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candied-cae · 1 year ago

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And Who Are We At The End Of The World? -Family Video's Booming Business

Chapter 19/? - - - Read it on AO3

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Word Count: 9,603

Summary: The doors of Family Video start seeing quite a few newly familiar faces. Eddie Munson, Vickie Nelson, Nancy Wheeler... They all show up looking for different things though.

More ST Fics

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The weirdest things happened over the next few days.

Well, it wasn't necessarily weird on the scale they'd all somewhat become used to. Just weird on the scale of their regular lives and what they'd come to expect from those.

Eddie had gone back to crashing with his uncle after the first sleepover he'd shared with Steve, but then he started to come by Family Video. Often. And he was really good at being there right when Robin wasn't. When it was just him and Steve and not even a single other customer in the building to focus on.

The first time it happened was on Sunday. Robin wasn't in for opening - her parents were still pushing hard on the early-morning-Mass-thing - so it was just Steve. Thumbing through the newspaper and wondering if the folks at the corporate office would fund an ad for hiring since the sign out front wasn't doing much legwork to fill the hours.

And then, without any real warning, Eddie was there.

He pushed open the door, and the bell rang through the shop. Steve was on his way to snap into customer service mode and tuck away the paper when he looked up and realized who it was. The infamous metal-loving, drug-dealing, half-dead outcast…

“Oh. Hey, Munson.”

“Well, that was a bit of a bitter welcoming from an employee,” Eddie noted.

And that's how it started.

Eddie made a game of it on that very first day. Who knows if he really classified the game as “Annoy Steve Harrington” or if that just happened to be the result of all the pestering, but that was essentially how it worked. Eddie would walk into the store, see he was the only one, and then start slowly bumbling around. Wandering in circles through the isles with no real intention. Like it was all just to waste time. Maybe it was.

And then he'd start asking Steve questions. And not questions about Steve, or the certain secret situation they were both a part of. No, they were questions about the movies. But not the kinds of questions anyone really asks. Not the kind Steve ever really had an answer to.

He'd pelt Steve with an inquiry about almost every movie on the shelves. Despite how many times Steve would tell him that he hadn't seen most of them. Eddie would just pick up the most obscure-looking tape and ask something like…

“Do you find the prominent themes in this film in line with the state of American politics today? Literal or metaphorical, I'm not picky about the presentation of the ideology.”

Since it was about the fifth question like it he'd asked, Steve rolled his eyes,“ So, the joke here is that you’re trying to sound like a pretentious asshole. Right?”

“Steve!” Eddie threw a hand over his heart. Shock painting his features as his voice rose an octave higher,” I can’t believe you would say such a thing to a PAYING CUSTOMER OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT! I am simply asking a relevant question in relation to this business you run so I may improve my overall customer experience.”

And then it happened again on Monday too. Turned out that Eddie decided to skip the first two days back since he had that concert Tuesday anyway and could get away with it. He was still resting up, as far as the front office was concerned. And somewhere around his stroll through the horror section, Eddie called to him from the display.

He held up a copy of Halloween, pointing to it while he asked,“ Would you call this one a classic for any old family of five to watch together, or would you recommend a more private viewing for mom and dad without their little one’s peering eyes?”

Steve only shrugged and flipped the page of his magazine,“ I don’t know, haven’t seen it.”

And maybe in a more practical conversation, Eddie would've been focused on the fact that Steve Harrington hadn't seen Halloween yet. Would've more honestly insisted that he needed to as soon as possible. Would've made a fit about “How can we really be friends if you don't know about Michael Myers?” But Eddie was playing a game. And his character was more like a suburban mom than the alternative guy he actually was.

So, instead, he set the movie back down and demanded,“ Well, you must know! You are an employee of this company. If I can’t come to you to make sure I don’t let my little Timmy, dear sweet Sally, and… my… my little guy…” he struggled for a third name,” Reginald?” It'd have to do. “If I can’t trust you to advise me so I don’t expose them to something untoward, then who can I trust in this world?”

“The only babies you have are named Dustin, Mike, and Lucas.” Steve counted them off on three fingers,” And they’ve seen way worse stuff than any of these flicks might have.”

“Excuse me! I also have a claim to Erica and am going through the legal procedures to gain custody of Max, Will, and El to make them my own too.” Eddie was starting to lose focus on the game, but he didn't mind that much.

“Yeah, yeah, good luck with that.” Steve hummed with a stretch of his tense shoulders.

Eddie drifted over to the counter. “I’ll win ‘em over,” he declared, leaning on an elbow and narrowing his eyes at Steve,” Won you over, and that was supposed to be the impossible part.”

Steve finally straightened up from his magazine,“ Oh? You think you’ve won me over?”

“You think I haven't?”

Eddie was even there on Tuesday. He'd mentioned the show was that night, and he had a whole drive up to Indy to make, but the rest of the band had to get let out of school before they'd head out. So, of course, he pulled that '71 Chevrolet into the parking lot right outside the store windows and set about killing time with the game that never seemed to get old.

He threw open the door, Steve greeted him with a familiar “Again?” and then he nosedived for the inspiration to kick off the day's questions. It all went how it usually did. Eddie would ask something, talking way too fast in convoluted phrases that Steve didn't even have any hope of figuring out. They were practically setting a routine.

And it might've bothered him more if it was someone else doing it, or someone doing it in a different way. If the game felt like it was about making Steve seem stupid. But it was obvious he wasn't supposed to get it. The joke wasn't “Steve Harrington is unintelligent.” The joke was that Eddie was being obnoxious and Steve was unable to walk away since he was the only one running the register.

He was “trapped in the clutches of capitalism” and “the bearer of lonesome responsibility” Eddie had said once when Steve asked how he was getting his kicks out of it.

It made the time pass by, at least. Eddie had already been running around and playing his game for over half an hour when he'd migrated back to the scary movie section. He hung around that part of the store most often, to no one's surprise.

That time he'd grabbed The Shining off the shelf and deemed it his latest victim (aside from Steve himself).

“How would you rate the special effects? Is the fake blood too runny or too bright or does it look pretty accurate? What about the madness- or even the violence itself? Does it look real enough to make someone like you squirm in your seat?”

“Don't know, don't care,” Steve said, pretty much automatically. Then his face scrunched up as he thought,” And I've seen real violence, I don't think I'd be squirming over something playing on a tv screen.”

Eddie's arms fell down and he rubbed his nose bridge. “Okay, come on. That one was a total bait pick. You're seriously telling me you haven't sat down to see the rivers of blood drown out the hotel's hallway?”

“Well, it sounds like to me you just spoiled the whole thing, so I guess I'll never need to.” Steve reasoned.

“Steve! That is not a movie-ruining giveaway and you need to watch some of these!”

“I watch some of 'em…”

Steve was getting grumbly when, just as Eddie was gearing up to demand a horror-movie-marathon or something in that vein, a customer walked in.

A high schooler. Even though there was still some time before classes let out. But it was Ashley Brahms and she was sort of known for finding ways to skip out at the end of the school day. She strode in under the bell, her purple sweater puffing around her hands where they pushed open on the handle of the door. She quickly noticed both Steve and Eddie being at the same place at the same time. Something to be considered an oddity in the days of Old Hawkins before its latest tussle with monsters.

Course, the common people didn't know how much had really changed.

So she just looked at the two of them. A slight wideness to her eyes as she took in the strange sight. “Huh, first time to see the twin victims together,” she commented. Quietly, almost under her breath. Something she was saying mostly to just herself as the glass door came to close behind her.

There was also that.

They became the “twin victims” to explain the scars. Everyone had figured it’d only be a matter of time before Steve got with a girl and she’d notice the massive expanse of newly traumatized tissue he'd collected over the last few weeks, so they started a story to excuse it. Said he was camped out in the woods with everyone during the whole Eddie-on-the-run thing, and they ran into a bear. A black bear, Dustin had insisted. Course, he “fought it off,” but not before it did some damage. They added that Eddie fought it with him too, seeing as he had the same scars, and it could only help his image to have nearly died protecting sweet girls like Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley.

Well, that was one rumor circulating around town. There was a second that started just after saying that they’d just gotten so drunk that they passed out and something more like a badger tore into them before they woke up, and the bear was just a coverup to make them seem cooler. Which was fair, seeing as they don’t really get bears anywhere in Indiana or most of the states around it. Plus, the point of the bear story was specifically for people to discredit it with a more truthful idea to make smaller rodents like what they'd told the hospital seem that much more likely.

But, surprisingly, there were a few faithful girls who would whisper about how even a bear migrated across some great distance for a taste of Steve Harrington. Which was a compliment. And probably should’ve boosted his ego a lot more than it actually did. It didn’t do much except remind him how uninterested he was in meaningless sex those days.

But that whole train of thought was way beside the point.

The point was, Steve and Eddie had sort of been tied together that way. In the eyes of public opinion, they were paired together as the reckless boys who went into the woods and got themselves fucked up before the earthquake. It was a fine cover story. But it did feel a little awkward just having some person say it like that.

Eddie pushed off of the counter and said he should probably head off. It was almost time to pick up his crew. Steve just gave him a wave as he went out the door, empty-handed. He never really rented anything, no matter how much time he spent asking fake questions.

Whatever. Eddie Munson's business was Eddie Munson's business. At least it made a couple of shifts go by faster when Steve was without Robin.

It was never about movies. There was never any intent from Eddie's side of things to check one out. It was about not being alone.

Eddie didn't want to go back to school yet, but he also didn't want to be alone. Sitting on his ass, waiting for something to happen to give him a reason again. He might've been going a little crazy, but there were a few times he was laying in that hotel bed, empty room because Wayne was still pulling overtime shifts, and he sort of missed the way he felt when everything was falling apart.

Not the bleeding out. That part didn't feel good. But everything leading up to it...

He was scared out of his mind. Thundering heartbeat and sweaty palms. Terror was at the forefront of every thought. But… there was purpose. He had something to do, something important. Something that mattered. People counting on him.

And in those minutes before the bats circled up, he'd have been lying if he said he didn't sort of want to laugh through some tears. It was a confusing blend of adrenaline that pumped through his bloodstream. But there was that tiny little part of it that felt good.

But it probably wasn't a good idea to linger on too much. Becoming an adrenaline junkie wasn't really a good life plan. As if that was even the only part of it that Eddie remembered fondly.

When the bell rang through the building, echoing into the tiny teacher's parking lot out the back, there was something else to think about. The sound just barely leaked beyond the school's walls, but it wasn't very long until the double doors were thrown open. His merry band of freaks poured out with backpacks slung over their shoulders and radiant smiles spread across their faces. Only took about five seconds of freedom for Bruce to shake Jeff by his shoulders and let out some kind of battle cry as they made their way over to Eddie.

The Corroded Coffin team was trailed by the young members of the wider Hellfire Club. They all circled up on the van and beat open hands against the outside until he climbed out. They were all hyped up and bursting with energy and excitement. Eddie almost felt bad for the teachers that had to deal with them towards the end of the day.

“Duuuuuude!” Gareth yelled, grabbing Eddie by the arm and yanking him the rest of the way out onto the asphalt.

“Duuuuuude!” Eddie responded with the same inflection.

“It's happening!” Gareth continued, wide-eyed like a kid on Christmas morning.

“I know it is!”

“Ahhhhhhhh!” he screamed with the biggest grin while Josie slung an arm over Gareth's shoulder and started yelling with him.

It was going to be one hell of a road trip on the way up to the concert, that was for sure. Eddie was close to accusing them of robbing a candy store and riding a sugar high the whole way. Well, the five members with tickets were smiley and sweet. Some others were a little more sour.

“It's so not fair,” Dustin said from the side. Grumbling. Standing between Mike, Lucas, and Will watching the older kids start to celebrate their plans for the night. The plans they didn't get to join in on.

To be fair, the freshmen weren't on the guest list for the evening. They hadn't really been invited, so sure, they had a little right to be grumbly. But, come on, it was more of a field trip for the band. It just so happened that every member of the band was also in Hellfire Club.

So they'd only been, like, halfway excluded.

“Hate to break it to you like this, but none of you kids even showed up to auditions. Much less make the band and scored an invite.”

Plus Eddie was considering this a little bit of a send-off before he buckled down and finished off the year to break for the graduation stage. And with Jeff, Gareth, Josie, and Bruce, he'd known them more than a couple of months.

He liked his little sheepies, yes. Didn't mean they got to come to a show on a school night with him. He didn't want to play babysitter with all his free time.

“Well, do you have concert money?” Jeff countered the kid's bad mood,” And not just the amount we paid in advance, you kids would be paying door prices if they even still have any left.”

“And it'd be rude not to pitch in for gas and road trip snacks,” Gareth added.

“And you'd need to get last-minute permission from all your parents. Cause I am not getting hit with a kidnapping charge after all the shit I just got off my record.” Eddie leveled the last of any complaints they might've had.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if there might be an opportunity for something with The Party. A closer show with a lot more notice. He'd keep his ear to the ground. But that night was not about palling around with the kids who almost watched him die. It was about getting away from all the shit for just a few hours.

“Grow up a little in time for the next one, and then we'll talk.” Gareth teased.

Mike only huffed when Jos told him that going green with envy wasn't a good color on him.

Will didn't have much dog in the fight. He was still new. Finding his footing. And Lucas didn't seem to be getting as much of a kick out of Dustin's play protests. He was probably more focused on getting back to Max's bedside than earnestly going to a rock show.

“I just said it wasn't fair.” Dustin bristled.

“Dusty, Dusty, you'll survive.” Eddie chastised him, his hand finding the boy's head of curls,” It's not even really your scene, lil' man. Study up until you stop wanting to change what I play in the van and maybe-”

“Who cares!” he was getting defensive. “Well, we're all going to hang out, and you should really be jealous of our plans!

Bruce was the only one that didn't really bite back his laugh. Eddie just nodded for them and started trying to turn them around. Point 'them back to the school so they could go, find their bikes, and head off for home. Behind him, the bandmates started climbing into his van.

“Send tonight's babysitter my condolences. And ask your folks to spring for a raise for the poor fucker, yeah?”

“Lucas, Will, you're our shining roses between the thorns! Don't forget that and get crabby like the other two!” Josie yelled, hanging out from the back door while Eddie ran to hop into the driver's seat.

“They are plenty crabby!” Mike argued. “They just act nice for you!”

“And we thank them for that.” Bruce agreed with the slam of Eddie's door,” See ya!”

Eddie only turned around long enough to promise “We'll tell you all about it and show off our merch tomorrow! Make sure you're all tucked in by bedtime!” before peeling off from the school.

The boys were still yelling after all of them. And they erupted in laughter in the van as Eddie made for the highway. Josie was fanning her face, saying she didn't want to laugh so hard she cried and ruined her eyeliner so early in the night. Jeff was Eddie's co-captain in the passenger seat, twisted around to look at the other three in the back and picking which tape they were going to begin the drive up on. Bruce mused about poor Mr. Hank bartending at the hideout. Having to make it through the night without his usual Tuesday entertainment. They all laughed and agreed he was probably going to make some comment the next week about not really missing his usual headache while they were out of town.

“It was weird, Rob. We were just having our usual banter-”

“Still getting used to the idea that you and Eddie have “usual banter” when I'm not around.” the girl commented from her perch on the counter.

“Whatever.” Steve moved on,” It was just any other day, he showed up to annoy me - had been doing so for a little while - and then Ashley walked in. Like twenty minutes before school let out.”

“Brahms?” Robin quirked her head to the side.

“Yeah, obviously Brahms. And she just paused, looked at us, and whispered under her breath 'Oh, look at that. First time seeing the twin victims in the same place. That's new.' Or whatever. And then Eddie turned tail and left me alone to fend for myself. I swear she was just silently staring at me the entire time she pretended to browse.” Steve feigned a shiver,” And she only got out of here right before I needed to close shop for a few to run and pick you up.”

Robin put on a big pout,“ Did scary Ashley give you the heebie-jeebies?”

“Ugh. You could at least have a little sympathy for me. Turns out I'm a 'twin victim' now. A victim. They made me sound like some weak pushover.”

She could only shrug,“ We knew our story would run wild through the rumor mill and probably change a little. Word of mouth is hardly a sure thing to bet on.”

“Fine. I'm still mad about it.”

“What were you hoping for? Something more like Steve 'The Bear Slayer' Harrington?”

“No. But being twin victims with Eddie Munson was not my idea of a happy ending.”

“The unforeseen consequences of postponing the end of the world.” Robin hummed to herself. “You were looking for a change of pace with how people usually regarded you anyway. I think this is an opportunity-”

But Robin's thought was quickly swept away when the bell above the door rang. Immediately, she started to slip off of the counter and welcome the customer, but then she saw that it was Vickie. Her Vickie - well, not exactly her's - but Vickie Nelson. And the girl walked in like a vision, backlit by the sun streaming in through the windows. Her short red hair sticking out from her face in its cute little curled-up-at-the-ends sort of way.

Steve was still just beside her, but she almost forgot. Because Vickie was there. Smiling. Cheeks dusted in a red-tinted flush. Her teeth just barely peeked out as she tried to control her grinning lips. Big doe eyes looking up at her with a pretty shade of blue.

“Hey, Robin,” she said as she came closer. Stepping up to the counter that separated the two of them.

Okay, Robin. Don't ramble. Try to focus and keep it together.

“Hey. Hey, Vickie. So you found where I make a living.”

That was a dumb, dumb thing to say. Why couldn't she think of anything cool to say? Why was she so woefully understocked on witty one-liners? Was it too last-minute to ask God to throw a couple down for her?

“Well, yeah.” Vickie nodded slowly,” You did mention it on Saturday.”

“Right. Of course, I did. Sounds like me. Always talking about my job with my bestest buddy.” She elbowed Steve with more force than she was trying to, speaking over his low grunt,“ Welcome to the video store. The Family Video store, to be specific.”

It just kept getting worse.

Vickie looked a little put-off. Maybe not exactly displeased by the welcome, but more like it wasn't what she was expecting. Maybe it wasn't what she was looking for after showing up.

She tried to cover up her expression of slight confusion. “Thanks? I'll, uh, I guess I'll take a look around…?”

Vickie had just gotten around the corner of their rom-com display when Steve grabbed Robin's arm and yanked her a few more feet away. “You're crashing and burning, Buckley,” he whispered behind his hand.

“Don't say that to me right now!” her hushed tones came over fast and panicked, just dampened enough to not be overheard. “She surprised me! I haven't planned for her ambushing me here! What do I do? What if she wants to check out a tape and I have to cash her out and then I accidentally touch her hand in a way that's too much or not enough and she figures it out-”

“Chill out.” Steve's hands squeezed tight on Robin's shoulders.

She didn't have a game plan, and she was already spinning out of control. She wanted a strategy and to have it all figured out before she did anything, but Steve was starting to think she was only getting in her own way. He took a quick glance at Vickie before making his own decision.

Something about momma birds having to push their babies out of the nest to make them fly.

Steve shoved her away so they weren't so crowded into each other's faces. “Uh, hey, Robin?” he said, loud enough to reach across the store.

“Yeah?”

“Don't you think it's time for your fifteen?”

“What? I just got here-” She didn't get the hint until Steve's eyes widened to a worrisome degree, and she realized he wasn't blinking. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I could take it now.” She finally got on the right track and started to walk back toward the counter.

But then she turned back around to him,“ You good here?”

He could've almost rolled his eyes. “We're still a downtown deadzone. I'll be fine.” Steve told her, unwilling to let her talk her way out of it.

“Okay. Okay.”

Vickie was back beside the register by the time Robin turned away from her co-worker and started shrugging off her work vest,“ So, you're getting off for a few?”

“Yeah. Fifteen-minute break. Gotta take one every shift. Sometimes two if it's a long one.” Shut up, Robin. She got that part.

She smiled wider and Vickie let her eyes wander a little to the side,“ Well, since you're free, if you don't already have plans for-”

“I don't.” Robin sounded a little too eager. “No plans. I'm free for anything. Anything that takes fifteen minutes or less. Obviously.”

Short statements and strict posture. All her effort trying not to ramble through run-on sentences before she really planned where they were going was making Robin sound snippy. And she didn't want to sound snippy. But it felt like the only two modes she had were the hyperaware quips or the mindless rambles.

If she and Steve could just fuse together and even out their personalities already, she have let the Steve half take control for that part. But that science fiction dream wasn't a reality yet. She didn't have the option to step back and let someone else carry the responsibility of her love life.

She just had to try on her own. Win or lose, it was going to come down to her. And that was scary. Really, really scary. But at least Vickie sort of seemed to be helping out. Making the first move.

“Okay. We could go on a stroll down the boardwalk then? In-In case you need to stretch out your legs?”

Vickie reached her hand up and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Robin had the passing thought that she wished she could've been the one to do it. But, more importantly, she needed to accept the offer.

“Yeah. Totally. If you're cool- I mean, if you wanted to get a movie first then we could do that and then-”

“Not really. I more so just came for the company.”

Was that…?

“Cool. Uh- yeah. We can go on a walk then.” Robin had to get out of there. “I'll be back, Steve!” she called over her shoulder, following behind Vickie as she pulled back the door.

“Yeah, I know you will. Now get out if you aren't going to stock shelves.”

And that comment felt as close to a proper send-off as she was going to get. Robin waved behind her without looking. Trying to focus on the girl in front of her, and just trusting that her best friend would watch her back while she stepped up to the high dive.

What? So, she picked up a couple of competitive swim references? Big deal.

The two girls stepped out onto the sidewalk together. Letting the door close behind them with the quiet jingle of the bell. Most of the businesses on the strip were still pretty empty. The Downtown Deadzone, Steve hadn't been wrong. It was a pretty apt name for the time being.

They walked alongside the street. Robin on the outside, between Vickie and the road. Passing by the arcade and its vacant parking lot. The laundromat across the way. The newspaper office was back behind them by the sandwich shop and general store. Further down sat a pizza parlor on the corner and a local butcher. A UPS store. A hair salon.

They were all these little points of contention for the small town. Spots that used to be lively and bustling, but faded from view when the mall opened up. And then that went out in a blaze, so their downtown came back to life. Like a little shock from the defibrillator. And then it all died down again. Because the world ended for like forty-seven seconds, haven't you heard? Most of the city got scared back into their homes.

So it was quiet. Almost felt private, despite being on a city street. Cars used to pass by these buildings all the time. But at that moment, none of them were.

“Thanks for stealing me away from work for a bit.” Robin eventually said. They'd both gone a little quiet after they left the store. Maybe Vickie hadn't planned it all out beyond getting Robin all to herself.

“Well, you were going to get the break anyway,” she excused,” With or without me.”

Robin curled the hand in her pocket into a tight fist. She told herself she'd only get so many chances. She had to be a little bit brave with some of them.

“I definitely prefer it this way, though.“ she said.

Was the water steady enough? Was her taped-together boat going to capsize or survive the current? Was she going to be ripped to pieces by the rapids? Lose, to the rushing river, all the parts of herself she'd barely scraped together enough to hope with?

“I do too.” Vickie returned.

Maybe she wasn't. Maybe there weren't any rapids at all. And it was more like a smooth summer lake. Like Lover's Lake, when it was being used as an actual date spot and not as a hub between planes of existence.

“Well-” Vickie started to backtrack,” I stole you away from your job, so you aren't doing the same thing for me - I didn't really have anything better to do right now in comparison. Not to say that I just see this as something to do over having nothing to do and that's all - and if I did have a job, I'd be more than happy to let you convince me to take an early break!”

When Vickie looked back at Robin, she was blushing. Furiously.

“Sorry. My point is, I prefer spending my time this way too. With you, over not with you.” She paused, rucking in a gulp of air before she dare asked,” You know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Vickie's face softened in response,” I agree. I agree to your agreeing with me. Because I've started liking spending my time with you too. A lot.”

“Good. I feel bad, I'm taking up all your time bumbling on about technicalities-”

“Don't. I'm trying really hard not to become a runaway train of words too.” Robin assured her,” But it's really cute when you do it. I feel like I sound like a skipping record when I really get going. Buzzing around and jumping between my sentences before I've really finished any of them. I can really become a mess that's hard to nail down or keep up with.” Robin laughed through her words at herself,” I was just talking to Steve about it the other day. We were saying it'd be good for the both of us to split the difference between the two of us. I could take some of his cool, suave, impressive traits- and he'd get my dashing good looks. Obviously.”

Robin was anticipating a laugh. Or a chuckle, or a giggle, or some kind of sound to tell her that her comedic timing wasn't off. It was only when she didn't get any that she turned her gaze back to Vickie. To see the girl watching her. Seriously. Eyes full and attentive.

“I don't think you need to split any difference with Steve Harrington.”

Wow. How was Robin going to survive Vickie saying something like that?

She felt her chest swell up. Warmth settled into her lungs and she wondered if she was breathing right. If her face was about to go blue because of the short circuit making her switch to manual efforts. Every step, every breath, every blink, every move, every beat of her heart was pulling her attention.

Did she need to pinch herself and make sure she wasn't dreaming?

“He's just better at the whole 'talking to pretty girls without digging yourself into a deep hole' thing than I am. Sometimes I want to steal that skill of his.”

Okay, she might've been focusing a little too much on the blinking part, because that was more than she meant to say. It was more direct than she intended. More outwardly sapphic than she planned.

But it was out there. And it was up to Vickie how it landed.

“Pretty girls?” she asked,“ I'm a pretty girl you need to worry about impressing?”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a more scared Robin was warning her it was a trap. That it could all go wrong. But louder than that little version of herself, there was a newer version pushing her to go for it. A Robin she didn't know she could be until recent months.

So Robin slowed her stride and she said to the sweet little redhead next to her,“ Would it be bad if I said you were?”

“No.” Vickie spun around on her heels to look back. And there was this look that Robin had never seen before. Never been the recipient of. It was hard to define, but it was so, so special.

She stepped a little closer, daring herself to get to that big question she'd been advised to ask.

“Vickie, where is this-“

But before she could get the rest of it out, before she could ask where that thing between them was going, her lips were stilled by Vickie's. She had suddenly rushed in on Robin to steal a kiss. Edging onto her toes, eyes closed, hands on Robin's arms. It wasn't much more than a peck, but for Robin, it stopped time.

It was her first kiss.

Her whole world turned over in an instant.

And, when that instant passed, Vickie stepped back onto her heels. She opened back up her eyes and seemed to take a second to realize what she just did. She let go of Robin's arms while the girl was still love-struck and dazed. Mind slowly working over the incredible news that being kissed by Vickie carried. And then Vickie started panicking.

“Oh my god-” her eyes were wide and her mouth fell open, her jaw shaking just the slightest,” I-I am so sorry, that was-“

But then Robin kissed her.

Deeper. Sweeter. Longer.

To stop her from regretting or retracting what she just did.

Robin cradled Vickie's face in her hands. Feeling her burning cheeks on her fingertips. Reaching back to just barely touch the little wisps of her hair where it came untucked. Their noses pressed beside one another's. Vickie leaned her head over, and they both heard the little plastic clack of her earrings.

Robin swept the girl up in the moment as they turned further around the corner of the building at the end of the strip. And Vickie pushed harder back against her lips. Soon onto her toes again, despite Robin ducking her head down to make them the same height. Vickie's arms wrapped around her shoulders, wrists crossing behind her neck as the two of them came closer and closer together.

Robin's second kiss was pretty great too.

It was amazing. It tasted like strawberry chapstick. It smelled like powdery floral perfume. It felt like the sun on her skin and Vickie in her hands.

And Robin had never been so thankful that an earthquake cleared half the city to make it all possible.

Nancy Wheeler could feel each of her limbs hanging heavily off her body. Every inch of her was exhausted. Her eyelids kept trying to fall, her eye bags had to weigh almost ten pounds, and soon enough her eyeballs were going to burn so bad she'd entertain stupid, senseless, insensitive thoughts like “I'm almost jealous of all the Vecna victims” because at least none of their eyes had the ability to hurt anymore.

Yeah, she was sort of reaching her limit.

Sleep still wasn't coming easy. If she managed to fall asleep at all, it was restless, and she was back up, covered in sweat, after just a few hours. It was wearing her thin.

A person needs sleep. Especially when that person likes to usually have a good attitude about things. Or, at least, when that person likes to seem like the kind of person who has a good attitude about things.

In any news, Nancy was in a bad mood and feeling the full brunt of so many sleepless nights layered on top of the stress of responsibility hanging over her head.

She was starting to run out of hope. But, the one thing she knew was that she was tense. She was freaked out, and on edge every time she started to doze off. Even more so every time she snapped back up. So, her tactic - since the hot baths and counting sheep, weren't working at all - was to try something that might not have been relaxing, but shouldn't let her stay all tensed up.

Maybe something funny would help?

That was the latest theory, at least.

So she decided to swing by Family Video before she went home. To find a comedy she could push into the tiny tv in her bedroom and watch on low volume until her eyes finally closed again. Honestly, maybe she was going to be so delirious by the time it happened that it'd be funnier than anything she'd ever seen.

She pulled her car into the lot between two others. One was Steve's and the other looked a lot like the car she saw Vickie drive just a few days before. She really needed to get her faculties straightened out if she thought she was seeing the same car all over town all of a sudden. What was that called? Synchronicity?

Nancy climbed out of the station wagon with a huff, brushing back her bangs from her face and setting her mind to its task: find a funny movie, say 'Hi' to Steve and Robin, get home, make it through the next few hours, and crash.

She really, really wanted to crash already.

“Oh. Hey, Nance.” Steve greeted her. A friendly face, if not a little surprised, as she walked in the entrance.

“Hey, Steve,” she responded politely,“ Got anything good around here?”

“Well, that depends. What're you looking for?”

“A comedy. Something funny. Light-hearted.” And something in the back of her mind said she needed a reason. An excuse. Something to blame her need on. “The Wheelers are setting a new family tradition. Movie night.”

“Ah. After all the running around, your folks decided they wanted to keep an eye on you and Mike on a… Tuesday night?” Steve's voice peaked at the end. Like he just thought about how Tuesdays were a bit of an odd day to start something like that. Fridays or Saturdays would've been the most obvious pick. Obviously, Nancy.

She resisted the urge to rub away at her tired eyes and just shrugged,” My dad said he got the idea from a guy at work yesterday and told me to pick something up this evening.”

“Fair.” he nodded and eyed different parts of the store while he thought,” Okay, moving on, so we're also looking for something age appropriate for Holly…”

“Maybe,” Nancy grumbled, thinking that a flick more Holly-themed might just be a drag to put herself through.

Steve smiled and laughed a little,“ Well, I'm assuming she's invited to the family movie night?”

“Of course. Duh. She gets to come. She just- uh- she falls asleep like five minutes into anything on the tv after seven. So if it's a little less kiddish, that's fine. Don't need cartoons to cater to her or anything. Just… something funny. For a change.”

“Okay. Sounds like we'll be checking out this section of tapes then. You guys want something new or one that's been out for a while?”

“It's fine if it's been on the shelves. Maybe something with some nostalgia would strike the right note.”

“Alright…”

Steve sorted through some of the tapes for a few minutes. Picking one up and weighing it against another, offering Nancy a couple that seemed to fit the bill. Eventually, they settled on Freaky Friday. Steve walked them over to get her checked out. Punching in keys on the computer and opening the register. He was handing Nancy back her change when she realized something.

“So, where's Robin? Thought you two said you were pretty much always on the clock together.”

“Oh, we are-”

“Is she not working today?”

“No, she is-”

And then the bell behind her rang. With a glance over her shoulder, Nancy found Robin. Right next to Vickie. So that was Vickie's car out front.

Good to know she wasn't losing it.

And Nancy couldn't tell why she felt more annoyed than she did five minutes before. But she did.

The two of them strolled in together. Looking at each other and giggling with bright red cheeks. Maybe she was just in that kind of bad mood where people in good moods seem that much more irritating. Maybe she just didn't have the bandwidth to have a good attitude or pleasant disposition anymore. Maybe she just needed to get some goddamn sleep so she could be a good person again.

When Robin tore her eyes away from the girl at her side, she finally saw Nancy standing there at the counter.

“Hi, Nancy!” she greeted.

“There she is. Just getting back from her break.” Steve finished his thought.

“Ah. Makes sense.” Nancy responded. Trying for as much energy as she could muster at the moment. “Hi, Robin.”

“Picking out a flick for the night?” she wondered,“ Hosting a get-together?"

“The Wheelers are going under house arrest for at least… “ Steve checked the back of the tape case before handing it over with Nancy's receipt,” Ninety-Five minutes tonight.”

Robin nodded wisely,“ Ah. A family movie night. Supplied by the Family Video store. Adds up.”

“Yup. We're a pretty sensible bunch.”

Vickie didn't wait very long to chime in,“ Anyway, I better be off.”

Steve was just starting to ask,“ Are you sure you don't want something?" when she insisted otherwise.

“I'm good. Have a good shift guys.”

“Thanks! See you tomorrow?” Robin wondered, a sort of soft lilt to her voice as she did.

And Vickie glowed as she agreed,“ Sounds good.” Sparing just a second to extend the goodbye to the other girl in the store,” Bye, Nancy.”

“Bye, Vickie.”

Nancy returned the sentiment. It would've been bitchy not to. She wasn't entirely sure why she felt the need to remind herself of that before she did. Maybe she really, really was at her limits with her no-sleep thing.

But she was still attentive enough to catch the way Robin and Steve eyed each other. Like they were speaking without words. She sort of felt excluded. But immediately after, Robin shook out her shoulders and looked back at her.

“So, what's on the night's docket, Nance?”

She held up her purchase without further delay.

“Ooh! Freaky Friday, I haven't rewatched that one in forever.” Her mind ran for a moment before she continued,“ You know, as unrealistic as the whole prospect is, we see insane stuff so often enough that I feel the need to worry. About being in that spot myself. All the money in the world wouldn't be enough to make me okay with switching bodies with my mom.”

She leaned against the counter beside Nancy. Probably envisioning the chaos Miss Theresa would wreck spending a day in her shoes. Steve wasn't far behind in entertaining her hypothetical. Equally displeased by the idea.

“Agreed.”

“Obviously it'd be even weirder for you, mister.” she reached forward to shove his arm. “Mrs. Harrington in your teenage boy jeans? That's gross. But, more similarly, what about body swapping with your dad?”

That was all it took for Steve's whole face to twist up in a cringe,“ Ugh, please don't ever put that idea in my head ever, ever again.”

“What? It's a fair question! Keeps the stakes the same, anatomically, I mean. Don't you think so, Nance?” Robin looked to her for backup.

“It's reasonable enough.”

“See! And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Getting cursed with the big switcharoo with your mom. Sound like the worst day ever or just kind of an inconvenience?”

Nancy let out a weak, pitiful, awkward sort of huff,“ I think I'd rather fight the demobats again than watch my dad lean in for a kiss with his morning coffee.”

“Oh my god, I wasn't even thinking about that part.” Robin practically squealed. Diving her face into her hands to try and block out the idea. The sight made Nancy laugh something a little bit more real.

“You know,” Steve posed,” Now that we're all unpacking this, maybe that movie belongs in the horror section. Nance, want to find something that actually counts as a comedy?”

“I think I'll just take my chances with this one. Thanks.” Nancy smiled,“ So what movie did Vickie get?”

“None. She just kept me company on my break for a little bit.”

“Oh. Sounds nice.”

Then, from behind her, Nancy heard the doorbell ring again. Steve smiled past her and welcomed the customer that just came in. It was some adult she didn't recognize. Whatever. She got what she'd come for anyway.

“You know, I should probably head out too. Have a good one.”

“You too. Hope the movie's good!” Robin called after her as she backed up to the door.

“I hope so too. Bye.”

Nancy waved and pushed herself outside. Turning around and tossing her tape into the passenger seat when she got into the car.

She was having a bit of a time putting a word to it. How she was feeling. Whether it was better or worse after coming to the store. Maybe it was more like a rollercoaster with a couple of lifts and dips to her mood. Maybe she was just stuck feeling all muddled in her emotions until she got some rest. Maybe this was her new normal.

She threw that thought away and turned the keys in the ignition.

Her current state lasting much longer? That sounded like the real nightmare.

It took a little while for the store to clear back out. But, once Steve knew they were alone, he couldn't very well help the fact that he had to know what happened when Robin and Vickie went on their little walk down the street. He say the way she absolutely glowed when they walked back in together. Steve had never been good at waiting for what he wanted, and what he wanted was an update on what was possibly the first lesbian love story blooming in their small town.

“Spill.” That was all he needed to say. Demanding tone laced with so much pure excitement it couldn't come across even a little bit mean. There was so much hope and optimism.

And in the most surprising turn of events, Robin had the ability to live up to that optimism.

But, she still liked to tease.

“A girl doesn't just kiss and tell.”

Steve almost got mad. He had just enough time to start gearing up to push and insist otherwise when it clicked for him.

“No way.”

His best friend looked back up at him, a smile sitting brightly on her lips, cheeks bunched up at the apples, looking just about as happy as she could possibly get. And she started to spill. Going over every detail and the way it lit her up. The way it sent a buzz through her whole body. Made things start to slip into place. Some things at least.

Robin, by some miracle, wasn't going to die unkissed anymore.

And they laughed, and he cheered her on. She told him that about five minutes after that first and second kiss, where she was gushing to Vickie and asking if it was okay to tell him it happened. She couldn't keep such a big thing from her most favorite person in the world. And Vickie giggled in her sweet little Vickie way. Then she gave her permission to talk about them with Steve Harrington, as long as they kept a lid on things. Which Robin absolutely understood and agreed with.

But it meant so much to not only have that perfect moment between them, but to know she'd have just one other person she could talk about it with. Telling Steve that she got to kiss Vickie Nelson made it real. It happened. Just down the road, around the corner of an empty building. Recklessly out in broad daylight, but luckily out of view of anyone else.

Just secret enough and just real enough.

She did mention it was a little stupid to have let it happen right there in the open. She wasn't going to get away with that sort of play again. Probably, at least. But Steve said he was happy she got to experience a little bit of some classic teenager, hormonal, loss-of-thought, stupid-in-love, impulsivity. She deserved some.

Just one taste of getting caught up in the moment and letting a dream take you right to the edge.

He kept saying stupid romantic stuff like that. Maybe under different circumstances, Robin would have walked that back and brought it around Steve's love life. But for that day, the moment was hers. Her love life was the topic of conversation. And not in just the length of a few wistful sentences. Not of only wishes and small limits of hope.

There was substance. There was something to say. There was a future to think about, and events to be excited about, and so much to discover for herself. So much to experience and feel and finally know for herself.

Robin's love life was something to talk about. Fully. And that was so much to have for the first time.

Steve was the first person Robin got to even have honest conversations about crushes with. And on April 8th, 1986, she got to tell him about her first kiss. And the one that came after. And all the others she was looking forward to having.

At least, she got to tell him all about it until the next customer stopped by. Then it was time to get back to the work that paid them.

The van hauling Corroded Coffin up north spent about three hours on the highway before they hit Indy. They didn't even have an hour to spare before the show was set to start. So they all sped and clambered around for food in the city right before they ran over to the Market Square Arena. Proudly displaying their tickets at the entrance and getting let inside for the big event they'd been looking forward to for weeks.

And before Ozzy was set to take to the stage, there was Metallica as a special guest. The opening act. Eddie couldn't really explain why he screamed as loud as he did when the end of “Battery” turned into the beginning of “Master of Puppets”. The guys didn't know it was a song he'd sort of bet his life on twelve days before. But it was a fan favorite, so at least the crowd ramping up around them helped distract from the fact that he might've gotten just a little emotional during the instrumental.

And through the rest of their set and into Ozzy running out, they yelled and sang along, and jumped and jostled against each other. Bumping arms into sides and knocking shoulders into their neighbors. Sticking out tongues and banging their heads. Howling into each other's ears, and still unable to drown out the amps and speakers buzzing on full blast.

Each person fanning the flames of everyone else's burning energy and excitement.

It was a rock show of epic proportions. It was adrenaline and sweat and life mixing together in a cauldron and being thrown all over the place in visceral ecstasy. It was a dizzying frenzy of pure uncensored existence.

Or, halfway uncensored, at least.

There was this moment. It was during “Killer of Giants”. Eddie stopped swinging his hair forward and whipping it back. He slowed down long enough to look back at the people next to him. Jeff, Gareth, Bruce, and Josie. They looked younger than he remembered.

Younger than he thought they looked before he faced everything he faced.

It was almost like an out-of-body experience. He just stopped moving and watched them have fun. There was so much joy just coming off of them in waves. Like that show, that moment, was the only thing on their minds. And Eddie thought he felt like that before. Even just minutes before when he let himself get swept up in the event. But… there was also this other part to him now.

The part that's seen death, seen people narrowly evade it, seen the world around him when he thought he was done. Seen the look in Dustin Henderson's eyes when the boy thought it was over for him.

And that stuff changes a person.

Eddie Munson could still have fun. Could still put in the effort to pretend like the world was as simple as he thought it was before Spring Break. But there was also this gnawing at the back of his mind that reminded him otherwise. That it wasn't still so simple. And he had to push it down.

Censoring himself.

Which was weird in some ways. Because Eddie Munson hasn't censored much of himself since he was a middle schooler. Since he decided he would take the title of “town freak” and wear it with pride. Since he decided anyone who cared about his bad reputation wasn't worth having around.

Eddie said pretty much whatever he wanted to say. But he couldn't say some things.

Supernatural trauma joined the short list of “things we don't talk about” that he held quietly behind his ribs. Secrets cradled gently in the space next to his heart. 'Course, he got to talk about it with The Party.

He was keeping a few other secrets too. Ones that only really had one or two other keepers. So the Upside Down wasn't the smallest whisper he had to his name.

Jeff was cheering when he turned and saw Eddie processing. He must've been thinking on all of it for a while. His eyebrows creased together. And Jeff asked him, quiet under all the rumble of “Iron Man” being covered on stage and the audience's ecstatic reaction,” Hey. You okay, man?”

His hand found Eddie's shoulder. Clamping down with enough pressure to remind Eddie where he was.

“Yeah, man. Just got thinking about stuff for a minute.”

“Do you need to get some air?” Jeff pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards the exit.

“Nah… nah. I just- things were crazy you know.” Eddie decided that was a good enough way of putting it. “Just appreciating that we all made it here after everything.”

Jeff dropped his head like the idea was ridiculous,” Even if you croaked in that hospital bed we woulda made Wayne come up with us on your ticket and bring your ashes with or something. We wouldn'ta let you miss this.”

Eddie reached over and shoved Jeff back by the chest.

“Shut up. And thanks.”

“Of course.”

The song faded out from the band. And then Ozzy brought the mic up to his lips. Throwing his head back as he bellowed out through the stadium “ALL ABOARD!” followed by his wicked, throaty cackle.

Jeff's eyes lit up. “Oh my god! Fuck yes!” His mouth fell open as he wrapped an arm across Eddie's shoulders and turned his attention back on the performance. “Come on, dude!”

And Eddie was pulled along with the joy. With the excitement. With the electricity.

“Crazy! But that's how it goes!” he sang along with the crowd.

Deciding to try and get lost back into the haze of the regular people again.

#ROBBIE'S GOT A GIRLFRIEND!!! CAN WE GET SOME APPLAUSE???#Yes. This is going to be a Ronance fic. I promise.#This is just a little bit of first love fun right now #But as cute as this getting together scene was - I promise the Robin and Nancy one is going to be at least 5x better #And there's going to be come major BIG bonding and conflicts next chap #Big big stuff brewing in the studio I say #Now - I need you all to hold my hand and look me in the eyes - we are not going to Villianize Nancy. You hear?#She is a complex character. A teenager. She is allowed to be complicated and have feelings and make choices.#And they deserve to be understood.#I'm going to need y'all to remember that because if I see any Nancy Wheeler Slander I will have to fight on her behalf #And the setlists for Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne were referenced from Setlist.fm btw!#Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steveddie #Steve x Eddie #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckney #Ronance #Robin x Nancy #The Fruity Four #Stranger Things #Stranger Things 4 #Stranger Things 4 spoilers #Stranger Things 4 volume 2 spoilers

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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

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“KEEP THE PRIEST! WEDDING NO.2 STARTS!”

— gojo, sukuna, nanami, geto & toji when you catch the bouquet at a wedding (f!reader)

a/n: if you don't have a cousin then now you do and thanks for being patient with me everyone! <3

GOJO SATORU:

a family member of yours was finally getting married—something you never thought would happen since she was always complaining about all her boyfriends, but hey at least someone finally did it.

anyway, naturally, you took your dear boyfriend as your date.

the wedding was going smoothly, drinks were exchanged, food was distributed, and cakes were eaten—much to your lover’s delight.

another thing that kept happening is people trying to introduce their daughters to satoru.

his instant response was to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you close to him, kissing your cheek and chirping a “sorry, but I am happily taken!”

now it was time for the part that a lot of people wait for: the bouquet throw.

your cousin was already crazy, so she has been waiting for it so she can throw the bouquet with all her might. on the other hand ,you and the other ladies were lined up and patiently waited.

one swing, two swings, one faint throw, and finally the bouquet was thrown into the air, heading towards its next owner.

a chorus of ‘its mine! mine!’ filled the room, but relentless, you maneuvered your way into finally catching the bouquet in your hands.

you’ve won the battle.

but wait. it seems like there is a contestant that won’t back down.

“let go of that bouquet, young lady!”

you look behind you and gasps, it is—“satoru?!”

“yes, satoru!” your boyfriend huffs, making his way towards you.

he firmly takes a stance in front of you, contrasting his intimidating position with his infamous pout, “it’s not fair for you to take the bouquet!”

you sway your hip to the side sassily, “does it make a difference? we’re getting married either way!”

your boyfriend shakes his head, “no, babe!” he places his hands on his chest, pushing his theatrics till the top, “I need to be the star!”

he crumbles to the floor and you merely stare at him in silence.

you see your cousin approach you and your boyfriend, “first of all, I am the star, and second, if you don’t stop fighting, I am taking the bouquet back.”

your boyfriend gasps clinging to your legs, “babe, your cousin is super mean!”

you pat his head with a sigh and he happily presses a kiss to your thigh. what a taxing man to be with.

“sweets, I wanna pee.”

taxing child.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

your boyfriend was—surprisingly—invited to a friend’s wedding, which he hated as he was planning on taking you to a stargazing sight because you’ve been talking about it ever since you saw it multiple times on tiktok.

so, here you are with your boyfriend put into a suit by force.

you’re pretty sure that he is going to rip it any moment, but you would rather he does that when you’re both alone: you don’t necessarily mind a show.

anyway, you are sat with your dear lover who hasn’t stopped frowning since you’ve entered the darn hall.

the only good social thing he has done so far is greeting the groom and the bride. other than that, his hand never left yours and he stuck by you.

it’s cute, though, even if he argues that he is anything but.

you hear them announce that they’re finally throwing the bouquet so you give sukuna a quick peck then run to reserve your space.

now, you get very competitive in certain things, and this is certainly one of them. you will be going home with that bouquet.

and true to your goal, the moment the bouquet is at a height you can reach, you jump at it, holding on for dear life.

your feet reach the ground once again, and you raise your hand in victory, “I did it!”

you don’t see sukuna rolling his eyes fondly and with a proud grin that screams ‘that’s my girl’.

after a bit of applause, you quickly turn to your boyfriend and walk towards his table, radiating with confidence.

you place the bouquet on the table then you lean on your elbows, “I caught the bouquet,” you wink, “what do you think?”

“of course, you would get it,” he hums, “you’re mine, and I don’t settle for less than the best.”

you roll your eyes and lean towards him, swirling the drink that you stole from him, “it’s quite the commitment that we’re getting into,” you then look and lock eyes with him, “think you can handle that?”

“there’s nothing I can’t handle, loser.”

you giggle before cooing, “aww, you love me so much,” he gently shoves you, before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you back towards him.

“I tolerate you.”

“so love!”

“no.”

NANAMI KENTO:

jingling bells, clicking heels, steaming food, and loving couples including you and your dear boyfriend fill today’s wedding hall.

a mutual friend of yours and nanami finally tied the knot with their lover, and you were happily invited.

it was a never ending party of laughter and happy tears—that you efficiently hid by burying your face in your boyfriend’s chest.

things calmed down a bit, leaving you to fangirl about how cute your friend is to nanami.

“but kento, she looked so cute! she is so pretty! he better not hurt her!”

nanami keeps munching on his bread, “I think she is capable of handling that herself.”

you cross your arms with a huff, “what do you mean?”

“she is carrying a shotgun.”

“oh, you right,” you acknowledge, before running towards the dance floor when you see your friend about to throw the bouquet, “f/n, you better not throw that until I tell you!”

“if you don’t get then you just have a major skill issue!”

you gasp, taking a battle stance in the middle of the of the dance floor. you hear your friend giggle, before she finally throws the bouquet into the air.

from then, it’s a cat fight between you and the rest of the people.

however, you come out as victorious then excitedly running towards nanami, “kento! kento! did you see me?”

“mhm, you looked lovely as always,” he chuckles, giving you his full attention.

you giggle, taking a seat beside him. you start talking about your fight(?) to get the bouquet while nanami stealthily takes a plate of your favourite snacks from the buffet and slides it to you.

you gasp, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, “thank you, love!”

he hums, eyeing the bouquet, “you know,” then he says, fidgeting with his watch a little, “I can get you a better bouquet if you want—with a side of a ring, of course.”

you were about to finally dig in, but your brain quickly short circuits at his comment, “oh.”

slowly, you turn to him, feeling your face get warmer by the second.

he laughs lightly, hand coming to rest on yours, “I am not joking,” he pulls your hand up for a small peck, “I am just waiting for the right time so please be patient with me.”

GETO SUGURU:

the moment the vows were exchanged, music was blasted to the roof, and everyone was partying to the max.

your cousin, the bride, is dancing to the beat with vigor and excitement you’ve never seen before.

you would like to join her, but geto just won’t let you since he knows that you will somehow end up drunk off your mind and dancing on one of the tables.

so you’re sat with him right now, sulking and glaring at him.

“babe, don’t be so sad now, please? I am only doing this so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself.”

you huff and turn your back on him, “I am a full-functioning adult; thank you very much!”

his hand slowly inches towards yours, “the prettiest full-functioning adult,” he smiles, pulling his chair closer to you. “and the smartest too, did you know that?”

you almost give into his advances—his charming smile is far too lethal—but you’ve developed a bit of immunity to his actions.

so instead, you face him with a teasing smile, “I would love if you tell me more—after I successfully steal the bouquet.”

“steal?”

you roll your eyes, “acquire.”

he laughs lightly, and you take it as your cue to run towards the group of women huddled behind your cousin.

you stand proudly, “c/n, throw your bouquet!”

“no!”

“what?!”

“just kidding!”

and so the bouquet flies and ‘accidentally’ lands in your hands—it’s no accident; you’ve been training your entire life for this moment.

people whoop and applaud, and you bow to audience, before scurrying to your darling boyfriend.

you wave the bouquet in your hand, and he nods knowingly, “guess you’re never get rid of me,” you muse, hugging the bouquet to your chest, “what a pity, right?”

he looks at you confused then sighs with a smile, “I never planned to, but okay.”

you beam at him and throw your arms around him, and he laughs, hugging you closer.

you trace shapes on his back and murmur, “you’re way too cute for your own good.”

“I need to charm you one way or another, you know,” he replies, motioning for the waiter to get you two more drinks.

he stays silent for a moment, “you can go get hammered—“

“not!”

“okay, not hammered with your cousin.”

“yay!” you scream joyously and run away.

guess who ended up drunk and dancing on a table.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

toji and a wedding?

it’s a combination most would not expect, but it isn’t his wedding anyway, so he can’t complain about it being too much commitment right now.

the only thing he can complain about is being put into this ‘suffocating’ suit—a sight you love.

“do we really have to stay till the end?”

you turn towards him, mortified, “this is literally your best friend’s wedding.”

he shrugs, “so?”

with a shake of your head, you drag him further down the hall to your assigned seats. at least, holding your hand is enough to pacify him.

the wedding goes as you would expect, aside from toji almost falling asleep.

you are now just standing beside the clearly expensive and delicious buffet—your true love.

toji is happily indulging in the food laid out in front of him, and you are about to do the same, but you notice that the bouquet throw is about to happen.

so you dash out of your seat just in time to catch that rogue bouquet. you raise your hand, announcing yourself as the now rightful owner of this bouquet.

that’s why you excitedly search for toji to show him your new prize.

you rush towards the table that you left your boyfriend at, “toji, I got it!—toji?”

a look left, a look right, your eyes widen. did the darn guy leave the moment you caught the bouquet? no way his fear of commitment is this intense.

you take note of the groom—toji’s bestie—shaking his head.

feeling embarrassed, you frown and yell for him, “toji fushiguro!”

suddenly, you feel a presence behind your back. you feel the person lean towards your ear a bit, and they whisper a small, “hey.”

you gasp, spinning to smack him square on the shoulder, “I hate you!”

he teases, almost like your hit was never there in the first place, “now now, that isn’t something you say to your future husband,” he grins and you scrunch your face in disgust.

you turn on your heel to walk away from him, “kill yourself.”

“what a foul mouth,” he whistles, following you until you finally give up and are given the chance to punch him in the stomach to make for the scare he gave you.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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temiizpalace · 5 months ago

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☆┊WILL YOU MARRY ME? ..FOR THE FOOD OF COURSE

SUMMARY: a friend on the inside told you that this restaurant gives out free food to guests who propose.. well what better way to get free food than to get your crush in on this?

CHARACTERS: all (+RSA and ROLLO)

WARNINGS: none

NOTES: ignore the fact it’s a ton of highschool students getting proposed to

reader gender is not mentioned, reader could be yuu

THINKS ITS STUPID ; YOU PROPOSE

so let him get this straight. you want to fake a marriage proposal with him just to get a free dinner at a fancy restaurant? are you joking? why would you want to go through the hassle? he could literally cook or get someone to cook you a meal twice as good! also for free! you’re so lucky he likes you too. i mean what. anyways, reluctantly, he agreed to the plan.

as you got on one knee, he couldn’t help his heart from pounding. it’s fake, the boy reminded himself, trying to suppress his painfully obvious heartbeat. you slide the ring on his finger, the applause around him being the only to pull him out of lala land. at first he thought it was dumb, but next time, he wouldn’t mind doing this again so long as you don’t go back on your word.

he forgot about the food and barely ate.

ace, riddle, leona, azul, jamil, idia, sebek, rollo

HESITANT, BUT AGREES ; HE PROPOSES

proposal? like, marriage proposal? oh. oh seven. SERIOUSLY— wait, no, a staged one. whoops. haha, you got him. gosh darn it.. you want to do this with him though? you could’ve asked anyone else! what an honor it is to pretend to marry you.. it’s like a dream come true! sort of. hold on, what if he gets carried away? jeez, it makes him nervous just thinking about it.. can he do this? is this morally correct? well you asked him first.. okay, he’ll do it!

the ring box rests in his pocket, waiting for your signal before he can ask for your hand. as he got on his knee, he could feel his hands tremble, begging not to screw up or accidentally drop the ring. his eyes meet yours, as did the audiences. the heat in his cheeks rose immensely as he uttered the four magic words, your acceptance gaining cheers from the crowd. that.. that felt good. he’ll definitely propose to you again! but the next time he does, it won’t be for show.

he was sad when he remembered this was fake. the food didn’t taste good anymore.

deuce, cater, trey, jack, ruggie, epel, malleus, silver

HE GETS REALLY INTO IT ; HE PROPOSES

there was no convincing involved at all. the moment you said “let’s fake a proposal” he already agreed. and please let me tell you how into it he got. he went through rehearsals, wrote down heartfelt poems, and even got all dolled up just for the occasion. he showed up to your door with a bouquet of flowers, lifting your hand to brush against his lips, escorting you by the arm to his transportation, just the whole thing. like damn you’re not even in public yet. relax.

at the restaurant, he grabbed your hands suddenly, turning you to face him. he began to go on about how much he loved you, and how much your moments together meant to him. he lowered himself onto one knee, pulling the velvet box out of his pockets. you are presented with a REAL ring (not the fake one you offered, nono), with a glittering stone on top. this was an act, yet even you believed it was real for a moment. you accept his proposal before he suddenly pulled you in with his lips nearly against yours.

he pulls back, the sounds of tears from the waiter and compliments from other customers being the only sounds made in the moment. he plays it off like it was nothing, yet you felt yourself overheating at his bold acts. if this is how far he’ll go for an act, imagine how far he’ll go for the real thing.

ate his meal like nothing happened. you were the one who couldn’t eat.

jade, vil, rook, lilia che’nya

YOU HAD HIM THE SECOND YOU SPOKE ; YOU PROPOSE

yes. you didn’t even need to finish your sentence, it’s a yes. he’ll do it. ohhh propose! sure! he’ll do it right now! what? later? okay! wait, just pretend? ah. he sees now. while a little disappointed that this was just for a free meal, he’ll still do it. it’s basically real if you act like it is, right? whatever! you asked him to do this, meaning you must like him enough right? he’s excited now just thinking about! don’t worry about anything, he’s got it all figured out!

or he thought he did. you grab his hand as you wore a charming smile on your face. you spoke of fond memories you had of him and moments you’ve had together (that didn’t actually happen) which just gave him butterflies. he was such anice outgoing and cheery person, yet, this is the first time he just can’t find the words. as you asked for his hand in marriage, he felt his heart skip a beat before accepting gracefully. as you both hear your congratulations, finished your meal, and left the restaurant, he refused to take the ring off of his finger. he’ll wear it forever. it’ll look very nice with the real one he got you when it’s his turn to propose.

pookie please take the ring off it made a dent in your finger

floyd, kalim, neige

YOU HAD HIM AT FREE FOOD

free? food? now those are words ruggie likes to hear in the same sentence. AND ITS A FANCY RESTAURANT? sign. him. up. there’s proposal involved? cool. while he’s also really into that, he seemed more interested in what kind of foods they give out for free yknow what im saying?

will it be authentic sunset savanna dishes? scalding sands dishes? foods from the shaftlands? cmon, just spit it out. it’s not that he doesn’t care! you actually did catch him off guard with that proposal bit. he’s just really excited for the food part. when he saw the restaurant, he could already tell the food was going to be good.

as the proposal goes along, yada, yada, yada, the dinner is presented on the table. was he in heaven? did he die? cause holy crappp.. getting to become his crushes fiancé while also eating good was his idea of paradise! and this was just one restaurant that did this? what about the others? you can’t just leave em hanging! when you guys actually propose to each other, he’ll definitely want to do it in another fancy restaurant.

ruggie

A/N: hey guys im back (god damn that’s a lot of tags)

date published: 8/16/24

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piccolos-bigtoe · 6 months ago

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Scouts first intel grab, he got shot and died five seconds after this fly high angel. I can’t sleep so I’m posting Ermm what…. Doing anatomy studies lately, kind of boring but I think it’s because I do them while I’m at work so I’m bored anyways. Try not to change how I draw scour every time I draw him challenge impossible.

Pro life tip if you ever thrift something always look at the tags, if it says dry clean only and is 100% Rayon believe the tag because it will shrink like a mfer.,. True story thrifted a reallly nice shirt and it freaking shrunk. But it’s okay I restretched it by soaking it in warm water with conditioner like the internet told me to and it’s basically back to normal.. yes I am a pro at looking up things online and reading wikihow hold your applause. Like there are some dry clean only things I do just toss in the washer and they’re fine but apparently Rayon will not be fine (which I didn’t check the tag when I threw it in,, oops)

I went to the park with a friend and saw not one, not two, but FOUR herons, freakay, and a turkey buzzard, I’ve seen herons flying but I had no idea they like nested at the park, mustve been maybe kind of recent because I used to go there a lot as a kid and never saw them there, or maybe I didn’t see them. Nature is crazy. I would’ve taken a picture but they’re so thin they kind of just blended in with the reeds. The geese were there though just like always, they hissed at me. I also went to a Perkins for the first time in forever and wow it was old people central kind of wild.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my art #tf2 scout

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 8 months ago

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What Happens in Cars, Stays in Cars

dbf!jake seresin x fem!reader 9k words

summary: After a month-long deployment, Jake is finally coming back home. Well, not home home. You're too desperate to wait until you've actually got him home. But who needs home when there's a perfectly good car anyway?

a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. as always, a list of things to watch out for:

nudes. mentions of masturbation. pet names used in an unholy way. the word 'brat' is dropped twice. safe sex (yess they still have a condom!!! i feel like i deserve a round of applause for not forgetting it). car sex, so a tiny smidge of exhibitionism. dom!jake. a lot of begging, as always. a tad bit dry humping. first finger sucking, then fingering. any more, uh....? i don't think so. there's not much space in a car for anything else.

top gun masterlist | dbf!jake seresin masterlist

(the gif has nothing at all to do with the fic, but tell me that's not dbf!jake working out in his backyard knowing you're watching him istg)

It's a one time thing. That's what they told him. A one time thing.

He isn't supposed to do these anymore. He's supposed to be stationed permanently, sitting in his office and doing what an admiral does. Important work, surely. It's a high honour and he's proud, of course. But office work... Office work has never really been his thing. And if they'd deployed him for this mission four months earlier, he would've been thrilled.

He's the best of the best. The navy knows. He knows. Which is why he's an admiral by now. And also why they want him coaching the new hotshots for a month, halfway across the country.

And, yes, he would've been thrilled - four months ago.

Four months ago, when you'd not yet moved back home. Four months ago, when he hadn't yet met you. Four months ago, when he hadn't known what it was like to hold you, to touch you, to miss you.

His phone chimes and momentarily distracts him. It's not that he didn't mute it - he's standing in front of a bunch of twenty-something year olds who he does try to be a role model for - it's just that you'd tampered with it once and ever since then, you've had a personalised ringtone that still somehow works even when everything else is muted. (He could totally turn that off if he wanted to, though. Definitely. Ab-so-lu-tely. He just... doesn't.)

His jaw clenches and he has to restart his sentence, but other than that, he manages to pretend nothing happened. Nonetheless, he has to glare at the snickering wannabe-pilots in the first row, who remind him very much of a young version of himself.

You're three hours ahead of him and probably just got off work. It's likely nothing but a sweet "having a good day?" message or maybe a photo of you all dressed up, ready for dinner with your friends like you'd planned.

Either way, knowing your message is sitting unopened in your chat has him talking quicker. He finishes his lecture half an hour early and fishes his phone from his pocket before the first of his pupils have even got up from their seats - which turns out to be a horrible, horrible idea, because the photo attached to "don't know how long i'll stay out, have a nice night, admiral" with the winky face emoji is not one of you all dressed up for a night out with your friends, but one of you in just a pair of panties in front of the mirror. The mirror in his bedroom.

Fucking god-

He seems to let out some kind of choked up groan or something of the sort, because a few of his pilots turn to look back at him. One even has the audacity to ask if he's alright, which he certainly isn't. But that's absolutely not their problem.

So he grumbles something about how they should all use their free time to go to the gym instead of bothering him before he collects his things and flees to his room. One of the many advantages of being an admiral, of course, is that he doesn't have to bunk anymore, which is always the greatest nuisance for anybody who's ever looking for privacy. The times he's had to listen to guys jack off a foot away from him- fuck, the times they'd had to listen to him.

No, right now he is incredibly thankful for the privacy of his bedroom as he locks the door behind him and opens his phone again. Goddamn, why were you in his house? His fingers hover over the call button for a few seconds, but then he decides against it - you're going out with friends for the first time in months, he doesn't want to bother you.

He's popping the button of his jeans and sitting down on his bed right as you come online.

"Like the pictures, baby? I've got more"

And before he can even respond, you've sent a bunch more selfies, half of them in front of his mirror, the other half on his bed and none of them decently clothed. Fucking hell, in one you've got your fingers down your panties and Jake is really thankful for the privacy of his room then because he groans so loudly that a bunkmate would definitely have heard.

"Are you still at dinner?", he asks, his fingers flying over his keyboard while he tugs at his zipper with his left hand.

"Yeah, won't be home soon", you write back. "Sorry"

"Don't be", Jake responds, as quickly as he can, because he definitely does not want to make you feel bad for spending time with your friends. "Have fun"

"Have fun with the pics", you send. Jake can picture your grin, sitting all dressed up in a restaurant and ignoring your friends to text him. "Thought those could maybe make up for no phone call tonight"

He swallows hard as you log off, leaving him with those pretty pictures of yours that certainly improve his night by a lot. Hell, he's already moving his briefs out of the way and clicking on your photos again. Just seeing you half-naked in his room - fuck, the thought of you sneaking over there only to do a goddamn photoshoot... You're really unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. And he can't wait to get back home to you.

...

"I miss you", you mumble into the phone, blinking at the alarm clock on your nightstand. It's eleven thirty, not nearly late enough for you to feel as exhausted as you do.

"I miss you too, darling", you hear Jake drawl on the other end of the call. "I'll be back soon."

"Not soon enough", you whine - god, you sound pathetic and miserable to your own ears already, you must sound ten times worse to him. You fall back onto your pillows and let out a deep sigh. "Would it be rude to say I hope the mission gets cancelled?"

Jake chuckles. Fucking hell, you miss that chuckle so much. You miss him so much. You miss cuddling up to him under the covers and tucking your head under his chin. You miss running your fingers through his hair and having your hands on him. You miss seeing him, standing in the kitchen or working out or tinkering in the backyard or fresh out of the shower. Shit, you even miss sneaking around with him, because at least then you'd gotten to watch him from a distance, maybe steal a kiss when your parents hadn't been looking or spend a night at his house pretending to be at your friend's.

Now he's halfway across the country and absolutely, completely out of reach. You'd barely gotten to see him at all - twice it had worked out to video-call during a lunch break, once he even managed to show you around his office after work. The camera quality is hardly any good, of course, which means video-calls aren't all that great, plus the connection never seems to really be stable, so with a few exceptions, you've only seen Jake in pictures over the past two and a half weeks.

His deployment would take another one and a half and then, finally, he'd be back home. Back home with you.

"I won't answer that", Jake says, and you can almost hear him grin. "But I wouldn't mind either if they moved the mission up."

You have to bite down on your lip to hide a smile.

"So you think you're good to go?", you ask softly, not wanting to bring the mood down further, instead opting for the non-classified work questions. You've already been bringing down the mood enough back here at home - you don't need to fill the few minutes a day you get with Jake with your whining as well. Your parents already hear enough of that. Of course, they don't know why you've been in such a bad mood ever since Jake left. And they can't know, either. You can't tell them. You can't tell anyone.

You can't tell anyone because no one knows that you've been sneaking around with your dad's best friend for the past three months. So you resign yourself to moping around and keeping out of everybody's way as much as you can. For one and a half week more, one and a half...

...

Exactly one and a half week later you're standing at the airport in your best heels and a little yellow sundress and are positively buzzing with nervous energy. Jake's plane would get in at half, he'd said, when you'd last spoken to him six hours earlier. Then the plane had taken off and so had his wifi.

You're playing around with a strand of your hair and doing your hardest not to start chewing off your nails, which proves more difficult than you'd thought (even though you'd put on nail polish).

You're just so excited.

It's been a month since you'd last seen him. A month. And at the early stage of your... relationship, if you could call it that, that's basically half a year. God, how long it's been since you've run your hands through his hair, since you've felt his arms around you.

You miss him so much.

Your phone chimes and you fish it out of your pocket with trembling hands, only to be disappointed when it's not a message from Jake. It's not like you'd told him to text when he'd landed, just... A part of you is kind of scared you're waiting in the wrong place. Maybe he's on the other end of the airport - it's not a particularly small one. It'd take you hours to find each other if you were waiting in the wrong place.

Then again - maybe the plane is late. Maybe he's had to wait for his luggage.

You check the time, just to be safe. It's 11:46. For all you know, Jake is still in the air. Or less than a door away.

You bounce on your feet, nervously shifting back and forth before checking your phone again. The text you'd gotten is from one of your friends, who you text back only to distract you. It barely works anyway. You can't put it away again quickly enough.

It's not even that you don't want to distract yourself. You just physically can't pay attention. You've been a nervous wreck for the past three days, ever since you'd made the plan to pick him up from the airport. Which is probably why you almost don't spot him.

Almost.

He walks through the opened doors with his suitcase rolling behind him, his backpack slung over his shoulder and at least five other people rushing past him.

He sees you before you see him.

But then, then when you see him-

You're already sprinting towards him before your mind even tells your legs to move. You can't control it and you can't be bothered to. Why would you?

You don't care about the people glancing at you with raised eyebrows. You only care about Jake, about Jake who's standing there, pulling his hand from the handle of his suitcase and grinning at you. Grinning at you as you run at him and throw yourself into his arms.

He catches you effortlessly and steadies you as you cross your hands behind his neck and press your lips to his.

God, how you've missed him! How long you haven't kissed him!

His palms flatten against your back and he holds you tight, so tightly to him. You push even closer. He's here. He's back.

You don't realise you're crying until you taste the tears.

That's when Jake pulls back.

"I've missed you", he mutters, raising a hand and brushing the tears off your cheeks. You lean into the touch and tighten your arms around his neck. You're really touching him. He's really here.

"I missed you too", you try to say, but you're choked up and crying and it somehow comes out a blubbering, stuttering mess that you're not quite sure Jake can even understand. "Missed you so much."

He smiles one of those gorgeous smiles that you haven't seen in far too long before he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. His breath mingles with yours as he draws you in again and catches you in another kiss, tugging gently at your bottom lip as if he has all the time in the world to do it - slow and languid and real. Finally real again.

He pulls you in by your waist, his hands splayed wide and so, so big against your thin sundress. Your nails scratch against his neck and he lets out a groan and suddenly, he's got his hands on your thighs and you're wrapping your legs around his middle and tightening your arms around him and his lips are working against yours feverishly, heavily, messily. You're crossing your feet behind his back when one of them hits something hard. You've flinched away from him even before you can hear the dull crash of his suitcase kissing the airport floor.

There's blood rushing in your ears and you're sure if someone measured your heart rate right now, you'd be sent to the ER immediately. You probably look like a tomato with all the redness in your cheeks. But Jake stares at his suitcase silently for two seconds too, breathing heavily as his grip on you tightens further.

As much as he likes having you in his arms, his suitcase reminds him that you're still very much in the middle of a well-used airport. So he turns back to you and lowers his voice.

"I think we should get out of here, darling."

Your lips tug up into a grin and you lean in to give him just one last, quick kiss.

"Yeah", you breathe, carefully jumping back down onto your own feet. Jake lets go of you only reluctantly - if this wasn't a public airport, he'd never have let you go again. But it is, so he swallows hard as you brush your palms down your dress and blink up at him with a smile.

You're wearing heels. You're still shorter than him by quite a bit.

His amusement melts into a frown when you grab the handle of his suitcase.

"I've got that", he says, reaching his hand out to take the suitcase from you, but you're already maneuvering it away from him and starting to walk in the direction (you think it's the right direction) you'd parked your car in.

"I want to do it for you", you hum.

"Sweetheart, you're already doing enough for me", he says, and he really does mean it. You've driven all this way to come pick him up, you'd watered his plants while he'd been away, you'd even cleaned. That one mostly because you'd desperately needed something to do and Jake's house had always smelled like him, but still.

"Doing enough to you, you mean." Your grin borders on lewd as you dig your teeth into your lip.

"Yeah, that too", he sighs, but he has to grin as well. You're absolutely unbelievable. Instead of trying to argue (he knows it'd be fruitless anyway), he wraps an arm around your back and pulls you into his side, his hand resting on your waist again.

You glance at him.

"I'm not letting go of this suitcase", you warn, even as you lean into his side and swallow. God, he looks so good. And he smells so good. And he feels so good.

"Got it", he chuckles, brushing a kiss to your temple and pulling you even closer into him. He can't have you close enough. Does this fucking airport not have an end? He just needs a little more privacy, a little more space-

"This way", you say and point right. Jake smiles at you as you guide him down the halls. He can't help but watch, can't help but stare at you, at your dress in that soft shade of yellow and your matching heels. Autumn doesn't seem to have caught up with you yet. Then again - autumn hasn't caught up with this place yet. And he's used to Texas heat, he likes that it doesn't get cold here. Also, those sundresses... Yeah, he certainly isn't complaining about the weather.

You speed up when you finally catch sight of the doors, dragging him along with you, almost falling into a jog. The suitcase rumbles against the airport floor, the wheels click-clacking over uneven ridges and bumps and then, thank god, you feel the sunshine on your skin. His hand tightens around your waist.

"Home sweet home", you grin as you take the first step onto concrete. You swivel around and steady both palms against the handle of his suitcase behind your back, bouncing on your heels and looking up at him. "After about a three hour drive."

Jake chuckles and looks back at you with raised eyebrows.

"You'll drive?", he asks. You hum.

"Maybe", you grin as you turn away again and walk over to your car, parked only three rows away for whatever holy reason. You'd been incredibly lucky. And you'd almost run over a grandma. "Or maybe not."

Jake follows you with another low chuckle that sends a pleasant tingling sensation down your spine. It's been so long since you heard that chuckle behind you.

He's next to you again within a few long strides, reaching out for you and you slow your steps to intertwine your fingers with his.

His hands are so big. He's holding onto you so firmly. Fuck, you've missed him so much.

You squeeze his hand and walk a little quicker. Car, home. Car, home. That's it. Then you've got him all to yourself. You can see the car glinting in the sunlight already - and then it's three hours. Three hours next to him in an enclosed space before you've truly got him back.

You stop and let go of his suitcase to fish the car keys out of your pocket without dropping his hand. You push the unlock button and open up the trunk before you turn to Jake and grin at him.

You want to say something, really. It's on the tip of your tongue, still running through your mind, but you've completely forgotten it when you look up at him.

Because while you'd been dragging him to the car, he'd pulled his sunglasses out and put them on and for whatever reason... That kind of does it for you. Holy shit.

"Are those new?", you ask hoarsely and swallow hard, the car keys digging into your palm as you tighten your fist around them. Maybe it's just that you haven't seen him in a month. Or maybe it's the way the sunlight catches his hair, slightly longer than when he'd left. Maybe it's just that with the sun behind him, you've got no choice but to squint at his broad shoulders.

"The other pair broke", Jake explains, letting go of your hand only to wrap his arms around your waist. Fuck, you're just standing there, doing absolutely nothing and he already can't keep from touching you. He has to touch you. He's got to put his arms around you and pull you close. "Why? Don't like it?"

You steady your palms against his chest and let out a breath as your eyes drop to his lips - he's got that cheeky look on his face that's not really a grin but not really not a grin and that nobody but him can do.

"I do", you counter, because it's the truth, and there's no way you can lie to him. "I very much do."

"Very much?" Jake does grin then, raises his eyebrows and pulls you fully against him. "That's more than just a yes."

Your fingers fist his shirt, the car keys digging into his chest just as firmly as they're digging into your palm now. He doesn't seem to be too bothered. He really isn't too bothered.

"They look good on you", you mutter, pulling him even closer. It's been too long since you'd pulled him close... And he feels so good, smells so good, looks so good. Fuck, he's so big and broad and-

"Thanks", he mutters, his grin all cheeky and self-assured and god, is it really this hot? Do you just feel this hot? Because you feel really, really hot. Your skin is burning. How the hell are you supposed to manage a three hour car ride?

"Jake", you whimper, without even meaning to. It's barely above a breath, barely above a whisper, and still too much of a whine to sound anything close to appropriate. A sort of grunt leaves his lips before his arms tighten around you, before he slots his mouth over yours hard. His thumbs drag circles against the small of your back, catching on the fabric of your dress. Your fingertips dig into his shirt, into his chest.

The sun beams down on you, warming your thighs and your arms and every exposed inch of skin, brightness behind closed eyelids as you push further and further into him. He's so sturdy, all hard abs right in front of you, broad arms around you.

You don't even notice the breathless moan that escapes your tongue. You can only feel the heat boiling inside of you, the desperate heat inside of you crawling up your body, every inch of you burning. Burning with want for him. With need for him. Fuck, he's been gone for way too long.

And then he pulls back.

You need a few seconds to even blink yourself back to reality.

"Home?", he suggests, even though it's less of a suggestion and more just a fact. He's getting you home. Now.

"Please", you whine, already halfway through pulling back and dropping the car keys into his palm. Three hours. Three fucking hours, you... You simply won't manage to sit down behind the steering wheel with your skin crawling and your underwear soaked through.

You'll barely manage sitting in the passenger seat.

Jake presses another kiss against your temple before he grabs his suitcase and leaves you standing there, trying to pull yourself together. He's breathing hard and his muscles are tight, his jaw clenched as he heaves his suitcase into the trunk and drops his backpack into it right after.

You force your legs to work, to carry you to the passenger side, force your arm to raise and your hand to close around the handle. It's heavy and hard work. Your body feels leaden, entranced. You let yourself collapse onto the seat and close your eyes.

Fuck.

You'd forgotten how much... how easily...

"Seatbelt, darling", Jake reminds you as he climbs into the driver's seat and adjusts it. You swallow hard and strap yourself in, trying to even out your breathing and pull yourself back to reality while you fumble for the confirmative click.

"Three hours", you remind yourself breathily.

"Three hours", Jake agrees lowly and turns the key in the ignition.

You settle back in your seat and close your eyes, clenching and unclenching your jaw as the radio starts playing and the car rolls out of the parking lot. You just have to relax. Just relax. Relax.

So you breathe out deeply and open your eyes again. Jake glances over at you as you lean forward, flick through the radio channels and then adjust in your seat - it's touching too much, too little of your skin, and the way you're rubbing against it somehow doesn't help in the slightest.

Before you can tuck one of your legs under the other and press the heel of your foot against your core, Jake puts his hand against your thigh. Against your bare thigh. His big fucking hand against your bare thigh.

You bite down on your lip and look up at him.

God, he looks so good. His features are chiseled, his hair that sunny, beachy kind of blond-

"Stop that", Jake grunts, his eyes trained on the road in front of him. It takes you two seconds to even realise he's talking to you. You'd kind of lost yourself in staring at him there.

"Stop what?", you ask, voice hitching as his fingers tighten on your thigh. Damn it, he needs to stop that. He's hardly been driving five minutes, he can't already be teasing you.

For once, actually, he doesn't even mean to tease you - not that you know. He just can't help but touch you, not when he hasn't touched you in a month, not when you're sitting so deliciously, tauntingly next to him.

"Stop looking at me like that", he says, taking his hand off of you to change gears before grabbing even tighter onto you again. "Or I'll have to pull over."

You brush your fingers along his wrist. Your chest feels tight, so tight. It takes everything in you not to push his hand further up your thigh. And you'd actually thought you'd manage a three hour car ride.

"I'll stop", you breathe, even though pulling over doesn't seem like the worst idea. "If you want me to."

A muscle twitches in his jaw.

"Don't do that", he warns, his voice staggering into that indecent gruff of his that has you clenching your thighs together, trapping his fingertips between your legs.

"Don't do what?", you ask, trying your best to sound somewhat innocent while you continue this little taunting game, not as though you're deliberately riling him up. You aren't, really. It's more just a reflex.

He turns his head to you then. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched and honestly, the way he's meeting your gaze all serious, as though he's trying to reprimand you just by looking at you - for no more than three seconds, of course, before he drags his eyes back to the road - has your lips tugging up in a teasing grin.

"Jake", you whisper, drawing your nails slowly up his arm, all the way from his wrist to his elbow. "Baby. You've been away for so long. You know how lonely I've been, right?"

Jake glances at you again and grunts his agreement, eyebrows raising as he starts to realise what you're doing.

"You can't blame me for looking at you", you go on, digging your fingertips into a spot right above his elbow and drawing one, two circles there. "Or for touching you."

Then you shift in your seat, spread your legs a little and run your fingers down his arm again. You grab his hand and brush his fingertips against the soaked spot on your panties.

"Or for being this wet", you whisper, your breath hitching from the sting in your stomach. He lets out a low curse. "I've just missed you so much."

He sucks in a breath then and trails his fingertips up your panties once, just once, before he jerks his hand back and clenches it hard around the steering wheel, so hard that his knuckles turn wide. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! You're driving him crazy. You're driving him fucking crazy.

He's supposed to be responsible here. Somewhat responsible. You're young, you've got that risky twinkle in your eyes that he knows so well because he'd seen it in the mirror himself for over twenty years. He knows the thrilling buzz that's running through your veins. He still feels it whenever he's in the air. And he feels it around you.

Which is why he's not responsible, not when it comes to you. Not when you're sitting next to him in that pretty dress, with no shorts on and completely fucking soaked through.

You grin to yourself as he pulls off the highway and bite down on your lip, shifting in your seat once more, fighting the urge to trail your own fingers into your panties.

You haven't even asked how his deployment had been.

But goddamn, you'll have enough time to do that once you've got home. Or got off. Or got him off. At this point, you don't fucking care.

He pulls into one of those parking lots that mainly trucks use, one of those where there's hardly ever a toilet and if, then one that hasn't been usable since the last century. Right now, there's two trucks right at the front that Jake just brushes past. He parks your car at the far end and turns the motor off.

The silence is heavy.

Your breath comes much too quickly. Your eyes are fixed on him. And every inch of your skin is crawling with heat. But you don't move. You can't move.

He rolls his seat all the way back.

"Jake-", you whisper, catching on his name when he looks up and meets your eyes. There's a ghost of a grin on his lips, but... Maybe you're wrong.

"Yes, darling?", he asks, raising his eyebrows and leaning back in his seat. You have to strain your neck to keep looking at him. Instead of an answer, you just softly shake your head. You're suddenly unsure of what to say. His eyes weigh you down. You're painfully aware of every inch of your skin under his watchful gaze.

"Come on", he drawls, the grin that's growing on his lips more obvious now. "You were all eager to talk just then, baby."

Your teeth catch on your lip as you let out a breathless sigh. Your fingers hover over the buckle of your seat belt. Can you? Or...

"I missed you", you whisper, letting your fingertips glide over the hard plastic. "Can I-"

You swallow.

"Can you what, darling?", he repeats, grinning widely now.

You chew on your lip as you push down and unbuckle yourself slowly, your eyes still trained on Jake, who simply watches you with raised eyebrows.

"Can I touch you?", you whisper, your breath disappearing into the thick air of the car, the seatbelt still caught between your fingers. The corners of his mouth only tug up further.

You look angelic with your wide eyes and rosy cheeks, so obviously desperate to feel him - but still you don't move. You sit there and wait for him to tell you what to do. To allow you to do something. Anything. It's almost endearing how well behaved you are in moments like this.

"Go on, darling", he drawls. "Come here."

Without hesitation, you reach over the centre console and grab onto his shoulders, steadying yourself against him as you throw one of your legs over his and climb into his lap. His hands find your waist, grab onto your sides, hold you softly against him. Your teeth dig into your lip as you sink down, your fingers trailing along the outline of his collarbones over his shirt, your dress riding up and pooling around your hips. You suck in a breath when your panties drag against his jeans.

Fuck. It's been so long. It's been way too long.

"Jake", you mutter as you lean in, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, brushing your nose against his cheek. "You look good."

He lets out a breathy chuckle, his grip on you tightening.

"I know, darling", he can't help but say with a grin. "Thanks."

You giggle onto his skin as you trail your lips down his jaw. Sometimes he's incredibly unbelievable. I know. How cocky. Not that he shouldn't be - goddamn, he should be! You can't even fault him. And confidence is sexy. Especially on him. Though, then again, anything on him is sexy.

"I've missed you", you mutter, pressing another open-mouthed kiss against his skin, this time against the spot between his neck and his ear. "Missed looking at you. Missed touching you."

"Yeah", Jake breathes, digging his hands into your hips and pulling you harder onto him. "I've missed you too."

He's missed you so fucking much that he's hurting, straining against his jeans so hard that he feels like he might combust. And you're kissing down his throat, pressing your lips against his skin, wanting, needing to touch him, to feel him-

A month away from each other. A month too long.

"I need you, Jake", you whimper into his ear, all breathy and desperate, rocking softly back and forth in his lap and letting your eyes fall shut.

"You need me, baby?", he echoes, grabbing you as tightly as he can and dragging you against him, his head thumping back against the seat.

A filthy moan slips past your lips as your hips roll against his, finally, for the first time in weeks. God, yes, you need him so badly. You need him now. Here and now, in the driver's seat of your car.

"Please, Jake", you breathe, steadying one palm against his chest and grabbing one of his hands with the other. You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug it off of you, but before you can drag it down to your panties again, drop it between your legs and beg him to fuck you, before you can do any of that, he's turning your grip around and taking your hands in his instead.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, baby", he chuckles, settling your hands against your thighs. He's painfully hard by now, yes- But that doesn't mean you can just drag him to where you want him. "Seems like you forgot your manners."

You're already shaking your head before he can finish. No, you haven't, you haven't, you just need him so badly... and you can feel him, you can feel that he needs you too, so why doesn't he just take you? Why doesn't he-

"I haven't, Jake, I promise", you whisper, looking at him and forcing yourself to still on his lap. It won't help you if you move. It definitely won't help you if you move.

"You haven't?", he asks with raised eyebrows, looking all but amused at you. You keep shaking your head no, no, no. "So if I'd told you to stay in your seat and wait, you would've?"

You bite down on the inside of your cheek and look away. He's grinning. He knows. He's not even really asking. But if you've learnt anything, anything at all about him, it's that he doesn't like to be ignored. If he asks a question, he wants it answered. So you'll answer.

"No", you breathe truthfully, because you most definitely wouldn't have managed a three hour car ride next to him. There's no way you would've managed a three hour car ride next to him. No fucking way.

His grin widens.

"No", he repeats lowly. "No, darling? You wouldn't have listened?"

"Couldn't", you correct, fighting the desire to rock against his thighs that's growing with every passing second. He looks so fucking good. He smells so fucking good. He feels so fucking good. And he'd fuck you so good, you know that, if he'd just finally get to it.

"Couldn't", he echoes, his fingertips rubbing circles onto the bare skin of your thighs. "That desperate."

It's just that he's that desperate, too. Desperate to feel you wrapped around him, desperate to hear you whimper and moan. He needs you as much as you need him.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?", he asks, all smooth and casual and your fingers dig into your thighs to feel something, anything. It's unbelievable how easily something so dirty slips off his lips.

"Yes", you gasp. "Want you so bad, Jake. Please. I'll be so good for you. I'll be perfect."

A muscle ticks in his jaw.

"You are perfect", he breathes, even though that hadn't been his plan at all. But he has to say it. He has to tell you. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, even if you don't know. And he's not all that sure you don't know anyway.

Your teeth catch on your lip, your hands dig harder into your skin and-

And Jake's thumbs trail along the inside of your bare thighs, brushing up naked skin, drawing a shallow breath from your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as you clench your legs around his and force yourself to keep still. He's touching you. You have to remind yourself of that. He is touching you. There's no reason at all for the urge to defy him, to pop open his jeans and just sink down on him. He's touching you, he's touching you...

Yeah. Barely.

"Let me feel you", you beg, drawing your hands away from your thighs and trying to put them against his chest - but before you can, he's pulled his hands away from your thighs as well and grabbed your wrists. Again.

"You're not in charge here, darling", he chuckles, pushing your hands back down. He grabs for your waist again. "If you can't behave, I'm gonna put you back in the passenger seat and keep on driving, got that?"

You nod.

You want to be good for him. You will be good for him. God, there's no fucking way you could have managed the car ride already, and if you had to sit through it now, after this- No. You'll be good for him. You'll be so good for him.

He flashes you a grin and goes back to dragging his thumbs along your thighs.

"Ask nicely", he says. "Maybe I'll-"

"Please", you blurt out, your hips involuntarily bucking into his touch. "Can I kiss you?"

His eyes drop down to your mouth then.

"Yeah, baby", he mutters, his thumbs catching on the hem of your dress. "You can kiss me."

He expects you to jump at him, to slot your lips over his and lick into his mouth eagerly - but you only steady your palms carefully against his chest and lean in, your eyes focused on his, your breath meeting his skin. You kiss him softly, lightly, with your lips just so grazing his and your eyes fluttering shut. His fingertips run down the soaked spot on your panties.

That's when your teeth catch on his lip. You sink them into his skin gently and tug, your heart missing a beat as he groans into you. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side just like you'd hoped, just like you'd begged for.

Jake's right - you're not in charge. But that doesn't mean you don't know what buttons to push to get what you want.

His fingertips trail through your wetness for the first time in a whole fucking month. It's long overdue. So long.

You moan into him, pressing your chest right up against his and fisting his shirt, and push closer. You need to be this close. You need to be even closer. You need him to fuck you, now, not only to drag his fingers up to your clit.

But he's too focused on you, getting too drunk on the feeling of you. He's finally got you here again, finally on his lap again, finally kissing him again, finally eager for him again. He's finally touching you again. And he has to touch you.

You're so fucking wet. You're soaked. He wants to take his time to notice that. He needs to take his time to notice that. He needs to touch you, to feel you. He doesn't even mean to tease you. He doesn't even realise he is teasing you. Not until you rock into his hand and let a whine slip into his mouth.

You really don't intend to. It's an accident. You don't want to rush him. What you want is to be good for him. But you can't help yourself.

And he knows you can't.

Which is the only reason he doesn't pull back and leave you high and dry. Well, that - and his desperation to have you.

So instead, he pushes two fingers into you and catches the languid moan you let out. Fuck. You sound so sweet. You feel so perfect. It's been so fucking long.

"Jake", you whimper, just because it's also been that fucking long since you've whined his name into his mouth. Into the low-quality mic of your phone, yes. But with his lips on yours? With his fingers thrusting inside you so precisely, hitting the right spot immediately? No, that's been too fucking long.

It's dirty. Not quick, like the other times neither of you had been patient enough to look for a better spot to have each other and had opted for the car instead. No, it's just dirty, with his fingers pumping in and out of you, his tongue running along yours and your knees rubbing against the seat.

Maybe it's because the radio had turned off alongside the car, or maybe it's just the long month you'd spent apart - either way, all sounds are louder than they should be, your ears ringing with your moans, your wetness around his fingers and his lips against yours.

Goddamn.

He's working magic. You don't know how he hits the right spot again and again and again, his fingers curling, his thumb catching on your clit - but he has you clenching around him, warmth pooling in your core, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto his jeans within minutes.

You pull an inch away from him, your eyes still squeezed shut, your palms flattening against his shirt, and the only reason he knows he isn't just dreaming of you again is because you're warm and wet around his fingers. Everything else about you is unreal.

You're gorgeous. You're so damn stunning, rocking your hips back against him and moaning his name, your lips parted and your skin sweaty.

"Fuck", you pant, your chest rising and falling so tantalisingly that his eyes drop right down to your cleavage. "Just like that."

He has to grin to himself, but he lets it slide, if only because you're looking so pretty holding onto him as he pushes his fingers into you and circles your clit - just like that. Again and again, until you're digging your nails into his chest and catching your lip between your teeth and moaning his name, Jake, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck, until you're clenching around him and shuddering in his arms, until you're reaching your high not on your own, but on his fingers for the first time in four full weeks.

"Attagirl", he mutters, straining so hard against his pants that it hurts. "I've got you."

You press your lips against his jaw sloppily as you come down, your breath shallow, your skin burning, just needing to get your mouth on him. You can feel your heart beating, every thud, thud, thud against your chest. God. You hadn't come like that in a month. You'd come, sure, to the low rumble of his voice over the phone, calling you all sorts of sweet names and telling you just how to get off for him. But nothing could ever possibly beat the way he works you.

And still - even as you come down from your orgasm, you already crave the next, long and lust and hunger for him inside of you, not his fingers, but his cock.

"Jake", you mewl, slotting your lips over his and desperately dragging your tongue over them before you draw back an inch, your breath meeting his. "Fuck me? Please?"

He pulls his fingers out of you and raises his hand and before you can even really realise what you're doing, you're parting your lips and watching as he grins and presses his fingertips down on your tongue. God, he fucking tastes like you. You suck his fingers into your mouth obediently and lick them clean, looking at him out of lowered, half-lidded eyes and he fucking grabs at your waist with his other hand like his life depends on it.

Goddamn, it's been too long since he's watched this. Since he's had this sight in front of him. And holy mother of hell, what a sight that is.

Your cheeks hollowed out, your gaze caught on his, your lips wrapped around his fingers. His jeans are too tight. Too fucking tight. He needs relief. Now.

So he pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a low grunt and fumbles with the button of his jeans, quick and hurried. He's barely popped it open before your hands slip between his and push them out of the way. You drag down his zipper, reach into his briefs, finally, finally, finally! and he lets you, steadying his palms against your thighs and watching you tug your lip between your teeth.

"Condom", you breathe, then you glance up at him and blink - once, twice, thrice to get yourself back to reality. Condom. Condom, fuck, you're sure you've got one, you know you've got one, somewhere-

Jake takes his hand off your thigh and reaches for his pocket, pulling out a condom before you've even finished thinking.

You grab it from him almost reflexively, your fingers closing around it, tearing it open - quick and frenzied now, because you're not sure how much longer you can hold out. How much longer you can manage without having him.

You glance up at him before you roll it onto him, waiting, checking, if you can, if he'll let you- And how could he not? Fuck, he's got to clench his jaw and grab onto your waist just to hold back, to stay still. He hadn't meant for it to be like this. He'd meant to fuck you back at home, slow and steady, preferably in bed where he could really see you, where he could see every inch of you, not in the front seat of your car that he'd probably have to get cleaned tomorrow. But he can't fucking help himself. He can barely fucking wait until you've rolled the condom onto him, already grabbing at your bare thighs, slipping his hands below your dress, grasping at your stomach.

You steady your palms against his chest and breathe out a whine as his fingers slide across your boobs, pushing the fabric of your dress up, up, up, circling your nipples and damn, you've missed him. You've missed him so fucking much. It's been so fucking long. And you're so fucking desperate.

So you slowly sink down on him and let out a moan, rolling off of your tongue so filthily that he has to groan. Shit, shit- You hold yourself against him, drop your head against his shoulder and an open-mouthed kiss onto his skin.

"Fuck", he grunts, his fingers working frenzied circles onto your boobs, trying, desperately, no, needing to touch you, to feel you. God, you feel so good around him. Finally around him again. You take your time sinking down on him, catching your breath and pressing your lips against his neck, your eyes squeezed shut. Inch by inch, you take him - and the only way he can keep from bucking up into you is by trying not to concentrate on the way you feel around him (so, so fucking perfect), but instead do his best to breathe. Just... breathe. It's been too fucking long. And you're too fucking pretty. And he'll go fucking crazy.

"Jake", you mewl, your lips dragging against his jaw.

Instead of an answer, he turns his head and catches you in a kiss.

You whine into his mouth, your legs clamping around his, stilling as you adjust, your tongue running along his lips, his teeth, your hands fisting his shirt, clenching and cramping and pressing against his chest.

"Go on", he urges, pulling away no more than an inch, his breath shallow, mingling with yours. "Take what you want, darling."

"Fuck", you breathe, arching into his palms and steadying yourself against him, your teeth catching on your lip as you move - up, slowly, steadily, then down, faster, quicker, and again, and again. Holy hell. Moan after moan rolls off your tongue. He feels so fucking good. You're so fucking full of him. You find a rhythm, then that spot inside of you. Your head tilts back, your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt, your nails scratch against his skin.

He watches you, every inch of him tensing. You're gorgeous, so damn gorgeous, bouncing in his lap like this. You're stunning, your dress pooling around your hips as he drags his hands back down to your waist, thumbing at your stomach, circling and drawing against your skin. He's touching you. Now, here. It's not just a dream. It's not just his imagination. It's you, you, wrapped around him, moving up and down him, your palms against his chest, your eyes fluttered shut, your teeth digging into your lip.

"Just like that, keep going", he encourages, all low and deep, smooths his hands down your body and can't help but grin as you let out a soft mewl. It's been so long since he's heard you whine for him - so long since he's heard it without hundreds and hundres of miles between you, without the microphone ruining what have to be the sweetest sounds he's ever known. "Feeling good, baby?"

The air is heavy, heavy and sticky. It presses down on you, pushes against your skin, settles on your body and flattens your breath. Every single one of your nerve ends is on fire.

"Yes", you gasp, your eyes fluttering open to take him in, him in all of his very, very real glory right in front of you. He looks so handsome, so fucking handsome. Your thighs tighten, clench. You can feel yourself growing closer and closer and closer with every stroke, with every time you sink down on him. Fuck, he doesn't just feel good, he feels heavenly. He feels like everything you need. "So good, Jake."

The grin on his lips sends sparks through your body. It's confident, self-assured... Yeah, you're on top of him, you're moving, you're taking what you want - but he's in charge, you can see it in his eyes. He's in control. It's in the way he breathes, in the way his hands grab at your hips, in the way he palms at your skin. If it weren't for the red on his cheeks, for the sweat beading on his forehead, you wouldn't even have guessed he's all that affected. But he's hard, he's hard as a rock, and it's taking everything in him not to just buck up into you and come right on the spot.

He prides himself on his stamina. In all his years, he's always prided himself on his stamina - on how he can keep going long enough to make you come twice, thrice. And he'll hold out now, too.

But you're gorgeous. And you feel perfect. And you're close, you're clenching around him as you lean in to press your lips to his, to slot your mouths together and kiss him with all your might.

So you're not making it easy for him. Not at all.

He brushes his hand down to the inside of your thigh, leaves a trail of tingles on your skin before his finger finds your clit. You breathe out a whine that he easily catches on his tongue, your nails digging into his chest as he draws circles on your clit, on that sensitive bundle of nerves that has you melting, your eyes squeezing, squeezing, squeezing shut.

Fuck, fuck, you're close, you're close-

Just for a fleeting second, Jake debates pulling his hand away again and leaving you there, on this edge you're teetering on. Not forever, only until you'd got home or so. But he's too desperate to come, too wound up already, too close himself, and there's a much bigger part of him that wants to just fill you up in the driver's seat of your car, in this random parking lot, a month after he'd last had you. The part of him that will revel in knowing that you'll be sitting in the passenger seat for the next three hours with soaked panties, probably leaving behind a wet patch when you'll get out, the evidence of two orgasms right there-

"Fuck, Jake", you gasp and your head rolls back, your lips parting as your entire body clenches, every single muscle cramping and tightening at once, your nails digging hard and harder into his skin, your eyes squeezing shut. His finger on your clit doesn't still, just keeps drawing circles, keeps guiding you through your high, through the foggy haze you're swimming in as your body writhes and tingles.

Jake is too entranced, too enamoured, too captivated by you to even realise he's spilling inside the condom, coming as you do. He can't feel, can't see, can't touch anything but you - his hand grabs at your hip, it palms at your thigh. Anything to feel you. Anything to be with you as you unravel.

"Jake, fuck", you breathe, a lot more softly now. Your grip on him loosens. He'd barely noticed how your nails had still been digging into his chest, but now that you're pulling them away, stretching your fingers and steadying your palms flat against him, he can't help but miss them. You blink at him with the sweetest smile, your lips plush and kiss-swollen, and the view of you is so disarming that he can just so resist opening his mouth and letting those final three words roll off his tongue. But it's too early, it's way too early, even as you're sitting in his lap, even as you're squeezing his cock, even as he draws his finger away from your clit. He's never been the type to say it early. He won't now.

No, instead he raises his hand and rests his fingers against your lips. Once more today, you part them obediently and wait until he's pushed them onto your tongue. Then you close your mouth around them - he still tastes of you faintly - and suck, slathering them in saliva in that sloppy, messy, dirty way you know he likes, your head bobbing as you clean them off. You pull back just far enough to dig your teeth into his fingertips and bite down on them playfully.

Your lips tug into a grin as he draws his hand back, eyebrows raising, his gaze settling on you - still so very heavy, so intense, so fucking full of sex.

"You're a brat, darling", he chides, but he's already brushing strands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ears and then wrapping his arms around you to pull you even closer, even tighter to him. Your grin only grows as your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt.

"Maybe", you laugh breathily, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, one that's so addicting he thinks he might need to stay in this car, in this parking lot for the rest of eternity. "But you love it."

Jake chuckles as he chases after your lips.

"Such a brat."

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