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denim-mixtapes · 1 year

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Showstopper

And I know it's just a phase, you're not in love with me, but if you wanna piss off your parents, baby, that's alright with me.

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader Word Count: Just over 15k Summary: Dreading going home to strict parents over Thanksgiving break, your good friend Eddie Munson offers to tag along and pretend to be your boyfriend to get under their skin and take their focus off of you. Over tense dinners and pointed conversation, you seek comfort in his closeness, blurring the lines between fact and fiction. (Based on the song 18 by Anarbor) Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT, Minors DNI or I'll stub all your toes. Tense family dynamics, strict/overbearing parents, idiot friends to fuck buddies, teasing, fingering, oral (both f & m receiving), squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm if you blink, unprotected sex (DON'T DO THAT, STUPID), an stupid amount of pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, sweet thing) instead of Y/N. I think that's it but lemme know if I missed anything!

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] <- Coming Soon! [AO3]

a/n: I meant to post this on Thanksgiving, but it...got away from me as you can tell from the word count. Sorry for the delay and for the long lead up before the actual smut but I hope yall enjoy!!

The first time you met Eddie Munson, you threatened him with pepper spray.

Okay so maybe it was actually hair spray, but the threat was there.

He had walked into your dorm room unannounced, and in a moment of panic you completely forgot you had a roommate that could potentially have visitors. All you knew was that you were alone in your dorm, and then without any preamble or warning, there was a mysterious man with long hair, dark features, and wrapped in leather letting himself in.

And he believed you at first, he really did, held his hands up in defense and stepped back out into the threshold with wide eyes and an apologetic ramble. Until he noticed that your trembling hand was not clutching a can of mace, but a travel sized bottle of Aqua Net, shaking just as much as you were.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

He still stayed back, knowing that you were not his intended target and surely you must be nerrvous, but dropped his hands to lean on the door frame, his whole body shaking with laughter. Despite your initial fear, his humor was contagious. The once intimidating man who stood tall and broad was hunched with laughter, his eyes wrinkling around the edges when his smile widened. You couldn’t help but soften and lower your arm, chuckling a little (albeit nervously) along with him.

“Yeah, killer,” he laughed, voice low and smooth, “put that thing down before you hurt someone. Or worse, make ‘em crispy.”

“I– panicked,” you admitted, defeated. Then, standing taller again, trying to keep your defenses strong, “but what are you doing walking into random girls' dorms?”

“Uh, Buckley,” the stranger pointed to your roommate’s side of the room. “Robin Buckley? She lives here, right?” You nodded. “We’re friends, I’m meeting her for dinner and she told me to come on up when I got here. She said you’d be in class.”

Huh. You’d have to talk to her about warning you before she let just anyone walk on in unannounced.

“Canceled,” you mumbled in explanation, then gestured to Robin’s bed. “Uh I guess I won’t make you sit out in the hall. You can wait for her here.”

A wide, toothy grin spread over his features and he approached you with big, thankful eyes shining under the fluorescent overhead lighting. A hand outstretched, he replied, “appreciated. ‘M Eddie.”

And so began a blossoming friendship. Over the rest of your freshman year, Robin introduced you to more of her friends. You didn’t have trouble making your own friends, per se, you had a few classmates who you would grab lunch with between classes and a couple study groups, but the people your roommate introduced you to just clicked with you. You heard all about her girlfriend Nancy, though she was off in Boston at Emerson, so you only ever spoke to her when Robin had her on speaker phone. Everyone else just kind of came along naturally. You were attending school far from home, but within reasonable distance from Robin’s hometown of Hawkins, so even though Eddie and her best friend Steve weren’t attending college anywhere, they often found themselves on your campus to bug your roommate (and by proxy, you).

By the end of your first year at school, you were confident you were part of their crew, and you were happily signing up to room with Robin once again the following year.

Which is what brought you here.

You’re laying in bed, feet thrown up against the cinder block walls and your head hanging over the edge, Robin mirroring you on her own bed. Steve has long since gotten dizzy and sat upright next to Robin, and Eddie called you all ridiculous from the get go and chose to lay on your bean bag chair between the three of you.

“What the fuck am I gonna do,” you moan, scrubbing your hands down your face in defeat.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay, babe,” Robin assures, though you know she is just blindly trying to comfort you.

“Okay,” Steve leans forward, elbows on his knees and squints at you. The effects of Eddie’s special cookies are hitting all four of you hard, all of you lazy and sluggish and a little less cohesive than your usual state. “Explain to me again what the problem is? It sounds like your mom just wants you home for Thanksgiving.”

Sitting up slowly and trying to ignore the head rush you get from being upright once again, you gripe, “that is the problem. I went to school across the country from home for a reason. I’m already going back next month for winter break and I want to be there…as little as possible. So I was hoping I could work through Thanksgiving break like last year.”

“No dice?” Eddie asks from his spot on the floor, even though you swear you’ve gone over this with all of them three times by now.

“No,” you grumble, “last year I worked in the caf, so it was no problem, they were open all break for students staying on campus This year–”

“The library closes over break.” Robin cut you off to supply.

You only nod pitifully, slumping back into your stack of pillows with a hmph. You’re aware that you’re being dramatic, but you’ve grown accustomed to your life away from home. Away from watchful eyes and curfews at 19 years old and sharp comments about your wardrobe that honestly, could be much, much worse. The last thing you want to do is return home and be treated like a child again.

Eddie’s fingers wrap around your ankle comfortingly, but he hits a ticklish spot and you kick at his hand lightly, laughing all the while.

“Home is really that miserable, huh?” He asks quietly. Not prying, not judging, just pondering.

“I have a dad who still treats me like I’m seven and a mom who keeps trying to set me up with members of her church in hopes that they’ll ‘lead me back down the right path’…what do you think?”

Your three friends mumble a series of one word replies all at once. “Yikes.” “Barf.” “Christ.”

The conversation moves on after that. Robin and Steve arguing about Back to the Future, something they always seem to go back to when they’re high. She told you once that they saw it in theaters the first time they smoked together, but the way that neither of them could keep a straight face told you there was more to the story. You half listen, grumbling to yourself and counting the browning ceiling tiles above you.

Your mattress dips and you look up to see Eddie grinning at you behind a curtain of hair, sitting cross legged on the spot next to you.

“What?” You ask through a laugh, eyeing him briefly before going back to the task at hand, the ceiling tiles.

He nudges you with his knee, trying to get your attention. “You know what you should do?” Your response is no more than a hum adorned with a question mark, but it prompts him to continue. There’s a gleam in his eye when he goes on, “somethin’ wild. Show up at home with a tattoo or bright purple hair. Or a tongue ring! Something to push their buttons and shock ‘em a little.”

Eddie Munson always has a way of turning your mood around. His joy is infectious. If he’s laughing, you’re not too far behind him, and it’s always been that way. Likewise, he’s quick to follow when you dissolve into giggle fits, his demeanor and pose always mimics yours, just like now when he ends up on his back beside you, legs dangling sideways off the edge.

You end up passing ideas back and forth for a few minutes.

“Teardrop tattoo,” he says, snorting.

“A pentagram.”

“You could shave one side of your head.”

“Or my eyebrows.”

“Get tattoos where your eyebrows used to be. Something classy like…hail Satan.”

“Or Daddy’s girl,” you sputter, unable to hold back the raucous laughter any longer.

Eddie joins you, practically cackling with how sudden it is. “I think that’s it. That’s the one.”

And then it hits you. Something still just as shocking as showing up with a tattoo, but much less permanent. It’s right in front of you, it has been the whole time. You sit up suddenly enough to get Steve and Robin’s attention and grin wildly down at Eddie.

It’s his turn to mumble out a soft, “what?” enraptured by your sudden intensity.

“I think I’ve got something better. Something that won’t cost me hundreds of dollars or my future chances at employment.”

“Go on,” he urges.

“You come home with me.”

From the other half of your room, Robin and Steve shout their confusion in unison, but Eddie just sits up to mirror you, mischief etched in his smile. “How bold of you, sweetheart. You know, I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.”

“No- shut up,” you laugh, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious. You just told us earlier your uncle has to work on Thanksgiving. Come back to my parents with me. You’ll get a home cooked meal, all the fixings, really, my mom goes crazy. I mean this with all the love in my heart but if I bring home a guy like you?” You giggle, “my dad’ll lose his shit.”

“You flatter me,” he chuckles. Then, smirking, “you askin’ me to be your fake boyfriend, sweetheart?”

“I– yeah.”

“Hell yeah,” he nods, “I’m in. When are we leaving?”

Robin throws a pillow at you, missing terribly but still getting your attention. “What the fuck just happened?”

—

As promised, as soon as your last class on Tuesday let out, you loaded up your car and headed to Hawkins to pick up your boyfriend-for-the-week. He’s waiting for you outside his trailer, leaning heavily against the stairway railing, ankles crossed, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t have much by way of luggage, just a tattered olive green backpack hanging off of one shoulder that he throws in the back seat alongside your prim camel colored leather duffel bag.

When he slides into the passenger seat he leans into your personal space, drawing out his greeting with a smug smile. “Hi, darling.”

“Hey,” you greet, palming his face and lightly shoving it away. “You ready?”

Eddie Munson practically pouts at you. “What, no hello kiss?”

“Can it, Munson,” you chide before shifting your car in gear. “You’re not on the clock yet. We still have a four hour drive before you’re officially the boyfriend.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “it’ll be a hell of a lot more believable if we have a little practice beforehand. I mean- we’re going to have to put on a show, right? A good actor doesn’t go in blind. They run lines. Rehearse. Don’t want you freezing up in shock when I plant one on you in front of dear ol’ Dad for the first time, do we?”

He’s leaning into you again, speaking with a kind of intensity only Eddie can, and it makes you shake your head.

“Okay, well, I’m kinda busy driving at the moment. I’ll get back to you at the next rest stop.”

The first stretch on the open road is spent concocting a story. How you met, how long you’ve been together, things that might come up in conversation. Something not far from the truth, so that you could keep your stories straight, but embellished a little where you needed to. He supplies the story for your first date, dinner at a diner and live music somewhere on campus. You raise him dinner at a dive bar and listening to cassettes in the back of his van. He calls you diabolical.

At your first stop, about an hour in for gas and snacks, he offers to drive until the next stop and you pass him the keys with a soft smile and a hurried kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s fleeting, over before it’s even started because it stuns him, and you skip away to the passenger side feeling way more smug than you have any right being.

“Who were we worried about freezing up, again?” You asked over the roof of the car, ducking at the last second when he throws a balled up napkin at you.

For this portion of the drive, you take the opportunity to get to know one another. Favorites and firsts, pet peeves and guilty pleasures. Some things you knew already after a year of friendship, the little things like favorite bands and movies, but you knew you needed more than that to be a believable couple. You learn that he loves the smell after it rains and that even though he hates raisins, he loves cinnamon raisin bagels because they remind him of his Uncle Wayne. He learns that your favorite color changes with your mood, about your irrational fear of revolving doors, and the exact number of blankets you absolutely need in order to fall asleep (though he had his suspicions, he’s seen you make your bed before).

Over your game of twenty questions, his hand wanders from the wheel to the gear shift, the movement subtle because he’s always talking with his hands, and eventually it lands hesitantly on your thigh. You pretend not to notice, but bite back a smile and catch yourself flushing in the reflection of the window nonetheless.

After another hour or so of driving you make him pull over for a bathroom break and offer to take the wheel again when you’re done. You make to take the keys from him, but he’s quick to hold them over his head, just out of reach.

“Hey!” You complain, now your turn to invade his personal space to try and steal the keys back. “It’s my car. Let me take over!”

You’re suddenly hyper aware of how close your faces are when a slow smirk spreads over his lips. “Now, baby, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I made you drive when I’m right here, fully capable?”

“Damn, Munson.” You snark, “we’ve been together all of two hours and you’re already trying to turn me into a passenger princess?”

“Maybe I am.” His free hand wraps around your waist, landing at the small of your back to pull you just a little bit closer, closing the gap between you. You let out a small yelp of surprise that Eddie quickly swallows, his lips landing on yours harder and more insistent than the last kiss you shared. Your shock wears off quickly, leaving you leaning into his embrace with a happy hum in the back of your throat. Just as he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, you’re made aware of your surroundings when a passerby clears their throat. When you pull away and catch a glimpse of his face, you’re certain you’re going to have to get used to that damn smirk. It seems to be his natural resting face since you asked him to do this, and god if it doesn’t suit him. “I kinda like that term,” he mumbles, emphasizing the new pet name as he ushers you around to the passenger seat, repeating it back into your ear with a hushed breath, “princess.”

You’ll have to get used to all the blushing too.

With a lead foot and a hand absent-mindedly tapping along to the radio on your thigh, Eddie manages to shave a half an hour off the rest of the drive, and before you know it and without another rest stop, you’re directing him off the highway and through the cozy streets of your small hometown. You managed to give him a run down on all of the relatives he could possibly meet this weekend. Who to watch out for and who to actually play nice with (really, it’s just your parents to look out for), names and how they’re related to you as if there would be a quiz at the end of Thanksgiving dinner. Hell, knowing how overprotective your parents are there very well could be.

It’s silent when he pulls into your parents driveway and cuts the engine, so quiet you fear he might hear your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Staring down the house, the walkway seems to stretch out longer than you remember. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Hey.” Squeezing at your knee where his hand is still resting, Eddie’s voice is sincere. When you turn to look at him, his eyes are soft, encouraging. He lets his head rest back against the seat with a thump and smiles. “I know I’m here to piss off your parents, but I’m still your friend, too. I’ll be right by your side all weekend, if it ever gets too much, just say the word and I’ve got you, okay?”

You’re not sure where this burst of sentiment came from, but you’re grateful for it. His words wrap around your heart and squeeze, and you blink back the tears they bring. Though you’ve had fun planning to torment your family, there was still a weight on your chest every time you thought about going home and Eddie, ever observant, could tell.

“Kay,” you say softly, mouthing an even quieter thank you. Then, leaning across the center console, you brighten up. “Run lines one more time before the big scene?”

It’s a bold request, a little selfish, partly because you want to stall a little longer but frankly, you just want to kiss him again in the safety and comfort of your car. Where it can be just that, a kiss. You want another moment all to yourself without the watchful eye of your family, and without the obligation of having to prove something.

He kisses you lazy this time, hands framing your face, lips dragging slowly against yours like he has all the time in the world. Like he’s stretching out this moment so you don’t have to face the next one. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach for him clumsily over the console, clutching onto the lapel of his leather jacket like he was going to float away if you didn’t.

You don’t want to admit it, but you could get used to kissing Eddie Munson, charade or not.

When you part ways and reluctantly make your way inside, Eddie insists on carrying both your bag and his own. You try to argue but he has none of it. You let yourself in the front door and call out a greeting.

Christmas music filters in from the back of the house alongside the smell of your mom’s famous baked spaghetti. “In the den!” Her voice calls out from the same direction as the music. Toeing off your shoes, you gesture for Eddie to follow you through the halls and into the den. It’s the picture of your childhood, exactly as you remember. Your dad is hidden behind the newspaper, houseshoes propped up on the coffee table. In her armchair facing away from the door, your mom is curled up with a book, reading glasses perched on the end of her slender nose. She feels your presence and greets you without looking up. “Hi honey! Give me just a second to finish this paragraph and I’ll get up, give you a big hug.”

Eddie’s presence is solid against you, warm, and his firm hand at the small of your back is a constant reminder that he’s there within reach. You try to speak up, to introduce him, but your throat goes dry, and soon enough your mother is tossing her book on the coffee table and standing to greet you.

“Sorry honey, I – oh, hello!” She’s shocked, clearly, but still keeps a polite, tight smile. “Who’s this?”

Prompted by her comment, your dad folds down one corner of the newspaper to glance up at you. His poker face isn’t as great. You can see the glare flash across his features before he folds the paper and stands. When he says hello to you, it's with a bright smile and a tight hug, but the second he addresses Eddie, his demeanor chills again.

“Guys this is Eddie,” you introduce, reaching behind you to take his hand. The words feel clumsy on your tongue, but you manage to play off the stutter as nerves. “My boy– my boyfriend.”

You could hear a pin drop.

In the silence that follows, you begin to rethink this entire plan. You suddenly feel so small, back in your childhood home and under the intense stare of your parents (though your dad’s eyes are definitely more trained on Eddie’s every move than your own). But you didn’t come all this way and drag your friend all this way to back down now, so you take their stunned silence as an opportunity to turn in Eddie’s hold and grin at him eagerly, mouthing the word showtime.

He takes his cue, cupping your cheek in a warm palm and dragging you toward him to close the little distance between you. It feels different this time, like he has something to prove. He’s insistent, leaning into you hungrily and nipping at your lips with a wicked chuckle under his breath as he retreats. He stands at full height again to finally address your parents.

“Thanks for having me, sir,” he quips, and he salutes, actually fucking salutes, much to your father’s outrage. Then he turns a charming smile on your mother, “ma’am.”

His kill-them-with-kindness attitude and sickeningly sweet fake politeness has you biting back a laugh, but nobody in this room is paying an ounce of attention to you.

Thank God.

The rage in your father’s voice is unmistakable, the heat of it pours from him in waves when he responds. “I would say it’s my pleasure but I don’t remember inviting you, son.” You’re afraid to look too closely, but you’re almost certain the vein on his forehead is fit to burst already and you’ve only just arrived.

“Honey,” your mother pipes up, putting a calming hand on her husband’s arm, though you can hear the strain in her voice as well. “When you called and said you were bringing a friend who had nowhere to go for the holiday I…well I thought it was going to be Robin.”

“Oh, no,” your lips press into a line, and without thinking, you reach out for Eddie’s hand for support, breath hitching at the bite of cold metal from the various rings he’s always sporting. “Her family is big on holidays. Never miss one. But…” Giving Eddie’s hand a tug to pull him closer to you, your other hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, giving it a gentle pat for good measure. You ham it up, laying your head on his shoulder with a dreamy smile as you continue. “Eddie’s only family is his Uncle Wayne, and he’s going to be workin’ a double on Thursday. I couldn’t just leave him behind with a frozen TV dinner for Thanksgiving of all days.”

Though strict, you know your mom isn’t made of stone. She can’t resist a sob story and she’s a sucker for any holiday, so despite the concern in her eyes and a husband fit to start screaming any moment, she smiles and nods.

“Of course, honey,” Her voice softens, though her guard is still up. She turns her pointed smile on Eddie and gestures to the door, “the guest room is already made up for you, and it would be a shame to spend the holiday alone, so we’re happy to have you, Eddie.”

The sound you make is somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Mom! That’s hardly necessary. I’m an adult, I’m perfectly capable of sharing a bed with my boyfriend.”

Eddie quirks an interested brow at you but you roll your eyes in dismissal.

It’s not that you want to share a room with Eddie. If you’re being honest, you haven’t really put much thought to the sleeping situation. It only makes sense that he would take the guest room…but you also know that if the goal is to get under your parents’ skin, this is the way to do it, so you give a petulant whine and a huff for good measure.

It’s your father who speaks up this time, pushing forward and deliberately between you and Eddie to break your embrace as he makes his way toward the stairs. “Absolutely not,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks, only stops near the door to pick up both of your bags and continue up the stairs. “You are nineteen, just barely. That may make you an adult on paper but you are still my child and a guest in this house so you’ll do as I say.” Passing your childhood bedroom, he drops your duffel at the door with a scowl and moves two doors down to the guest room where he throws Eddie’s knapsack even harder onto the bed. “And we don’t know this punk from Adam. You’re lucky we’re letting him stay at all, so be grateful for what you have, which is only two doors separating you.”

Ever the peacemaker, your mom steps in and clears her throat. “What your father means is that we would just both be more…comfortable if – for this trip – Eddie stayed in here. Right, Dear?”

Your father sighs, “yes, yes, that’s exactly it.”

“Anyway,” she tries to move past it, like she always has, sweeping his anger under the rug and trying to move on before there can be any more unpleasantries. It’s one of the things you hated most about being home, the fact that she so clearly agreed with most of his conservative and overprotective views but tried so hard to make it seem like she was on your side. She moves in to give you another tight hug. “We’re so happy you’re here, honey. Dinner will be ready soon, why don’t you two get settled in and then meet us in the dining room?”

You thank her softly and a little insincerely, and the pair of them retreat back down the stairs, allowing you to let out the breath you’ve been holding.

“Jesus Christ, I get what you mean.” Eddie Mumbles, and you only groan in agreement, falling gracelessly onto the edge of the bed with your head in your hands. The bed dips as he joins you, and soon enough you’re both laughing softly at the absurdity of the situation. “Hey,” he nudges your shoulder with his own, “you’re killing it.”

“Hardly,” you snort, “I feel like I’m a kid again. It just…this all sounded fun in theory but I forgot how small they make me feel.”

“All the more reason to keep on keepin’ on. C’mon, I want to see how many more times we can make that vein in his forehead pop.” A reassuring arm wraps around your shoulder and shakes you lightly until you let out a soft laugh. “There she is! Nice touch demanding that I stay in your room, by the way. Really! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually wanted me to.”

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle, standing up and stretching out your tired limbs. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

The rest of the night goes rather uneventfully. It’s tense, for sure, but the initial shock has worn off and by the way your parents are acting, you’re certain they managed to sneak in a drink each while you were upstairs. The conversation over dinner is mostly focused on you, how your semester is going and how much you like your job. You ask them about their careers, about family members you haven’t seen in a while. Eventually your mother’s need to be seen as polite prompts her to include Eddie in her questioning, but she keeps it mild for now, asking how he liked the drive to your hometown and if the food was to his taste.

After dinner your mom offers coffee and a movie, but the long drive and your early alarm for school this morning are an easy enough excuse to retire early and get a good long night’s sleep before the rest of your family arrives tomorrow.

When you part ways in the hall at the top of the stairs, he stops you with a hand on your wrist and a mischievous grin.

“What?” You laugh, looking down the stairs, “You want a goodnight kiss now, too? They’re not watching.”

“Here,” he replies, reaching for the back collar of his tattered Black Sabbath t-shirt and pulling it over his head effortlessly. He hands the shirt over to you and gives it a little shake, “wear it down to breakfast in the morning, yeah? It’ll drive them crazy.”

You thank him as you take the shirt from his hand and smile, trying your best not to let your eyes linger on his exposed skin, pale and littered with tattoos, some you’re just now seeing for the first time. With a blush and a shake of your head, you bid him goodnight and retreat to your bedroom.

—

The morning of Thanksgiving brings another early wake up call, but it’s hardly a surprise. Holidays have always been this way, up at the crack of dawn and helping in the kitchen all day since you were old enough to snap green beans. It’s not all bad, some of your best memories are with your mother and aunt in the kitchen. Cooking together almost made you forget how unbearable it was to be home.

It goes as it always does, the two of you still in your pajamas, getting the more annoying and time consuming prep out of the way before anyone else wakes up. When your dad joins you in the kitchen, already fully dressed and sporting a tired scowl, you make the coffee while your mom pauses to throw the breakfast casserole she’d prepared the night before into the oven. You’re like a well oiled machine, and you work together so well that she almost doesn’t notice your choice in sleepwear.

Almost.

“Honey, why don’t you go upstairs and change into something a little more appropriate?” She suggests coolly. “I can hold down the fort until Aunt Ellen gets here.”

“Aw,” you pout softly, pouring your own cup of coffee. You know why she’s urging you to change, and it makes you want to push the issue even further. “But we always stay in our pajamas until Grandma’s on her way! Even Aunt Ellen brings her comfies to cook in and a change of clothes for dinner.”

“You and I both know that is hardly your typical sleepwear, dear.” Your father grunts from behind the morning paper.

Although she bristles at his blunt choice of words, your mom looks at you with concern, clearly agreeing with him.

You only huff, watching the creamer swirl as you pour it into the darkness of the mug. You’re about to respond when a pair of warm hands wrap around your waist from behind, making you jump.

“I think you look killer,” Eddie chuckles at your surprise, his head nestling into the crook of your neck to press a kiss just behind your ear. “Y’wear that thing better than I do, Sweetheart.”

Head bowed, you roll your eyes at his theatrics but hug his arms closer around your stomach, turning in place to wrinkle your nose at him, a hint of jest in your tone when you greet him. “Good morning, baby.”

His eyes flick past your shoulder to your parents to be confident they’re looking (of course they are), then with another dark laugh drops his head to greet you with a feverish kiss. It’s too much for a simple good morning, utterly indecent the way his tongue slips past your lips without permission, and his hands drop to your hips to turn you further into his embrace, until one of your parents – you couldn’t care less which one – clears their throat and startles you apart.

Your face is hot when Eddie smiles brightly, hitting you with a wink and a cheerful, “mornin’.” He mumbles a soft, “gonna go for a smoke, be right back,” into your ear, and then louder, calling over his shoulder as he walks toward the front door, cigarette dangling from his lips, “smells delicious already, ladies, I can’t wait!”

You’re feeling quite smug at their stunned silence, until the door slams behind him and takes the breath from your lungs with it. You grip the mug so tightly your knuckles turn white, and the quiet from behind you turns deafening.

It’s your mom that breaks it first, talking in a hushed tone that she must think you can’t hear, despite only being a few feet away.

“He smokes?”

“Are you surprised?” Your dad quips, “look at the kid. I’m surprised you can’t smell it on him.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be cruel. I’m just as unhappy about this as you are but there’s no reason to be rude.”

That’s when you jump in, the scoff on your lips is almost as natural as your breath. “You guys know I’m right here, right? You are being rude, both of you.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.” Her voice is more patronizing than remorseful. “But truly, what is it that you see in that boy? He seems nice enough I suppose, but he’s not what I would have hoped for you at all…and he’s so crude.”

That’s exactly what I see in him, you think, the ability to get under your skin.

“And what would you have hoped for me? Hm?” You press, arms crossed over your chest and hip cocked against the counter. “Some ivy league robot who only cares about your approval? Who I have nothing in common with? Why does it matter?”

“Oh, well, I–”

The phone on the wall wails, cutting her off, and a glance at the clock tells you that it must be your aunt calling to say she’s on her way.

“Saved by the bell,” you mumble as she goes to answer the phone, then spit, “I’ll go change so I don’t embarrass you.”

Back in your room, you decide there’s no point in changing twice, so you pull out the outfit you’d packed for dinner. It’s rather mundane, just a corduroy skirt and an oversized sweater, something you’d normally wear to a family gathering, but the skirt is quite a bit shorter than you’re used to wearing, and instead of the modest tights you would usually pair with this kind of outfit, you opted for some plush over the knee knit socks.

You take your time getting ready, feeling slightly guilty for leaving Eddie to his own devices downstairs, but he’s a big boy, he can handle himself. You need a few extra moments to cool down and collect yourself before more family shows up.

There’s a soft rap at your door as you’re finishing up your makeup with a thin layer of lip gloss and you sigh.

“I’ll be down to help in a minute!”

Except it isn’t your mom on the other side as you’d expected. Eddie’s voice is gentle when he calls, “It’s me.”

You let him in with a soft, apologetic smile. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he smiles, looking appreciatively up and down your form. “I take back what I said earlier. This look is killer, you look great.”

You brighten, flushing at his praise and taking in his own change of outfit. Nothing fancy by any means, just like you suggested when he asked about dinner attire. The same torn black jeans he wears often, a threadbare and bleach stained Metallica baseball tee, and his signature battle vest overtop. Hair clearly adp purposefully untamed, he’s decked out in his usual accessories. Thick, heavy rings on his fingers and a black bandana stuffed in his pocket, he’s even gone the extra mile and smudged a little eyeliner on his water line. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t pull it off.

“Thanks,” you breathe, playing with the cuffs of your sweater absent-mindedly. “You look…disheveled.”

He laughs at your choice of words, but takes it in stride, doing a quick spin and taking a dramatic bow as you laugh along with him. “Thank you, thank you, I’m only following your expert direction.”

The neck of your sweater scoops low when you sit on your vanity stool to zip up your boots, slipping off of one shoulder delicately, and Eddie’s gaze burns as it follows the movement. He doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s staring as he perches himself on the edge of your bed, his lopsided smile only growing when you giggle out a soft, “what?”

“I have an idea,” he beckons you toward him with a jut of his chin, “come here.” Though you furrow your brow in confusion, you cross the room to stand in front of him. Instantly, his hands reach out to take yours and hold your arms out wide so that he can take another good look at you. You pretend not to notice that his gaze lingers at the bare skin of your thighs on display, then pauses again at your exposed shoulder. He tugs on your hands until you’re even closer, standing between his legs with a curious look in your eye. Hands dropping to your hips, he noses at your neck, breath tickling your delicate skin as he continues, “you know what might make this outfit even better?”

“Better?” You question, reaching to tangle your hands in his hair, knowing exactly what he had in mind. “Or just more scandalous?”

Eddie’s lips ghost against your skin as he says, “darling, who said it can’t be both?”

It's cruel, you think, as latches onto the soft skin just over your pulse, nipping lightly and then soothing the sting immediately with his tongue. Cruel that this is all an act, that your friend Eddie Munson wouldn’t be adorning you with love bites if it weren’t for this stupid plan to piss off your parents. Cruel that you can’t separate fact from fiction as he sucks a deep bruise into the flesh just above your collarbone and your grip on his hair tightens, an involuntary whimper caught in your throat.

He pulls back to admire his work, pursing his plush lips with an appreciative hum. One hand leaves your hip to rest on your neck, thumb pressing into one of the fresh bruises there, pride shining on his face when the action makes you shudder.

There’s no way he doesn’t notice how red you’ve gone but he doesn’t mention it, only smiles brightly and ushers you toward the door with an encouraging, “break a leg down there, kid.”

Only then do you realize the commotion downstairs. The boisterous voice of your Aunt Ellen as she helps your mom in the kitchen, the sound of thundering footsteps as her kids play tag in the halls they definitely shouldn’t be running in.

Eddie keeps a tight hold on your hand behind you as he follows you down the stairs, but you’re squeezing his right back, suddenly even more nervous now that some of your extended family has arrived.

Your heart pounds through greetings, through quick hugs and happy hellos and nervous introductions. It hammers in your chest even harder when Eddie’s hand slips down to rest on your ass as he politely chit-chats with your uncle. This is the plan. This is what you wanted. So why are you so nervous? It doesn’t calm down until some time later, when your cousins convince Eddie to join them outside for a makeshift game of hockey in the iced over driveway. Your dad and uncle sit in the dining room chatting over scotch, while the rest of you return to cooking.

“So Eddie seems nice,” Aunt Ellen says with a smile while you peel potatoes with her at the kitchen island. There’s no sarcasm in her tone, no ulterior motives. It seems as though she means what she says, and it's a comforting contrast to the harsh words and sideways glances you’ve been getting from your parents. “You two kids meet at school?”

Outside the window, the hockey game has dissolved into a snowball fight, your younger cousins ganging up on a solo Eddie. You realize you’re staring, zoned out as he easily picks up the youngest to use him as a human shield, unable to stop yourself from smiling as your cousin giggles and brings Eddie down with a smashed snowball right to the face. You can practically hear his dramatics through the window as he mimes a wounded heart and dramatic battlefield death.

“Kinda,” you hum, shaking yourself from your daydream and smiling back at her softly. “He went to highschool with my roommate, Robin. Their hometown is a lot closer to school than here, so I got to know a lot of her friends pretty early on.”

You try not to elaborate too much, but your blush betrays you.

“You had it bad, huh?” She teases.

“I…might have developed a big dumb crush pretty quickly.” Not entirely a lie.

“Well it must have worked out well for you, huh? Seeing as he’s here and all.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “Mom and Dad aren’t too thrilled about it.”

She shrugs, wrinkling her nose at you and leaning in to whisper, “to be honest, this could be good for them. They need to loosen up a little, maybe this’ll push ‘em in the right direction.”

You snort, “you’re telling me.”

“You could make it a little easier on them though,” she chuckles, gesturing to her own neck not-so-subtly, “maybe show them his good side before you try to intentionally rile them up.”

Rolling your eyes, you throw a potato peel at her and shake your head. You had the feeling going into this that if anyone was going to find you out, it would be your aunt. Though much to your relief, she seems to still believe you’re actually together, so maybe you can keep the act going through the rest of the weekend.

She gets pulled away when her cell phone rings, most likely your Grandma calling to ask your parents address despite the fact that they’ve been hosting thanksgiving here since you were born, and in the blink of an eye her seat is taken by your mom. Her arms are folded on the table in front of her, ignoring the pile of potatoes that still need to be done and eyeballing your own paring knife pointedly until you slow to a hesitant, confused stop.

“Honestly, young woman, I don’t know what’s gotten into you.” She scolds, voice hushed but harsh as ever.

With a roll of your eyes, you answer, “if I didn’t think you’d kill me I would say you know exactly what’s gotten into me.”

“Enough!” She looks over her shoulder to ensure that her outburst wasn’t heard and that your aunt is still occupied. God forbid anyone realize she’s experiencing any emotion that’s less than pleasant. “I don’t care how much you care for that boy or how you act at school but right now you are back under our roof and you’ll carry yourself with grace.”

“But-”

“No buts.” She hushes to a whisper as your aunt approaches again, “now go put on some makeup or a turtleneck before Grandma gets here or your father notices, because I assure you he would not be nearly as kind as I.”

“Yeah,” your chair makes an awful screeching sound as it scrapes against the floor as you stand. “Because you’ve been so peachy keen.”

—

Halfway through Thanksgiving dinner, things are going swimmingly. Eddie seems to get on great with the rest of your family, which somehow only seems to upset your parents even more. He talks music with your uncle when he comments on his tee shirt, and compliments you and your mom on the cooking no less than five times, thanking her profusely for the meal, and chats excitedly with your cousins about DnD when they ask about the tattoo of a D20 on his forearm. They’re all eating up his attention, but your parents only sit in silence, observing.

It isn’t until your grandma asks him about school that you finally get a reaction out of them. She had unknowingly uncovered the ace up your sleeve without either you or Eddie having to bring it up and you’re downright thrilled to see where this goes.

You’ll have to thank her later.

“Oh, uh, no ma’am.” Eddie chuckles. Confidence puffs his chest as he grins knowingly, stealing a peek at your mirrored expression from the corner of his eye. “Wouldn’t you believe it, I’m shit at school?” He pauses for everyone to balk at his bold wording. “Who would’a known, right? I’m the picture of a 4.0. Anyway, to answer your question, I just graduated in June, so I’m taking some time to focus on my band.”

His age had already come up in conversation, so it was only right for your uncle to assume, “oh, well, well school isn’t for everyone. What’s important is that you made it through. What was your degree in?”

You clear your throat uncomfortably, ducking your head to hide the smile threatening to break out.

“High school, actually,” Eddie snickers, “took me three senior years, but I did it!”

Silence takes over the room once again, even shocking your extended family. You could hear a pin drop, and you do hear your dad choke on his turkey.

Acting oblivious to their shock, you prompt, “tell them about your band, baby.” Giddy smile plastered on your face, you reach out for his hand and address your family again, “they just booked a consistent gig! How exciting is that?”

“I’d hardly call Tuesday nights at the Hideout exciting, but you gotta start somewhere, right? Plus,” he drops your hand in lieu of resting his on your thigh, his grip warm and familiar. Turning another wily smirk on you he adds, “we’ve got at least one fan who won’t miss a Corroded Coffin show. That’s what counts, right?”

Leaning across the table to pester you more quietly, your mother hisses, “I thought you had study group on Tuesdays.”

“I do!” You defend, “we just…meet at the Hideout.”

In reality you’ve only been to one of Eddie’s shows, the first one at the Hideout that they played as a tryout, and you had a damn good time. But you do have a study group that meets on Tuesdays, regrettably not at the Hideout but in the common area of your dorm building and even more unfortunately, right when Corroded Coffin is about to go on.

You can’t stop yourself from smiling at their shock. Every little thing he or you say to surprise them makes it a little more amusing.

Last night their anger felt overbearing, casting a shadow over you, made you feel small. But the more you catch them off guard, the less they say, and the more you want to laugh at the surprise and disgust in their eyes.

Dessert brings pumpkin pie, coffee cake, another round of drinks, and more inquiry from your aunt. She even managed to slip Eddie one of her husband’s beers, much to the disapproving glare of your father.

“Eddie,” she hums, grinning at him over the rim of her wine glass. “Were your ears ringing earlier? We were gossiping about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, a sly smirk and a raised brow pointed your way. He leans back in his chair, right hand reaching out to rest once more on your thigh under the table. He tilts his head even further toward you, “all bad things, I hope?”

“Aunt Ellen was asking how we met,” you smile sweetly, licking away the remnants of cool whip on your dessert fork.

His eyes darken as they follow the motion and his hand creeps higher, pinky finger stroking at the hem of your skirt absent-mindedly as he speaks. You fight to keep your breath from getting caught in your throat at the cold bite of his rings against your flushed skin. “Oh I see,” he hums, then, his attention snapping back across the table, cutting through the tension you both just created, “did she tell you how she tried to hairspray me to death?”

“She didn’t,” your grandma exclaims, “please do tell!”

“So I’m planning on meeting my good friend Robin for a nice meal, right? Sounds like a nice evening! Except…”

You try to stay engaged in the conversation, to tell your side of the story, you really do– but the weight of his hand high up on your thigh is distracting. It’s hard to focus on much else, especially when he kneads gently in time with his elaborate storytelling, his thumb caressing the rolled hem of your thigh-high socks and stroking the skin just above it.

Why, you can’t help but think. You’re the only ones seated on this side of the table, and sheltered from view by the tablecloth. There should be no reason for him to be touching you like this when there’s nobody to see it happening. You wonder if he knows there’s no point, but then his hand creeps even higher and his fingertips slip under the edge of your skirt and into the crease where your thighs press together. This time you can’t stop the stutter in your breath and he notices, smiling at you wickedly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He knows it’s affecting you, and even worse he’s trying to get a reaction out of you.

But he just keeps on talking, stealing the show.

The story of how you met melts easily into the previously fabricated story of your first date, and so on. The stories just keep flowing. That’s the thing about Eddie, he could be reading you the instruction manual for a toaster, but the way that he tells stories is captivating. The way he speaks of your first date, and then of your first anniversary (something you hadn’t discussed on the drive, but damn it if he wasn’t quick on the draw with it) has your family on the edge of their seats. Your aunt listens with glee, but your parents are horrified at the thought of him taking you to a dive bar for dinner or staying overnight in your dorm. Whether they like it or not, he knows how to command a room.

When things start winding down, after goodbyes are said to your Grandma, you’re rescued from having to do the dishes when your cousins talk you into a game of Monopoly. Eddie picks your favorite piece, but relents quickly when you send him a pout and opts for the thimble instead.

“So what are you, a $100 on Free Parking family, all taxes on Free Parking family, or a boring family?” Eddie asks, digging out the loose bills in disarray at the bottom of the box.

“Better,” you hum, “you boys know where the stash is, d’you mind?”

Your cousins laugh, the eldest pulling a bag of halloween candy out from under the coffee table you sit around. “Already on it, cuz.”

Watching as he dumps a few pieces into the middle of the board, you grin. “Perfect.”

—

After a rousing game (where Eddie absolutely made fun of your candy pot right up until he landed on Free Parking and won it), your extended family starts to pack up to make the hour’s drive home. You say your goodbyes, Aunt Ellen whispering a reminder to go easy on your parents into your ear when she hugs you tightly. Eddie high fives your cousins as they pass, and shoots them a devil horn gesture as they make their way to the car. You swear you hear your dad mumble under his breath about him corrupting them, but bite your tongue.

You barely made it back to the den to start cleaning up the board game when the knock comes at the door – their car won’t start. It’s cold and it’s dark and without hesitation your mom offers them shelter for the night.

“The boys will have to sleep on the pull out in the den,” she muses quietly, thinking out loud. “It’s not much but they’ll be comfy there. Ellen, you guys can take the guest room.” You crack a smile as she keeps talking, mentions that your dad and uncle can take a look at the car when they’ve had a good night’s sleep and the sun is up, and Eddie catches your eye with a mirroring grin.

“I’d be happy to look,” he offers, drawing both your parents’ attention. They’d forgotten about him in their plan. “I’m no professional, but my uncle and I have lifted parts from enough junkers to know my way around an engine.”

Your mom looks between you and the boy next to you, brow drawn together in concern. “Oh, I’m not sure that’s the best–”

Cutting her off, you rest your hand on Eddie’s elbow and smile saccharine, “that’s so kind of you, Eds, thank you.”

He knocks your hand from his arm in favor of wrapping it around your shoulders, curling your body into his side and kissing your temple with a loud smack! His grin is downright smug when he says, “looks like I’ll be bunking with you after all, huh, Princess?”

“Lucky me,” you mumble, turning away quickly to hide the rapidly forming flush in your cheeks. “Um, hey, can you help my dad with the pullout? It sticks. I’ll go change the sheets in the guest room.”

“You got it, baby,” he smiles good-naturedly. “Where can I help, Dad?”

As you walk away, you can hear the exasperation in your father’s voice as he informs the boy that it would be in his best interest to call him Mr. or Sir, and you can’t help but giggle at the stuttering response Eddie gives.

You’ve tossed Eddie’s bags into your own room and stripped the sheets from the guest bed by the time your mom meets you in the guest room with fresh sheets. You quietly make the bed together until she speaks up.

“I’m sure you find yourself so lucky to have gotten what you want,” she muses, tucking in the top sheet on her side of the bed a little more harshly than necessary. “But under no circumstances does this mean you can take advantage of my kindness. I was not about to let our family go without a place to stay for the night so you may have found yourself sharing a room but I expect no funny business.” So casual in her cruelty, she emphasizes where she needs to but otherwise her voice is calm.

“Right,” you snort, “because the mood is so perfect with my parents down the hall and aunt and uncle in the next room.”

“I’m only saying, that boy is changing you. You’re acting so differently since you brought him ‘round and I-”

You cut her off, throwing the pillow you just put a new sham on back onto the bed violently. “I care about that boy,” throwing air quotes when you repeat her words, “and if I’ve changed, it’s only because he showed me what it’s like to be cared for in return!” The words flow from you freely, without much thought. You’re reacting with what you know will hurt right back, but you’re also speaking from the heart. Even just being friends with not only Eddie, but Robin and Steve as well, has built your confidence and taught you plenty about love and support, even if it was just platonic.

Her voice drips with condescension when she replies, “Honey. Do you truly think a boy like that has good intentions with a girl like you? He drinks, he smokes, he’s skipping college and doesn’t have a job because he’s in a rock band for Pete’s sake. I’m just worried about you. Guys like that only want one thing.”

With your back to the door you don’t notice Eddie approaching, and he hovers just outside the door and out of your mom’s view. He doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but he could hear your shouting match from downstairs, and he wanted to be close by if you needed a comforting word or pep talk.

“What’s that, Mom?” You argue, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Sex? Who’s to say we haven’t gone there already? And what could you do to stop us from fucking all night tonight? We’re both adults. We could go at it for hours, under your roof, right down the hall from you and technically all you can do about it is kick us out. Oh well!! We’ve got a car and a couple hundred bucks between the two of us, we could swing a motel for the night. The point is, it could happen anywhere, so wouldn’t you rather know that I’m safe at home and not sharing a wall with drug addicts and prostitutes down at the Motel 6?”

She’s silent for a long moment, both of you unmoving and staring angrily at each other.

“...You’re not actually going to have–”

“OF COURSE I’M NOT, Mother,” you groan, “and do you think I would tell you if I was!? God, I knew bringing him here was a mistake. Don’t worry, we’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning. I’m not going to bother staying the rest of the weekend in a house that makes me and my boyfriend feel unwelcome.”

Suddenly very reminiscent of your high school days, you stomp away with an exasperated groan, brushing past Eddie in a fury and you couldn’t even begin to care in the moment to ask how much he’d overheard. You were hot in more than one sense of the word, livid at your mother’s attack, blood boiling at the fact that even she – who has always been more lenient and quick to defend against your father – could think so lowly of Eddie without even giving him a chance. You know that’s the point. You know you brought him here specifically to get a rise out of them, but God, this was so much worse than the stunned silence and speechless stuttering you were expecting.

With every step closer to your room, the need to get out of this damn outfit gets stronger. Despite your aggravation, every brush of your skirt against your thighs brings your mind back to dinner and Eddie’s curious touch, the gentle squeeze as his fingertips brushed at the crease of your crossed legs, the casual nonchalance as he kept talking even though he knew exactly what he was doing.

It's annoying, really, how easily he infiltrates your thoughts and without even trying distracts you from your rage. Only, now he’s all you can think of as you slam the bedroom door and rifle through your suitcase. By the time you start the shower, you’ve moved past wondering why he was touching you like that when it didn’t benefit the plan, and when you strip down and step under the steaming spray you’re more than curious how far he’s willing to take this. You have to admit after shouting about how much sex you were going to have with him tonight, you’re starting to wonder how much of a possibility it could be.

Would he actually touch you? Let you touch him? He was eager to paint your skin with possessive marks earlier. Was he just that committed to the bit, or did he really just want to?

Would it be so bad if he did?

As much as you want to draw this shower out, slow, careful caresses of your skin as you touch yourself the way you imagine a certain guitarist might, you decide it’s not the best idea with a houseful of family. Soon enough you’re toweling off and feeling less angry than before, though no less frustrated.

When you make it back to your room, there’s an open copy of Advanced Dungeons and Dragons and a weathered journal laid out on your bed, suggesting that Eddie had been hiding out there, however he’s nowhere to be found. You manage to get your hair most of the way dried by the time he comes back in, the faint scent of smoke and fresh snow billowing behind in his wake. The stick of a lollipop he won in your game of Monopoly earlier juts out from between his lips.

Smiling softly in greeting, you expect him to beeline back to his notes, but to your surprise he turns your way and leans one hand on your vanity. The other comes to rest under your chin, urging you to look up at him. He smiles back, bigger, encouraging. His lips are tinted pink from the candy and he even nods a little when your own smile grows, as if he could tell that your first wasn’t that genuine.

“Y’okay?” He murmurs, thumb stroking absently at the sharp of your jawline. “It’s been fun messing with them, but that screaming match must’ve been a lot.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “I’ll get over it, but are you okay? You were the one she was insulting.”

He waves off your comment casually, a wrinkle in his nose and the hint of a laugh in his voice. “I’ve been called worse, and in her defense, we are trying to make me look bad.”

“I guess, but I still didn’t like hearing her speak about you like that,” you chuckle and stand, scooting the stool back in order to wrap him in a hug. After a brief pause, you mumble into his neck, “... and thank you. For checking in.”

Eddie’s hands squeeze where he holds your hips fondly, and he pulls away from your embrace just enough to get a good look at your face. His eyes shine beneath his furrowed brow, impossibly deep brown in the low light of your room, they search your face for any hint of distress, and when he’s confident you’re telling the truth, only then does his gaze land on your lips. You swallow thickly, blink slowly, try to convince yourself you’re making this up. He pulls the lollipop from his mouth, slurping obscenely as he does. There’s nobody around! He has nothing to prove! So then why is he leaning in? Why do you let him, and lean up onto your toes to close the gap?

Quiet takes over the room as Eddie’s eyes fall shut, followed quickly by your own. You gasp gently, but lean into his kiss eagerly, the hand around his shoulder reaching up to tangle in the mess of curls at the base of his neck. His lips meld with yours, working you over in a deep and tender kiss that makes your stomach flip. It’s soft. Familiar in a way you wouldn’t expect.

It might be your favorite one yet.

He tastes distinctly of cherry and leftover tobacco, lips sticky with sugar and oh, so delicious.

When he breaks the kiss he doesn’t go far, lips traveling to press sweetly at your temple for a fleeting moment.

“What was that for?” You ask, breathless. “There’s nobody else around?”

Eddie hums, “maybe I just felt like it.” Taking in your choice of pajamas, he grins even wider, “kinda like you just felt like wearing my Sabbath shirt again, I’m sure. Did you mean what you said back there?”

Stalling, you pluck the candy from between his fingers and take a moment to savor it. Sure, it’s a little bit of a tease, the way your tongue darts out to lick it salaciously before taking the whole thing in your mouth with a soft hum, but it’s payback for both times he’d gotten you worked up earlier today. By the look on his face, payback is a bitch.

“How much did you overhear?”

“Oh, you know…” his hand trails up the length of your forearm, enveloping your own, only to take the sucker back from you and toss it into the bin, forgotten already. “Just the part about us going at it for hours.” Hands on either side of your face, he crouches until he’s fully in your space, lips just a hair away from your own. “How it was going to happen no matter what.” You feel his smirk more than you actually see it, and your breath gets caught in your throat. His hair curtains around you, tickling at your neck and shoulders.This can’t actually be happening – right? His thumb drags lightly at your bottom lip, “that we were gonna fuck all night?”

“I– I didn’t know you were there.” You stutter out, afraid to admit anything more than that.

“...Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

You don’t. Instead, you find yourself falling forward, colliding once more in a clumsy kiss. You stand slowly so that he doesn’t have to crouch, never once letting your lips leave his. It’s an intoxicating contrast to the last kiss, all bruising pressure and teeth and tongue and desperation. He licks into your mouth without asking permission, though you would have given it freely anyway, and his hands creep downward on your body, caressing your waist and falling to rest on the swell of your hips, squeezing gently. When you surge up onto your tiptoes to kiss him deeper, he notices the wobble in your legs and shifts, hooking his hands on the backs of your thighs and lifting you to rest on the edge of your vanity. You gasp in surprise at his boldness, at the strength you didn’t know he possessed, and break the kiss in the process.

“You know, I was hoping you weren’t all talk,” he beams with pride, taking in the sight of your bite swollen lips and chest heaving with ragged breath. Placing a hand on either side of your hips, his head drops to mouth hungrily at your neck, giving the same attention to the opposite side he had earlier, pulling at the neck of your stolen tee-shirt to suck another bruise into your collarbone. In between passes of his tongue and nips at your sensitive skin, he keeps talking. Eddie Munson does not know when to shut up, not even now. “Been wanting to get my hands on you since we met,” he mumbles into the hollow of your throat, you can feel another smile pressed to the skin there, “somethin’ about being threatened by a sweet little thing like you…” working his way back up to find your lips, he basks in the small noises coming from the back of your throat. “...really does it for a guy.”

“Oh yeah?” You tease, hooking a finger in the collar of his shirt and tugging, but before you can continue the thought, the vanity beneath you gives an awful creaking sound under your combined weight. Giggling, near mortified, you bite your lip and shift your eyes toward the bed, “you wanna…?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he jokes in return, helping you down from your perch and crossing the room. He shuffles up toward the headboard, pulling an old teddy bear from under him when he leans up against it and raises his brow at you.

Taking the stuffie from his hands to throw it across the room with a soft glare, you settle into his lap comfortably, one knee on either side of his hips. His hands land on your own hips and pull you closer to him roughly with a soft, amused huff. He kisses you like it's his last chance, hands firm on your hips holding you in place where you can feel his cock, half hard with interest pressing against you.

You kiss him for what seems like hours. For all you’re concerned it could have been. Eddie consumes you, the scent of smoke and leather engulfing you and invading your senses. It’s a scent so perfectly Eddie, with a little sweetness and a little bit of something dark, just like how he kisses. Sweet pecks and soft caresses of his lips against your jawline immediately followed by lewd, wet passes of his tongue and sharp, stinging bites. He kisses hard and messy, unabashed, fingers squeezing at the meat of your ass and pulling your hips harder into his.

This time when he kisses down your neck, he doesn’t stop at your neckline. He pulls at the shirt collar, carelessly stretching it past the point of no return in favor of uncovering more and more of your unexplored skin. Cold fingers prod at the skin of your lower back, making you squeal and grind harder against him, heat pooling in your center.

Your position is making you hyper aware of just how wet you are, your panties sticking to your lower lips with it as you rut against his clothed length. Your hand stays firm on the back of his neck, nervous and unsure how far to take this, but Eddie clearly knows what he wants, his own hands exploring. Not an inch of your body goes unnoticed as he caresses you, light fleeting touches here and there followed by rough, possessive hands, kneading at your curves hungrily. He’s taking his time learning what makes you tick. Thumbs brush featherlight over pebbled nipples through the worn material of your shirt, drawing another breathy moan from your lips. Though he grins in satisfaction, looking up at you with a mix of admiration and provocation.

“Careful,” he murmurs, gaze falling on your chest as he seeks out the hardened buds again and pinching, cocky smile only growing at the responding whine you let out. “Don’t want anyone to hear you, pretty thing. Or did you forget where we were?”

Not one to go without a fight, you grip his jaw and turn his face back up toward yours, “shut up and put your mouth to good use, baby.”

He smirks at the pet name, capturing your lips once more and turning you both until you’re laying back against the mattress. Eddie hovers over you, staring, eyes raking over you briefly before he makes his way down your body, stopping at the waist of your sleep pants with a happy hum. He traces the elastic teasingly before hooking in and pulling them down, tossing them out of the way carelessly. You press your thighs together when he does, and he tuts disapprovingly, thumb caressing the crease between your thigh and hip.

“Aw, sweetheart, you’re not gettin’ shy on me now, are you?” He teases, gently coaxing your legs back open, chilled air hitting the damp cotton and making you shudder. Lowering himself so that he’s eye level with your clothed cunt, he smirks, “that’s what I thought.”

You expect him to rid you of that layer as well, but he doesn’t, not yet. Instead, he noses at the growing wet spot, inhaling deeply and giving a dramatic, gleeful sigh. He’s not so cruel to keep teasing you though, quickly mouthing at your pussy through the thin material of your panties. The added friction is unbearable, pleasure settling low in your belly as he licks broadly at the wet spot with a low groan, pointed tongue finding your clit surprisingly quickly. Pulling back briefly, he admires the way that the material clings to you, now wet with your slick and his saliva, the soaked cotton hides nothing. He murmurs something about “isn’t this a pretty picture?” and reaches out to touch you, fingers stroking over your clothed cunt in a rough drag, but the way your blood is rushing in your ears you barely hear him.

When he finally peels the ruined panties off of you, you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at him between your legs. His hair’s a mess, disheveled by your hands running through it, bangs pushed back from his forehead from his efforts. His lips are kiss swollen and red from the cherry candy, pulled back tight over an eager grin. He licks his lips, eyes glittering as he stares down at you, utterly enraptured. He looks at you as though you were his last meal, like you were the most delectable treat, and it makes your stomach flip.

He dives back in, tongue gliding between your lips easily and circling your clit once, teasingly, before retreating back down to your entrance. With a huff and a repressed squeal, you drop back onto the bed, hand flying to tangle in his hair as he tongues at your hole eagerly. Nose bumping your clit with his efforts, he laps at your juices until you’re whining for it, a weak little “please,” falling from your lips. Any other day he would tease you. A quipped please what, what do you need? But he senses your desperation and relents.

“So wet, sweet thing,” he chides, reaching out to drag two fingers through your dripping folds and pushing them into you without warning, forcing the air from your lungs. You bite your lip in an effort to keep quiet, only letting out the softest whimper when his thumb joins in, rubbing at your clit lazily. “Tell me, are you always this eager?”

“When some asshole’s been teasing me since dinner, yeah,” you quip, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide your embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m an asshole?” Eddie asks, scissoring his fingers and leaning down to lap at your nub, suckling lightly until your thighs tremble and your pussy clenches down on his fingers. “Do you even know what you were doing to me at dinner?” His pace quickens, fingers drawing obscene, wet sounds from your cunt as he pumps them faster. Resting his head on your thigh to watch as his fingers disappear in and out of your dripping entrance, he continues, “The way you were lickin’ that fork clean after dessert should be illegal. Had me wonderin’ what else you could do with that tongue, I just had to level the playing field.”

He strokes at that spot deep inside you right as his lips wrap around your clit once more and you swallow a groan.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whimper, hips moving on their own accord, canting down to meet his eager ministrations. “Right there.”

He almost sounds pitiful as he coos, “I know, baby, I know.”

He continues to work at your g-spot, languid, repetitive strokes that bring you closer and closer to the edge each time. Pressure builds in your pelvis, an unmistakable ache in your limbs as you tense up. He can tell you’re close, the fluttering of your walls around him and thighs caging his head in firmly. If he minds, he doesn’t let on, only doubling his efforts and adding a third finger as he thrusts back in. You’re getting close, but words are hard to find when he’s smiling so pretty at you and those long, thick fingers stroking deep within you with a come-hither motion.

“Eddie, I’m– fuck, you gotta–”

“That's it, Princess,” he encourages, leaning back on his heels to get a good look at you. Your whole body flushed, his tee shirt rucked up on your chest, your fingers curled in the bedspread beneath you. With his fingers still buried inside you, he reaches out with the other hand to abuse your clit, quick, messy back and forth motions that are absolutely maddening, just on the edge of too much. “C’mon, sweet thing, come for me.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop your body from obliging, bearing down as your orgasm rips through you, your release coming from you in waves, splashing over his hands and the bedsheets between you. Your fingers go numb as you white-knuckle the bedspread, toes curling and mouth hanging open in a silent scream as he works you through your orgasm.

Though he gives your oversensitive clit a much needed break, to your dismay, he doesn’t let up on fucking his fingers into you, gazing down at the mess you made in awe, a lopsided grin on his face. “You didn’t tell me you're a super soaker, sweetheart. What a pleasant surprise.”

“I–” you try to interject but gasp at his unrelenting fingers. “I’m not usually.”

“Oh?”

You’re too embarrassed to admit it again, so you only shake your head, flushing even deeper under his scrutinizing stare. It’s all too much, you’re oversensitive and spent already but god that doesn’t mean you don’t want more.

“Please,” you start, reaching for his wrist to still his motions. You aren’t above pouting when you say, “let me return the favor.”

“Uh-uh, sweetheart,” his grin is downright evil, “not yet…I wanna see you do that again.”

You weren’t sure that was possible. Hell, until a few moments ago you didn’t even know you could squirt at all, let alone twice in a row. But he’s determined, and he’s already kept you teetering on the edge since your first orgasm, so it doesn’t take much. He speeds up again, hand curling to cup your cunt with his efforts, and the slick slip-slide of your previous release gives him the perfect traction to continue the onslaught of attention to your overstimulated clit. Your hips can't decide whether they want to twitch away from the attention or grind down into it, ultimately going with the latter, much to Eddie’s satisfaction.

Ducking his head, he sinks his teeth into the swell of your inner thigh, relishing in the way the pain makes you clench around him yet again.

“You got another one in you,” he encourages, “I know it.”

And he’s right.

The coil in your belly has been threatening to snap as soon as the last orgasm dissipated, his constant attention on your g-spot enough to send you over the edge again, but it’s not until his lips latch onto your clit one more time, the delicious drag of stubble against your inner thighs a whole new sensation, that you let loose. Gripping onto fistfuls of his curls again, you take note of the wild growl the action draws from him as you spill onto his tongue, your release puddling under you and soaking into the sheets.

“Shit, Eddie, stop, I–” You pull at his hair lightly to get his attention, “s’too sensitive.”

Despite your complaint, he grins happily and crawls back up your body, taking the hem of your shirt with him and pulling your last bit of clothing off of your body before capturing your lips in a deep, languid kiss. The distinct taste of Eddie, of tobacco and sugar and your own release is intoxicating, and you sloppily make out with him until you can no longer taste yourself on his tongue. You can’t help but giggle as you pull away.

“You still with me?” He asks gently, damp fingers brushing through your hair, though you have no energy to care about the mess.

“Yeah,” you mumble, “just needed a second.” Reaching down to palm at the achingly hard bulge in his pants, savoring the moan he swallows, you tease, “I feel a little underdressed, here.”

“By all means,” he hums, turning to fall on his back beside you, a cocky smile dancing on his features, “be my guest.”

You follow suit, sitting up to straddle his lap again, lifting the hem of his shirt up and over his head. Peppering his skin with the same attention he showed you, you take your time nipping and sucking and adoring his newly exposed skin, appreciating your favorite mark (an angry looking, deep purple bruise forming just above his demon head tattoo) with a bitten lip and smug smile. He looks ruined and you haven’t even touched him yet, not really, and you take pride in the way his head lolls against the headboard, eyes heavy-lidded and crinkled from his smile, pupils blown as he watches your every move. As you rake your nails down his chest (an act that pulls yet another deep growl from within his chest), you cant your hips down against his. The drag of denim against your bare pussy is almost too much, on the brink of both pleasure and pain in your overstimulation, and the way that it makes you shudder has his cock twitching with interest.

Scooting down his legs, you lay between them lazily, twirling your finger around the button of his pants and savoring the impatient noises he’s clearly trying to hold back. You decide he’s been too kind to you already to deserve anymore teasing, so you make quick work of unzipping his jeans and freeing his aching member. He helps you shuffle them, along with his underwear, down his legs and as soon as you get a good look, your mouth starts to water. Flushed at the tip and weeping, it’s the most enticing thing you’ve ever seen.

Leaning in to catch the bead of precum on your tongue, you moan at the earthy taste and let your eyes fall shut. Eddie swears above you and that only eggs you on, reaching out to take his length in one hand, you give it a long, broad lick from base to tip and around the head before taking it into your mouth, reminiscent of the way you’d enjoyed his lollipop earlier. (If you’re being honest, you much prefer this to candy).

“Shit, sweetheart,” he groans, leaning up on one elbow to get a good look at you and burying his free hand in your hair. “Just like that–look so perfect like this.”

He babbles as you suck him off, an incoherent string of desperate phrases that all circle back to one common theme – how good you look with his dick in your mouth. His praise goes straight to your throbbing core, more slick dribbling from you with every word. You find yourself clenching down on nothing, feeling suddenly empty without Eddie’s thick fingers there.

You pull off of him with a satisfying pop, beaming with pride as your hand works him over in your absence.

“Do you ever shut up?” You tease, cupping his balls lightly with your free hand before ducking to take one into your mouth.

He chokes out his response, “not often,” sighing as you take him back into your mouth, your tongue running over the thick vein that runs up the underside of his shaft. “But you’re gettin’ close… Get up here.”

Pulling you off of him by the hair, he urges you back up the length of the bed. Propped up against your mess of pillows at your headboard, he pulls you back to hover over his lap and drags the head of his cock through your wet folds teasingly. Capturing your lips again, he licks hot into your mouth, positioning your hips square over his waiting member, but leaving it up to you to seal the deal.

You sink down onto him slowly, inch by thick, delicious inch, savoring the stretch and the slight burn that comes with it. Even with proper preparation, he’s big, and fills you to the brim when you finally settle into his lap, his cock fully sheathed inside you.

Drawing a shaky breath, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his, all sweaty bangs and shared breaths. He gives you a moment, pressing a gentle kiss high on your cheekbone and lingering there until you thread your fingers into his hair again and give an experimental roll of your hips. Both of you share a groan, breathing each other in as you slowly start to move.

It's like a dance; you push, he pulls, moving together like you’ve rehearsed this a million times. You feel impossibly full as you bounce on his cock, lewd, wet sounds coming from where you’re joined, and the pressure builds in your stomach once again.

Eddie’s hands fly to your hips, guiding your movements and holding you in place to fuck up into you without restriction. Unable to hold back, an involuntary moan tumbles from your lips and you fall forward, biting into the crook of his neck to stop yourself from making any more noise. He hisses at the sting and his hips stutter, but if he’s more affected than that he doesn’t show it. His hips continue to piston up into you, his cock forcing tiny little hiccuping noises from your throat as you clamp your eyes shut.

“Yeah baby,” he encourages, pulling your hips down for a particularly harsh drag, the wiry hair at the base of his cock tickling at your clit from the force of it. “Y’can’t stay quiet, can you? Even now?” Reaching between you, he circles your still sensitive nub with his middle finger, kissing you to swallow the sounds you make as he spreads two fingers over your puffy lips, prodding at the taut, stretched hole where he thrusts up into you. “Christ, if you sound this fuckin’ pretty when you’re trying to keep quiet I can’t wait to hear you when you aren’t holding back.” He speaks low in your ear, his voice impossibly deep and his words go straight to your core, zapping like static over your skin. “You’d like that, huh?” He prompts, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth, “wanna make you scream my name.”

You lift your head to kiss him, if only to shut him up, and whimper into his mouth, eyes screwed shut, but give him what he wants with a soft whine of “Eddie,” against his full lips.

“I guess whining will do for now. Look at you, messy thing,” he’s unrelenting on your clit now, swift, circular motions made jagged by his stuttering thrusts. He’s just as close as you are, if his jerking motions and labored breathing tell you anything. “You gonna come on my cock? C’mon sweet thing, I wanna feel you.”

“I don’t– I can’t, ‘s too much,” you babble, lost in the way his cock drags over your inner walls and the insistent swiping of his fingers at your clit. It’s so good but it’s all too much, and you’re certain if you have another orgasm, it’ll be the end of you.

The hand that isn’t buried in your cunt comes up to hold your chin, forcing you to look at him as he says, “sure you can, baby, c’mon,” then after a surprisingly tender kiss pressed into your lips, he demands through lidded eyes, “come for me, princess.”

Even if you didn’t want to, your body obeys, the pleasure licking up from your core and spreading through your limbs like fire. Your skin burns, your cunt spasming with the force of it, and when you force your eyes shut, forehead pressed against Eddie’s in exhaustion, you swear a tear leaks out.

He groans, the fluttering of your walls triggering his own release, pulling you into a hard, toothy kiss to dampen the sound he makes. He pulls out just in time, splattering your stomach with his seed and already you’re mourning the loss, feeling impossibly empty but sated nonetheless.

Your mouths hang open against one another, sharing damp, hot breaths for a few moments as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” you sigh, rolling off of his lap to lay beside him, a delighted little chuckle falling from your lips.

“My sentiments exactly,” he muses, turning on his side to brush the mess of your hair behind your ear. With a kiss to your temple and a soft, “wait here,” he rolls away, pulling on the first pair of pants he can find (which just so happens to be your pink snowflake pajama pants) and looks both ways before stepping out of your room and toward the bathroom.

As you wait for him to return, you can’t help but return to your thoughts from earlier.

Would he touch you?

Yes.

Would you really mind if he wanted to?

Fuck no.

What does this mean for your friendship?

Fuck off, don’t worry about that right now. Enjoy the moment.

Soon he’s back with a warm washcloth that he uses to gently clean you up, taking care around your sore, red center, and then mops up his spend with a surprisingly delicate touch. In the other hand he has another fresh set of sheets, which he holds up with a snarky smile.

“When your legs work again we can change these out,” he teases, “seeing as you ruined the ones on there now.”

Running a hand down your face, you blush. Even after everything, you blush at his remarks. “Shut up.” Giggling, you hop down from the bed and pull on his discarded boxers and the now stretched out Black Sabbath shirt before helping him change the sheets.

In the end, you decide that it’s not worth it to finish out the weekend at home and set an alarm to get up before any of your family. It’s far too early for either of your liking, but it’s a necessary evil.

When the car is loaded up and you drop into the passenger seat, it feels natural when Eddie’s large hand lands on your thigh. The sun is just starting to rise in the rear view mirror, and you’re eager to get a move on, but not before properly thanking him.

Leaning over the center console, you press a kiss to his cheek, then again to his lips when he turns to meet your affection. You sigh, a dumb smile plastered on your face as you breathe your first full breath all weekend. “Thank you, Eds.”

“Hey,” he chuckles, squeezing your thigh happily, “I’ll help you piss off your parents any day.” One more longing kiss, his lips sliding against yours without urgency, without anything to prove, just an exchange of affection between two maybe-more-than-friends who don’t have any roles to play anymore. He bites your lip as he pulls away, winking, and throwing the car into drive. As he drives away he laughs again, fixing you with an adoring stare. “My little showstopper.”

#eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fic #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson fic

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measuredingold · 6 months

Note

hi, angel <33 back with a request! also also no pressure at all ofc, if you’re not vibing with it just delete 🥰

just had a lil fluff idea, friends to lovers type beat. reader is on tour with the band, tagging along as a friend when she’s out late one night with the guys, gets a lil drunk/tipsy and ends up in the wrong bunk. (Noah’s.) he didn’t go out, he went to bed early. she doesn’t realize and she’s like “what are you doing in my bed?”

neither of them end up moving, and it doesn’t help that she’s a cuddly drunk. plus, he has a hard time saying no to you 🥺💗

anyway, do with that what you will 💖

just friends

authors note: thank you so much lovely anon for requesting this! i enjoyed writing this and kind of want to take it further, but i'm not sure? :) anyways, i hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it <3 reminder that my requests are open! also, happy birthday noah :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff (like tooth-rotting fluff imo), friends to lovers, confessions/admission of feelings, drinking/reader is drunk, 18+ minors do not interact

"Easy there, girl."

You giggled as Nicholas helped you onto the bus, his hands pressed against the small of your back to keep you in place. You didn't even mean to drink this, usually not one to do so, but after Folio had challenged you to see how many shots you could take in under a minute you had to prove to him that it definitely was more than two. Now here you were, giggling obnoxiously to yourself as Nicholas guided you onto the bus, feet tripping over one another.

"Nick," You hum, eyes squinting around the bus. "Is the room spinning?"

"It very much is not. You," A finger pressed to your forehead, and you barely registered that Nicholas was now in front of you, a smile tugging at his lips, "are very much drunk, though. Come on, let's get you to bed. Go change and I'll get you some water and Tylenol for that headache that should be kicking in... now."

You go to retort, but there was already a dull pain in the back of your head causing you to wince. Your headaches came a lot earlier when you drank, not waiting until the morning to hit. You give him a grateful smile when he hands you your bag you kept above one of the seats up front, knowing your drunk ass could not get that even if you tried your hardest, and you pulled out a change of clothes and made your way back to the very small, and very tight bathroom.

You change, clumsily, and shuffle your way back to the front of the bus where Nicholas was waiting for you. You take the Tylenol and bottle of water gratefully, swallowing down the medicine in one go. You take a few more sips of water, realizing just how thirsty you were before deciding you were good to go, twisting the cap back on a tossing it onto the couch.

“Good?” You nod, giving Nicholas a thumbs up in response. He smiles. “Alright. I’m gonna meet back up with guys, but Noah’s still here.”

Your brows furrow for a moment before you remember that Noah is still on the bus, opting out of going out with you and the crew after tonight’s show. You give Nicholas another nod as your response.

“If you need anything, just wake Noah up. He’ll get you whatever you need.” He leans forward now, tipping his head down to press his lips to your forehead, and you smile brightly up at him when he pulls away. “And if he doesn’t, hit ‘em upside the head and then call me.”

You laugh, “I’m sure I’ll be fine if I need anything. I’m drunk, not injured.”

He rolls his eyes at you before you gently shove him away, pushing him towards the door. You say your goodbyes and watch the door shut behind Nicholas, leaving you to stand alone in the front of the bus all by yourself. You stay put for a second, the dizziness coming back before a yawn rips from you, and you decide to finally shuffle your way towards the bunks.

All you needed was your favorite blanket and your bunk, and that duck squishmallow Noah had gotten you a few months ago. It’s quiet and you think Noah’s probably asleep already, and you yawn again as you finally reach your bunch, pulling the curtain back. You stare quizzically, though, at the man curled up in your bunk, and he stares right back, brows raised and just as confused.

"What the hell are you doing in my bunk?"

Noah blinks at you before pulling his airpods out, a brow raised. "What?"

"I said," You let go of the curtain to place a hand on your hip. "What the hell are you doing in my bunk, Davis?"

He stares at you for a beat before his lips slowly start curling into a smile.

"How drunk are you?" Noah squints at you.

"Why does that matter?" You argue, words slurring slightly. "I'm drunk and you're in my bunk. Two very obvious and true things. Now answer my question."

Noah snorts out a laugh. "You're right about one thing, you definitely are drunk. This is my bunk, though."

If you were sober, you would realize that yes, he was right. This was definitely not your bunk, yours was right below his, but for some reason in your drunk and hazy mind you were sure that this was your bunk. It looked just like it - just like the rest of the damn bunks on this bus - so it had to be true. You purse your lips, arms crossing over your chest.

“Very funny, Noah. Now get out, I’m tired and want to go to sleep.”

“I’m not moving.” He says more firmly, eyes narrowing at you. “This is my bunk, yours is over there.”

You turn as he points to the bunk across from his, the curtains drawn, and you squint. You look back at him, then back at the other bunk, and a voice in the back of your head is telling you that he was right. That was your bunk, not the one Noah was currently occupying. None of your stuff is there, your pillow isn’t even there, but for some reason the drunk – and very stubborn – part of you was firm on your stance.

Noah was in your bunk.

You turn back to him, arms still crossed over your chest, and you square your shoulders. “I’m just gonna climb up if you’re not moving, dude. So, either get out or we’re cuddle buddies for the rest of the night.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you see the exact where Noah’s shoulders drop, realizing there’s no point in arguing with you because you are right (no, you’re not) and he sighs deeply, though you barely catch the slight curl of his lips.

“Whatever. Get in.”

You climb into the bunk beside Noah, slowly because you knew in your inebriated state that was a disaster waiting to happen, and the boy sighs to himself again, rolling onto his side and pressing his back against the wall to make room for you. You roll onto your side, back facing Noah, and press against him. It wasn't hard to do with how tight the space was, and you hummed to yourself when you finally got comfortable enough to relax, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Comfy?" You hear Noah murmur behind you.

You nod, "Very."

"Good."

You feel him shift behind you and if you had been sober, maybe the thought of being so close to him would have your skin blazing, but as your thoughts swirl, the only thing you can really think is how nice he feels pressed against you and how comfortable you are. His arm slings over your waist underneath the blanket and you swear he pulls you closer to him, if that was possible. A pleased sigh escapes him, the air fanning over the back of your neck. Now that has your body firing up, tiny goosebumps scattering across your skin. You melt against him.

"Why didn't you go out?" You ask through a yawn, eyes fluttering.

"Didn't want to."

"Why not? Everyone else did."

"Just wasn't in the mood," He mumbles behind you, his breath fanning against the back of your neck again. "Cold? You got goosebumps.”

You shake your head but feel Noah pull you closer anyways, sweatpant covered legs slipping in between yours. His limbs snake around yours and practically confines you, locking you against him. You're finding out that you like it way more than you probably should for a friend, but the drunken haze of your mind doesn't care too much about the technicalities of it all.

"Did you miss me?" You ask after another beat of silence, and you feel Noah's body tense behind you.

“…Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

You pause. "Is that why you're in my bunk right now? Because you missed me?"

Noah lets out a groan and you can't help but smirk, soft giggles escaping you. You feel his hand move down to your hip, pushing your shirt up slightly to pinch at your skin playfully and you squeal, squirming against him. You barely move because this six-three, giant man has you tight in his grasp, and you feel his chest move against your back with his laughter.

"Oh my fucking god," He grumbles into your hair, but you hear the smile in his voice. "Go to sleep. Please."

"I'm trying." You whine out, eyes slipping shut at the feeling of his hand now spreading out against your tummy, rubbing soothing circles there. "My head hurts too much."

"Did you take anything?"

"Mhm." You hum. "Nicholas gave me some Tylenol and water before he met back up with the guys."

"You drink all the water?"

You shrug. “Maybe like half?”

"Good enough for me." You feel the brush of his lips against the back of your neck and your eyes spring open, freezing in his hold. "You just need to relax. It should start kicking in soon."

You don't say anything, hyper-focused on the way his lips felt against your skin and the way you liked it too much. Even in your inebriated state you knew what that meant, and maybe you always had, but was just too scared to even think of the possibility. You and Noah were just friends... who sometimes teetered the line between friends and something else. It went unspoken for as long as you could remember, and you're not sure why you never said anything.

You don't know if it's the alcohol, or if you're finally sobering up, but your stomach turns at the thought. Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't he say anything? You feel dizzy again, and there's a voice in the back of your head trying to tell you to shut up and sleep but you've never been a good listener, even to yourself, and your lips move before you can think twice about it.

"Noah." Your voice is hushed and the feel of his fingers rubbing circles against your bare hip as your head spinning more than it probably should be right now.

"Hm?"

"You do realize friends don't do this, right?"

It takes him a moment to reply, "Do what?"

"This."

You feel more sober than you did five minutes prior. You're aware of everything - where you are, who you're with, who you're pressed against. Noah lets out a sigh and you feel him nose at your shoulder, a shiver running through your body at the feeling.

"You know we’ve never exactly been just friends."

You can't believe he had just said that as your eyes almost bulge right out of your head, and you try to turn in his arms so that you can face him.

"Noah-"

His grip only tightens on you, and you can't move, stuck where you are, and you hear him huff out a laugh before saying, "Nope. No way. We’re not having this talk right now when you’re drunk as shit, and we’re trapped in this glorified death box. Go to sleep.”

"But-"

"If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again." You feel his lips move against the back of your neck and you shiver again, squirming against him.

"I will." You finally whisper after two beats of silence, trying to settle back against his chest. "I'll ask you tomorrow."

He presses another kiss to the back of your neck and your entire body flushes, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Okay."

You both lay in silence and it's not long for sleep to find you, body finally relaxing after the long night.

…

You wake some hours later, groaning quietly as you lifted your head up from the pillow. You blink blearily around you before rubbing at your eyes, trying to rid them of sleep as last night’s shenanigans flooded your brain. With another groan you roll onto your back and stare up at the top of the bunk, picking a part your memories.

Going out with the guys, taking way too many shots with Folio, Nicholas having to walk you back to the bus, the Tylenol, Noah… Your mind pauses at the thought of the male, and you realize you’re in the bunk alone. You remember everything clearly, from arguing with him about how this was your bunk – it in fact very much was not – from climbing into said bunk and cuddling with him. You remember him saying that the two of you have never been just friends but refused to elaborate.

If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again.

The bus is quiet, the only sound you hear are Jolly’s snores coming from below you, and the soft sound of the bus’s engine running. You were most likely on your way to the next city. You’re sure Noah’s already up, probably in the front working away on his laptop, and you peel his blanket off your body and do your best to get down from his bunk.

You find him where you expected him, beanie on top his head and hoodie wrapped around his body, headphones on as he typed away at his laptop. You’d make a joke about him always working, but you’re only thinking of one thing right now.

You come stand in front of him and he notices you almost instantly, pushing his headphones off his head as he stares up at you.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

You blush, eyes dropping for a moment as your arms come to cross over your chest.

“What did you mean last night?” You blurt out.

Noah pauses but his eyes never leave you, and you watch as he slips his computer off his lap and into the seat next to him. He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees.

“Ask me again.”

“No, I’m not-“ You huff out a groan and brush your fingers through your hair, wincing a bit at the knots that caught between your hands. “I’m not playing that game, Noah. What did you mean we’ve never exactly been just friends?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” He leans back against the couch now, arms crossing over his chest. “And you know I’m right.”

Your heart hammers against your chest and all you can do is nod at his words, cheeks flushing with color. He was right. You two have never been just friends, too close, too touchy to be labeled as platonic. You’d be lying if you said last night was the first time you shared a bed together. But now what? You got the answer you were looking for, but for some reason you can’t even look at Noah, but his eyes are burning into you, watching your every move.

“Okay…” You start, sucking in a breath as you finally moved your gaze back to Noah, eyes locking with his. “If we’re not just friends, then what does that make us?”

He smiles. “People who like each other more than friends but are too scared to admit it?”

Damn. He got that spot on. You blush again, trying to find the right words, but come up short. Your brain is still playing catch up, sleep still very much in your veins, and Noah notices. He leans forward again and gestures you to come closer and you do, his hands reaching out to grab your own.

“We have the next two days off. Let me take you out. Dinner or something. A movie. Whatever you want.”

“And then what?”

He shrugs. “And then we see where this goes. I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

You can’t stop the smile that’s slipping onto your lips, your fingers curling around his as warmth spread throughout your chest.

“That sounds good to me.”

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #mine #request

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barleyo · 2 months

Text

Roll of the Dice.

Armin Arlert X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: Heyyy I hope y'all enjoy this piece, sorry if it seems rushed! I got this idea after overhearing a few friends talking about D&D and I knew I needed to make something Armin related for it!

Tags: older brother! Eren, brother's best friend trope, semi-public sex, slightly perv! Armin, nerdy shit, loss of virginity, male sub (?), handjobs, cream pie, unprotected sex

"Eren, where are you going?" (Y/N) crept down the stairs, her socks padding her steps. "Goin' out?"

Her brother nodded. "It's game night," he reminded her quietly, keeping his voice hushed since it was rather late.

"God, is hanging out with your little nerd troupe all you do?" She made her way down the stairs completely and felt herself gravitate towards the door with him.

"Whatever," he sneered, rolling his eyes. "Are you coming with me tonight or not?"

"Well, who's gonna be there? You know how I feel about some of your acquaintances."

"Most of 'em are busy tonight, but, uh, Connie, Sasha, Jean, Mikasa--"

"Jean? Really?" (Y/N) grimaced a bit. He was one of his friends that she couldn't stand. "Who's hosting?"

"If you'd give me a second, I'd be able to answer." Eren grabbed his keys off of the hook and pocketed them after giving (Y/N) and annoyed look. "Armin's hosting tonight."

Every Saturday night, her brother and his friend group, who she found to be absolute geeks, would meet up at one of their houses to play D&D. She could never grasp the game, but she often stuck around to keep her brother company during the matches...

Or that's what she told herself. Really, deep down, she knew she tagged along for Eren's childhood friend, Armin. He was the biggest nerd out of the whole group, but she had always been attracted to him. Even as kids, she was stuck to him like white on snow, never daring to leave her side. Eren's other friends would tease (Y/N) for her clinginess to the blond boy, but oddly enough, it didn't bother either of them. Armin was always patient, and she was always grateful for that.

Sleepovers, birthday parties, play dates, and as they got older 'hang out sessions.' Whenever Armin was at their house, (Y/N) was sure to be close to him. It started off simply enough: asking him if she could play with them as children, inviting him to play tea party with her and her stuffed animals (which he couldn't turn down, no matter how much he wanted to), and asking him to push her on the swing. Over time, however, it progressed. Once they had all grown into teens, she took a sharp... romantic edge with him. She'd snuggle up to him on movies nights and hide her head in his neck when she was scared, anything to be close to him.

"Alright, I'll come tonight," she said. She grabbed her shoes from their spot in front of the door and urged Eren with her hands to get going.

"Oh, glad you guys could make it! Come on in, everyone else is already here."

Armin held his front door open for the two, giving his trademarked 'sweet, yet constantly nervous' looking smile.

"Thanks, man." Eren stepped inside, walking through the foyer to get to the group while (Y/N) staggered behind a bit to speak to Armin.

He shut the door and stood with his feet loosely planted. "So, uh, (Y/N), I didn't see you last week for game night."

"Hah, sorry to give you the slip like that. What, were you waiting up for me?" She could see his face warming up a bit, and she loved every second of it.

"No-! I mean, not exactly. I just thought I'd see you, you know. I-It was an exciting match, you would've had fun."

She quirked a brow at him, crossing her arms. "I would've had fun watching you guys play?"

"Well, that's why you come, isn't it? Plus, you don't have to just watch. I can teach you how to play. If you'd like that, I mean. Just, uhm--"

"Guys, hurry up. Connie's getting restless," Eren called from the living room.

"Yeah, I don't have forever to kick it with you guys," Connie said, audibly crunching chips while he spoke.

"Please, what else do you have going on, Con?"

The distinct bickering continued in the background while Armin turned back to face (Y/N). "That's our cue, I suppose."

"Finally." Eren was perched lazily on a beanbag chair near the coffee table where the board was set up. "Let's get this party started, eh, guys?"

A soft cheer came from everyone.

(Y/N) scanned the scene quickly. Armin, of course, was sitting in the floor at the head of the table, like he always did. It was the best seat in the house, in his opinion, and as the Dungeon Master, he got first choice of seats.

Eren and Mikasa were already sitting together, and she didn't want to third-wheel them. She liked Connie and Sasha, and she wouldn't mind sitting with them both, but she really didn't feel like getting snack crumbs all over her throughout the game from her two messy friends.

That left Jean.

She didn't absolutely despise him, but his energy was always off. His hugs lasted too long, and he made weird comments towards the girls in the group. It seemed that she would have to toughen up and sit next to him for the night.

"Hey, (Y/N)?" Armin spoke from behind the Dungeon Master screen. "Would you want to sit with me tonight? That way you could see how to play."

Thank god for Armin, her little angel in disguise!

She immediately went over to him and took a seat on his lap, taking him a bit by surprise, but nobody in the group seemed to care much. She got herself comfortable and scanned over the various manuals and rules in the guide books in front of them both.

"Alright. Let's play!" (Y/N) said, giving a half-grin.

"The gang of orcs raise their weapons and challenge your troupe, how do you proceed--?" Armin's voice hitched in his throat.

(Y/N) began to mindlessly grind down on him, actually paying attention to the game in front of her for once. Armin was right, she was starting to enjoy it, but as she got lost in the game, her body started to act on its own.

"I grab my sword and raise it to the air, charging the monsters with my team following close behind."

"Eren, wait, we didn't agree on that," Connie whined, "I'm already injured from the last fight."

"Don't be such a pussy, you can tough it out."

"Stop bickering," Mikasa snapped at the two playfully, "you're both like two children."

"Armin, can you pass me the pretzels? Just slide the bowl over here, big dog." Sasha leaned forward over the table, ready to receive the large bowl of snacks.

He snorted at the name and obliged, pushing the bowl with his finger tips. However, as he pulled his arm back, he knocked his drink back onto not only his lap, but the girl on his lap.

"Shit! I'm so sorry, (Y/N)!" His voice was filled with sheer panic. "Shit, shit, shit, it's all over your shirt."

"It's fine, don't worry," she assured him. "Here, just take me to your room. I'll change into one of your shirts for the rest of the night and all will be forgiven, alright?"

He exhaled and nodded. She led him up the stairs to his room, walking through the halls like she knew the house like the back of her hand.

"Here, you can go change in the bathroom," he spun around with a clean shirt in his arms, only to be met by (Y/N) already stripping. "Oh... or, I-I can leave!" He turned back around throwing his hands over his glasses and heading to the door.

"Armin," she said his name is her most sultry tone, "come back. Don't be shy."

Her shirt and bra were long gone, leaving her bare chested in the cold room. Round buds caught Armin's attention, her pert nipples hardening at the air.

"(Y/N), I don't think we should--"

"Then don't think. Don't think, and come here." She grabbed his hand and yanked him over to her. Wrapping her arms around his neck she leaned in close to his face and offered her lips to him. "I want this. Don't you?" She peered at him from behind her fluttering eyelashes, lips pouting.

With that, he gave in. His kiss was eager, but precise and neat. It surprised her, most guys kissed as if they hee sex was the end goal: rushed and messy, letting their teeth clash against hers in the most unsexy way possible. But not Armin. Everything about him was tender and sweet.

She wondered what it would take for him to get messy.

Breaking from the kiss, she pushed him to the corner of his bed. She fiddled with the zipper of his jeans and freed his leaking cock from his boxers.

"Wait, I want to make you feel good first," he protested, trying to flip the script and put her body under his.

"Hush. If you want me to feel good, you'll let me do what I wanna do, right?"

He slowly nodded as his face started to heat up. "R-right."

"Exactly. Now, do you like how this feels? When I use my hand like this?"

He felt her grab his length and give it a few teasing pumps, up and down, slow and firm. His cock kicked a bit in her palm.

"Please don't stop," Armin huffed, covering his mouth with his hand. It felt amazing, but he knew the walls in his house were thin; the others could hear them both if they were too loud.

She craned her neck over his lap as she stood in front of him. Thick, stretchy dribbled of spit connected with his tip. She smeared the spit and mixed it with his pre cum, rubbing her thumb around the thick head.

It was mean, she knew, but she had an idea. She crouched down to her knees and gave him a cheeky look. Her lips connected to his tip with a soft, sweet kiss. She gently opened her mouth to take his length, opening just enough for his tip. Hee tongue trailed around it, taking purchase specifically of a thick vein on the underside of his cock.

His pre cum left a glossy stain around her mouth and he shuddered at the view. He gripped the blanket under his and felt his cock twitch and fill her mouth, all too quickly.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "I didn't mean to do that so quickly, I'm sorry! I-it's just that you're so pretty and your mouth is so warm and wet," he explained while his face grew beet red. A gasp escaped his chest when she swallowed his cum, licking her lips and grinning.

"You're adorable." She removed her mouth from him with a pop.

Armin grunted and his face visibly cringed. 'Adorable' wasn't what he was trying to go for, especially not during sex. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're so cute. I bet you're a virgin too, aren't you?" She cooed at him playfully, but it stung a bit.

He was, in fact, a virgin, but he felt the need to prove himself to her. He could cope with cumming early, that was relatively fine, but he knew how to pleasure a woman, and (Y/N) needed to know that he could. Porn and assorted hentai games had taught him well, he was just waiting for the chance to try out his moves.

"I'll show you what this virgin can do," he challenged. "Lay down, right here."

She took her place in the middle of his bed, laying flat on her back. "Like this?"

"Mm, stay still." He slotted himself between her legs on the bed. His hands made quick work of her shorts and panties, tossing them behind him into a crumpled pile on the floor.

With his cock already sprung free, he moved his tip through her folds, collecting her slick over it. It was his turn to tease, his turn to make sure that she had more than her fill. And he knew exactly how, so he slid his length in to the hilt, bottoming out in her.

(Y/N) let her eyes squeeze shut. The initial sharpness of his thrust eventually eased into a soft wave of pleasure.

"Hey, keep your eyes open, okay? I wanna see them. They're so pretty," he said, wiping the pricked tear from the corner of her eye.

Armin's hips reeled back so he could start a steadier pace. He made short strokes, only pulling himself out of her halfway. When he pushed back into her cunt, he rutted into her, nudging his greedy cock into her most sensitive spot.

"You're so good at this, 's not fair. You-- oh, fuck!" Her legs started to wobble a bit, she could feel them starting to give out on her.

"You're so adorable," he mimicked her earlier words with a whisper, leaning down to her ear. He gave the lobe a nibble and traced his tongue around the shell of it.

Once her walls started to spasm around him intermittently, he knew he had her right on the edge of her orgasm.

"Are you gonna cum? I feel you clenching on me, you must be close." He tried to keep his voice steady, but the rasp in it gave away how close he also was. "Give it to me, (Y/N). You know you want to."

"Yes, I wanna cum so bad," she gasped sharply, gripping the fabric of his shirt. Her clenching started up again, but this time it was much more powerful.

Armin hissed through his teeth, feeling the grip her cunt had around him. He couldn't pry himself out in time, and let his seed spill out, shooting deep into her.

Neither of them moved for a moment. Armin was still inside, enjoying the thick, wet warmth.

"You know, for a used-to-be-virgin, you fucked me real good, 'Min." (Y/N) shifted in the bed, turning to face the boy. She brushed a lock of his blond hair behind his ear and wiped at the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Ah, you think so? Maybe you should come over next week too, and we'll see if I can top my current high score."

#barleyxnighteye #smutfic #smut #x reader #attack on titan #aot x reader #armin x reader #armin arlert #armin smut #fem reader #d&d

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Text

Hungman - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake's camboy endeavors are not unbeknownst to you, and one day you take him up on a teasing offer to join

Requested: ohhh how about thoughts on camboy Jake (screen name Hungman) whose best friend walks in on him after a show and he jokingly invites her to join him next time. she accepts (shocking Jake bc she’s lil miss sweet, shy, good girl) and when it comes show time he finds out just how nasty his bestie can be (I’m talking her begging him to be mean and nasty and “spank me daddy please!!!” which blows his mind). he makes bank that night and invites her back to his bed anytime. show or not.

Contents/Warnings: best friend/roommate!jake, smut (minors dni), rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), AFAB/fem!reader, ever-so-slight degradation, p in v but from the back, penetration, no mention of protection, teasing/joking daddy kink (she says it once to piss him off so it's not really a kink i don't think), camboy!jake

WC: 2.8K / navigation

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

"Jake, I found the rub you were looking for last week, it was only- woah!"

You come to a screeching halt in the doorway, watching as your roommate doesn't seem rushed at all to cover up his bare lower half. He's got a lazy smirk on his face, standing with his sweat-slicked chest on display as his hands hover almost uselessly over his dick.

"Oh, good," He nods, holding eye contact with you as your gaze threatens to slip lower, "Meat for dinner tonight. then. Sorry," He apologizes a moment too late, glancing down at his bare form, "Stream ended late."

"No worries," You give him a small smile, bag clutched tighter in your hands, "Sometimes I forget you do those things, m'never here to see 'em."

"Oh, yeah? You wanna be?" Jake chuckles, reaching for a towel while keeping one hand still over his cock. As big as his hand is, it's no use there.

"Wouldn't mind joining," You shrug, "It would be nice to have some extra pocket cash."

"Joining?" Jake's laugh is even more incredulous now, and he rubs the towel through his sweaty hair rather than wrapping it around his midsection, "Darlin', the day you join me is the day I'll keel over in shock."

You march towards Jake's room clad in tight lingerie, black lace snug to your skin.

"Get ready to keel over," You command, stepping over a stray sock in his doorway, "Ready to do this thing?"

"Woah!" Jake's eyes widen as he turns, clad in only tight briefs. It gives you a very intimate view of his clothed cock, and all of a sudden the fabric seems a lot tighter.

"What's the plan?" You ask, readjusting the strap of your bra, "Just, drop down on the floor and fuck like rabbits?"

"Y/N," Jake breathes, chest heaving with shock, "What- what are you doing?"

"You said I could be here," You huff, cocking a hip out and crossing your arms, making your tits pop, "What, you changed your mind? I wasn't kidding, I need money."

"You're really joining?" Jake asks, face the picture of a disgruntled Ken doll.

"No, Jake," You sneer, narrowing your eyes, "I was actually planning on going for a walk in the park. Just wanted to see if you'd join me."

"Alright, alright," Jake's shoulder slump from where they're tensed at his ears, "No need to get snippy, missy."

You see his dick twitch. He likes snippy.

After a bout of awkward silence, Jake gestures to a camera set up on his desk.

"Camera's there," He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, "Not on yet, though. We're gonna go live, so I can't edit out your face. You got a mask, or something?"

"Nah," You shake your head, "Not unless you want me wearing your helmet."

"That's-" Another dick twitch, briefs straining to contain him, "-not a bad idea. But I probably shouldn't use government-issued equipment for porn."

"No fun," You lament, striding over to the bed and crawling onto the mattress on your hands and knees. You're fully presented to him, ass up and head down, wriggling your hips as you wait for the beep of the camera.

"So," You shimmy, "Anytime soon, big guy?"

"You're really ready for this?" Jake asks, hovering by the camera with an uncertain gaze.

"Just-" You huff, straining to meet his eye with a desperate look in your own, "Fuck me, Jake!"

His eyes darken, his jaw clenches, and you swear his briefs nearly rip.

"Okay," He murmurs, low and dangerous, and you hear the click of the camera's recording button.

"You," Jake drawls, sidling up behind you and gripping your hips in his strong hands, "Have been a very naughty girl."

You scoff at his stereotypical porno-style dialogue, playing along anyways, "Oh, yeah? What did I do, daddy?"

You hear his breathing hitch, and his fingers dig harder into your flesh.

"You've been watching my streams," He murmurs, dangerous and accusatory. Your stomach bottoms out, you have. You aren't sure how he's figured you out, but you have, and until now, you'd thought you were getting away with it. He wasn’t hard to find, and you have to give him credit for his creative screen name: Hungman.

"All this time," He hums, slowly smoothing his hand over the fleshy globes of your ass, "You've been buried under the covers in your room, those pretty little hands of yours sinking in your cunt, huh?"

Then, after a moment of silence, he hums, "Yeah?"

You nod, almost shamefully, and you're given a sharp smack to the ass in response.

It makes you cry out, and your voice blends with Jake as he roars, "Answer me!"

"Yes!" You yelp, breathing heavy as you push your ass further towards him, in search of another surge of pleasure, "Yes, I- I've been watching your videos."

"And last week," He drawls, rubbing your sore ass with his massive, rough hand, "Caught me damn near naked. You think I didn't see how flustered you were? Think I didn't notice how tense those shoulders were, huh?" Jake's large hand moves up your back, squeezing at your tight shoulder. You gasp at the feeling, his fingers prodding at sensitive muscles.

"This whole time," He stalks around to the front of the bed, cock out and hard near your face. It makes your mouth water; you nearly choke on your drool.

"This whole time you've been thinkin' about me, haven't you?" Jake asks, running a soft hand through your hair, "Fingers buried in that wet cunt of yours, stuffin' a shirt- my shirt in your mouth to stop from moanin'."

"How do you-" You stammer, but Jake cuts you off, hand tightening in your hair.

"I saw you." He reveals, "'Came in to give you your laundry. You left the door open, baby. Did you want me to see?"

"No," You shake your head, but it doesn't go far with his hand in your hair, "No, I- I didn't know you were home."

"Didn't know," Jake scoffs, dick stiff, "I walk like a damn elephant, Y/N. You knew."

"I didn't mean for you to see me," You insist, but oh, you did, "Honest, Jake, I swear!"

"Don't swear," He sneers, letting go of your hair to lean over and swat at your ass again, "This is what you wanted, baby. This is it," He slips a hand under his hard cock, pushing it towards your face, "Take it, darlin'. Take it, this is what you wanted."

You lean to the side, tongue already out in anticipation of taking Jake's dick into your mouth. But the second before you can get a taste, though, he backs away a step, leaving you open-mouthed and whining.

"Look at that," He chuckles, reaching with his free hand to grip your jaw, thumbs hollowing out your cheeks, "So desperate. You opened right up for me, baby."

"Mhm," You struggle to speak through the grip Jake has on your cheeks, "Yeah. Want your- your cock, Jake."

"Filthy," He scoffs, releasing your face to land yet another smack against your ass. You let out a broken whine through pursed lips, but you feel the head of Jake's cock bump them, and you're opening your mouth eagerly once more.

"Take it," He scoffs, "You want it so damn bad. There," He jerks his hips forward, jamming his dick so far into your mouth that it's nearly down your throat, "That good enough for you, baby? That what'cha wanted?"

"Mhm," You nod vigorously, mouth subsequently sliding up and down the shaft of his cock. "Thank you," You pant around his length, words mumbled and drooly, "Thank you, Jake."

"Good manners," He praises you with a cocky glance towards the camera, "Showing off for the audience?"

You give your hips a wiggle for the camera, and your ass jiggles with the movement. Jake groans, fisting a hand in your hair once more, "Come on baby, don't tease."

He tugs you further onto his cock with the hand he's tangled in your hair, and your throat constricts without warning, an involuntary gag. You choke, spluttering and coughing as he barely lets up, hand not only pulling your head forwards but pushing it down, too, fully taking your mouth with his hard length.

You run your tongue against the underside of his cock and curl it up around the tip. It's difficult to do with how deep he's buried inside your mouth, but you rear back against his hold and take a gulp of fresh air with the motion of your tongue. When your wet muscle flicks through his slit he hisses, hand nearly ripping your hair out.

"God," He gasps, this time using his grip on your hair to pull you off of his cock, grunting and groaning as you chase after him with your mouth, "Ease up, darlin'. Easy, I- I've gotta get inside you."

The only way you'll let him take his cock out of your mouth if is he puts it inside of you. You go limp, knees already tired and arms even worse. But nothing deters you from the excitement of being fucked from behind by Jake.

When you feel his large, rough fingers tug at the strap of your panties, you expect them to ghost over your ass. But they plunge for your cunt instead, prodding at the end of your slit.

"Ah!' You seize up, stiff as you try getting a glimpse of him, "Jake, I-"

"I don't have the patience to work you open," Jake apologizes, thumbing gently over your tight asshole, "Your cunt's already wet, darlin', just- god," His fingers hit a gush of slick and slip easily into your pussy, "I need to be inside you now."

"Okay," You nod, panting as Jake's fingers nudge roughly at your clit, "Oh, god, Jake, just- fuck me!"

"Don't make me spank you again," He grumbles, one hand guiding his dick towards the end of your slick slit, "I am, brat."

"Yeah?" You wriggle your hips, egging him on, "Can't feel you yet. Maybe you don't have as big of a dick as I thought, cowboy."

Jake chooses to show, not tell. In a quick second, his cock is rammed so far into your cunt, you see stars. Your only warning had been the soft stretch of his thick fingers, but this, this is rough, aggressive, demanding.

"Feel it now?" Jake spits, leaning over your back to sneer against your ear, "'S rippin' your pretty little cunt open, darlin'. Still think it ain't that big?"

"Use it," You grunt, gritting your teeth so that you don't moan. You don't want him to have the satisfaction of getting to you, "Move. Fuck. Me."

You're not the only one good at following orders. Maybe it's the navy training in him, but he's obedient, but he rears his hips back, his thick cock dragging deliciously along the walls of your wet, hot cunt.

He sets a merciless pace, jackhammering his hips into your own hard enough to split right through your cunt and jam his dick up through your throat. His balls slap against your thighs, and the speed at which he rams into you shakes the bed, his headboard slamming repeatedly against the wall.

"There," He grits, breath hot against your shoulder "You happy? You're pretty demanding for a bitch on her hands and knees."

"Harder," You beg, finally letting a strangled moan slip through your lips, "Harder, Jake, I need more!"

"Gonna fuck you through the wall if I go harder," Jake scoffs, nipping at your earlobe. He reaches up to pinch your clit between two rough fingers, twisting and teasing the oversensitive bud, "What about that, baby? That better?"

"Ah! Yes," You gush, drilling your hips backwards as Jake's pinch turns to circles over your clit, "More, Jake, I need- I need more!"

"More," He mimics you, bumping his lips into the side of your temple so that you turn and raise your head to try and meet him. It's killer on your neck, but it's the only way you can mouth desperately at his lips.

"So damn greedy. Is that what you were moanin' into that shirt of mine, darlin'? Beggin' for more, for the real thing?"

"Yes," You pant, lips pressing desperately to his own, over and over again from that awkward sideways angle you're barely able to reach, "Yes, Jake, I- I need you!"

"Tell them," Jake urges, parting from the sloppy side kiss he'd attempted and grabbing your face in his free hand. One is still circling your clit, but that means that his weight is on you, and you're barely able to hold yourself up with him on top. He yanks your head to the side, putting your drool-covered chin and fucked-out face on display. He's wearing a cocky smirk. but you can't see it, and only when your face is in position does he plant his hand back on the mattress and take his weight back.

"I need you, Jake," You moan, pathetic and desperate to the camera. You feel Jake's dick twitch inside of you, and his fingers circle faster at your clit. It sends a surge of arousal so powerful rolling under your belly that you nearly cum right then and there, but it fizzles out to wait for another wave.

"Ah! I need you," You repeat, babbling with a half-open mouth now, "I need you, I need you, I need you so bad, Jake!"

"Agh," He grunts, teeth biting and nipping at your bare shoulder as his hips jerk forwards even faster, a near-impossible pace, "Yeah? Yeah, oh fuck, scream for me, baby, come on."

His cock is rock hard, leaking, twitching, and slamming into your most sensitive spot. You let a steady flow of whimpers and moans fall from your lips, but as Jake's dick pistons harder in and out of you, they turn to screams.

Jake's cum floods your cunt. There's no other word for it than flood, it gushes from his tip and gets slammed into your cunt, having nowhere to go but out. You feel it ooze around his shaft, and it's sticky and hot against the walls of your cunt as he chases his high. He does fuck like a rabbit, hard and fast, and the feeling of him milking his dick in your pussy sends you over the edge with another rolling surge of pleasure.

"Ah!" Your mouth hangs open, eyes squeezed shut and thighs trembling with both the force of your orgasm and the effort of holding yourself up. Your climax makes your cunt spasm, and Jake feels the way your cunt squeezes his cock, clenching relentlessly and sporadically as you get fucked through your own high.

"Oh," He pants against your back, lips pressing to your dewy skin, "Oh- Oh my god,"

"Fuck," You hiss, finally slumping forwards where you'd been arching your hips backwards to get more of Jake's length in your cunt, "Oh, fuck! Jake," You breathe, "I- God, that was good."

"Mhm," He hums, dick still nestled snugly inside your cum-filled cunt as he takes a moment to breathe. His hand falls from your clit, and his forehead presses to your back before he breathes, straightening up and alleviating the pressure of his weight against you.

You have no problem collapsing your elbows and letting yourself slump to Jake's mattress. You're drained, and you can barely remember to keep your face turned towards the camera as Jake pulls out of your cunt. Once he's out, you let your knees straighten, your hips falling to the sheets below.

"Jesus," Jake huffs, thumbing at the puffy lips of your cunt and smearing some of his cum against your ass, "I made a real mess of you, darlin'."

"S'okay," You grunt, too spent to care about any clean-up, "Just- turn off the camera and come lay with me."

You do hear the click of the camera, and a few stray keyboard strokes. But your eyes drift shut, and they only reopen when you feel something warm and wet against your cunt.

You almost wish it was Jake's tongue, but it's not. You're too tired for that now, you think, but it's a suggestion for a later date.

It's a washcloth, and you must have been too hazy to hear the sink water running from the bathroom. Jake cleans up your puffy, stiff entrance, placating you with a warm hand on your thigh when you squirm and hiss at the sensitivity.

"I know," He croons, wiping away the last smear of his cum against your ass, "I know, darlin'. It's over now, you can sleep."

"No," You whine, reaching blindly for him, "You too, cowboy."

"Alright," He chuckles, soft and tired, "C'mere."

He tugs you to one side of his bed, and crawls over you to the other. He gathers you in his arms and you let him, limbs going limp as he tucks you against his chest.

"We made a ton of money," He informs you, lips dotting against the tip of your nose. He rubs his large hands over your back, a soothing gesture that helps you slip further towards sleep, "Come back any time, baby. Camera or no camera."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 3 months

Text

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 1

AO3

Summary: As Frankie reaches the end of her second week at Thorpe Abbotts Airfield, she begins to find her footing among the men of the 100th Bomb Group

Warnings: Excessive alcohol consumption, language

Word Count: 4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee

The setting sun cast a golden blanket over Thorpe Abbotts airfield, basking everything in an idyllic, orange glow that was almost beautiful enough to distract from the heady stench of motor oil that lay thick on the air, permeating hair and clothes so thoroughly that anyone who spent even five minutes in the place would carry it with them for the rest of the day.

Frankie Bevan clamped a flashlight tight between her teeth, the narrow beam of light illuminating the underside of the B-17's gun turret as she surveyed it for any cracks or gaps in the glass that could compromise its integrity. The rest of the ground crew had called it a day almost two hours ago, but the Yanks always did prefer to work in the daylight. She was nearing the end of her third year in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force, and after so many nights spent running the airstrips in the darkness for the RAF, Frankie was well accustomed to toiling away into the night.

Thorpe Abbotts was new, and yet much the same. It was only her second week here, compensating for the Americans' manpower shortages. The job was always the same, no matter where she went or what planes she worked on - checks, fixes, refuelling, over and over again - but thus was the nature of a mechanic's job. What she was not yet quite used to was the Americans themselves. Loud and brash and self-assured, Frankie was sometimes glad they worked different hours.

Taking note of a few cracks in the glass panelling, she reached up to swipe the torch from her mouth, offering a satisfied nod as she completed her checks for the night. All that was left was to pin her list of concerns up on the board inside the mechanics' Nissen hut, and then it was off to the pub for her.

Once she changed out of her oil-stained coveralls, that was.

"They're working you like a dog down there on the strip," Georgina, one of Frankie's bunkmates, pointed out, flipping nonchalantly through a magazine as she lounged on her bed.

"Someone's gotta do it," She shrugged, kicking off her coveralls as she rummaged in the shared wardrobe for the correct service uniform. "Some of the mechanics they've brought over are practically kids, not sure I'd trust 'em to fix my plane if I was going up there."

"You'd better show 'em what for, then," George smiled, glancing over as Frankie finished buttoning up her blouse, reaching for the navy blue jacket.

"You coming for drinks?"

"Uh, nah - I'll go tomorrow. Sandra thinks we'll be starting early tomorrow so I wanna get a decent night's sleep."

"Ooh, luxury," Frankie teased, shimmying her shoulders as she made her way to the door of the hut. "Alright, see you later."

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The pub was crammed from door to door as she forced her way inside, the sound of chattering overpowering the music blaring from a radio in the corner. The American invasion of Thorpe Abbotts had well and truly been successful, scarcely a flash of RAF blue visible amongst the sea of khaki as Frankie burrowed her way through the crowds towards the bar.

"Pint of Guinness, please," She called over the din, the bartender offering a friendly nod of affirmation as she felt the crowd behind her push her body further into the edge of the bar.

"There y'are, love," The man nodded, placing the pint glass in front of her as she smiled her thanks, foam lining her top lip as she took her first sip. Frankie barely had time to wipe it away, turning to take a step back from the bar, before another body collided with hers. She gasped as the beer she had so looked forward to sloshed over the rim of the glass, pooling on the floor and staining the front of her uniform, as the other man's drink did the same.

"Woah, careful there!" The man cried, flicking a few stray droplets of spilt beer from his hand onto the floor. A deep frown creased her features as she peered up at him. The soldier was so tall that the tip of her head didn't quite pass his shoulder, and yet the irritation in her expression was so palpable that he took a full step back.

"Oh, that was my fault, was it?" Frankie tutted.

"Well, sweetheart, maybe if you'd been looking where you were going-"

"Maybe if you bloody Yanks gave us some room to breathe in here we wouldn't have a problem!"

There was an easy smile on the man's face that struck her as distinctly annoying. Discarding his now almost empty glass on the bar, the man put up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Look. We're not gonna agree on this, so what d'ya say we settle this with a little friendly competition?"

She raised a brow. "What sort of competition?"

"Uh... how 'bout a drinking contest?"

Frankie let out a guffaw so forceful that the man's confident smile disappeared, and a few nearby airmen turned to watch the scene unfold. "Y'know what? Yeah. You're on."

With a nod, he turned away, marching towards the closest table. "Alright boys, gimme some space, I got a contest to win against half-pint over here."

She approached the table, sitting down opposite the soldier, smirking at his arrogance. The airmen he had kicked out of their seats were lingering to watch the spectacle unfold, and it was clear their bets were on her opponent.

"Now," He sighed, taking a seat. "In the spirit of good sportsmanship, I oughta introduce myself. John Egan," He said, reaching a hand across the table.

"Frances Bevan. Frankie," She nodded, shaking his hand.

Egan nodded. "So, normal rules apply. No spilling, no vomiting, gotta drain the glass. Still wanna do this?"

Frankie nodded firmly. "I'd never pass up such a wonderful opportunity to humble you Yanks," She grinned.

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Egan was turning red, his smug smile long since vanished, the motion of his arm slowing as he reached for the next shot glass, glancing across at her with a slightly nauseated expression. The crowd surrounding them had long since grown since they had begun, although how long ago that was she couldn't quite remember. The huge pile of empty shot glasses in the centre of the table did nothing to jog her memory.

"Oh, come on, Egan, you've gotta do better than that," Frankie teased, reaching forward and downing her next shot. In fairness, she too was beginning to feel light-headed, but it never showed on her face, her demeanour as cool and collected as it had been when she first sat down.

"I thought... I thought this would be easy," John complained, grimacing as he brought the next glass to his lips. "You're so small, where are you storing all this liquor?"

"I'm British - pretty sure it's in our bloodstream," She teased. Egan's eyes narrowed as he weakly upturned the contents of his glass into his mouth, screwing up his face as the liquid ran down his throat.

"I really like her," John admitted, letting out a long sigh as he drew a hand over his eyes. A few of the airmen laughed, clapping him over the shoulders.

"I think we're done here," Frankie chuckled.

"You forfeit?" He asked hopefully.

"No, I'm saying you're about to. That or you're gonna throw up - either way, I win."

"Nuh-uh," Egan shook his head. "Not gonna happen," He fought to suppress a burp, and the room seemed to brace itself for the inevitable vomit that would follow, letting out a collective sigh of relief when he swallowed his nausea back down. "...Yeah. Ok."

She clapped, throwing up her hands in victory as a couple of the men standing behind her cheered. "Well, it's been a real pleasure doing business with you Major," Frankie chuckled, fighting through the splitting headache that was growing in her temples as she rose from her seat, offering him a hand to help him stand.

John batted her away, but stumbled as he got up, one of his friends pressing a firm hand on his back to keep him upright. She smiled. "I'll help you get him back since it's my fault. Gotta get back to the huts anyway."

The airman accepted, each of them slinging one of Egan's arms around their shoulders as he tilted haphazardly over to one side, struggling to prop himself up against her due to her height. Trailing towards the door, a few of the men let out celebratory whoops at her as she passed, praising her victory.

"Thanks for the night, gents - I'm here all war," Frankie called over her shoulders, a cheer erupting from the crowd as they dragged Egan sideways out of the door.

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It was growing difficult to see as they marched John back to the huts, the street lights growing more and more sparse the closer they got to the airfield. "You gotta teach me how to do that," He slurred, tilting his head down towards her, the smell of liquor thick on his breath.

"You gotta get more practice in - you Americans with your 'no alcohol until you're 21' rule never stood a chance, we've just been in the game longer."

"Ah," He nodded, pausing for a moment. "Hey, why'd you call yourself Frankie?"

"Because Frances is a terrible name," She scoffed.

"Can I call you Fran?"

"Only if you want to die."

"Fair enough."

As they reached the end of the row of men's huts, she shrugged his arm off of her shoulders, relinquishing custody of John to the other airman, who thanked her for her help.

"See ya 'round, Shortcake!" Egan called as they trailed away, grinning proudly to himself at the nickname. Frankie scoffed, rolling her eyes and massaging her temples as her headache steadily worsened.

"You look like shit," George whispered as she wandered back into their hut. She had rolled her hair up into pin curls, protected beneath a headscarf, and was reading a copy of Wuthering Heights in the dim light of her bedside lamp.

"Got into a drinking contest with one of the Americans," She shrugged, tossing her beer-stained blouse and jacket into a crumpled heap at the foot of her bed, a reminder to wash them tomorrow.

"Did you win?"

"Of course."

"Shh!" One of the other women hissed from the opposite end of the room, shrouded in the darkness. Frankie pulled a face at her scolding, dragging a brush through the knots in her dark brown hair as George stifled a laugh, discarding her book and turning off the light once her friend had changed and gotten into bed.

It was silent for a while as she lay beneath the blankets, staring up at what would have been the ceiling if not for the complete absence of light. Her alcohol-induced headache thrummed behind her eyes, a constant, dull pain keeping her from sleep.

"George?" She whispered.

"What?"

"Do you have an aspirin?"

The sound of quiet rummaging was audible in the stillness of the hut, and she struggled to suppress a laugh as she felt the tube smack her in the face, a result of Georgina tossing it blindly in the darkness.

"Thank you," She giggled, trying not to gag as she took the pills dry, lying back and waiting for the pain to subside as she thought back on the night's events.

I'm not that short.

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The blinding morning sun was unwelcome the next day as Frankie made her way to the airfield from her hut, bike resting against her hip as she made a momentary stop to fix her hair for the day ahead, hair tie held between her teeth as she scooped it into a ponytail. Most of the women she shared the Nissen hut with had left over an hour ago, hurrying to the flight tower in anticipation of the arrival of yet more American pilots, but her job didn't begin until after the planes landed, so fortunately for her, she had been afforded a little more sleep, her headache now more or less dissipated.

A loud honking startled her, the hair tie slipping from her teeth and falling to the floor. As she bent to pick it up, a jeep rolled to a stop in front of her, the horn parping once more.

"Fuck's sake, what?" Frankie muttered, glancing up to see the cheery grin of Major John Egan smiling down at her.

"Mornin'."

"Are you even fit to drive after last night?"

"Fifty-fifty. Hop in, throw your bike in the back."

She frowned as she noticed the pile of bikes already forming in the back of the car, but stacked her on top all the same, sliding into the passenger seat beside him. "Starting a collection?"

"Won them in a bet, night before last. Got one for me and my buddy Buck, he's arriving today."

"Is that Major Cleven?" She asked.

"Sure is," John nodded as the engine roared to life, taking them sailing along the road towards the airstrip, the wind ruining her hair before she even had a chance to finish it.

"So..." He began, swerving slightly to dodge a few maintenance workers on bikes. "Where ya from, Frankie?"

"Stratford."

"I... do not know where that is."

"I didn't expect you to," She chuckled. "Grew up with my dad working his garage, that's what got me into it. Always preferred planes to cars, though."

"You and me both," John nodded, slowing as they neared the landing strip. Up ahead, the flight crew were beginning to disembark, and Frankie's eyes narrowed as she noticed one of the airmen carrying a large dog.

"If they let that dog shit in the place, I'm not cleaning it up," She stated. "You've heard me say it, that's on the record now."

"Yes ma'am," Egan affirmed, pulling to a stop, a grin spreading across his face as he got close enough to recognise his friends.

As he clambered out of the car, stepping forward to greet his comrades, she climbed out of her seat, wandering around the back of the jeep to disentangle her bike from the pile, tugging it free as the sounds of wind and aeroplane engines overpowered the men's voices.

"Oh, and, uh - This is Frankie Bevan," John called, guiding Cleven towards her, speaking louder so that she could hear. She raised her hand in a somewhat awkward wave, almost dropping her bike on her foot as she hauled it off the back of the jeep. "Best damn mechanic we've got, she's holdin' us together, that's for sure."

"Ma'am," Cleven greeted her with a tilt of his cap.

"He's never seen me work," Frankie shook her head, stepping forward to shake Cleven's hand. "We only met yesterday, he's just being nice in the hopes I won't tell you about how I drank him under the table last night."

John scoffed. "That is not what-" She raised a brow and he stuttered. "Yeah, that - that did happen."

Cleven laughed, squeezing Egan's shoulder. "Well, I'm sure glad he's had someone to keep him humble before I got here. Thank you for your work, ma'am, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other soon."

She nodded, grinning at Egan's embarrassment. "How was your flight?"

"Smooth sailin', not sure there'll be anything to fix up this time."

A soldier she had heard John greet as Demarco spoke up from where he was stood, scratching his dog's stomach. "The dog dropped a deuce in the cockpit."

Clicking her fingers, she pointed to Egan. "She's not doing that!" He called, craning his head over his shoulder as Demarco put his hands up in surrender.

"Well, that works wonders," Frankie chuckled, lifting her leg to straddle the seat of her bike. "Now, if all you gents have planned is standing around, I've got work to do."

"Bye Shortcake," John grinned as she pedalled the bicycle into motion, ringing the bell and offering up a middle finger as she left. He chuckled, feeling Cleven clap him over the shoulder again.

"She's interesting... nice," His friend began. "Bucky, I know you're sick of Marge tryna set you up, but she is definitely-"

"She's definitely my friend, Buck. Besides, I could never date a woman with a higher alcohol tolerance than me. That's just embarrassing."

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The wind whipped her hair this way and that as Frankie hammered at the pedals, gaining speed faster and faster with each second until the rolling fields beyond the airstrip were little more than a green blur. She'd always loved to cycle, preferably as fast as she possibly could. Her father used to say she should try racing, but his ambition curtailed rather when she got in trouble for almost taking out a couple of tourists outside Shakespeare's birthplace on her way home from school. Besides, she'd never quite had the discipline for sports.

Her breaks squeaked noisily as she rolled to a stop outside the mechanics' Nissen hut, stationed just beyond the main runway. They had been given a single hut for all of their operations, much to the chagrin of many. The back end was an orderly pile of spare parts - buckets of rivets, piles of sheet metal - but someone had supplied them with a table and chairs, and the recent addition of a gas stove and kettle had proved a huge hit.

Ken Lemmons was sat at the table as she wandered in, glancing at the corkboard by the door where she and the others posted notice of anything in need of urgent repair.

"A couple of the guys replaced the glass in the gun turrets earlier - thanks for the shout," Lemmons spoke up.

"Ah, good," Frankie nodded, taking a seat opposite him. As much as she bemoaned her younger, American co-workers, she had grown fond of Ken. He was sipping a cup of coffee, and by the look on his face, he was not enjoying it. She tossed the paper bag containing her lunch onto the table, retrieving a cucumber sandwich - meagre subsistence, and a sight that made the boy frown.

"I think I'd actually murder someone for some Hershey's right about now," He remarked, grimacing as he took another sip of coffee.

"Hey, we make do with what we've got," She shrugged, attempting to devour the sandwich before the cucumber could soak through the thin slices of bread. "I know one of the girls in the Land Army - I darn her jumpers in exchange for a bit of her extra cheese ration."

Lemmons chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "I miss good chocolate. I can't get used to... Cad-berry's?"

"Oh, that's sacrilege," She laughed, tossing a slice of cucumber at him, which stuck to the breast pocket of his coveralls. "If you'd come a couple years ago when they were still making Dairy Milk you'd've thought you'd died and gone to heaven."

"I'll believe it when I see it," He grinned, plucking the slice off of his clothes. There was a pause before he spoke again. "One of the fellas says they're actually taking off later."

Frankie nodded, lifting a hand to cover her mouth as she spoke around her food. "Oh yeah? This gonna be your first proper go at it?"

"Yeah..." Lemmons admitted, looking momentarily nervous. "You?"

She snorted back a laugh. "Nah. I've been in the WAAF nearly four years - moved around a bit, but whether it's Attlebridge or Docking or Thorpe Abbotts, it's all the same gig. You stick with me when the planes start coming back down and you'll be fine."

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in a smile. "You're gonna babysit me?"

Frankie grinned, standing up to reach across the table and ruffle his curls. "With a cute little face like yours, who could help it?" She teased, laughing as he batted her away.

"Get off, I'm serious," Lemmons chuckled, but the smile never faded from his expression.

Ken's buddy hadn't been wrong, per se, but his fabled mission had come not hours, but days later, with a hammering knock on the door to her hut, the women stirring from their sleep in a wave of disgruntled moans.

"What time is it?" Frankie whined as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, resisting the urge to burrow her head beneath the pillow and block out the relentless knocking outside.

"Four thirty," George groaned, frowning vindictively at her watch as she put it on, as if time itself had caused her personal grievance.

"They're flying today, get ready!" A young male voice bellowed from the other side of the door, clearly too shy to bare his face to a room of half-dressed, irritated women.

"Fuck me, I'm coming," She muttered, brushing her hair with one hand as she buttoned up the front of her coveralls with the other.

"Spot me! How's my lipstick?" George called, and Frankie leant across the bed that separated them to wipe a stray smudge of red away with her thumb.

"All good."

"Right," Her bunkmate huffed. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"See you later," Frankie affirmed.

"I'll join you for drinks this time if all goes well!" George called over her shoulder as she scurried towards the door.

"I'll hold you to that!" She replied, smiling as she laced up her boots.

The planes left and returned in mere hours, but the in-between had felt never-ending as the ground crew waited in tense anticipation to see how many would return and in what state. Frankie had sent Egan away to the flight tower after his nervous hovering had started to get on her nerves, and she had since spent the last half-hour sitting in the grass beside the runway making daisy chains with a few of the local children as a way to pass the time.

"Frankie! They're comin' in!" She heard Lemmons yell from across the airstrip. Hurriedly sending the children back to their parents as the sound of plane engines grew steadily louder overhead, she scrambled to her feet, grass stains streaking the knees of her coveralls as she jogged over, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as the planes began to descend towards them.

"...10, 11, 12..." Frankie muttered, coming to the slow realisation that many of the men they'd sent away that morning had not returned. But that loss did not negate the importance of the work they had to do now. "Ok, let's go," She patted Lemmons on the shoulder, and they reached for the bikes they had discarded on the ground nearby, pedalling hard towards the landing strip.

From the second they arrived, she was surveying the damage, scanning the planes for the areas that would need the most attention. It was impossible to pick just one.

"There's a reason we go at night," She muttered, so softly no one else could hear over the din of shouts and dying engines. The mechanics weren't emergency staff, but she'd seen a fair few planes come in either on fire, half-collapsed or both over the years, enough to learn it was best to get in as soon as possible.

"Shit," Lemmons huffed beside her, staring up at a huge, jagged hole in the metal of one of the plane's wings.

"Send a couple of the boys back to the hut - tell them to bring a car back with all the sheet metal they can put in it. Oh - and get me a welder!" She called to him, and the young man began barking orders at the other mechanics, the crew erupting to life around the plane as they began to fix the mess that had returned.

"Frankie!" Egan's voice rang from down below as she climbed up onto the top of the plane, marking out the areas of the body that needed replacing. She looked down at him as he yelled again. "You need anything?"

"Nope, we're good here!" Frankie replied, holding up a thumbs-up in case the wind drowned out her voice. Looking down at the work to do below her, it was as if she could map out every fix in her mind, envision every action in order, play it out in her head until the beast was as good as new. She smiled to herself. "This is what I do."

#masters of the air #masters of the air fic #masters of the air oc #mota oc #hbo war #john egan #gale cleven #ken lemmons #rosie rosenthal x oc #oc: frankie #mota #fic | i'm your man #oc: george

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mono-dot-jpeg · 6 months

Text

tank moment - mauga

summary; title slightly irrelevant, i wanted to be funny. iykyk

genre/extra tags; headcanons/bullet fic, i talk about mauga hcs i thought of on the fly, reader is implied to be a support character, reader is also part of talon group, fluff, i only know the bare minimum about him and that's all i need baby, is this platonic or romantic idk

[gender neutral reader] [canon typical violence mentioned]

a/n; im back on my overwatch era. it never really ended but, i want to write about him, mauga, the beloved. typing this on my phone and finishing on my computer if anything seems wonky shhh dont tell me i'll relive that mistake for days

also this is a somewhat lightly reseached- aka not fully accurate/detailed work. i briefly mention samoan culture and if it offends or if it's a mistake, please tell me and i will erase those parts asap.

[support me and buy a kofi]

🗣 ALRIGHT SO ‼️

i've been watching and playing with/against mauga since the trial to play him came out and god i love him

but he's kind of easy to counter (im an ana main, nade is fucking broken but that's just anti heal things) and his ult is annoying

anyways

every tank needs their heal bot to keep em up

you just happen to be mauga's heal bot KDJSJSJ

(baptiste is too probably but not really)

he's a really smug guy

no one really knows that bc he sounds so upbeat and nice

but he loves to tease you, poke at you bc he knows that you will answer to him most of the time and entertain him in conversation

you and him are probably in your world even when you're both in talon tbh

he does his own thing and you just happen to join in

(he totally baits you to join his plans and you both know it)

he's a chaotic and cunning man and you're his enabler

(sounds like me and my bestie tbh)

"a hero would sacrifice you to save the world but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you" type beat

he's lowkey possessive but we dont talk about that

jk we do talk abt it

he's your scary guard dog privileges

like that man is tall tall ‼️‼️

idk why but i dont really imagine him being like an openly sweet person

he keeps it private even with how loud he is

anyways

you know how he's on a yacht for his origin story and there's like a bunch of people who got destroyed by him?

yeah he would totally do that shit for u if you asked.

he would give you the best home but

"thanks for the new place and all but did you have to kill someone for it?"

"i mean come on! this place is nice! let's enjoy it!"

he's very "i'll do the dirty work, just sit back and look pretty." and then you're like, "yeah i could. but i won't."

dps support vibes for you ✨️

but also he's charging in most of the time so, there's not much time to dps support KDHDJDJJD

he's like the kool aid man bursting in through the walls /j

cough

back to the hcs here...

he's so tall and big, he would totally let you hang off his back like nunu and wilump (from league, yeah i play league dont remind me totally gonna write for heartsteel soon tm)

also he's literally the greatest heated blanket (ahead of roadhog)

he's so stronk and wowowowow im so gay i love him

when you're surrounded by some enemies, he's charging in, slamming the ground and carrying you with ease as he keeps you safe while destroying any enemies who even tried to touch you

ugh

despite his lack of pda, he's a very actions over words.

he's so silly

chivalry isn't dead when he breaks into a jewelry store for u 😍😍

if you ever have those crazy thoughts about crime, he's totally gonna enable you and let you reign havoc on god knows what.

love language is actions and gift giving. enough said.

when he gives you a hug, he's so fucking warm omg

i said it before and i'll say it again, he's the best heated blanket, literal furnace

bad for the people who sweat easily though (ahem me lowkey)

one the off-days where it's just a day off and relaxing, he's taking care of you well !!

when you're on talon missions, since he can't run around as easily unless he gets the okay but you do keep him company until then

he likes to protect but he loves destroying people

he knows you're able to care for yourself, so he can go crazy whenever, and he loves that.

he also loves watching you get mad or angrily passionate

"yes go, la'u ma’asoama!" (my rock/stone, get it? bc his name means mountain)

he is a really good hype man. even if you're the one in the wrong.

god I WISH I LOOKED UP MORE ABOUT HIM ARGBHYKFJ

soon (tm)

someday i'll write more.

#overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 x reader #overwatch mauga #mauga x reader #overwatch mauga x reader #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch fluff #overwatch headcanons

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familyvideostevie · 10 months

Text

how it could grow

thank you for voting in this poll! here we have grumpy!reader and sunshine!rooster going to the farmer's market | fluff, 1.7k

It's early.

Bradley gets up early and probably will forever. You've always considered yourself able to get up in the morning, but he's so...cheery. So damn chipper.

Being up early on a Saturday means the local farmer's market. It's so early that it's not even close to crowded, so you and your boyfriend stroll down the rolls of stalls, checking your combined list as you to to make sure you hit the right vendors.

Bradley waves at many of them, dragging you over to get some pickles and compliment Carlota's hat, to the bee farm stand to ask Steve about new candle scents, to get some iced tea and to hear about Lu's new puppy.

"This is delicious, Lu," he says. "What do you think, babe?" He nudges your shoulder with his.

He's not teasing you, not really, but he is trying to make you talk. You're usually very content to let Bradley be the talker, the friendly face. He's like the sun and for a long time you had no idea what he was doing spending his time with you. You're quieter, rougher around the edges. But he's practically drilled it into you by this point: he loves you. So you let him prod you a little because you do like these people and they always have a smile and kind word for you, even if Bradley does all the chatting.

"It's lovely," you tell the vendor, and mean it. It's no surprise Bradley knows him and his dog's name and everything about the business. He beams at you.

"Thank you!" he says. "Bradley's told me you're particular about your tea. Here, you take some of this new blend to try and let me know next week what you think."

So ensues a small battle over paying that ends with Bradley convincing Lu to come to the Hard Deck for a free drink this weekend in exchange for your sample blend.

"That was nice of him," you mumble, tucking into Bradley's side. He holds the iced tea you're sharing between you so you can take sips from the straw, his other arm slung over your shoulder.

"You're his favorite customer," he says. You look at him. Yeah, right, you say with your eyebrows. Seriously, his say back. You roll your eyes.

"I think that's you."

He winks. "Alright, beautiful." You scowl but he ignores it. "I think it's time to divide and conquer. You take fruits, I'll take veggies? And then we can hit the bakery on the way home and eat on the porch."

"Okay," you tell him. He gives you the rest of the tea and you tilt your cheek up. Bradley recognizes what you're asking for immedietly, surging forward to press his lips to your cheek tenderly.

"I'll find you," he says, and heads to the farm stand, whistling as he goes.

You head to the fruit stand. Bradley asked for strawberries, so you'll get some of those. And some apples for snacking on and blackberries, if she has them. When you get there, there's a small child and her mother in front of you. The little girl looks at you and you crack a smile at her and wiggle your fingers in hello. She giggles before burying her face in her mother's leg.

Yeah, okay, so a few things can crack your exterior. Your cheery, handsome aviator boyfriend and cute kids. And dogs, obviously.

The mom and kid leave and it's your turn. "Hi, honey!" the vendor says.

"Hi, Thalia," you say. Bradley comes here almost every week and when you tag along you love to visit this woman especially and her colorful piles of fruit.

"What's it for you today?" she says. Before you can answer, she holds up her hand. "Wait, I forgot!" She bends down under her stall table and reemerges with the most perfect carton of raspberries you've ever seen. You gasp softly. This is the first time she's had them all summer.

"Those are gorgeous," you say. She grins.

"That tall boyfriend of yours came by last week and I didn't have any yet." She chuckles at the memory. "He looked downright heartbroken and asked me to save some for you special once I picked 'em. So here we are! First and only carton before we bring a full load next week."

You gently take the berries from her and find that words won't come. "Oh," you say softly, looking down at them in your hands. "Thank you."

"Not a problem, dear," Thalia says softly. "Anything else for you?" You snap out of it and smile at her, rattling off your list. She bags up your things into your tote after you pay and you carry them over your shoulder while cradling the carton in your hands like precious cargo. Because it is.

The market is a little more crowded as you scan the veg stalls for Bradley. He does things like this -- the berries -- all the time, really. He looks out for you, makes sure your water bottle has ice in it, buys you more shampoo when he notices you're low, resets the car seat when he knows you'll be driving. You know that he likes taking care of you, that it makes him feel useful and like he's loving you properly, but you wonder if maybe you don't show him the same courtesy.

You know you can be sullen, you can be quiet, you can be prickly. It's not proved too much for him thus far and you're sure it won't drive him away, but you worry that he just doesn't know that he deserves to be loved with the same care and concern that he loves you. He deserves someone who makes sure he has the very first carton of the season of his favorite fruit.

You spot him standing by the kombucha stand and admire him as you walk over, tossing out the empty iced tea cup as you go. Highlighted hair, golden skin, tote bag of veg over his broad shoulders. He's so beautiful and he's yours. You love him, you really do. Right before you call his name he looks up and finds you, almost as if he felt you coming. He breaks into a smile so genuine you can't help but return it.

"Hi, gorgeous," he says, loudly. Beautiful, gorgeous. Bradley is always calling you something that makes your cheeks heat and your stomach swoop. You duck your head and step close to him. "Oh, hell yeah, the raspberries! Are they alright?"

"They're perfect," you tell him. You're perfect. "Thank you."

"Good," he says, like you being pleased by some raspberries is the best thing he's heard today. "Ready for breakfast?" You nod and he grabs your free hand and you head out of the market and down the street.

"Bradley," you say quietly, once you're clear of the stands. It's your serious tone and he picks up on it right away, giving your hand a squeeze.

"You okay?"

You hum. You are, but you need to get this out. "It was really nice of you to ask Thalia for these," you say, looking at your raspberries. "And I...I feel like I don't do things for you like that. And I wanted to say I'm sorry and that I'm going to try to do more because --"

"Woah, woah, woah," Bradley says, tugging you to a stop and making sure you're facing each other. "What's all this?" His brows are creased in concern, the furrow between them annoyingly adorable.

You take a deep breath and keep your eyes on his, determined. You want to be sure he hears this because you mean it.

"I know that I'm...prickly. And you're like the sun, Bradley." He looks like he wants to say something but you keep going before he can interrupt. "And you do nice things for me all the time and I know it's because you love me but also because it's just how you love, and because you're good. And I just want to do more to make sure you know that I love you and that you deserve to be treated like you're...like you're the best person in the world because you are."

His eyes get wider and wider as you speak, his lips parting. Yeah, maybe this is a little intense for like, 8:30 in the morning, but you two are honest with each other. It's how you got this far.

"Sweetheart," he says. "Baby, god, I--" He cups your face with one hand, eyes darting back and forth between yours. "But you do."

It's your turn to furrow your brows. What does he mean?

"You iron my uniform and you make sure I get dinner with Maverick every few weeks and you put gas in the Bronco and you stay up late to call me when I'm halfway across the world and you never let me forget my watch and you tell me you love me and that I'm brave and..." Bradley trails off and his thumb gently strokes your cheek. He starts again, quieter this time. "You're quiet in the mornings but you don't mind when I whistle and you're grumpy when it's too hot but you go outside with me anyway and you let me do the talking because I can't shut up and you only smile when you mean it and you're you. You do love me like that. You do."

Good god, you're blinking away tears at his words. "Okay," you say. "I guess we...I guess we love each other alright." Maybe it's just hard to see yourself the way he sees you. Maybe he finds it hard to see himself the way you see him. Maybe this is just how it is -- you have to remind each other you're doing your best.

Bradley leans in and presses his lips to your forehead. "You fucking bet we do," he whispers.

"Don't crush my berries," you say, eyes fluttering closed. He shifts and you feel his breath on your lips.

"I'd never."

And then he kisses you on the empty boardwalk on another gorgeous morning in your lovely, wonderful life.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here! (also did anyone catch the easter egg in this fic :))

#bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun maverick fic

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holdmytesseract · 10 months

Text

Royal Visitors

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N feat. baby Narfi & Ella

Summary: Odin and Frigga come to visit the newest member of the family - baby Narfi. But things don't always go by plan, right? Especially not, when Ella comes home with her uncle Scott in tow...

Warnings: fluff, fluff and even more fluff! slight thirst? 👀 baby things and a lot of humour! scott being a dork. 😂

Word Count: 4k

a/n: @fictive-sl0th asked me, if I would write this - and of course I couldn't say no. 🥰 So well... Here you go! I hope you, my wonderful friend and everyone else likes this! 🥰

I'd also like to dedicate this story to @smolvenger . I hope this little, funny fluff piece can conjure a smile on your face. 🫂

Baby Fever Crew: (Let's try 'em tags again! I hope it works! ☺️) @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @eleniblue @vbecker10 @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @lokisninerealms @peaches1958 @multifandom-worlds @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @simping-for-marvel @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lou12346789 @kimanne723 @coldnique @lady-rose-moon @acefeather2002 @aagn360 @mostclevermiss @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @chennqingg @anukulee @lokiforever

Peeps who I think might be interested in this as well: @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @evelyn-kingsley ☺️

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Babe, when are your parents going to be here again?" You asked your husband, while cradling the tiny boy you squeezed out of you a mere week ago in your arms; breastfeeding him. Loki turned to face you; stirring the cup of coffee in his hands. His hair was positively a mess. He was wearing nothing but black boxershorts and a matching black and very stained tank top. The dark shadows underneath his eyes were the result of the lack of sleep he suffered from the past days. Having a newborn again and a six-year-old wasn't easy for him, nor for you. Especially for him, though, because he made sure that you got as much rest as possible; still needing to recover from the not so easy-going birth.

"Umm..." Loki checked the time, "In about... two hours." and took a sip of his coffee. "Alright. I have to get ready then. Take a shower, put on fresh clothes... Probably even brush my teeth..." Loki gave you an incredulous look, before he made his way over to where you sat at the dining table; passing by the kitchen counter. "You can do that, my love, but first..." He reached for the dozed off baby in your arms, "You are going to take a much-needed nap. Unless I'll have to fear that you are going to pass out in the shower - which wouldn't be good." and took tiny Narfi - who had himself curled up in a fetal position, in his strong, muscular arms. "And I am going to look after this little man, yes?"

You blinked; tired brain trying to process his words. "But... But babe... You only just got up from a nap, because Narfi woke you... You need rest, too. After all, you watched him almost the whole night and morning. Plus, you helped Ella getting ready for primary school. I can't ask you to look after him again, while I-" The god had heard enough and successfully shut you up with his lips on yours; kissing you gently. "Darling... This goes without saying. Of course, I am doing this for you. I'm your husband. We are partners. A team... And this little prince here is my son as well. Not just yours. I am his father and I have the responsibility to look after him as well - just like you. But the decisive and important difference is, that you carried him for over six months within your womb; keeping him safe and sound. You birthed him - which was very difficult, nerve-wracking and exhausting. You deserve and need the rest. I can see when the mother of my children needs a break - and I'll not let it happen that you pass out because of exhaustion. So please... Take a nap."

You were stunned. Utterly touched by Loki's words.

Blue eyes looked deeply into yours, while he shifted Narfi, so that he could intertwine a hand with yours. "Please." He added; gently squeezing your hand.

You felt how your emotions got stuck in your throat; eyes becoming teary. "Oh Lokes, I... I don't know what to say, I..." You stood up; moving to wrap both your arms around his waist. "Thank you, baby. I love you so much. You are the best. I couldn't have wished for a better husband and father." The god smiled; kissing you once more. "I love you, too, my goddess. And now off with you. I want to see that pretty ass in our bed now. Get some rest."

While you laid down and slept in only after a few minutes. Sleeping like a log; Loki took care of the newest addition to his family. He carried Narfi around a little longer, to make sure that he stayed asleep, before he laid him down in the crib - which stood inside your shared bedroom. Then he went to the living room and decided to help you out a little more; folding some laundry. Mostly onesies, rompers, bibs and burp cloths. Unfortunately, it was a very... Let's say tiring task, and so the god slept in as well; cuddling the onesie he was about to fold. The cup of coffee he had consumed was not helping him to stay awake; failing - and perhaps it wasn't the best idea of him to cover himself up with a soft, warm and inviting blanket. Therefore, that nobody was awake now and watched the time, two hours flew by within the blink of an eye and it came how it had to come...

The Bifrost opened up in the middle of the living room with a rather loud 'wooosh' - but it didn't bother all sleeping members of the family at all. Everybody was way too tired to care. Even Narfi slept through it.

Odin and Frigga appeared; standing now where the rainbow light once was. They both noticed immediately that it was awfully quiet. No Ella who came running excitedly up to them... No you, who greeted them warmly, nor their son. Not even the coos and cries of a newborn could be heard. Nothing. Just entire silence.

The couple exchanged a look. "No welcoming committee?" Asked the Allfather almost sceptically. "You did tell our son that we would come at this time of the day?" Frigga nodded, "I did, dear." and finally started to look around. It didn't take long for her to find her son - deep asleep on the sofa; snugly wrapped up in a blanket. She smiled, "But perhaps they were victims of a higher power." and tapped her husband's arm gently; making him see. He huffed. "What are we going to do now?" "Let them rest and come back later." Odin shook his head. "Dear wife... As you should know, I am a king. I have a kingdom to rule and duties to follow. I don't have the time - unfortunately," stated the king and approached the sleeping Loki.

"Son. Wake up." No reaction. Odin cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Loki!" It helped. The god ripped his eyes open and literally jumped up. "Yes, Sir, I'm awake, Sir!" He almost shouted; blanket falling around his ankles and the onesie hanging messily over his shoulder - just like his hair. Again. Loki was definitely completely out of it; caused by Odin, who ripped him so 'harshly' and sudden out of his deep slumber.

While Frigga placed a hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling like a maid, who had heard the newest gossip, Odin was rather shocked at his son's messy appearance. Sure, he had a newborn child, but where was his royal behaviour? "Son..." The Allfather started, shaking his head. "What in the nine realms are you wearing?" Loki blinked; was still trying to properly wake up and looked down himself; seeing the stains on his top - which undoubtedly came from Narfi, and that he was basically just in underwear. Oh.

Swallowing hard, he quickly scrambled to get away from the sofa - and the blanket, and snapped his fingers; letting his seidr correct his outfit. "A-Apologies, father, I-" Frigga lifted a hand and placed it on the now black shirt clad chest of Loki; interrupting him. "Don't be, my dear. We understand." She gave him a heartwarming smile, which calmed the god down. "Thank you, mother." Frigga nodded and cupped his cheek for a moment, before she let go.

"Where is your wife and daughter?" Odin questioned Loki then, looking around. "Oh, um, Ella is out with her uncle Scott. He shows her around his father-in-law's superhero suit laboratory and Y/N is sleeping. She's been very exhausted." Loki had no other words to describe his father what his daughter was doing. How should he explain this? The Pym particles? That they were able to shrink you or grow you to the size of Asgard's palace? Right… He couldn't.

Odin frowned; was visibly confused. "What by the holy roots of Yggdrasil…?" Yeah… Exactly, Loki thought. "It's science, father. That's a complicated Midgardian thing." Frigga again just giggled, while Odin huffed, "Such foolery. I'll never understand those Midgardians." and shook his head. "Now, may we move on to the reason why your mother and I made our way here? We wish to see our newest grandchild, don't we?" The Allmother rolled subtly her eyes at her husband's behaviour, but nodded; giving her son a smile.

You and Loki hadn't told his parents yet if you were having a boy or a girl. Both, you and him agreed to keep it a secret and surprise them. Actually, you wanted to do it together, but when Loki saw you sleeping so peacefully and soundly; wrapped up in your oversized cuddle blanket, he didn't have the heart to wake you up. So, Loki tiptoed over to the little crib and slid both his big hands underneath the small body of his son, in order to lift him up in his arms. Narfi stirred; scrunched his little face. "No, no, no, don't wake up, little prince," Loki whispered; rocking him gently. "It's all good. Daddy just wants you to meet your grandparents. They are beyond excited to meet you." The god continued to whisper to the infant, while he carried him towards the living room.

"Mother, father..." He announced his return with a smile. "It is an utmost pleasure for me to introduce you to your sweet, little grandson - Narfi." Frigga gasped as she laid eyes upon the baby; eyes starting to get clouded by tears. She was visibly happy.

While the Allmother gasped and tried to hold back her tears of happiness, Odin let out a loud, uh, shriek of happiness. It almost sounded like a battle cry; causing both Loki and Frigga to flinch. "A boy! A boy! Finally another man in the family! An heir to the throne! A new ki-" The Allfather cut off his own sentence, as he saw the bombastic side eye his wife was giving him. She was clearly not amused by his reaction. Odin cleared his throat; giving his son, who was looking quite a bit confused at him a nod, before he reached out a hand and clapped him forcefully on the shoulder. "I-I meant great, my son. Producing such strong and healthy children."

Loki - and Frigga were both still not quite convinced by his choice of words, but either way, Loki knew that his father was happy. That he was proud of him and his kids - and that made the god smile. "Would one of you like to hold him?" At this question, Odin got surprisingly excited. "I definitely wish to hold my grandson! May I?" Loki blinked; smiling, "Of course, father." and handed Narfi carefully over. The king looked down at the newborn; the softest of smiles twitching at the corners of his mouth. "He's a broth of a man, son. But why is he still in his Jotun form?" "Oh, uh, he just hasn't learned to shapeshift yet. Ella could do it immediately, but Narfi's got more of my Frost Giant genes and needs a bit more time to learn," the god tried to explain. "Ah, I see."

"Shall we have a seat?" Loki continued; gesturing towards the sofa. Both royals took the offer and sat down. Odin handed Narfi then over to his wife. "He is truly a wonderful, sweet little boy, my dear. You can be proud." Loki smiled; eyes fixated on the still sleeping infant. "I am, mother, I am - but I am even more proud of Y/N. The pregnancy, all that happened while she was pregnant and the birth itself were anything but easy and she did so great; worked so hard to bring him into this world." Frigga - and even Odin nodded; agreeing. "Indeed she is, Loki. Without a doubt one of the strongest women I know."

You had been asleep for a good while now, but your motherly instincts had tickled you awake. A sleepy gaze on the alarm clock, standing on your bedside table told you, that you had slept for almost three hours now. Three hours and Narfi didn't wake me once? You thought; felt the said motherly instincts kicking in.

Rubbing the remaining sleep from your eyes, you yawned and got quickly up; walking over to the crib - only to see that it was empty. A wave of panic and fear rolled over you, until your hazy brain told you, that Loki was with your baby; causing immediate relief to wash over you.

Making your way to the bathroom then; you heard voices coming from down the hall - and suddenly you remembered. Odin and Frigga wanted to visit you! And you slept through it. Shit. Quickly closing the door behind yourself, you took a pee and tried to make yourself look a bit more... presentable. We spoke about the king and queen of Asgard... They were royalty. After checking yourself in the mirror, you decided to join 'the party.'

The first thing you saw when you stepped inside the living room, were three adults, who had their gazes fixated on little Narfi; laying in his grandmother's arms. He was awake; cooing and gurgling - definitely being the main attraction and superstar.

You smiled; stepping closer. "Seems like the little prince met his grandparents already." At the sound of your voice, every head turned to face you. Loki was, of course, the first to react. He got up and walked over to you; gently placing both his hands on your hips. "Darling. As I can see, sleep has released you from its powerful clasp?" You nodded; smiling softly at all the love and affection Loki gave you in this moment - despite his parents presence.

"And as I can see, have the king and queen already met our little prince," you replied; standing on tiptoes and gazing over your husband's shoulder. "Indeed, darling. Apologies. I meant to wait for you, but you slept so peacefully... I didn't want to wake you." "It's okay, babe." You reassured him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, before you stepped past him - out of his embrace and approached your son, Odin and Frigga.

The Allmother handed Narfi quickly over again to her husband and stood up; opening her arms. "Y/N, my dear," she said, pulling you into a hug. Frigga was - without a doubt, one of the sweetest and kindest souls you knew. "How are you feeling? I hope you could recover a bit?" You smiled; hugging her back. "I could, yes, thank you. I still feel tired, but it's way better." "Oh, that is very reassuring to hear."

You then greeted Odin as well, who was very enthralled with your little baby boy - just like everyone. You sat down on the sofa then - in between Loki's legs; leaning against his chest, with his arms loosely wrapped around you. Narfi quite enjoyed all the attention he got. Just like being held and carried the whole time, so it was no wonder that he slept in soon again.

After a little while, 'the party' got even bigger... Scott returned Ella back home - and of course she had asked him to visit her little brother as well, to which Scott couldn't say no. And perhaps Ella forgot, that her grandparents were on a visit already...

She gently opened the main door, having learned that she must be quiet in case Narfi was sleeping and tiptoed inside the apartment. Loki had practically enchanted the door knob, so that Ella could make her way inside her home without knocking or taking a key with her. She was already a big girl, but watching over an important key was perhaps a too big task yet. So, whenever she wanted to go back inside, the doorknob turned into a doorhandle for her.

"Come on, uncle Scott!" Ella quietly, but excitedly called out; holding the door open. Scott grinned at her and sneaked inside; walking on his tiptoes. After Ella had closed the door again, they both sneaked down the hall - like agents, on their way to find her parents and brother. "I hear voices, Agent Ella. I think your brother might be awake." The little girl had to suppress her giggles. "I think that too, Mr. Ant-Man. It comes from the living room, so we should go there." "Alright. Lead the way, Agent."

Getting closer, the hushed voices got clearer - and suddenly Ella realised. "Ohh..." "What is it, Agent Ella? Have you been hit?! Is there an enemy close?!" Once again, she had to suppress her giggles. "Nooo, Mr. Ant-Man. But my grandparents are here. I could hear grandma Frigga talking." Scott's eyes widened. "Ohh... So you've got very royal visitors today?" "Uh.Huh. But that's okay. I'll take you to see Narfi anyways. Let's go, uncle Sc- I-I mean, Mr. Ant-Man."

Together, they reached the living room. Ella peeked around the door frame first; analysing the situation. She saw how Narfi was laying in Frigga's arms, while she fed him a bottle. Odin sat beside her - just like you and Loki. "Mr. Ant-Man, we're clear!" Ella turned and whispered to Scott, "All right, Agent." before she peeked around the corner again. "Hi mommy, hi daddy, hi grandma Frigga and grandpa Odin!" The little girl chimed happily, causing everyone to look at her with a smile. Scott, being the dorky and funny guy he was mimicked Ella. He peeked around the corner above her, smiling as well. "Hi Y/N, hi Loki, hi Ella's grandparen- I-I mean greetings, your majesties!"

Ella giggled like mad at her uncle Scott's funny behaviour. She adored him - without a doubt. You had to suppress a giggle as well, while Loki rolled his eyes. And Odin and Frigga? Well, they were quite a bit taken by surprise and confused. After all, they didn't have a single clue who Scott was...

"Hi princess, hi Scottie!" You answered, giving them an amused smile. "Laing, what are you doing here?" Asked your husband, visibly annoyed by the friendly Avenger. Scott wanted to answer, but Ella was the one who did. "He brought me home, daddy, from our expo- No, uh... Expola- Exploration!" "Exploration? That sounds quite exciting, if I may say so," chimed in Frigga, while she still fed the bottle to Narfi. "What did you explore, sweetie?" You asked. Scott didn't tell you what exactly he wanted to show Ella. Just that he was going to take her to Hank's laboratory - and you trusted your friend, of course. After all, he was a father, too.

Ella smiled, grabbed Scott by the hand and pulled him after her inside the living room. "He showed me his friends!" "His friends?" Questioned the Allmother. Loki, though, had already a guess. "Oh norns..." He whispered under his breath. "Uh.Huh!" The little girl let go of Scott's hand again, in order to greet everybody. Hugging you, Frigga and even her grandfather; pressing a smacking kiss on Narfi's tiny, chubby cheek and lastly running into her father's arms. It was the hug that lasted the longest - and everyone understood, because all knew that Ella was a daddy's girl. It hadn't changed and probably never would.

"He showed me his ants!" She announced proudly and happily then, causing Odin's eyes to widen. "Ants?! That mortal showed you ants?!" "Yes, grandpa Odin. Scott has sooo many of them and they are so cute and friendly!" The girl explained; totally ignoring Odin's confusion and aversion. "That is ridiculous," the Allfather whispered under his breath, while Ella talked away; earning another side eye from his wife.

"Well, that sounds amazing, sweetie!" You said, giving your daughter a good feeling - and Scott, too. "Scottie, would you like to sit down, have a cuppa coffee?" You then offered; smiling. Loki wasn't amused, what his eyes told you immediately, but you didn't care. Scott was your friend - and definitely Ella's friend. The man with short black-brown hair smiled, nodding. "I'd love to!" "Great! On my w-" You wanted to stand up, to get Scott that cup of coffee, when Loki leapfrogged you. "I'll get our favourite insect a cup of coffee, love." You blinked; were a bit surprised, but nodded. "Alright, babe, thanks."

While Loki was away, you decided to put Narfi down and lay him inside his crib, since he got quite a bit whiny and fractious. After all, there were suddenly a whole lot of people here, directing all their attention on him... Perhaps it became a little too much for the newborn now. So, you took Narfi in your arms and carried him back into yours and Loki's bedroom.

When Loki and you were away, Ella pulled Scott over to the sofa; making him sit down between her and Odin - and the Avenger was visibly excited about this. After all, he sat beside a king! A real king! An excited, hyped grin was painted on his face, as he slid closer towards the Allfather. "So, uh, Mr. Odin - your majesty, Sir..." Odin turned his head slowly; facing him, but he was definitely not quite as amused as Scott was. "How is it to be a king? It must be so freaking awesome and- Oh ma gosh... Is that gold?" He saw the buttons who kept his robe attached to his tunic. Odin wasn't wearing his armour today, since he was on this family trip, but nevertheless was he dressed royally. "Real gold??" Odin nodded; confirming Scott's assumption. "Wooow... And... And that robe..." The black-brown haired man continued; grabbing a fistful of the king's red robe. "What awesome kind of fabric is that? Some kind of cotton mix? It isn't polyester, is it??"

Odin wasn't very pleased about a mere Midgardian touching his robe. "No, it certainly isn't." He hissed and gave it a tug, to pull the fabric straight out of Scott's hands. "It is fine Asgardian silk." Scott's eyes widened and he smiled even brighter; absolutely not caring that the Allfather didn't like what he was doing. "Wow! That's so cool, I swear!"

While Odin became more and more annoyed with every passing minute; Frigga and Ella were having a hard time to suppress their giggles.

Later on, when your guests had left and Narfi was fed, you decided to take a bath, in order to relax a bit. Loki let you, of course; was more than happy that you took time for yourself to relax.

Now the god was laying on the sofa, wrapped up in a soft blanket with Narfi sleeping on his bare chest, as Ella made her way inside the living room. She was already dressed in her pyjamas; ready for bed. Loki saw her tiptoeing inside the room and smiled. "Hey there princess," he whispered; already shifting a bit. He knew what was coming and therefore lifted the blanket. Ella smiled her brightest smile, causing the proud dad's heart to skip a beat. She hopped on the sofa, crawled underneath the blanket and cuddled close to her father and brother. There needed no words to be exchanged. Just love. Loki wrapped his free arm around his daughter and dipped his head to press a lingering kiss on her head.

The three of them just laid there and enjoyed the cuddles. No words were spoken, until Ella decided to change it.

"Daddy?" "Yes, princess?" "Can I visit uncle Scott sometime again?" Loki smiled. He and Laing probably weren't best friends, but Ella adored him, so why denying her that? "Of course you can, Ella." "Really?" She quipped excitedly; blue eyes shining. "Really." "Yay!" Loki chuckled; the vibration of his chest causing Narfi to whine subtly - and Loki stopped immediately. "Apologies, little prince."

The conversation died down then, until Ella spoke up once more.

"Daddy?" The god hummed in response. "I invited uncle Scott to come to Asgard with us." Loki blinked; was quite a bit shocked. "You... You... What? Why?" "Because he wants to have a robe like grandpa Odin has." Loki grimaced; not amused by this idea. Oh norns...

#the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x you #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fanfiction #loki x y/n #loki #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader

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immajustvibehere · 1 year

Text

The Rescue

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

summary: You go missing in the mountains when you were scouting ahead with John. Luckily, Arthur finds you. The near death experience gives both of you the courage for a confession.

tags: high honor Arthur, fluffly

2300 words, 13 minutes reading time

Three gunshots pierced the silent air that for hours had remained undisturbed, unless one counts the bluster of the wind. The shots echoed through the mountains. They prompted you into action, forgetting your miserable state.

"Here! I'm here!", you screamed with everything your voice had to offer, and that wasn't much. Half-frozen to death, sitting in your own blood and desperately clutching your arm where a wolf had bitten you, you tried standing up, with no success. Your leg had been hurt and putting pressure on it made the scenery fade to black. Out of fear for fainting and not being found, you remained cowering under the icy ledge, only a few feet away from a dangerous ravine.

"Y/N!", Arthur's voice was so close, you started to cry in relief.

"Arthur!", you screamed back and suddenly - there he was. You looked up the cliff to see his worried face staring down on you. Only moments later, Javier was appearing right next to him.

"Damn", Javier mumbled. Arthur seemed kind of unable to open his mouth, but he hurried down to you, careful not to slip and hurt himself.

"John should be further down there", you pointed into the said direction, "haven't heard from him for a while though."

Arthur was almost at your side: "Javier, you go and fetch Marston, I'll take Miss y/l/n." Javier's face disappeared, and you could concentrate on Arthur who was quickly approaching you. He squatted in front of you, not giving a damn about his pants which now were covered in snow. You couldn’t deny that it looked absolutely horrible. There was no white snow around you, everything was painted in your blood, and you yourself couldn't have possibly looked any better.

"Shit, y/n", Arthur murmured, taking his gloves off by biting them and sliding out of them.

You only managed to nod, tears now streaming down your face without shame. For hours on end, you had been convinced that you'd die here, freezing to death. It would have only been a matter of time until the wolves would come back and finish the work they had started. But now you were safe.

"It's gonna be okay", Arthur tried to calm you down. Gently, he wiped away some of your tears with his hand. It probably wasn't even warm, but it felt like a furnace against your frozen cheeks.

"It's alright", Arthur repeated. He noticed that he was shaking too, not necessarily because of the cold. It was true that the ride up the glacier had his bones chilled, but seeing you all bloody before him made him realise that he was shaking out of relief. He had been afraid you were gone. And now he feared losing you, right here and right now in front of him. Since you slightly pushed your face into his open hand, he didn't dare to remove it, but rather used his other hand to hold his glove open and blow some hot air into it.

"Get yer hand in there", he mumbled, helping you with putting his two gloves on.

"Can ya still move 'em?", Arthur asked, gently pressing your two hands in between his own. You quickly nodded and waited for your lips to stop quivering before you gave an answer: "Yeah. But this one hurts." You nodded towards your left arm where the nasty bite wound was hard to miss.

"I'd worry if it wasn't hurtin'", Arthur said, a crooked smile appearing on his lips for a few seconds.

"Very funny", you replied with a straight face. Actually, it had cheered you up a bit. This interaction was preferable to dying alone and becoming a frozen mummy.

And yet, Arthur was still worried more than he was comfortable with. He knew that he cared about you, but he cared about many people. However, this felt a little different.

"Can you stand up?"

"No...something's wrong with my leg."

"Okay. Come on then-", he stated, picking you up without so much as a silent grunt.

You snuggled into his wet coat and anxiously watched him struggle carrying you on the icy ground.

"How long have you been...like this?", Arthur asked after whistling for his horse.

"Not sure. At least one night...John and I rode out yesterday and then we were attacked by some wolves. It was...sheer luck that we survived. I mean- I hope John..."

"He'll be fine."

You gulped down a sob but were immediately relieved by Javier whistling behind you. Arthur turned around so you both saw him carrying a barely conscious John on his back.

You yourself struggled staying conscious during the ride back. For safety reasons, Arthur placed you in front of him on the horse, so he would be able to secure you with an arm tightly wrapped around you. He had admitted that he didn't trust you - in your current state - to stay on the horse without his help. At first you still had some strength left in you to give a witty remark, mocking him for calling you weak, but five minutes into the ride Arthur had to beg you to keep your eyes open.

"We're almost there, okay? Try stayin' awake until you're in the cabin, would ya?". he said those words close to your ear. The hot air from his mouth made your hair stand up and, in a way, did a decent job of keeping you awake and your heart beating. After one minute had passed, Arthur felt you slumping against his chest again.

"Darlin' please", he pleaded in a whisper, for neither Javier nor John to hear.

"'m really tryin' Arthur", you mumbled. Arthur was afraid that your hypothermic body was shutting down and he wouldn't be able to hold you in both of his arms to keep you warm and awake. The only thing he could to was to ride faster and make sure from time to time, that you were still awake. He'd whisper things into your ears that he didn't knew he was capable of, but the thought of having almost lost you, or to find out that you are indeed at the brink of death from the cold and blood loss, made his tongue loose.

You listened at first, but soon you were barely conscious, only managing to nod or mumble in agreement sometimes, without even registering what Arthur was saying.

The rest was black. You woke up in dry clothes and with an aching body, wrapped into two blankets. Mary-Beth and Swanson were staring you down, both of their faces lighting up when they saw you stirring.

You weren't awake for long, but long enough to be assured that you'll live and hadn't taken any lasting damage, aside from the wolf bite on your arm, which might leave some scars and your ankle which was probably sprained, but would soon be healed if you gave it enough rest. You managed to sit up to have a look at John who was lying in another bed close to yours, Abigail at his side.

"Looking good, Marston", you smiled, simply happy to see him alive.

"You have also seen better days, y/n", John replied briefly. And with that you plummeted back onto your bedroll and fell asleep.

When you opened your eyes again, it was dark in the cabin. No daylight came in, it must be the darkest hour of the night, but the fire in the fireplace distorted the shadows of the sleeping people in the room to eerie figures. You squinted to make out the different faces, which often was impossible because they were covered with scarves and shawls. It took a while, but after a couple of minutes lying awake you realised what had woken you in the first place. It wasn’t Uncle’s snoring or the weeping of a woman in the far corner, who you were quite sure you hadn’t seen before, but it was pain.

Your arm had been tidily wrapped in clean bandages, but you felt the wound underneath throbbing and burning relentlessly. Your leg wasn’t bothering you, as long as you remembered to keep it entirely still. If you moved it, because the chillness of the room sent a shiver through your spine and made you wince, the pain ran up all the way up your body. Maybe Reverend had given you some of his morphine earlier because you couldn’t quite understand how you would have been able to fall asleep under those circumstances.

With eyes closed you laid as still as possible, hoping that exhaustion would carry you to sleep again. You didn’t know how long you had lain there like that, when you heard the door of the cabin being opened. The hinges creaked and in came the stature of a man, warmly illuminated by the lantern in his hand – Arthur. You watched him while he tip-toed over the sleeping women, halting suddenly when he reached your bed and found you looking at him with a big smile.

“Did I wake ya?”, he whispered.

“No. Can’t sleep”, you sighed, also careful to keep your voice quiet so you wouldn’t wake the others, “What are you doing here?”

“I ehrm-“, Arthur awkwardly looked around in the room, “wanted to check on you.”

“Really?”, you grinned at him.

“Sure”, Arthur scratched the back of his neck, “ya looked barely alive when we got here. Were as white as a ghost and not exactly what I’d call conscious.”

“Yeah”, you chuckled sorrily. With all the strength you could bring up, you sat upright and made space for Arthur to sit down on the bed. Your face twisted in pain when you moved your injured leg, but it paid off when Arthur sat down with a sigh and put the lantern on the floor in front of you. For a few moments, neither of you said anything. Arthur looked around the room and studied the sleeping faces, while you had your eyes glued on his. You knew there was something coming, but you weren’t quite prepared for it when he finally said it.

“’em words I said on the ride back…”, he paused. His voice had sounded so flustered, his cheeks surely must be a darker shade of red. But the dimness of the light didn’t grant you this exciting view. For a split second he looked at you, only to find you expecting him to go on. But he didn’t. Now was the time for an embarrassing admission. Though you did remember him calling you darling and even sweetheart at one point, your memory was fuzzy. You weren’t sure if it had really happened or if he had only said it in the dream which you had, but you recalled him saying the word “love”. Maybe it was “my love”, or “I love”,…you didn’t know and the harder you tried to remember, the more you doubted it had actually happened.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I was pretty much gone as soon as you had me on the horse”, you apologized and watched the man’s face. Was he relaxing?

“Probably better that way”, he gave a smile that looked rather sad.

He was starting to stand up, when you quickly grabbed his coat. He halted in surprise and threw you a quizzical look. Since you didn’t say anything but still didn’t let go of his coat, he sat down again, looking at you with a hint of concern.

“Yer alright?”

“Ye- No. I don’t know”, you admitted, “it depends.” You gulped.

“I was pretty sure I would be dying in the mountains. And when you’re just sitting there, freezing to death, you think about the stuff you regret not doing”, you started.

You added: “I’m glad you found me.”

Arthur huffed: “Sure, I’m also glad we fou-“

“No. You. I thought I’d never see you again”, tears started to roll down your cheeks. You weren’t sad, or angry or any emotion that would have your tears streaming, just the memory of sitting in the darkest night and feeling every limb ache in pain for warmth was unnerving.

“Well, yer seein’ me now? Ain’t ya? It’s alright girl”, Arthur tried calming you down when he saw the tears in your face. Carefully, he slung an arm around your shoulders and gently pushed you into him. Your face rested on his chest while he tried to comfort you by patting your back. You waited a few moments until you had calmed down enough to speak without the quiver in your voice.

“Before I get stuck somewhere else,…or eaten by a cougar,…or shot by some idiot”, you whispered, “I really want you to know that I-…you mean a lot to me, Arthur. I love you. Have done so for a while now.”

Hadn’t you been convinced that Arthur hadn’t already made a similar confession to you on the horse with you blacked out, you probably would have kept it for yourself for many years to come or until one of you was killed by a bullet. Of course, you would have ended up regretting it, like you regretted it on the mountain, of not having it said earlier. You figured, now was as good a time as any.

Arthur held you tighter, pressing you into his fluffy coat which gave off an odour of wet fabric and pine trees.

After a while, he whispered back in a gruffy voice: “Ya mean it?”

“Of course”, you replied quickly, offended by the lack of trust but knowing that he was asking from a place of insecurity and fear of rejection.

“As much as you meant the words on the horse”, you added with a smile and peeled yourself off him, “if you want to repeat them sooner or later, I promise not faint this time.”

Finally, Arthur chuckled lightly. “That’s a start.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

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willalove75 · 7 months

Text

The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc Chapter 3

Summary: Your second day at work arrives and you meet a few more of your coworkers.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: Slow burn, flirty

I'll add more tags as needed!

Notes: Chapter 3!

Gif source

Once you're showered and dressed you open the door to Emma's room to wake her up. To your surprise, the toddler was already up and out of bed and rummaging through her toy bin.

"Good morning Emma. What are you looking for?"

"Mommy! I want my baby doll. She has to eat breakfast!"

"Oh she does, does she?"

"Yes, she's hungry."

"Alright, let mommy help you so you don't make even more of a mess."

You walk over to her and grab the doll out from the bottom of the bin and hand it to Emma.

"You must be hungry baby! Lets get breakfast!" Emma says.

The little girl saunters out of the bedroom with her doll in her arms and you can't help but giggle.

Once you get into the kitchen you help Emma into her booster seat and you sit the doll on the table next to her.

"Mommy, can baby and I have waffles?"

"Of course, love."

You pop two Eggo waffles into the toaster and make yourself breakfast. Just as you're finishing up the waffles are ready and you put them onto a plate along with a handful of blueberries. Once they're a cooled off enough so Emma won't burn herself, you cut the waffles up into smaller bite-sized pieces and pour a little bit of syrup over them. You grab your coffee and breakfast along with Emma's and set her plate down in front of her.

After every couple of bites Emma brings her fork to her baby doll's lips and "feeds" her breakfast.

"Is it yummy baby?" Emma asks the doll.

You watch your daughter as she chews on her waffle pieces and fruit while she continues to feed the doll with a smile on your face. Sure, she's getting syrup and blueberry mush everywhere and is making a mess - many of the pieces she "fed" her doll ended up on the floor - but you don't care. All you care about is her happiness and right now, she's the happiest kid on the planet.

When you finish eating you pick up the forgotten pieces of food off of the floor and give it a quick wipe with a paper towel. After cleaning it up you take a wet cloth to Emma's face and wipe her clean.

"Mommy! Don't forget to clean baby!" Emma says.

"Of course not!" You say as you wipe the sticky syrup remnants off of the dolls face. "Alright, how about we get dressed?"

"Me and baby?"

"Yes, you and your baby." You say as you put her down onto the floor.

With an excited squeal Emma runs into her bedroom with the doll in her arms and begins to pick out an outfit for her. As she's occupied you pull out an outfit for Emma and lay it out.

When she finally picks out an outfit, you dress the doll and finish getting Emma and yourself ready for the day.

"Come on Em, we gotta go, mommy can't be late for work!" You call out to her.

"Coming mommy!" Emma says.

She runs out of the room with her doll in her arms and meets you by the door. You unlock it and Emma climbs down the stairs on her butt while you follow her.

"Hi Margie!" Emma says.

"Good morning Emma!" Margie says as she leans down and gives Emma a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Good morning Katie."

"Morning Marge!"

"Ready for your second day?"

"As ready as I'll ever be I guess." You say with a smile.

"I'm sure you'll do great."

"Thank you."

You head out the door with Emma and off to your in-laws house once more.

After you drop off Emma you make your way to work.

As you walk inside you see Cassandra behind the bar again. "Good morning." You say with a smile.

Cassandra either blatantly ignores you or doesn't hear you, but you think it's the former as opposed to the latter.

After you put your things down, you get yourself settled at your desk and turn on your computer. The first thing you do is check your emails for anything you may have gotten after you left and then you go over your to-do list.

Once you outline what it is you want to get done for the day you dive right in. The first item on this mornings list is to work on the next marketing campaign. The campaign is to advertise the new Sunday brunches that are starting in the beginning of the summer. It's only mid-April but you want to start running them by mid-May the latest.

The newly familiar sound of heels clicking across the floor echoes through the hall. When you look up you see Alcina walking past your office. She glances over at you and flashes a smile as she takes off her sunglasses, resting them on top of her head.

She stops at your door and you turn to face her. Her outfit is impeccable, just as put together as it was yesterday. A pair of flowy, high-waisted, printed pants with a sash tied neatly around her waist. A black V-neck popover blouse tucked in. To accessorize the look she has a pair of black heels, her black purse hanging in the crook of her elbow, a black blazer with a leather lapel and her signature gold jewelry. Just like yesterday her makeup is also immaculate. Her winged eyeliner is damn near perfect, eyebrows filled in with such precision you wouldn't think they were even touched at first glance, and her lips are painted with a deep crimson.

"Good morning Kathleen." Alcina says.

"Good morning."

"Bela should be here within the hour, her class should be ending soon. Then she can go over the social media accounts with you."

"Sounds good."

"And you received the invitation for the all-hands weekly staff meeting for this morning, yes?"

"Uh," your eyes widen and you turn towards the monitor that has your email up. "I don't think I did." You say as you check the calendar in your email. There's no unaccepted or pending meetings and no email invitations. "I don't see it."

"If you received it, it would be there." She says with a sigh. "My apologies, I will send you the invitation once I get settled."

"Oh sure, no rush. What time is the meeting?"

"It's at 10 o'clock."

You scribble it down into your notebook.

"I will be there. Email invite or not." You say, nodding to the computer screen.

"Excellent."

And with that, Alcina turns on her heels and heads into her office. The scent of her perfume lingers well after she's gone. As hard as you try to ignore it, it's nearly impossible not to focus on the smell as it envelopes you.

Just as 9:30 rolls around a blur of blond hair zooms past your office and down the hall. A couple of minutes later you hear the clicking of heels once more followed by a small knock on your already-open office door.

You turn to see Alcina with a young blond woman. The same one you saw for only a moment yesterday with Cassandra.

"Kathleen, I would like to introduce you to my eldest daughter, Bela."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you." You say as you shake her hand. "Bay-la," trying to pronounce it correctly. "not Bella?"

"Yup, exactly." She says with a smile. "It's nice to meet you too."

"Bela will go over the social media accounts and-" a phone ringing down the hall pulls Alcina's attention away. "I'm sorry, I must get that."

"No worries mom, I got it."

"Thank you draga." She says, before placing a light kiss on top of her head and disappearing down the hall.

"Alright, lets get to it."

For the next half-hour Bela goes through all of the social media accounts. She shows you what she's been doing, the photos she's been taking, how she's been taking them and where the best places she's found to take pictures are. The two of you walk around the estate and she shows you her favorite photo locations and where to grab things from if you need props or other things for the pictures.

"If you need a specific bottle and mom doesn't give it to you just ask Cass or any one of the bartenders. They can grab you one. Just let them know its for the socials so they don't bring you out one with a ripped label or something."

"Alright, sounds good."

"So, how are you liking it so far?"

"It's been good, I still have a lot to learn about the estate itself but it's nice to be working again."

"How long were you out of work for?"

"About two years."

You know the next question out of her mouth is going to be "why?" and you brace yourself. Just as she goes to speak her phone rings. Literally saved by the bell.

"Oh damn it's 10 already? The meeting starts in a couple minutes. I gotta grab a few things so I'll see you in there."

"See you soon."

A wave of relief washes over you and you head back into your office and grab your notebook. You follow a few other people into the conference room as you all file in.

Everything in the estate had a rustic look to it and the conference room was no exception. It was a big room with a large, rectangle table in the middle and windows overlooking the vineyard lining the far wall. Opposite the windows sat a window wall, the only barrier between the conference room and the rest of the office. The conference room door was a barn door and when it was open, the grilles lined up perfectly with the ones on the window wall - so satisfying. The other two walls were adorned with reclaimed wood that matched the beams trailing on the ceiling from one end of the room to the other. The wall closest to the door had a massive television screen mounted to it, presumably for presentations and zoom conferences.

You politely smiled at a few people you hadn't met yet and went to find a seat. Alcina, to your surprise, didn't sit at the head of the table but right in the middle of it. Part of you hoped you'd be able to find a seat near one of the ends but of course the only seat that was left open was the one directly in front of your new boss.

The rest of the staff got comfortable in their seats as they all waited for Alcina to finish doing whatever it was she was doing on her laptop. As much as you tried to avoid looking at her, she was right in your line of sight.

She really was beautiful. You did your best to look at anything else but your eyes always wandered back to her. Her perfectly curled hair tucked behind one of her ears, putting her pearl earring on display. The way her reading glasses were perched on her nose somehow made her look both cute and incredibly sexy. Like a hot librarian.

The minute you realize your thought you feel a warm flush across your cheeks and you push it out of your head. She's your boss, you can't be thinking about her that way! As you're chastising yourself in your head her eyes flick up and meet yours. You feel the heat in your face grow and you look away but not before catching her flashing you a small smile.

"I apologize for keeping you all waiting." She announces to the group who falls silent. "There isn't much on the agenda today so this should be quick. Before we begin, I would like to introduce our newest team member, Kathleen." She says, gesturing across the table to you. "She has taken over John's position in marketing and will be with us full time. I would like to not overwhelm our newest staff member so if there are any questions related to her department please continue to send them my way until she is acclimated." Alcina says. You notice her eyes flash to the man sitting at the head of the table on your right and she continues. "Now, there are no major updates, sales are steadily increasing as the weather improves and once the advertisements for our Sunday brunches have been launched I have no doubts that sales will continue to rise."

She talks more about how the business is doing in general, updates on shipments due and what orders need to be placed. She mentions new menu items and what seasonal food and drink options are going to be swapped out soon. Once she's finished with her list she goes around the room to each staff member and asks if they have anything for the meeting. A few of the people say they don't have anything, the man at the head of the table says he has nothing for this meeting, whatever that's supposed to imply. Some of the different departments talk about what's been going on, what they need from others and overall departmental updates. As she goes around the table the man next to you speaks and you feel your heart beginning to beat faster. "What am I supposed to say? Would it look bad if I didn't say anything at my first meeting?" You think. When it comes your turn, Alcina skips over you and goes straight to the man to your left. A breath you didn't realize you were holding is released and you feel your heartbeat beginning to even out.

After about an hour the meeting started it comes to a close and Alcina dismisses everyone. Before you get up you catch her eye.

"I hope it's alright I skipped over you today." She says.

"Yeah, that was totally fine. I was starting to get nervous about what I was going to say anyway since it's only my second day."

"I presumed as much." Was it that obvious that you were starting to panic or is she just that good at reading people? "I don't expect you to have to participate in filling in the team of the happenings in marketing until after next weeks meeting. It should take at the very least that long to get acclimated to everything."

"Thank you." You say with a smile.

Well that was a relief you didn't know you were craving. You were safe this week and next week. The following week is when you'll have to discuss anything new in marketing but you're confident that you'll have everything down pat by then.

As you and Alcina gather your things and stand, the man seated at the head of the table walks up to you.

"Hello there, Chris Redfield, CFO." He says, holding out his hand. "It's wonderful to meet you, Kathleen, was it?" You shake his hand.

"Yeah. It's nice to meet you too."

It's not so surprising to find out he's the CFO. The moment he opened his mouth he sounded like a salesman. Like the kind of guy who can get you to buy a cheap piece of shit car and make you feel like you're driving away in a Rolls Royce.

"And where were we lucky enough to snag you from?" He asks.

Alcina's eyes dart over to Chris and they narrow at him.

"Oh, I've had a bit of a gap in my resume the past couple of years." You say, a little embarrassed.

"And now why is that-"

"Christopher." Alcina snaps and both you and Chris look in her direction. Her slate eyes piercing into him. "Wasn't there something you needed to speak with me about? That you didn't mention in the all-hands meeting?"

"As a matter of fact there was. How about we go chat in your office?" He turns to you. "It was wonderful meeting you Kate." He says before sauntering out of the room.

You're able to give Alcina a small smile as a "thank you" before she exits the conference room behind him. It does look as though she gave you the smallest of nods in return.

A few minutes after you got back to your desk you see Alcina briskly walk past and you look over at the clock. The tasting room opens in a few minutes so you figure she's going to do her routine walkthrough before opening. A few minutes later she heads back to her office and you hear the door close.

You dive into your work, getting everything ready for the brunch advertisements. Bouncing between that and a few other things, like A/B testing and running analytics, the day passes rather quickly and it's already time for lunch.

Once you finish up your tasks you pull out your lunch and begin to eat while scrolling mindlessly on your phone.

"What are you eating?!" An excited voice says.

Looking up you see Daniela standing in your doorway.

"Hey Daniela, nothing, just lunch. How was school?"

"It was so boring. What did you bring for lunch?!"

"Just a salad, nothing fancy."

"Oh come on, salads are more boring than school!"

"I won't disagree with you there, kid."

"I thought mom told you to leave her alone." Bela says as she walks up to Daniela.

"I'm not bothering her! She's having lunch!" She says defensively.

"Daniela-"

"What?! I'm not doing anything wrong!"

You sit there awkwardly as the girls begin to bicker. They get louder and louder until Alcina walks up.

"What on earth are you two doing?!" She hisses.

"Daniela was bothering Kathleen aga-"

"I was not!"

"That is enough."

"But mom she was having lunch! I wasn't distracting her from important stuff!" Daniela whines.

"You're such a whiney baby." Bela says.

"Enough, the both of you. Bela, go back to work. You," she looks at Daniela and points to her office. "my office. Now."

Daniela's shoulders drop and she looks at you like a sad puppy.

"See you later Katie."

"Bye Daniela." You say with a smile. That seemed to cheer Daniela up a bit as she walks away.

Alcina turns to you and you're not sure if the ever so faint flush is from embarrassment or from holding in her anger and not screaming at her two daughters.

"Once again, I apologize for their behavior." She says.

"It's okay, really." You say with a smile.

"I will see to it that she stops barging in on you."

"Honestly, I don't mind. Especially if I'm just having lunch. She seems like a good kid. She's just, excitable."

Alcina laughs through her nose and shakes her head.

"The understatement of the century."

The rest of your day flies by after that and before you know it you're packing up and getting ready to go home. You decide to stop by Alcina's office again before you head out.

It was only after you knocked on the door was when you heard two voices behind it. "Oh shit." You think to yourself. The door opens and Chris is standing in front of you.

"Would ya look at that, the new girl! Kim, right?"

"It's Katie, actually." You say.

"Oh that's right, my apologies Kate."

You adjust the strap of your bag on your left shoulder and Chris looks at your hand.

"No ring, so you're not married?"

"Uh-"

"Christopher." Alcina hisses. He steps aside and you see the glare she's shooting him. If she were to look at you like that you would probably cry without her ever having to speak a single word.

"Yeah you're right Alci, none of my business." He says with a charming smile. She must be used to his antics because the glare she's sending his way only intensifies when he calls her "Alci."

"I am so sorry for interrupting, I didn't know anyone was in here with you. I'll go-"

"You weren't interrupting at all, Kathleen. Chris was just leaving." She says, shooting Chris a look.

"I should probably get goin' myself. The bachelor pad ain't gonna clean itself." Alcina scrunches her nose for a moment as if she smelled bad fish. "Night boss, Kate."

Chris disappears down the hall and Alcina looks to you.

"I apologize for his behavior, he can be quite insufferable at times." She says, rubbing small circles on her temples. "It also feels as if I've been apologizing quite often since your arrival."

"Honestly, it's really okay."

"If at any point you are uncomfortable, with anything, even if it has to do with my daughters, please don't hesitate to speak with me."

"I won't, I promise."

"Good. I presume you're leaving for the day?"

"Yeah, just wanted to see if you needed anything before I left."

Alcina smiles at you and shakes her head.

"No, there is nothing I need from you. Have a wonderful night, Kathleen."

"You too."

The two of you exchange smiles and you head out for the day.

Alcina leans her elbows on her desk and closes her eyes and continues to rub her temples.

"You good there boss?"

She opens her eyes and slowly looks up at Chris.

"Aside from the impending migraine you've bestowed upon me, I am fine."

"All I'm saying is that that property might not be the best invest-"

"I am through with speaking about this. My decision has been made and it is final. When the property is ready to be listed I will be buying it."

"You don't even need it, you just want it so Winters can't get it-"

"Christopher, I understand you are my CFO and that you have good intentions but I purchased the land we are sitting on, I built this winery, this vineyard, this entire estate without supervision. I don't need it now."

"What do you plan on doing with another 30 acres of property anyway? Property that's a mile away no less?"

"I haven't decided."

Knowing he's fighting a losing battle, Chris sighs and shakes his head.

"Goodnight boss."

"Goodnight Christopher."

Alcina continues to work in her office as the tasting room slowly empties. When it closes at 7, Alcina is still at her desk.

"Alright mom, registers are all cashed out and everything is closed down." Cassandra says as she walks into her mothers office.

"Wonderful, thank you draga."

"I'm starving, can we get Chick-fil-a?" Daniela says, collapsing onto the couch in her mothers office.

"Oh, that sounds good. I can go for a milkshake right now. Mom, want anything?"

"From that greasy place? No thank you."

"Do you not like that we go there because they don't like gay people?" Daniela asks.

Alcina scoffs.

"No, I do not care what a business such as that thinks of my lifestyle. I refuse to eat there because it is disgusting." She says, not looking up from her work.

"Are you coming home anytime soon?" Cassandra asks.

"I'll be done soon, draga."

"So you'll be home by midnight. Sounds about right. Come on Dani, lets go eat."

"Cassandra, watch that tone of yours." Her eyes shift to her middle child.

"Why am I the only one you get mad at?"

"That's not true Cass, she got mad at me yesterday and today!"

"What did you do?"

"She was interrupting Kathleen during work, again." Alcina says, eyeing her youngest.

"Who?"

"Katie! The pretty one." Daniela says.

"Oh, the new girl."

"Daniela will you stop saying that?" Alcina says.

"Why? You don't think she's pretty?" Daniela asks.

"No, that's not why I said that-"

"So you do think she's pretty!"

"Daniela Dimitrescu that is enough. You cannot comment on peoples appearances in the workplace. It is unprofessional." Alcina says.

"But you do think she's pretty?"

"Enough. Go eat your greasy fast-food and go home so I can finish what I'm doing and maybe I will be home at a reasonable hour."

"You missed that by about two hours there, mom." Cassandra says.

"Goodbye girls."

"Bye mamă." Daniela says wrapping her arms around her mothers neck and kissing her on the cheek.

"See ya."

"Get home safe, I will be there soon." She says as the girls walk out of her office.

"Why are you so obsessed with how pretty the new girl is?" Cassandra asks.

"Have you not seen her?! She's so pretty!" Daniela says as her voice fades away.

Alcina sighs and gets back to work. Thoughts of you cross her mind. Of course you're pretty - you're beautiful if Alcina was being honest with herself. But you also fascinated her, piqued her curiosity.

She wanted to know why you had such a long gap in your resume. Alcina tells herself its for purely professional reasons but she is also curious outside of a professional manner. It also struck her as odd the way you reacted when Chris said you weren't married. It brought her back to yesterday when she noticed what could be a wedding band on your right ring finger and when you were giving her your emergency contact information. You went to say, what was it? Jack? Jake? Something like that, but stopped yourself. A sadness filled your eyes but was gone in an instant. A sadness Alcina was all too familiar with. But if it was because you were divorced or widowed, she didn't know. She's seen that look for both reasons.

Alcina remembers the blush that dusted your cheeks when you made eye contact before the meeting started. She could have sworn that you were blushing before she looked at you but she wasn't sure. She cursed herself for thinking how pretty you looked as the flush deepened.

Just then Alcina's phone dinged, a text message came through. It was from Alex, the woman that Alcina had been casually seeing.

8 tonight?

Was all the text read. Alcina looked at her watch and saw that it was 7:15. She replied:

The usual place?

Yes

Meet you there.

She knew she should have said no and continued working but between the stress of the week and the extra grief from Chris today, Alcina needed to relieve some of her tension. That's really at that this relationship was. A way for both women to relieve tension without having to sleep with random people.

She drives to the hotel and heads up to the room Alex texted her. As soon as she walks in the rest of her night becomes a blur of limbs tangling, touches, tongues, scratches, whimpers, moans and orgasms - multiple orgasms.

By 9:30 Alcina is pulling into the driveway of her home.

"Reasonable hour my ass." Cassandra says as Alcina walks in.

"Cassandra, you know better than to use that language in my house." Alcina says as she puts her purse and keys away.

"Were you at the office all night?" Daniela asks.

"No, but I was there late. I went out afterwards for a bit."

"Where?"

"The jazz club." She lied.

"On a Thursday night?" Cassandra questioned.

"It's late, you girls should be getting ready for bed, not watching television."

Cassandra groans and Alcina begins to walk up the stairs.

"Turn it off, girls."

The tv is shut off and Cassandra and Daniela head upstairs to get ready for bed.

After finishing up her nightly routine Alcina climbs into bed. For the first time in what felt like weeks she's actually satisfied and drifts off into a deep sleep.

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #wlw fanfic #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x oc #alcina x female reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #re8 fanfiction #re8 daniela #re8 alcina #re8 village #re8 cassandra #re8 bela dimitrescu

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itwasthereaminuteago · 7 months

Text

|| Lost and Found ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: meetcute! With dogs!

Oral (f rec), beardburn, coming in pants (m) 😍, written for the @bernthirst-events #beardthalbash, thanks to @darlingshane and @anna-hawk for organising!

"Midge! Miiiidge!" Your voice echoes through the endless trees as you call out again and again, listening hopefully for the familiar thunder of paws on the leafy undergrowth coming back toward you, but there was nothing but the muted twitter of birds. "Midge, come!" You shout again, your voice starting to tremble with worry as you walk hurriedly along the forestry path. The light was beginning to fade earlier in these shortening autumn evenings, and it would soon be impossible to find your runaway pup. You take out your phone, dismayed to see the signal nonexistent out this deep in the woods.

"C'mon Midge! Midge, please come back!" The back of your throat is rough from yelling and your eyes are glistening with tears. You couldn't go home, you had to keep looking for her.

"Miiiidge?!" You tried again, and stopped in your tracks as you heard a rustling nearby, but it was just a blackbird rummaging in the leaf litter.

"Oh Midge…" you croak out more quietly, still holding her broken lead tightly in your fist. You cursed yourself for not replacing it sooner after she had been chewing it, for not buying a stronger one. You were so wrapped up in your own admonishment that you jumped out of your skin when someone walked up the track behind you.

"Ma'am, if you don't mind me askin', are you alright?"

You turned and were met with the figure of a large bearded man. He kept his distance when he realised he had given you a bit of a fright, giving you time to take in the fact that he was wearing a dark green shirt with the park ranger logo embroidered on it along with utility pants and sturdy walking boots. His eyes were dark and he was looking at you kindly.

"I'm Frank, I'm a ranger. I heard you yelling, can I help?" He asks, and you find yourself stuttering over your words, partly in relief that someone else was around, and someone who hopefully knew these woods a lot better than you.

"It's- it's my dog, she… oh, I've been searching and calling for her for hours, she broke her lead when she saw a squirrel and bolted after it! I couldn't catch her in time and she's just- she's just a pup!" You sniffle as your eyes keep flitting around to look through the trees. "I can't find her, she doesn't know this part of the woods that well, I can't leave her alone out there."

The ranger nods and steps a little bit closer. "Alright, I know that you're worried about her, but this sorta thing happens a lot. I'm gonna help you to find her best I can. Can you give me a description? An' I heard you callin' out 'Midge', s'that right?"

You wipe at your damp eyes, nodding. "She's a border collie, black and white. She's 8 months but she's small for her age."

"Okay ma'am, do you remember when and where you last saw her? I'll radio my team and we'll be able to have more eyes and ears lookin' out for Midge okay?" His voice is low and authoritative but soft with it, and your tears soon stop as you're distracted by the way he goes straight into action.

"Back over the ridge near the fire pass, I think it was about two hours ago…" you tell him.

Frank unclips his radio from his belt and relays all the information, getting confirmation from a variety of voices shortly after.

"Okay, let's take a walk back that way huh? You got some treats or somethin' with you?"

You fall into step beside him, grasping the bag of mini bone biscuits from your pocket. "Yeah."

He smiles. "That's good. Those her favourite, huh?"

"Yeah. But she just loves any food really."

You pick a few out hoping that Midge might be able to smell them from wherever she is and her greedy stomach might lead her back to you.

Frank nods. "Is she alright with guys? I know some dogs don't like a man with a beard, can scare em sometimes."

You soon dismiss Frank's concern. "No not at all, actually she'd likely love you. I mean, our postman is quite a big guy and she's always happy to see him at the house. Though I guess he does bring treats for a lot of the dogs."

Frank smiles again and starts calling out for Midge as you come near to the spot where she ran off and you join him, shaking the bag of treats. He takes out a flashlight and starts a sweep. "Which way did she head, do you remember?" He asks.

You point down the slope in front of you and he starts making his way through the trees with you following behind and both calling. After a little while walking down the hill he holds up his hand in a signal to stop and you stay quiet. He listens and you strain your ears too, eventually hearing a distant whimper.

"Oh! Oh it's Midge!" You're suddenly sick with fear that she's seriously hurt and start running towards the sound, the thick branches scraping against your face and arms. Frank catches up to you quickly and urges you to slow down.

"Hey, hey! Watch yourself now, there's a ton of burrows and shit you could break your ankle in if you're not careful. Just hold back with me. It's alright, we'll get to her."

You reluctantly slow your pace as he's right after all, he does know these woods better than you and very soon he's crouching down at the roots of a big tree. As you round it you see little Midge on the ground whining and wagging her tail as she sees you. Her back paw is caught between two roots and she's clearly in some pain.

"Hey, hey Midgey, shhh it's okay, just stay nice and still." You try to calm her, holding her collar as Frank is extremely gentle as he carefully moves the roots to work her paw free and lift her up.

"There we go," he says as he holds her.

Both of you look the pup over for any other injuries before he radios that you'd found her to his colleagues. As you feel her ankle joint there's a little bruising but she doesn't seem to be in any great distress and when you hold out one of her treats she's more than eager to gobble it up.

"Oh Midge, it's alright baby, you're gonna be alright!" You stroke her soft fur in comfort, more for you, lifting your head to look at the ranger, your eyes shining slightly with tears. Just then Midge tilts her head up and licks Frank's face so sweetly and he cracks a smile. "Heh, that's a good sign."

You're so relieved and the rich sound of his laugh as Midge keeps on lavishing him with licks is infectious, making you chuckle too. It makes you feel so much better after all the worry.

"I can't thank you enough, Frank. I was so scared it would be so much worse!" You tell him as you all walk back to the park entrance.

"Hey no worries, it's all just part of the job." He replies as you reach the gate. It was almost completely dark now and the rain was starting to come down in a drizzly mist. "You local? Do you need a ride home?" He asks.

You glance down the road. It was only about a mile and a half walk away but you didn't want to risk Midge getting away from you again as she might manage to wriggle out of your arms on the road.

"Um, actually that would be really great if it wouldn't be too much trouble? We're not far."

"Not at all ma'am, best make sure this lil lady doesn't have another chance to get into trouble again, I know what they can be like!" He jibes, booping Midge gently on her nose which she licks afterwards.

When you reach the outside of your little lodge house after the short ride, you thank Frank again. In the light from the porch his dark eyes are twinkling as he bids you both goodnight.

"I'm sure she'll be back out and about in no time, just keep an eye out for those darn squirrels yeah?"

You laugh a little now that your worry is mostly over, and you notice how handsome he is as well as the kindness and trust that seemed to just emanate from him effortlessly, putting you at ease. "I certainly will! I'm so glad you found us, thank you. Once she's rested and recovered from her ordeal maybe we'll see you around?"

"Yeah, I sure hope so." He replies giving you a gorgeous smile as he gets back into his truck.

Frank is just signing off an email when he hears a familiar bark from outside the office. Lady, his own dog, responds with her own short huff, excited to see her playmate again.

It's been a couple of months since Midge's incident and maybe him carrying treats in his pocket might have had something to do with it, but she always ran up to the ranger station and let her arrival be known every time you walk her. And Frank sure as hell doesn't mind as it means he gets to see you.

It had started with polite, friendly waves and a big pet for Midge whenever you happened upon each other in the park. Then, you would frequently stop to chat to him, ask him about his day and he about yours, and then you had started to drop by after his shift finished so you could all go on a walk together. There was nothing Frank loved more than being in the outdoors, except now he got to share that with someone, and he found himself increasingly glad that it was you.

Frank always made you laugh with the way he would run around playing with Midge and Lady, even after a long day's work. You showed him the tricks you had been teaching your pup, and on your regular hikes you also started to learn more about each other. Frank started looking forward to the times he would see you, your easy and generous smile lighting up his world and maybe even pushing to broaden the boundaries of it, maybe let someone like you to become something more. It had been a long while since he thought he felt something more than friendship blossoming, and gradually opening up to you felt right.

Still, right now he was so damn nervous. He had been trying to work up the courage to ask you out for days and then he'd inevitably chicken out, but he promised himself he'd do it tonight. And even if you turned him down, there'd be no regrets.

"Hey big bear!" You say as you greet him. "Which route do you wanna take this evening Frankie? It's your turn to pick." You ask him as Frank steps out with Lady and locks up the office. He almost loses his nerve when he turns and sees your pretty face and your sweet voice calling his nickname caresses his ears.

"Uh, I was thinkin' up by the creek," he suggests as the four of you start walking up the trailhead. Frank scratches at the back of his shirt collar. "Can't remember if I mentioned before but our place is up that way."

You turn to look at him wide eyed after you throw the ball for the dogs as they run ahead. "It is? Wow, it's so gorgeous up there. You're so damn lucky Frank, a perfect job and an amazing commute!"

He can't help beaming back, you seemed to see the positive in almost everything, he guessed he was pretty lucky.

Okay, he decides, now is the time to do it. Just put it out there. Just ask. What's the worst that could happen?

He clears his throat. "Was wonderin' actually, if you'd… uh, maybe you might wanna-" He couldn't believe he was stuttering over such a simple question. Fuck, was it supposed to be this hard? Thankfully, you stepped in and saved both of you from any more of his awkwardness.

"Frank, are you inviting me to your place?" You ask.

The light rain that's falling makes the longer strands of his hair lie in curls against his forehead. He runs a hand through it pushing it back, nodding. "Yeah, I mean, no pressure or anything. Just, if you wanna maybe have a drink with… me?"

You smile at him again. "Yeah, I'd love to."

By the time you reached his lodge you were both slightly soaked by the autumn drizzle. Frank stacks up the wood burner as soon as he lets you in, giving you and the dogs a towel to dry off with as he gets the fire going.

Once you dry off your hair and the dogs, you look around his home in awe. It's so beautiful, hewn from trees from this very forest, nothing too big and grand, just perfectly cosy. He had a neat but well stocked kitchen area, with a solid oak table and chairs by the window. A set of natural carved steps led up to a mezzanine with shelves stacked with all sorts of books and what you assumed was his bedroom.

There were glazed double doors that opened out the back onto a wooden porch and the mossy lawn behind bordered by the trees. And beside the wood burning stove was a tired but comfy looking sofa with a massive thick rug in front of it where Frank gestured to you to make yourself at home.

You kick off your shoes and hang your coat up on a hook near the door beside his next to the dog leads, and settle on the couch.

"This is magic, Frank," you tell him as he opens the fridge taking out a couple of beers.

He shakes his head, dipping his face a little like he's embarrassed or something as he walks over and hands you a bottle. "It's alright. You hungry?" He asks.

"I'm alright just now, just thirsty!" You smile, clinking your bottle against his as he sits down across from you after placing a couple of logs onto the now steadily blazing pile of kindling.

"Did it come with the job?"

He shrugs, fingers stroking his thick beard. "Uh, kinda." He takes a swig of beer and smiles as he notices Lady bringing out one of her favourite toys and letting Midge play with it without a gripe.

"Heh, look at that. S'good they're gettin' on so well." He remarks, and you hum in agreement as you watch them play.

"Yeah, I'm so glad," You say as you turn your gaze back to him. "It means we can spend more time together."

The corners of Frank's mouth pull up just a little. "S'that so? Cos I've been thinking I'd like that." He admits, the nerves rapidly melting away.

You move just a little bit closer to him on the couch, turning your body to face his. "I know I'd like that…" you confess. As you put your beer down on the side table, your hand brushes his knee and you decide to leave it there. He gazes directly at you and you feel your body temperature rise but it's not because of the fire that's burning nearby...

His fingers lightly stroke over yours and when you look back up he's so focused on you, the brown of his eyes seems so deep and dark and soft you could get lost in them. He's searching your expression for permission.

"Can I kiss you?"

His voice melts like thick honey in your ears and you're leaning in with a whispered yes instantly, almost before he can get all the words out. He raises a hand to cup your face stroking his thumb softly over your cheek and you close your eyes as he slowly leans in and gently captures your lips with his own. He's so very tender but you can feel the control he possesses as you eagerly kiss him back, the captivating strength and power held in check only by a hair trigger. Your fingers thread through his beard, guiding him to you and right now he'll go wherever you want him. He thinks maybe he should stop, a gentleman would stop and let you take the lead, dictate the pace, but you already are.

Under the light tang of beer you taste sweeter than he could imagine as your tongue slips in so softly, so teasingly between his parted lips against his own and he can't help the low moan he lets out as you surprise him by shifting to climb into his lap.

You gently pull away for a second, and your words are laced with a barely concealed urgency that has him struggling against that fucking gentlemanly conscience he had just a minute ago.

"Tell me if this is too fast?" You probe, looking down at him, your pupils already blown out. You'd been waiting for this. You'd given him all the signals for a little while now, hoping he'd maybe feel the same, waiting for him to be ready.

Frank's eyes dart from yours, down to your mouth and back up again. "Don't feel too fast to me," his words almost vibrate through you with his low tone. "Just feels right."

He moves to kiss you again and it's bliss. His lips are so soft, as is his beard although slightly tickly against your skin. You sigh and smile making a contented sound and he shows you some more of that control, his hands running up the sides of your thighs to rest on your waist, just lightly holding you. He still lets you set the speed, what you want and you let him know as your fingers slide up the shirt covering his broad chest weaving into his hair. His kiss goes deeper as you move in his lap, slowly shifting forward, pressing your hips against his and he makes his reaction to that known with the sexiest noise you've heard him make so far. You want so desperately to hear more.

"Been goin' crazy over you, you know that sweetheart?" He reveals, as you both pull away momentarily, still just inches away from each other's mouths. Your breaths are shallow, you've not felt this excited in a long while.

"You think I haven't felt the same?" You smirk.

In the days after Midge's rescue and recovery, you had found yourself thinking about Frank a lot. About his kindness, competency, and yeah maybe sometimes about how handsome he is… still you never thought he'd take a second look at you, but now you had both arrived here, feeling Frank's fingers twitch against you desperate to touch and you eager for him to do so.

You urge him to continue to explore as your lips meet again, the sensation of his fingertips so tentatively sliding up under your sweater and chasing the goosebumps away as they glide over your bare skin. You nip teasingly at his lower lip and he rewards you with a small grunt before his tongue delves back deeper into your mouth as you move your core over the now obvious bulge in his pants. He trails hot kisses down the side of your neck, pulling at the neckline of your top and you peel it off so his lips can access more of you.

"You're so gorgeous darlin'," he speaks into your skin as he places every kiss with care and attention, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he mouths around the swell of your breasts still held captive by your bra. You tug at the hem of his shirt, leaning back for a moment so he can move to take it off. Your hands are back on him instantly, tracing over his muscular torso, fingers excitedly running over every dip and rise, appreciating every rough line of his varied scars now bared to you. You're both almost panting for breath, and he's struck dumb as you claw at his belt buckle but he gently puts his hands over yours, halting them.

You glance up. "Oh, if you don't want to-"

Frank chuckles, bumping his nose against yours. "I do. God, I really do… I just need to make sure it's what you want."

You can't believe this guy, he's almost perfect. Frustratingly so.

"Frank, I really want you." You tell him in all lucidity.

He licks across his lips at your confirmation, making the damp spot in your panties grow as he lets his eyes rove over you.

"Well, I'm gonna take you to bed then. C'mon." He says as he encourages you to your feet and guides you up the stairs.

You shimmy off your pants and socks in between more fervent kisses before he lays you down on his bed, leaving his own on as he lifts your foot and starts kissing his way up the inside of your ankle and calf. You part your legs wider to make space for him and his broad shoulders, your heart rate increasing by bounds as you anticipate his next move.

"Mm, s'this okay sweetheart?" He checks in as he nears the juncture of your thighs, his beard brushing the sensitive skin there, "Can I take these off?" He adds, and you hum in the affirmative as his dark eyes meet yours and he smiles. "Been just dyin' to taste you..." You flush with heat at his purred confession and lift your hips as he hooks his fingers around the waistband so he can pull your underwear down. He kisses your mound softly when he returns, taking his time.

"Anytime you want me to stop," he says before lightly kissing your clit and you let out a shuddered breath. "You just tell me baby, okay?" You nod and moan out loud when he begins to lap his tongue right between your glistening folds. You know you'll never want him to stop.

Your body writhes as he continues with wide slow licks between your thighs, relaxing as it's clear he more than knows what he's doing. You whimper, jolting unexpectedly as he begins flicking the hardened tip of his tongue over your clit before softening it again and repeating, swirling, sucking and worshiping your almost steadily dripping cunt like it's a fountain in the desert. When your thighs press in bracketing his head at a particularly sensitive touch, he wraps his big paws around you, fingers greedily switching between kneading the soft flesh of your legs and cupping around your ass as he devours you.

The hair of his beard rubs against your skin and the sensation is addictive. You move your hips against his rhythm and he reaches up to take one of your hands that is currently fisting in the sheets to position it on his head, to make you grab his hair and show him exactly what you want.

You gasp as he very quickly and easily hits a pressure and tempo that has you arching your back right off the mattress. Frank groans as you guide him, squeezing your legs around him almost rutting against his face, moaning so deep into your pussy you can feel the vibrations go through you. And just like that every focused movement he makes brings you further pleasure, taking you higher and higher, and seeing and feeling your reaction just keeps him going.

"Attagirl," he praises, briefly raising his head to look at you. Your juices shine on his lips, spread all around his mouth and wetting some of his beard. The sight just makes him look even hotter to you.

"Frank- mmn! God that's so good, please don't stop…"

He would never, diving right back between your quivering thighs and working you up to and over the edge like it's his only purpose. He can't help himself, you're so fucking sexy like this he's almost humping the bed trying to ease the throbbing need that's barely contained in his jeans. He might have thought about you like this before, how you'd sound, how you'd look, but nothing has prepared him for the reality.

He groans long and low as you clamp your legs hard to his head, you're trying not to but you can't stop your hips from rising, can't help fucking yourself hard against his face, but he wants it, encouraging you until your orgasm explodes from within. The intensity shakes you from your very core, rippling through your body in multiple waves as Frank still holds you firmly to him, licking you through it devotedly as he ruts his own hips into the mattress with another sexy moan. He slows down as he feels your tight grip in his hair easing off, his now near-black eyes meeting yours as he pants and licks his lips.

"You okay there darlin'?" His question is sincere but you almost snort with laughter with how fucking good he's made you feel. He can't be real.

"I'm-" you giggle and throw your arm up over your face as you feel nothing but euphoria.

"god, I'm… yeah, yeah I'm okay! Oh… shit. Wow!"

He grins and wipes his face on the sheets before crawling up the bed to lie next to you, and you turn on your side to face him, drawing him into a kiss as you reach for his pants for a second time.

He catches your hands yet again, shaking his head apologetically. "Uh, it was kinda 'oh shit wow' f'me too y'know? It's… been a while."

It takes you a brain-melted second to get his meaning and then a satisfied smile spreads across your lips. "Frankie, you know that's hot, right?"

He laughs falling back on the sheets, a slight blush dusting his cheekbones. "Hmm I dunno bout that, kinda feel like a teenager again, but as long as you're satisfied for now darlin'."

"I think that'll keep me going for a long while!"

"Not too long though, yeah?" Frank turns his head to look your way and try to gauge your meaning, the faintest hint of concern in his tone. This wasn't a one time thing right? It didn't feel like it was.

The corners of your mouth hook upward yet again. "Definitely not too long." you assure him.

Your eyes track up to the large skylight in the roof above the bed as you catch your breath back, watching the moody, inky clouds gently rolling past.

"Must be a fantastic view of the stars when it's clear." You muse, still gazing up as you feel the warmth of Frank's hand slide over your stomach to hold you close to him in the afterglow.

He follows the line of your sight. "Yeah, it was a pain in the ass to install but worth it for sure."

You turn in his arms to face him. "You put that in yourself? Wow, that's something."

He gives a shrug. "Well I always planned for it when I built the place."

You're incredulous. "What? You built this place?!"

Frank just chuckles, smoothing a couple of stray strands of hair out of your face.

"Yeah, haven't always been a ranger. Used to do logging, bit of carpentry. Just thought how hard can it be? Had the idea in my head for a good long while before I had the means and the land to make it happen."

"Frank Castle… I'm officially stunned. That's incredible!" He has the audacity to shrug again like it's nothing and then laughs out loud as he watches your brows draw together.

"Hey, I'm serious! That kinda skill, that's rare. And, I guess it explains this…" you run your fingers over his large biceps, giving them a quick squeeze before smoothing them over his chest.

He hums. "Yeah, only some of it, have to thank the gym for the rest."

You grin as he pushes up on an elbow, leaning his head on his hand as he traces slightly ticklish patterns over your skin as he regards you as if you're a goddess.

"And what about all this darlin'? What about you? You're somethin' special."

You shake your head but he's determined to make his feelings known to you.

"M'serious. Y'know I was totally shittin' it thinking about askin' you here, askin' you out? Was too damn scared you might not say yes."

You can't imagine Frank being scared of much, and you don't know how you could ever say no. Even before the sex.

"Well, I did say yes," you point out as you lean over to kiss him. He still tastes of you and the memory of the intimacy you'd shared is fresh in your mind. "...and I'm really glad that I did."

"Hm, well I better give the dogs their dinners," Frank muses as he strokes at your side, "and make ours too I guess..." he adds with a smile as your stomach chooses that moment to grumble loudly.

"Oh, yeah, I didn't think I was that hungry until you mentioned dinner!"

Frank grins as he pushes himself up, grabbing a couple of clean towels from the cupboard near the bed. "Alright, m'gonna clean up real quick and make us somethin'. If you wanna have a long shower while I cook you go right on ahead darlin', there's plenty of hot water."

You smile as you stretch out under his ridiculously comfortable covers, watching his gorgeous ass disappearing into the bathroom as you call after him. "I'm loving the sound of that idea!"

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle smut #beardthalbash2023 #beardthalbash

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