slapping wetly against you as he revels in the feel of you. “Poked it full of holes, just in case.”

He doesn’t give you time to mull over the words before he’s sliding out, sparks shooting in front of your open eyes as his cock drags along your walls. Thor groans as he fills you again, loosing your wrists so that he can anchor you to him with both hands. There is room in your foggy head for shame, but it does nothing to stop the sticky sweet rush of pleasure as he fucks into you with abandon, the truck rocking hard with his efforts.

What’s worse is that you can hear it, the lewd wet noise it makes as he slides into your welcoming cunt. You whine low in your throat as he pinches your clit between two fingers, rolling it back and forth until you’re twitching underneath him. Thor laughs.

“See?” He asks breathlessly. “And you say I don’t know you.” He leans down to kiss you again, swallowing the pathetic little cry you let out as he drags you over the edge. You hate that he’s all around you, in you, everywhere, filling you up until you’re overflowing.

When you cum, again it’s with Thor’s tongue in your mouth, and his throbbing cock in your cunt. He moans against your lips as his hips still, and dimly, you’re aware of slow, sticky heat settling in your core. He doesn’t move, his body pinning you to the seat. When he finally leans away, you try your best to pull your t-shirt back down over your bare breasts, staring stubbornly at the back of the front seat.

“Oh, Peach, don’t be mad at me,” he says, tucking his fingers beneath your chin. He pulls until it hurts, and you’re forced to look at him. You hate that he’s still inside of you, his cum leaking out to pool on the seat underneath your ass. He reaches down beneath the seat for something, but you can’t quite see it. “We’re going to be so good together.”

He produces the nitrous tank and mask, and your eyes widen with fear as you begin to struggle. It isn’t hard for him to push it against your face, though, and you hear a squeak as he twists open the valve. The gas rushes into the mask with a hiss, and it only takes a few panicked breaths before your vision begins to dim.

“You’ll see.”

end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth smut #thor odinson #thor odinson fanfiction #thor odinson smut #dark!thor odinson #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor x you #thor odinson x you #thor smut #thor fanfiction #darkfic #dark #boxofbonesfic #Everloving fic

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scoatneyhall · 6 months ago

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WILD. Was anyone else aware that the Ted Lasso team has gone in and made post-production edits on season 3 episodes, sometime in the last year?

I've been rewatching the finale in advance of the one year anniversary of it airing, and straight off, I noticed that the points total on the graphic looked different to how I remembered it - a much closer race. It stuck out because I remembered being annoyed that they didn't celebrate the moment Richmond got confirmed for the Champions League, as the gap was big enough for it to have happened a while ago, offscreen. I still have a screencap from when the episode aired:

However, the current copy on Apple has an updated graphic, making the post-production graphic in line with the numbers on the actual physical whiteboard prop and the script mentioning the win streak. See here:

The corrected copy makes Richmond's points match the whiteboard, but it also puts the teams in 3rd to 5th place much closer to them points-total wise, meaning that now, in the current version of the episode, Richmond only qualified for the UCL in "Mom City," making it make more sense that the start of 3.12 is the first time it gets discussed. Would have been nice to mention that stake in the City match commentary during 3.11, but I genuinely am shocked that they went back in and edited the already-published episodes to clean up the post-production errors. For the record, here's the whiteboard as of 3.08: W10, D9, L6.

Just in case anyone cares, the order of those results was - 1 draw against Chelsea, 6 wins with Zava, 1 loss against West Ham, the rest of the draws and losses occurring between 3.05 and the loss against Arsenal in 3.07, and then the 4 wins mentioned at the start of 3.08. By the start of 3.12, it's mentioned they are on a 16 game win streak, so that's 22 wins overall, 9 draws, 6 losses, going into the final weekend, hence the updated graphic.

I like that they went in and fixed it - no idea when in the past 12 months that occured - but I also kind of can't believe they bothered? Then again, I can't believe the mistake was made in the first place, as they were so specific with details in the prior seasons, so maybe they couldn't live with it being wrong.

I know there were rumours about a ton of issues in terms of getting these episodes posted in time - right down to the wire, still fixing the edit on the airdate - and it's clear that these details were not checked and confirmed by the poor people in post who were not working off the show bible that lives in the writers heads. I don't blame them at all, I blame the people who got the edit to them late, but it did annoy me during the season a LOT. The maths wasn't mathing, and as we know this is a show that has been careful with dates and timelines and stuff like that.

Anyway! The point is, a) this post about my UCL qualification fantasies is now moot, and b) I went back and checked another post production error that had REALLY pissed me off, which was the dates of texts in Ted's phone in 3.04. Phone dates have always given us the timeline quite strictly before - it's how @belmottetower and I started the timeline in our primer, with Ted arriving in London on January 6, 2020 and then following the football seasons from there to place the season 3 finale in May 2022 - but in 3.04, all the cute texts we see to all the characters in his phone were badly misdated, placing the timeline further in the future. This caused arguments or misunderstandings, at the time about the actual timeline of the show, but it seems this was another detail the producers really wanted to fix and tighten up, as they've gone back and had it edited.

It's weird, because the texts Ted was actually going back to - the messages from Doctor Jacob - were dated correctly as late 2019, and there's even a little easter egg in the form of a US rideshare notification picking him up to go to the airport in America, on 5 January 2020. (Even the area code, 316, is apparently correct to Kansas.) That's all correct even in the original version of the episode, but somehow we then skip a year and place his most recent texts, as of 3.04, in late October 2022, when they should only be in late September or early October 2021. (I found this post on Reddit that screenshotted his phone at the time.) Examples:

I had to go back and check this, and sure enough, it's been edited to reflect the established timeline - they didn't just redate the year on each message, they also changed a bunch of the chats to be more recent - so rather than dates, his most recent chats with Henry, the Coaches, etc are from "Yesterday," then the first dated texts are in very late September 2021. This matches up pretty perfectly with where they are in a typical Premier League season - they REALLY cleaned it up. Further back, they do just switch the years on the dates, so he still got a picture from Sassy last Valentines Day, and his last one-on-one contact with Jamie is still set before the events of Wembley in 2.08 (FA Cup semi finals are in April, so a few weeks after the March 2021 date on Jamie's chat.)

My brain is itching because I swear there was a screen of Nate and Ted's text chat at some point too? With Ted reaching out about his new job, on a date that deeply did not work with the timeline? But maybe I imagined it. There's no record of Nate's number in his phone at all now, and the texts date back to before Nate left, so I guess in this version of events, Ted deleted Nate's number and message history.

Anyway, I'm aware that basically no one is going to care about this, but I suspect that the three people who will actually care will REALLY FUCKING CARE. Has anyone else noticed it? Does anyone know when it may have happened? Does anyone know what else might have been changed or fixed? I love details and I love the fact that there is no longer conflicting data about what football seasons the show is covering - it's mid 19/20 to the end of 21/22, end of story - but what a fucking mess the production of season 3 must have been, to end up at this point!

#ted lasso #ted lasso meta

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chaotickryptonitetree · 11 months ago

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grant me easiness and i'll give you everything (it's only fair) | jeremy swayman

what I feel about him is alarming and frighting and yap yap yap. hope you like!

Whoever claimed to enjoy airports had clearly never been an Uber driver.

Sure; the money was significantly better than a normal ride—but the traffic? And the poor temperament? And the confusing lanes? It made you question if it was even worth the money.

But there were bills to pay, so you added tonight to the list of nights you ended up at the rideshare terminal of the airport.

You knew by now that flights usually got in on the 10s (7:10, 8:10, etc), so people would have collected their luggage and made their way to ride shares by the 35s (give or take). Glancing at the dash cam, you read 9:32. As if on cue, your phone pinged with a few alerts.

Typically, you’d choose the one that offered the most money. But it had been a long night, with a lot of rides, and had made enough to finish a bit early. So you picked the one that would put you closest to home. And it happened to be Jeremy, who wanted to end up at a brownstone around 7 minutes from your building.

And you waited.

Just for a minute or two before a knock on the back window stirred you from completely zoning out. Instinctively, you unlocked the car and a body slid into the back seat.

“Jeremy?” You confirmed, not bothering to look back.

“How do you know that?” A cheery voice forced your hand, made you make eye contact with him in the mirror. Mistake.

“Are you Jeremy or not?” You were paid to drive, not indulge lazy jokes. Still, his kind eyes didn’t waver.

“Just messin,” he looked out the window and mockingly placed a light touch to the window. Despite yourself, you tracked the movement, watching his hands (his large, large hands). Mistake. “Driver, take me home.” He sighed a wistful sigh, and even though you didn’t want to, a small smile found its way to your face. Putting on the turn signal, you merged into the departure lane and turned up the stereo.

Checking your blindspot, you pulled onto the freeway—traffic was awful so it would be a long ride despite the short mileage.

“Temperature okay?” You asked politely, following your script.

“Just right!” You could hear the smile in his voice, even though you refused to look at him again.

“Music alright?”

“My favorite!” You raised an eyebrow at his response—top 40 radio was no one’s favorite. But that was your last question that usually made riders feel heard enough to give 5 stars. Slightly relieved (as always), you settled in for the drive.

Usually you spent the time working through a problem in your head, really getting into the whys and hows of something that was bothering you. One of your friends was being distant, so you started there. She had started this behavior about a month ago, so that could mean that—

“I flew in from Alaska,” that cheery voice interrupted your internal monologue completely.

“That’s nice,” your reply was non-committal. You didn’t usually talk to riders that much. Didn’t plan on making it a habit.

“Yup!” He popped the p sound. “I’m from there, and I was visiting my family. It was awesome—I really miss them when I’m here for a long time.”

“Nice.” You were out of practice making small talk with a new person (to put it lightly). He just nodded—the only indication being the sound of fabric moving around his neck as he did so.

“So, where are you from?” He leaned forward in his seat, as if genuinely interested—as if knowing where this stranger grew up was a seriously important part of his night.

“I don’t have to talk to riders just because,” you cringed at how mean you sounded. He didn’t even deflate a little, just leaned back and laughed a slightly weird laugh.

“Fair enough,” his tone made you wonder if he was always this happy, this unphased.

And then the music filled the space as much as your stale air freshener did—even if the air was tinged with a bit of guilt on your part.

“I can feel you looking at me,” your eyes darted to him again in the mirror. Brown eyes forgiving and kind and very, very cute.

“Not tryna hide it.” It could’ve been taken as flirting, but you had the impression that he was just like this with everyone. Still, it warmed your cheeks just a little bit. “I’ve just never had such a pretty Uber driver,” and then a moment later, “well, a pretty one that’s my age, I mean.”

You laughed, despite yourself. “Pining after older women are ya?” He smiled easily, and it definitely was for him—easy.

“Look at this face and tell me I’m not a cougar's dream,” he laughed loudly. You didn’t look back for safety reasons (and convinced yourself that was the only reason). He leaned forward again. “I like it though,” his words felt like an admission, even if he didn’t lower his voice. Everything about him just felt—genuine? In a way that made every breath feel like a secret. “Makes me feel like I have a hot girlfriend who likes me enough to pick me up at the airport.”

You scoffed. If he wanted a hot girlfriend, it definitely wouldn’t be hard—not with his easy charm and pretty face. “I’m only here because I’m being paid.” You hesitated. “And there’s no way you don’t have someone who likes you enough to brave the traffic.”

You could sense his delight through your headrest. “Oh yeah I do,” he looked out the window again, “I have the best friends in the entire world. They were just busy tonight.” He sighed as if the idea of his friends was as good as having them in the seat next to him. It was quiet for a moment. “But no girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t asking,” your tone was blunt, but you couldn’t help but smile. He laughed his weird, goofy laugh.

“Call me a romantic,” he addressed you by name—something you typically didn’t like from patrons in your backseat—but it felt different with him. “But I want that—someone who wants to be the first person to see you when you get back, who can’t even wait to kiss you even if it’s in front of a whole terminal.”

“Sounds like you’ve been watching too many rom coms,” but that suddenly felt unkind to such a gentle man, so then a moment later, “I hope you find that.”

“I will,” he seemed absolutely sure. “Oh shoot,” he raised his fists to the sky mockingly. “My phone died. Curses!”

“I have a charger,” you looked around for the cord while still keeping an eye on the road. He stayed quiet for a moment, considering.

“No, I have an android,” he quickly put his phone in his front pocket, eyes squinting with trouble. Trouble that made you think that he definitely didn’t have an android. “Oh wait! I have an idea!” He completely over-sold his facial expressions, making you question where he was going with this little scheme.

“And what would that be?” your tone was dry, eyes still on the road as you took the exit off the freeway, only a few minutes from his destination.

“So I can give you your rightfully earned tip!” He reasoned, “you can give me your phone number so I can send you money once I get my phone charged.” You could feel his hopeful gaze on you, like his plan was the most logical course of action ever spoken.

Logistically, it made no sense. You could tip an Uber days after your ride. “And what—you’ll just remember my number until then?” For some reason that was the first question you asked.

He nodded, serious as you’d seen him. “Of course,” he said incredulously, “I remember important stuff.”

And it didn’t make any sense. And you could’ve said no. And this was probably against some sort of employer code. And he was definitely this charming with everyone. But he looked so endearing and hopeful and there was something very good about him. Something right.

So you rattled off your number, and he mouthed each number after you said it. And you believed him that he would remember it.

And you believed him as he opened the door to leave, wishing you a good night. And you believed him as he waved from the top step. And as he opened the door and turned around for one more look, mouthing goodbye.

Despite yourself, you believed him.

…

Your bed was heaven after a long stint in the car. Practically asleep before your head hit the covers, a notification sounded from your phone.

A message from an unrecognized number was the last thing you saw before sleep.

From: unknown

Sent $50

And then a moment later, after you saved his contact.

From: Jeremy

Any interest in meeting me at Dunkin on Tuesday morning?

You went to sleep smiling. He remembered.

…

You agreed to meet him early—you typically liked to start driving before 11 and he had morning skate.

The sun had just risen as you walked to a Dunkin about halfway between you and him, bundled up in a puffer jacket and a toque. The bell jingled above the door as you entered, blowing warm air into your hands. It was freezing out.

You didn’t even have time to glance around and look for him before a tall, broad body in a black coat walked up to you and held out his arms for a hug. And then you weren’t freezing anymore. Not even a little bit.

He released you with a smile, linking your arms together and pulling you into line. “What do you usually get?” You asked, convincing yourself that you certainly were not leaning into his side. Definitely not.

He peered down at you, tucked into his side, nose red from the cold. “Whatever looks good,” he admitted, “usually the thing with the most cream and sugar.”

You laughed—even if you didn’t really know him, the idea that he didn’t have an order, that he just let himself enjoy whatever he wanted (even if it had a ton of sugar), that seemed very him.

“I’ll get that too,” you definitely snuggled into his side more, but maybe it was so you didn’t have to face his genuine smile so head on. Maybe?

And so he ordered for you both, but not before complimenting the teenage cashier’s pride pin and asking what his favorite donut was.

“Dunno,” the kid had braces and posture that seemed to shrink in on itself, and was clearly not used to anything beyond what can I get for you, “sprinkle looks pretty good today.”

“Then two of those too,” he put the spare change (and a five) in the glass tip jar. “Thanks brother,” he put out his knuckles for a fist bump. The kid tapped his fist lightly to Jeremy’s, completely won over.

Like a puppy, he quickly found something else to entertain himself with while you waited. “We almost have matching jackets!” He gestured to his black north face and your navy one. You pulled a face—how could he find such delight in everything?

“I guess?” You pinched your face together. He didn’t mind.

“Very couple-y of us,” he put his hands up at the look you shot him. “I had to say it,” He shook his head like it was obvious. And it was so cute you didn’t give him a hard time about it.

“Thanks for paying,” you directed the subject elsewhere, “you didn’t have to do that.” He shrugged, eyes fixed on your drinks as the barista (are they called baristas at Dunkin??) set down two identically light and sweet drinks.

“My pleasure,” he grabbed the bag with two sprinkle donuts inside.

“I’ll send you my share,” you made to grab your phone from your pocket. His hand over yours stilled the movement entirely, warmth emanating from his palm.

“You got it next time,” he shrugged—like obviously there would be a next time. And you believed him, hand now interlaced with his.

“I know it’s bad for me,” he groaned as he took a sip, “but it’s actually the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” A completely innocent line, but it felt dirty as he said it. Or maybe you were just losing it over how his thumb moved over yours.

“Oh,” you responded quietly, taking a sip of yours. Total sugar bomb. “Well you’ll work it off anyways in practice I’m sure,” you fumbled over your words just a little bit. He seemed amused. “Like, looking at you, I’d never guess you have a sweet tooth,” you said, even though there was absolutely no reason to keep talking. He titled his head in delight. “Because you look totally in shape—you look, great. Yeah.” A true example of vocal mastery was on display tonight.

He took a bite of donut, his white teeth a sight so intimate it made you blush. He hummed while chewing, nodding. “Oh yeah? I’m not sure why you mean…should we keep talking about how hot I look?” He joked before pulling a very embarrassed you into his side and out into the chilly air. It didn’t feel as cold with his hand around yours though.

You laughed an embarrassed laugh. “Easy, you big dope, I was trying to be nice.” He laughed into your toque, head on top of yours.

“I know, I know.” And then he went into talking about how he wasn’t a fan of Dunkin before moving to New England and now he was addicted. And you just listened, toasty from humiliation and content as he walked you home, hand covering yours.

…

You offered to pick him up from practice later in the week (he had asked you to come to a home game, but you weren’t quite ready for that yet). He was right on time, waving an animated wave as he walked out the door with a few teammates.

You waved back (a bit more timid in the presence of his friends), and turned to que up your next song. He knocked lightly on the window, and you rolled it down. He was bent over, face in the window as he glanced toward the backseat.

“Want to meet my friends?” He asked politely, clearly excited.

You hesitated, which made him continue. “No pressure at all. If you don’t want to, I can hop in the backseat and we can pretend you’re my Uber driver again,” he smiled a grin that was so genuinely happy it made you less nervous. You turned off the engine.

“No way,” you unbuckled your seatbelt. “I wanna meet ‘em.” You opened the door and shut it softly behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself instinctively. He pumped his fist.

“Let’s go!” He seemed overjoyed. It was quite possibly the sweetest reaction to such a nothing event. You rolled your eyes, but let him pull you in front of him, large hands rested on your shoulders, steering you to face his two teammates.

He introduced you to them both (they were sweet, but there was something on their face that made you unsure if they were making fun of you or jeremy–or both–or no one). But listening to them banter back and forth while you stood pressed to the front of him made you realize that they just joked around like that.

Jeremy was usually the punchline–but he didn’t mind. He was easy to laugh, easier to smile, and made a point of pulling you impossibly closer to him. If his friends noticed, they didn’t say anything.

But then the fact that they didn’t say anything made you wonder just how many people he had introduced to his friends. Maybe they were having a non-reaction because they were so used to it? You stiffened slightly under his hands.

And he must’ve felt it, because he placed a feather-light kiss to your hair–which did pull a reaction from his boys.

“If you’re around on new year’s, we’re throwing something and you are obviously invited,” one of them nodded towards you, eyes a little wide.

“Obviously?” You questioned, but felt far more comfortable than a moment ago. The taller one laughed, eyes flickering to Jeremy’s briefly.

“Obviously,” he confirmed. “You think this is our first time hearing about you?” He shook his head, clapping the shorter one on the back. “Sway here wouldn’t shut up about you. If you didn’t respond to his text he was going to make us call every Uber in Boston until one of us got you as a driver.”

You hit his chest as you turned around. “You goof,” you meant to say–but the words died on your tongue when your eyes met his–so full of genuine enjoyment and content that it warmed you from the inside out. You turned toward them again, waving goodbye.

“I’ll see you on new year’s then.”

“Nice to meet you,” they parroted, smirking at Jeremy. “We’ll see ya sway.” He waved and let you pull him into the passenger seat.

“I like your friends,” you rubbed your hands together and blew on them. He smiled a radiant smile.

“You’ll love the rest of the guys,” he pulled your free hand into his lap, both palms wrapped around it, warming you right up. You drove the rest of the way home with one hand so he could keep a grip on you. He gave you a play-by-play of practice (which drills he did best on, what made him laugh the most, what he wanted to focus on for the next game), only coming up for air once.

“I really like you,” he said earnestly, as matter-of-factly as when he spoke about drills. It made you shake your head.

“Obviously I like you too,” the words felt good to be out–like you didn’t realize how true they were until you said them aloud.

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “Obviously?” You could feel his smile on the back of your hand.

“It's, like, impossible not to.” You pulled in front of his building, putting the car in park. Meaning to pull your hand back from him–a little embarrassed–but didn’t even make it over the console before he crushed you in a hug over the center console. The steering wheel dug into your side, nose crushed into his chest, hair static-y all over his puffer. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back out of it–arms rubbing circles against the back of his coat.

You had no idea how much time had passed when he pulled back, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and walked up to the front door. It was probably the longest he had gone without talking around you. But you didn’t mind. You liked him when he talked, when he didn’t, when he smiled, when he breathed.

You smiled all the way home.

…

You agreed to walk to the new year’s eve party together. It was just far enough away for you to prepare to meet more of the people from his world and hear about his last couple road games. Just hearing him talk made your nerves melt away.

He insisted on meeting on your doorstep, however, even though it added 10 minutes to his walk. He texted when he was on his way.

From: J

Be there in a few!

From: you

You need my address?

From: J

Course not.

And then.

I remember important stuff.

You went in for a hug as you opened the door–a new part of your routine.

“Hey,” your greeting was muffled into his puffer. His navy?? Puffer. One identical to your own. You thumbed the material and glanced up at him. “Nice coat?” You raised your eyebrows.

He laughed loudly, tipping his head back. “I wanted to match.” The way he said it made it feel obvious–tone like a noncommittal shrug. Like why wouldn’t he want to match?

The ease of the gesture was lovely. He was lovely. “Well then,” you linked your arm with his, setting off down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, “it is an honor to match with you tonight.”

He let a grin brighten his face. “You smell really good,” he breathed into your hair. “Like you always do. And I like the glitter you have–” He ghosted a thumb over your brow bone, “here.”

And the loveliness haunted you the entire walk over, conversation easy and light. He was so open, so kind, in a way that eased openness and kindness from you as well.

So the night was much better than you had expected. It felt natural to meet his friends, his teammates, their wives, their kids. It didn’t feel like being thrust into a brand new world. It just felt like natural–like getting another piece of Jeremy was a privilege.

And you didn’t feel out of place with how enamored you were with him–everyone here clearly was. He was the heartbeat of this group of people–and you felt lucky to watch him light up the room. And a little part of you felt proud that you were here with him.

The one who everyone wanted to be around–he wanted to be here with you.

“You’re too nice for him,” another new face laughed as he clapped Jeremy on the shoulder, looking down at you.

“Too nice?” You glanced at the palm resting over your stomach. Possibly the most gentle, kind touch you had experienced. How could anyone be too nice for that? “For him?” Your voice raised with confusion.

The young guy in front of you raised his eyebrows at the man behind you. “He didn’t tell you?” His smile was all trouble. “Our boy Sway likes to be a little roughed up,” he laughed at your blush, hidden by you turning around to gape at Jeremy. To wait for a rebuttal.

But it never came. He just laughed good-naturedly and hugged you into his chest. “Hey now, don’t scare her away!” He looked down at you, squeezed tight against his chest. “Lucky to have her here at all.” His smile was just for you.

And so you smiled and let yourself half forget about that comment. Met some more people. Drank some more wine. Smiled a lot.

But you couldn’t forget it entirely.

Some time later, he beckoned you over to where he sat on the couch. You finished up chatting with some of the women and made your way to him.

“Hey,” you stood in between his legs before he pulled you down to sit on one of his thighs with a thud. You felt him sigh into your hair as you leaned back so your head rested on his shoulder, hands reaching around the play with his fingers. He was solid and warm.

“Hey,” if you had to put money on it–you’d bet he was smiling. “Thanks for being a champ about this–they can be a lot.” You traced a nail over the outline of his hand. “But they’re important to me, so it makes me happy that they get to meet you.”

As intimate as a secret, spoken lowly in your ear. As secure as a fact, warming your chest.

“I like them,” you thought for a moment. “Even if they think I’m too nice.”

He rolled his eyes. “They’re just giving you a hard time. It’s a long story.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You can tell me if you want.” You could feel his chest rise and fall under your back.

“When I first signed, I showed up to practice all beat up once. Bruises, all that nonsense.” His eyes shone as he retold the story–like the emotions were just as fresh as they had been. “Told everyone I walked into a doorway–or something stupid like that. In the locker room later, everyone saw the marks this girl had left all over me.” He indicated scratch marks over where you lay on his chest. “All on my back and my neck and stuff. Never heard the end of it–how doors are really fighting back now and all that.” You just listened. “So yeah, they give me a hard time about it. But it’s no big deal–I didn’t want them to scare you or anything. If you’re not into that, don’t worry.”

He ducked his head into the crook of your shoulder, kissing behind your ear. You shivered, trying not to wiggle too much over his lap. Tilting your head towards him, you let your voice drop so only he could hear. “I’m into that.” His eyes went wide. “And I’m into you, so I can still be nice.”

He gulped audibly, making you smirk. “Like, I can be nice and tell you that you’re so good.” His face was as serious as you’d seen him. “Makes me wonder if you’d be so good for me.”

He nodded before he knew what he was nodding at, grip tight around you. “I would be.” His voice was clipped. “I’d be so good for you.”

You nodded back, chest on fire. You believed him.

You let your cheek rest against his sweater, eyes peering up at him–slightly flushed from the party and eyes a little tired. It had to be close to midnight.

As if on cue, the countdown began from the tv. Every voice in the room chanted along…10, 9, 8…but you almost didn’t hear them. Too busy looking at Jeremy. 7, 6, 5. You turned so your legs swung off the couch, sideways in his lap.

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” he whispered, holding you upright against him. “Like a real one. Not just a friend or something.” 4, 3. You pulled him so close you could see the shine of his lip from his drink, feel the sweat on the back of his neck from his sweater.

2. 1. “Glad to be your first or something,” you grinned into the kiss, teeth knocking against his. He laughed a breathy laugh into your mouth, free hand palming the back of your head. His chest rose and fell next to yours, making you pull back.

“I’m so happy it’s you,” he admitted–probably the most embarrassed you’d seen him. You ran your hands through his hair, settling against his chest so he could put his chin atop your head.

You believed him.

...

happy new year! Love ya

#nhl fic #nhl imagines #jeremy swayman #bruins #boston bruins #david pastrnak #brandon carlo #charlie mcavoy #matt poitras

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prodicalmenace · 7 months ago

Text

college au sukuna x reader back ideation drabble based on this glorious image

you don't see it when you bump into it. your body thumps against what may as well be a hard wall. the impact makes you scratch the side of your hair with a wince. he turns around before you really notice the back you walked into, his own eyes confused as he bends to look down to you. he takes in your form, and assumes the small nudge he felt was you before he simply pats the top of your head himself.

"you'll be fine," he mutters with a step around you. you didn't turn back to see his own. the whole event was confusing; your stomach flopped at his touch, but maybe that was the slight concussion your absent mindedness caused as the side of your head still throbs.

you didn't notice it when you kept trying to dodge it; a basketball game playing out on the other side of him, yet every time the teams moved across the court his back would block your vision at all angles.

you couldn't care for the shape as it blocks the last minutes, and finally you lean forward with a gruff "hey pinkie!"

he turns, and upset his face stretches into an appalled frown. the tattoos that outline every feature across his cheeks settle into a pursed expression that should have killed you when coupled with his silence that dulls the rest of the court chaos. instead, you use two fingers to gesture for him to scooch down the bleachers.

with a flared nostril he prepares to do just that before you to catch the other pink haired hooligan on the court score the winning basket at the last second. with the rest of the crowd you jump and cheer more than your windpipes allow, and the euphoria makes you slap enthusiastically on his shoulders in an absent minded attempt to shake his joy free with the rest of the crowd. his scowl drops into an amused expression that tugs at the edges of his lips, but you cant tell as your feet still push you to hop over his back.

you do notice it later that night even as you sway heading out the house stairwell humming the party music that fades behind you. his back blocks the exit, and your eyes trace where it curves towards his hips before reaching to give it a soft poke. he merely turns his face at the intrusion to take in his opponent, but seeing you his whole body turns with a smirk.

"do you need an exit ticket, pinkie?" you ask with a giggle, one hand reaching to clutch the stair railing to steady yourself. his smirk eventually stretches at the opposite end and the pull of a smile at his cheeks makes you so warm you hum with delight.

"depends, you have a ride?" he takes you in quickly, the question somehow rich with the temptations of curiosity while dripping in genuine concern. it makes you giggle again and you hold out your phone to show your rideshare confirmation.

"don't keep me from diane, she's gonna have tiny waters in her car and some breath mints!" you coo as the car drives up behind him, but you can't really tell as he leans in garnering all your attention with a quiet sniff and a sigh.

"focus on the water, you already smell sweet." he whispers before pulling back to finally allow you the room to exit. you bite your tongue and take in his profile, the tattoos allowing his expression to fade into the darkness, and you find yourself noticing how they peek underneath his shirt like the rest of his body should fade out of view.

such would be impossible as you notice it in the corner of a lecture hall curved into the seat next to him. his elbow is on the desk to his right to prop up his hand on his fist, and the position places his back perfectly in your peripheral even as you sit rows and rows behind him.

you notice it again through the stacks at the library hunched over a book. you don't even think the book you pulled is the correct one, but you wouldn't dare put it back to block the view of his shoulders steadily rising and falling, a pattern that lowers and lowers until his head lops closer to the floor and you realize he's sleeping.

somehow, you find yourself kneeling next to him on the floor to gently tap at his shoulder. his muscles tense under your finger tips but he doesn't jolt at your touch, just raises his head a bit to take in your figure before lowering it to lean into your chest.

"i hate this fucking class..." he mutters against your shirt with a grumble you suppose is a yawn. your mind is still fixated on the shape of his back pressing into your hand now, and you slowly drag it in circles across his back committing the surface to memory as he lowly thrums with approval.

it's your favorite sight as he leads you through his apartment. he reaches an arm to scratch his head explaining the chaos that is his relationship with his not-so-twin-brother, and the motion pulls his loose shirt up exposing enough of his bare back that you can see where the tattoos from his neck reach and dot what is practically marble skin.

"anyway, the brats at practice so it should be quiet long enough for us to get some work done,"

your mind is elsewhere at his words and you can’t even tell the warmth that spreads across your cheeks and to the tips of your ears. your eyes are still glued to where his frame dips into his hips like before, but now his gym shorts are somehow lower than necessary to offer more skin to your imagination. it’s why when he finds you looking in a mirror on the hallway wall he stops himself short in anticipation of you walking into him again, a teasing remark already pulling his lips up into a truly devilish grin.

but you’re ready this time, because his back is all you can see, so you reach your hands out to brace yourself against his body admiring how they fit beneath his shoulder blades with your fingers ghosting where his back would meet his chest. underneath your hands you can feel his heart begin to race, and you suddenly find his eyes staring back at your fascinated expression in the mirror at the end of the hall.

it's the first thing you notice when you wake up the next day to find him at his desk he strums nothing in particular, a quiet metronome guiding his fingers. rising from being stuffed between pillows, your head turns to the sound of soft hums as you find his back facing you, muscles relaxed, and short lines of red hiding amongst the tattooed lines that reach from his neck and down his back. the red matches the grip of your own hands practically clawing against the skin, in anticipation, in need, not unlike the ones his mouth left across your own body.

you bundle the sheet tighter around yourself as you sit up, and he notices the sound immediately. his fingers falter, his head rises, and beautifully his back turns to reveal his smiling face propped against the back of his chair by the chin. your favorite sight.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #au sukuna x reader #i feel like that tag is gonna be important based on the current state of my mental health LMAO

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