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sourcherryandsprinkles · 3 days

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please write some conrad fics, the tag has been DRY

Is there a Aaron Dessner that has produced that is not heartbreaking? The Great war, Tolerate it, Right where you left me, You’re losing me, Would’ve could’ve should’ve. I have nothing against Jack, but when Aaron is involved, things…hit different.

The acronym switching from love of my life to loss of my life *UGLY CRYING*

Warnings: heartbreak

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When coming to Cousins for Belly and Jeremiah’s wedding, you knew it would be impossible to go through a whole weekend of wedding festivities without speaking to Conrad. You tried to avoid him, but he was always right there. In the kitchen talking with Laurel. In the living room with Jeremiah and Belly. In the backyard with Steven helping set up the chairs and tables under Taylor’s instructions.

At least he didn’t come to the wedding with a girl. It would have hurt too much.

‘’I can’t believe our Belly is getting married,’’ you said as you all sat in the living room for the smallest bachelorette party.

There was no male stripper dancing or crazy alcohol consumption like you see in movies. Just matching pajamas, a plastic ‘bride’ crown Anika got online, and sparkling mocktails. Laurel felt out of place among the younger girls, but it was her daughter’s bachelorette. She couldn’t not be there.

Taylor took a cupcake from the table, all decorated to perfection by you. ‘’I would have never guessed she would be the first of us to marry. We all thought it would be you and Con—’’ She stopped herself when she saw Belly looking at you, realizing that if she finished her sentence it would hurt you.

A silence fell and a lump settled in your throat. You brought your drink to your lips, wishing there was alcohol in it. Drowning your sorrows in alcohol is not the solution, but it’s good at temporarily numbing the pain.

I thought that too.

Your parents bought their holiday house in Cousins where you were ten and you had known the Fishers and the Conklins since. Susannah had invited you over to play with her kids — to make friends. Although you were closer to Jeremiah and Belly in age, it was Conrad who got along with you the best. He taught you how to play Uno, came to get you when you swam too far at the beach and helped you clean your dress when stained it eating a blue popsicle. He was always nice to you. Patient and caring. As you got older, he was only looking at you. Everyone noticed, but no one said anything. He’s just always been yours.

Until he wasn’t.

You didn’t want to sour the ambiance or steal the attention from the bride-to-be, so you got up and excused yourself to the bathroom. You closed the door, feeling the quiet sanctuary of solitude envelop you. Memories of you and Conrad flooded your mind, each more painful than its predecessor. Nothing would ever compare to the pain this breakup felt.

Leaning against the sink, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, tears welling up and blurring your vision. You tried to make them go away by fanning your eyes, but they overflowed, carrying with them the weight of five years of heartache.

How could it still hurt after all this time?

With trembling hands, you reached for a tissue, dabbing at your eyes, but the tears kept coming. ‘’Please, stop.’’

In the morning, you woke up on a blow-up mattress in Belly’s room. Your eyes were sensitive from crying and red. You tried to cover it with eye-drops and makeup, but when you came down for breakfast and Belly pulled you in a tight hug, you knew you didn’t do a great job.

Jeremiah eyed the two of you, raising an eyebrow and silently asking what was up, but Belly shook her head.

The rest of the day went without any downpour of tears. A part of the afternoon was spent tanning under the sun and drinking lemonades, relishing in the last moments of tranquility before the evening's rehearsal dinner. The place was going to get filled with family members and other guests soon and it’ll get very crowded.

Steven joined you in Belly’s bedroom as you were getting ready for dinner, still wet from being at the beach with the boys. He tried to get a kiss from Taylor, but she pushed him off as he was dripping water all over her makeup bag. Jeremiah laughed in the doorway, blowing a kiss to Belly before parting to his own bedroom to change.

Although you weren’t the only single person in the room, you never felt more alone.

At the dinner, you sat listening to the speeches about Belly and Jeremiah’s love. Without surprise, Steve made sure to embarrass the couple and Laurel was unable to hold back her tears when her turn came. Childhood stories and teenage anecdotes about their early moments of relationship made the guests laugh and smile.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly until Adam inadvertently attributed a story to Belly and Jeremiah, when in fact it was about you and Conrad. The frown on Jeremiah’s forehead as his father continued to speak matched Belly, both of them not knowing what he was talking about.

‘’Eh, Dad, Belly didn’t come to my prom…’’ Jeremiah whispered to his father. ‘’I went to hers and she was wearing a purple dress, not green.’’

Adam paused, his realization dawning slowly. ‘’Oh. You’re right. That was Conrad. I caught him and his girl making out outside the house when they came back. Susannah was out of her mind for allowing her to sleep over…’’

The revelation hung in the air, accompanied by an uncomfortable silence. Your grip on the glass of wine tightened involuntarily, the pressure causing it to shatter in your hand. Shards of glass cut into your skin as crimson droplets mixed with the spilled wine.

Beside you, Taylor gasped in concern, her eyes widening at the sight. ‘’Oh my god, are you—’’

Ignoring the sting of pain and Taylor’s voice, you excused yourself and hurried inside to tend to your injury. You grabbed some paper towels and pressed them over your cuts.

Unbeknownst to you, Conrad followed after you. As you stood there, watching the white soak and turn red, you felt his presence behind you. ‘’Don’t do that.’’ His touch was gentle as he took your hand and removed the soiled paper towels, placing them on the counter. ‘’Never apply pressure to an injury that’s not clean of debris. You’ll push them further in,’’ he advised, the doctor in him speaking. ‘’Let me see.’’

‘’I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,’’ you insisted, attempting to brush off his concern. ‘’Go back to everyone else, it’s almost time for the best man’s speech.’’

But Conrad didn’t budge. ‘’Sit here. I need to check if there’s glass in it.’’ he urged, his tone firm yet caring.

Knowing there was no way out of this, you sat on one of the kitchen stools and let Conrad check your injury. He turned on the kitchen tap and you hissed as the water hit your freshly cut skin, the cool liquid soothing the sharp ache.

You sat there as Conrad tended to your wound in silence, his fingers gentle as he inspected your hand for any embedded glass fragments. You couldn't help but notice the warmth of his touch and the upgraded woodsy cologne, their familiarity causing your heart to flutter despite the pain.

His focus was entirely on your hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. It reminded you of that one time you fell from your bike and he patched up your knee and elbow. Once he made sure there was no glass in it, he went to fetch an antiseptic and gauze from the bathroom.

As he was wrapping it up, you thanked him. A simple ‘thanks’.

‘’Be careful drinking wine, next time.’’ Conrad meant it as a light teasing, but you weren’t in a mood to laugh.

‘’Don’t say anything. Please,’’ you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. ‘’It hurts seeing you — it really hurts. So much that I didn’t want to come to the wedding, but I couldn’t miss Belly’s big day. I couldn’t do that to her. What type of friend would I be?’’ The weight of your words hung heavy in the air between you, the truth of them echoing in the silence of the room. ‘’But being here, watching her and Jeremiah getting married is killing me because that should have been us,’’ you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. ‘’This house is where we met; every corner holds tons of memories of us and it’s haunting me, torturing me since I got here.’’

‘’I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry—’’

‘’You’re sorry? No sorry will be enough,’’ you said. ‘’You told me I'm the love of your life about a million times. You said you would never leave. But you did. I loved you so much— You were it for me, Conrad. It was always you. But now you’re the loss of my life.’’

He said your name, but once again, you didn’t let him speak.

You got down from the stool, the stinging pain in your hand still present. ‘’I should get back outside. Hopefully Laurel knows a way to get blood out of my dress.’’

—

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#conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty

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pempempemto · 9 months

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FNAF RUIN SPOILERS

still thinking about. the last encounter with eclipse .

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ecoamerica · 25 days

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youtube

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The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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sparkrls · 2 months

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girl uncle

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry becomes an uncle and has a bad case of baby fever

Author’s Note: congratulations to Gemma, i’m so happy for her and the entire Styles family. if this sucks, it's because babies scare me and i tried to write a fic about baby fever... not my smartest move

Word Count: 1k

···

“Baby? You okay?” Y/N murmured, brushing the hair out of Harry’s face. His lower lip trembling as he stared at the rose-flushed baby.

Harry shook his head, the first tear trailing down his cheek. Y/N could never stand to see him weep. It made something inside of her shatter as he lost his composure.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He leaned his head against her shoulder, tears trailing down his face and onto her shirt. His eyes never left the baby.

Gemma laid fast asleep in the bed behind them. In a little while, the nurse would come in to check in on the baby and Gemma. But for now, Harry and Y/N were left with a sleeping Gemma and a baby to gaze at.

Harry had been stressed out of his mind when Michal called to tell them Gemma’s water had broken and they were headed to the hospital. He had fussed over every detail, and Y/N had been the one to grab the car keys and usher him out of the house. She knew he wasn’t in any mental state to be driving.

The time in the waiting room had been spent by Y/N helping Michal with all the paperwork and Harry pacing in circles. She’d gotten him a tea and ordered him to sit down. As he sipped on his tea, his face still in an anxious frown, she’d pressed a notebook and pen in his hands. Y/N had cupped his face in her hands and instructed, “Everything on your mind, write it down. All the anxious overthinking- lay it down on the page.”

Harry had done so, filling a worrying amount of pages with all that was on his mind. She had skimmed it and found he kept repeating certain thoughts, a clear sign he was just in a spiral of overthinking.

Y/N sat down next to him and simply hugged him until the tension in his muscles dissipated and he relaxed- not completely, but enough to soothe her worries.

When they’d finally been let into the room to see an exhausted Gemma, grinning Michal and a fussy baby, Harry had been handed the baby to hold. He rocked her lightly in his arms, smiling down at her.

“You’re a girl uncle,” Y/N had said teasingly. Harry grinned nonetheless.

That had led them to this, a day after the currently unnamed baby was born. The sun had long set on the horizon, and dark flooded the streets with lamplights turned on.

“We’re adults now,” Harry whispered lowly, as to not rouse the sleeping figures in the room. He sniffled. “I can still remember being kids and climbing trees. How Gemma cleaned up my knee when I scraped it learning to ride a bike. And look at her now.”

A warmth spread in Y/N’s chest, somewhere between happiness and an indescribable satisfaction at knowing they’d made it this far. And a melancholic feeling thinking about how they used to worry about whether their parents would let them go out to the park with their friends or not. Now, they would soon become the parents themselves.

Harry sighed, and she wiped his tears away from his cheeks. Y/N placed a tender kiss on his forehead and said, “You’re an uncle now.”

Looking up at her as if she’d been the one to freckle the sky with stars, Harry said, “Uncle Harry. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips. “Definitely.”

“Dad would sound even better,” Harry whispered, pressing himself close to her and nuzzling his nose against her neck. “Don’t you agree?”

Eyebrows raised in light surprise, Y/N asked, “You want to…?”

Harry nodded. “Wouldn’t it be nice?” He whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had that soft look in his eye he always got whenever he talked about their future. “Maybe a ring on your finger before… and then a baby in your belly.”

“You’ve got baby fever,” Y/N groaned quietly, turning her head away from him. Her gaze landed on the baby again, wrapped in a light pink blanket. For a moment, she imagined that being her baby. And a rush of affection swelled in her chest, a pinch of fear tingling on her fingertips.

Fuck, maybe she had baby fever as well.

They certainly did look adorable, faces all scrunched up, skin a rosy pink and fingers all chubby.

“Is that a no?” Harry prompted quietly.

Y/N sighed as if she were exhausted by him. They both knew her every word was laced with affection, “How’d you go from crying ‘cause your sister’s a mom now to begging for a baby?”

“Marriage and a baby,” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “Get your facts straight.”

Holding back a laugh, Y/N said, “Begging for marriage and a baby.” She took one good look at the man beside her, with brown curls and green eyes that looked almost a forest green in this light. “I never could say no to you.”

“That’s a yes?” Harry asked hopefully, leaning in close.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "It means be patient. We'll see how things go." She gave him a playful glare. "But we are having a wedding before a baby. Got it, Styles?"

"Got it, baby,” Harry confirmed with a grin. He knew he was going to get what he wanted. Maybe more in the future, he would spend an obscene amount of money on a Tiffany engagement ring and a Vivienne Westwood wedding dress. But for now, those plans were stowed away in Harry’s mind. They would come to fruition eventually. It was just a matter of time.

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bet-on-me-13 · 4 months

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Captive AU

So, the GIW has been around for a while.

Ghosts have been a problem for centuries, the US Government wouldn't have waited until the 21st Century to figure out a way to deal with them, so the GIW has been around for years. And the general Public knows about them, it's a common household name like the FBI or the CIA. They are simply seen as another government organization doing its job, no need to care about the Ghosts they capture, they're Non-Sentient anyways.

Over the years of their existence, they have acquired their own little prison full of Ghosts. And among that collection of Ghosts, 4 stand out.

Because they are somehow Ghost-Human Hybrids.

The first was captured a while before the others. A College Student studying Ectology had been admitted to the Hospital after a Lab Accident, where he had been diagnosed with an, as of yet, unknown and incurable Disease. He had Green Boils popping up all over his Face, and he was in excruciating Pain.

The GIW had sent a team to investigate, and they had found that the College Student was slowly transforming into some type of abomination. He was still partially human, but he was also partially a Ghost. They had him declared Dead and shipped him off to a Blacksite Facility to be experimented on.

...

The Second One came about 10 years later. Coincidentally, it was very similar circumstances. The very same pair of scientists who had been acquainted with their previous subject had just admitted their 5 Yr old son into a local Hospital. He had been in a Lab Accident that had stopped his Heart for a few minutes, and out of curiosity the GIW had sent a Team to investigate.

And what did they find, but a perfect recreation of their favorite Test Subject.

They declared the Child Dead, and sent him off to the same Facility they kept the other one in.

...

The 3rd of the Hybrids was actually created in a GIW Lab, 3 Years Later. In an experiment to see if the Hybrids condition could be recreated, a GIW Scientist had taken the DNA of the 2 existing Hybrids and had cloned them.

Of the Test Batch of 15, only 1 Subject survived. It was deemed only a Partial Success, because while they did manage to create a New Hybrid, it was Unstable and prone to melting if overexerted.

They placed it in the same Containment Unit as the other 2, and left it at that. No more Cloning Experiments had been conducted afterwards since the project was deemed an overall Failure.

...

The 4th and Final Hybrid was found in Gotham City of all places, 2 years later.

A GIW Operative had been visiting Family when their Van's Ecto-Detector had gone off. Soon after that they found the Subject in an Alleyway, seemingly disoriented from its recent awakening.

DNA testing had revealed the Hybrid to be deceased Jason Peter Todd, the adopted Son of Bruce Wayne who had been killed 6 Months Prior while studying in Ethiopia. By the Scientists Best Guess, an Anomoly in Space-Time had caused a Natural Portal to open right on top of the Teenagers Corpse, fusing his Deceased Body and nearly formed Ghost into One.

They shipped the Teen off to the Blacksite, and placed him in the same Containment Unit as the others.

...

So now the GIW have 4 Hybrids, all created from different circumstances, all different ages.

One was formed from the Slow Death of a College Age Student, after a Lab Accident had flooded his system with Pure Ectoplasm.

One was form from the Instant Death of a 5 yr old Boy, after a Lab Accident had flooded his Body with a dimensions worth of Ectoplasm.

One was created in a GIW Lab in a Cloning Experiment. She was created to be 3 Yrs Old upon Birth, and was Unstable as a Result.

One was created from the Fusion of a Long Dead Teenage Corpse and a nearly formed Ghost, in a random Space Time Event that forced both together.

...

All the Halfas are basically a Family together. Vlad is the oldest, at around 35, and takes the Paternal Role.

Danny and Ellie are the Kids, and are 10 and 5 respectively.

Jason is the Oldest Child, and takes his Older Brother role very seriously. He is 15 when he is brought in.

They all take care of eachother, through all the experiments and tests the GIW force them through.

One of the most common experiments is to have them battle the other Ghosts in Captivity. Although that is just a thinly veiled dog fighting ring that the GIW scientists like to Bet on. Sometimes they are put up against eachother, but they refuse to fight until they are electrocuted into submission.

They were also forced to Push all of their Powers to their Limits every day, just so the Scientist can see how they are growing. This had drained them, since they only got the absolute minimum amount of Ecto to survive off of, and they were forced to use it all up every day.

This goes on for 3 more years.

...

Until the day when the GIW messed up.

During one of their Constant Dog Fights, they had made the mistake of putting two Electricity Core Ghosts against eachother. The resulting battle had created an Electromagnetic Wave that fried all systems in the entire Facility.

It was a Disaster. Dozens of Scientists were killed when the Door Locks failed to contain the captive Ghosts, and even more were injured when a few of the Ghosts managed to break into the Armory on Base.

It was only hours after the whole ordeal was Finally quelled that they realized that their most Valuable Test Subjects were missing.

Vlad, Danny, Jason, and Ellie had taken the chance to run away during the commotion. Vlad had unfortunately been injured during the escape, and Ellie had been forced to use her powers causing her to destabilize a little, but all in all they had managed to escape on one piece.

But now they were fugitives on the run from the Government, with an injured adult and a sick child.

Jason had an Idea though. While he didn't have very clear memories of his life, a side effect of his late resurrection, he did remember that he used to live in Gotham. And they all remember researchers grumbling about how their scanners always malfunction when they passed nearby Gotham.

So, Jason led his little Family to the most Familiar place in the city he could think of.

Crime Alley.

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #GIW #Guys In White #Ghost Investigation Ward #The GIW is actually Compent #They have been around for years #They capture Vlad when he is first admitted into the Hospital #They catch Danny when he is admitted into the hospital as well but as a 5 Yr Old #They make Ellie and keep her in Captivity #And they Catch Jason the same day he is revived as a Halfa #Just to clear up the Ages #Vlad was captured at 20 and is released at 38 #Danny is captured at 5 and is released at 13 #Jason is captured at 15 and is released at 18 #Ellie is a bit more complicated #She is Born as a 3 yr old #She is physically 8 but actually 5 when she is released #The GIW was seen as a good thing for decades by the Public #So even the JLA agreed that the Ghosts needed to be locked up #The JLA is horrified when JLD tells them that Ghosts are both Sentient and Sapient #Especially since the GIW researchers they question seem to be oddly defensive about the whole thing #The GIW knew all along but they kept it a secret because they are assholes #Jason leads his little family to Crime Alley #He finds a few good hiding spots for his family and eventually decides to start helping out around the neighborhood

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evie-sturns · 3 months

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red - 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

summary: you and matt have been dating for a month, the most you've ever done is made out, one night things turn, which results in you and matt both losing your virginity.

warnings: smut, virgin!matt, virgin!reader, swearing, fluff.

------------------... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..------------------

i'm 19, and still a virgin. my boyfriend matt doesnt know, i'm too scared to tell him even though i know he would never judge me. nothing sexual has ever happened between us, but its bound to happen at some point, right?

matt and i are laying in his bed together, the house is empty for once as we cuddle close, watching a movie. i take a deep breath through my nose, anxiety rushing through me as my thoughts race

what if it hurts? what if matt won't think of me the same if i tell him? am i even ready?

"y/n, are you okay sweetheart, you're tensing like crazy." matt rubs my back, reasurringly.

"matt." i whisper, my voice hoarse.

"yeah?" he says, sitting up, his back pressing against the headboard as i lay on his chest.

what do i even say? i cant just say- "i want to have sex with you."

shit. the words came out like word vomit.

i throw my hand over my mouth, sitting up off matts chest and leaping off the bed. an awkward silence floods through the room as i reach for the door handle.

"come back." he says calmly, patting the spot next to him.

i nod like a guilty kid as i walk back over to his bed, sitting down next to him. "did you mean what you said sweetheart?" he says, interlocking our fingers. "possibly.." i mumble, my cheeks flushing.

matt laughs

"what!!" i say, slapping him softly.

"you're so red." he giggles,

"god shut up." i mumble, a smile spreading across my face.

another silence grows in the room as we decide what to say next. i clear my throat, "matt i need to say something." i whisper, looking everywhere but at him. he nods, squeezing my hand.

"i'm uh.. a virgin.?" i say, barely audible as i rub my eyes. "but like, i know its weird from my age but its just, i really love you, and everything about you.. i think i want you to take my virginity.."

"me too." he says, his cheeks red.

"you too?" i repeat, my eyebrows furrowing.

the room goes quiet, i'm quite frankly in shock.

its no secret matt's had mutiple girlfriends before me, but im finding it hard to wrap my head around how hes never done anything.

"look who's red now." i smile, staring at matts face.

"shush," he says, pressing a finger to my lips.

i pull off my shirt, revealing my white lacy bra.

matt's eyes widen. "oh." he coughs, his eyes fixated on my chest.

"too soon?" i ask, reaching for my shirt, starting to put it back on. "no no-.." he says grabbing the shirt from my hands and throwing it across the room. "is it really that good that you had to throw it across the room?" i laugh

"well don't want to risk you putting it back on!" he shrugs before pulling off his crewneck. i swallow hard, "i don't know what i'm doing if i'm being honest." i sigh, matt sits up, pressing a kiss to my forehead, "me neither, we'll figure it out." matt smiles.

i lay back on the bed as matt stands up, spreading my legs apart and stepping between them, he places a hand on the side of my face as he leans down, kissing from my neck.. to my chest.. to my belly button.

my breathing intensifies. pure nerves flooding through my body.

"are you nervous..?" he asks, pausing his pecks at my waistband.

"no." i lie through my teeth.

"mm yes you are..." he says teasingly.

"fine, i just don't want it to hurt, my friends all say it is the most uncomfortable thing the first time.." i mumble, running a hand through my hair.

"i know, you're stressing me out now!" he laughs, yanking down his sweatpants leaving him in his boxers. i follow his lead, unclasping my bra, matt stares at me shamelessly "fuck." he mumbles "you're so pretty.." he whispers.

“you okay?” he asks, reaching for the waistband of my shorts. i nod, looking him in the eyes.

“can i take these two off?” he asks, referring to my panties and shorts,

“y-yeah.. yep.” i mumble, he pauses.

“please don’t be nervous, just try to relax and i promise you it won’t hurt okay?” he says leaning down and kissing the tip of my nose.

“i’ll try to relax.” i say to matt, he slowly pulls down my panties, leaving me revealed in-front of him

“oh my god- okay, this might be a weird question but do you ever touch yourself..” matt says, staring at me

i burst into giggles, my face going red. matt slams a hand over his face “stupid question?” he smiles.

“no no.. it’s a good question but yeah i do. why?” i smirk

“oh thank god, i was worried about you.. being too tight and if i’m too big it won’t fit.” he says with a sigh

“mr. big dick over here everyone!” I joke, resulting in him rubbing his eyes “i didnt mean it like that.”

“you’re cute matt.” i say spreading my legs apart.

matt’s breath hitches in his throat as he stares at me, it’s probably the first naked woman that he’s been with in person.

“i have condoms..” he mumbled quietly

“oh.” i say with a disappointed tone

“babe i am not making you pregnant at 19.” he scoffs, opening his bedside table.

“i’m on the pill dumbass.” i smile, reaching for him

“i thought you were a virgin?” he asks his eyebrows furrowing

“matt i am, it’s just for other reaso-.. fuck it i’ll explain later”

matt’s boxers have a noticeable bulge pressing from the inside.

“you can take those off..” i whisper.

“yeah yup uhm of course!” he says shakily.

“why are you nervous now??” i laugh and he groans

“what if i’m bad..” he sighs

“where’s my clit.” i say bluntly, he points to it exactly.

“where the hole.” i say again, again he points to it with accuracy

“there you go, you’ll be fine, and i cant even judge you cause i don’t know better either!” i say assuring him

he slowly pulls off his boxers, his erection sprinting out tapping his bellybutton. “oh my god.” i whisper to myself.

“we need a towel matt..” i say standing up off the bed.

“for what?” he says quietly

“blood?” i say casually, he turns white. “what.”

he looks around nervously “you’re on your period?”

i laugh, “i’m on birth control sweetheart, remember?”

“then why the fuck will you bleed..”

“look at you, that dick will rip my hymen.” i say, he hands me his shirt,

“i don’t know what the fuck that means but here’s a shirt you can put under you.” he says nervously, his hand shaking as he passes me the shirt.

“you’re okay if it gets blood on it?”

“mhm i just wanna start..” he says quietly.

“jesus okay.” i say laying back on the bed, the shirt under me.

he grabs his base as he stands between my legs, he rubs his tip over my folds, sending goosebumps around my body. i let out a desperate moan.

“just tap me if you want me to stop and i will instantly okay..?” matt says, his tone less shaky then before. “i’ll go so slow.”

he lines himself up with my hole, pushing himself toward slightly, nothing happens.

“i cant um.. go further.” he says, pushing at my entrance

“what.?” i ask

“i think you really need to relax your whole body, loosen up a little bit okay?” he says pressing a kiss to my cheek.

he holds out a hand infront of my mouth “spit.” he demands

“gross!” i say with a smirk painted across my face

“i know..” he says, his hand not moving away, i spit into his hand, matt quickly moves it down, using it as a lube.

“relax as much as you can okay?” he says, pressing slowly into me.

“fuck fuck fuck..” i moan, squeezing my eyes shut

i feel his tip slide into me, a loud whimper escapes matt’s mouth “oh my god..” he pushes further into me, a stretching burning sensation grows as i feel a tear fall down my cheek, he pushes the rest of the way in, stopping completely to look at me as he’s still buried inside me.

“hey hey, don’t cry your okay, you took it all!” he says caressing my cheek and rubbing the few tears that fell away. “tell me when to move, remember if you need a break tell me, if you want me to stop tap me.” he says.

i nod, looking him in the eyes “move.. please-“ i say, balling the sheets up with my fists, he nods, pulling almost out then thrusting back in, he’s going slowly.

matt is clearly trying to conceal his noises as he continues to pull out then push in. the burning sensation slowly disappears, and is replaced with pleasure

a strong smile spreads across my face, “feels good now?” he asks, his voice croaky.

“yes..” i manage to squeeze out “faster.. please” he picks up the pace slightly “i’m not gonna last long this time.” he warns

i clench around him, he twitches inside me then instantly fills me up, my jaw goes slack as i look up at him.

“shit i am so sorry..” he says pulling out with a slick sound, he grabs my hips and stands me up, i feel his cum start to leak down my leg as my leg shakes

“oh shit oh shit..” he says frantically looking around, he settles on his shirt, grabbing it and places it on me, collecting everything that is coming out of me. i laugh at the sight of him between my legs, wiping his orgasm off my thighs.

“was that okay for you, did it hurt?” he says picking me up.

“i think you just rearranged my organs.”

his cheeks go red.

------------------... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..------------------

very much requested hope you guys liked it,

don’t be shy to spam my inbox btw i love talking to people

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic

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distantdarlings · 1 month

Text

SUPPORT SYSTEM // Slytherin Boys

RATING: PG-13 / 2.2K WORDS

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When a few Gryffindors start spreading rumors that the Slytherin boys only hang around you because they’re sharing you, you’re hesitant to share this information with them. (Slight Angst, Comedy?)

+ WARNINGS - Language, some sexual discussion (very small amount), bullying, secrets, implied fight, not proof-read (lmk if I’ve missed anything)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Sarah - Alex G

- - -

As soon as your eyes opened that morning, you found yourself regretting even waking up. The memories of yesterday were flooding back and hitting you like a giant tidal wave, so visceral you could almost taste the salted water.

You ran a hand over your eyes, rubbing the sleep from them, and dreading the day. Despite the superior support system you had holding you up, you found yourself in a dilemma. The wonderful people you called your closest friends were what was plaguing you.

With each inhale, a flash of one of their faces would zip in front of you, deepening the nausea building in your stomach. You sigh. You couldn’t miss anymore classes, but you felt as though leaving your bed would surely breed a recipe for disaster.

Between the relentless teasing, the names you’d been called, and everything else that had been going on this week, you felt close to giving up. The only thing that had kept you powered in even the slightest way were your friends.

A knock interrupted your thoughts. A few teasing laughs broke through the thick wooden door as you swallowed the misery rising up your throat. It wouldn’t surprise you if your harrassers had decided to come knocking at your door, bringing their sneers and cruel words with them. You perked up your voice to tell the usurpers to go away when you heard a familiar shout.

The voice was lowered and joking, letting your name fall from his mouth like it was an everyday thing—which it was. You jumped up and tossed the comforter away from your body. You across the cold dorm floor and flung the heavy wooden door open.

On the other side stood three dark boys, all with varying smiles and warm eyes. Hot relief flooded your body as you let yourself fall into them.

Theo Nott stood dead center and caught your flailed body like a Quaffle. You wrapped your arms tightly around his lean body, missing the way he felt and the way he smelled. You could’ve melted into his body and lived there for the rest of your days if necessary.

To his right was Enzo Berkshire, the devilishly handsome and wickedly funny boy you called one of your best friends. He laughed aloud and tossed an arm around you as well, squeezing you between their bodies. You groaned slightly and the pressure. You turned your head.

“Come on, Matty, don’t you want to join us?” you mumbled, your cheeks squished between the two boys on either side of you.

The last boy stood back a bit, watching you amusedly. Mattheo Riddle chuckled a bit before placing a large hand over your head and mussing your hair a bit.

“I’m good, kid, but I’m grateful you’re feeling better,” he said, his voice genuine. You’d always hated when he called you ‘kid,’ as he was only a few months older than you. But, right now, you were more than happy to hear him say it.

With laughing exclamations, they all asked what you were doing and how you’ve been and if you felt any better. Amongst the constant picking you were getting from some of your classmates, you’d taken a couple days away from class and the boys because you were ‘sick.’ With white lies peppered in here and there, you explained that you were feeling much better now that they were here and that you were pretty sure you’d had some kind of stomach bug. It wasn’t totally a lie as you’d felt nauseated all weekend thinking about going back to class.

“Ready to go back to class?” Enzo asked, finally pulling away from you and allowing you a breath. Your stomach twisted at his words.

“Yeah,” you chuckled nervously. “I guess I am.” Theo and Enzo smiled in response, but Mattheo gave you an odd look, raising one of his eyebrows suspiciously. You shook your head at him.

For the last month, a couple of your classmates had been mentioning things in passing to people around the school. A few of your other acquaintances, outside of the boys, had informed you of the rumors being spread. Awful things, mostly about the boys. Things you’d never even considered to be a possibility.

Luna, a friend of yours from Herbology, mentioned that some Gryffindor had spoken to a couple of her friends about you in Potions. The Gryffindor had said that you were only friends with the boys because you were interested in their money and status, and that the boys only kept you around because you were easy. That last part had made your stomach broil.

You had never, ever even wanted anything more than what you currently had with the boys. They were your best friends—almost like brothers—and there was nothing more you craved from them. Being away from them for multiple days at a time felt like you were separated from family members, not lovers. And you had never so much as mentioned their money—in fact, you refused to let them pay for dinner the majority of times. You hated when people paid for your things.

Needless to say, the words had hurt you deeply, and you’d begun to wonder how many other people thought these things about you.

You wondered that until you overhead someone talking about you in a class last week. Little whispers had been passing around behind you the entirety of the class anyway, but when you’d heard your name, you’d whipped around to see who had said it. And lo and behold, there sat the Gryffindor girl with her group of friends. Only, this time there were others leaning in and listening. Fellow Slytherins, no less.

“Are you talking about me?” you’d asked, your eyebrows furrowing in hurt and anger. Nervous eyes had glanced back and forth and all around until the Gryffindor girl—Nancy McLaggen, you’d learned was her name—spoke up with a cruel smirk on her lips.

“We were just wondering if a couple rumors were true,” she’d said, faux innocence painted on her face.

“Rumors about me? What rumors?”

“Well, we all had heard from someone in Ravenclaw that you’re being passed around the Slytherin boys.”

You had nearly choked on your spit. Nancy refused to wipe the smirk off her face, and the people around you had begun to listen in as well. Expressions of shock and amusement were scattered throughout the classroom, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You’d swiped your books together and excused yourself from the class, ignoring your teacher’s shouts to explain yourself.

And those were the events that had led you to where you currently were—miserable and pretending to be sick to avoid your peers. It was pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. You hadn’t been able to defend yourself in class last week and you were worried you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself if it happened again.

And there was no way in hell you were telling the boys about this. There would be no hesitation from any of them to defend you, but that was exactly what you were worried about. If they tried to help you, it would only worsen your current condition. Everyone in school would see the action as them protecting their little sex toy.

Merlin, you were so embarrassed and hurt, you couldn’t stand it. You felt nauseated again.

“Actually, boys,” you started, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I’m still feeling a little sick. I might wait until next week.”

“Next week?” Theo exclaimed. “How sick are you? Are you sure you don’t need to go to the infirmary?”

“No, I’m fine,” you sigh. “You go ahead—”

“No, we’re not going anywhere!” Enzo suddenly interrupted, stepping in front of Theo. You were a bit taken aback by the sudden spike in volume.

“En, I’m fine—”

“No, there’s something very wrong, and you’re not sick.”

“Guys, please just—”

“I agree with Enzo,” Theo interrupted. You glanced desperately at Mattheo, hoping someone would stand on your side.

“Something’s up,” he shrugged. “You don’t even look sick, kid.” You rolled your eyes. That annoyance was back.

“I said I was fine, why can’t you guys believe me?” you asked, sighing at their resilience. You wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“Because we’ve known you since you were eleven, just like you’ve known us,” Theo said. “Would you just let us be if one of us was acting the way you are?”

His words gave you pause. He made a very fair point. If any of the boys standing before you was behaving as you were, you’d be concerned. You felt a bit of guilt in becoming so angry with their protectiveness. They just wanted to help—just as they always did.

“Please tell us what’s wrong,” said Enzo. You tear your eyes from theirs, finding the lines of tile in the floor.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore their pressing stares, you couldn’t. You knew you needed to talk to someone—especially one of them. If they found out through someone else, who knew what they’d do. You pressed a frustrated hand to your forehead. The pure shame you felt from having to tell them what you’d been hearing the last week felt almost synonymous with running through the halls of the castle naked.

“Okay,” you sighed in defeat. “Last week, Someone started passing some rumors around the school—rumors about me.”

The boys seemed to glance between each other a few times before resuming immediate interest in your words.

“I know that there were a few girls from Gryffindor involved; Luna was the one to tell me about them…” you paused for a moment, gathering what little pride you had left. “They’ve been telling everyone that you guys have been…passing me around.”

With the last few words, you heaved a sigh of both relief and defeat and lowered your head farther into yourself. You felt nauseated and wished you could disappear.

In a breath of time, Mattheo’s knuckles clenched painfully loud as he turned on his heel and slammed the dorm door open.

“Mattheo, no—” you started to shout, tossing yourself toward the door. Theo and Enzo caught you against them, blocking your path.

“Guys, stop! Let me go!”

“You couldn’t have expected us to hear that and be totally fine, could you?” Theo smirked, pressing a small kiss to your cheek. You groaned and shoved away from them, backing farther into your room.

“It doesn’t matter,” you shrugged. “I didn’t tell any of you who I was talking about.”

“You said it was some Gryffindors, right?” Enzo asked.

“Yes, but do you have any idea how many Gryffindors are in this castle?”

“Enough.” Theo grinned wildly, his lips spreading evilly. The two boys crossed their arms and stood resolutely in front of the door.

“He’ll never figure out who it was,” you taunted, crossing your arms. Then just below the three of you, you heard a sharp shout of rough consonants.

“WHO THE FUCK WAS TALKING ABOUT HER?”

At the sound of Mattheo’s tone, the two boys exchanged an excited glance and quickly pushed themselves through the door. As they unblocked your path, you sped toward the door.

Just as you reached the gaping threshold, they slammed the door shut right in your face. You pressed your body against the door, beating your hands on the solid wood.

“THEODORE NOTT, LORENZO BERKSHIRE, OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!” you shrieked over their mocking laughter on the other side.

Something heavy clunked against the door and acted as their replacement as their chuckling voices disappeared down the hall.

No matter how hard you banged on the door’s solid wood, you realized you were never getting out of this unless—

You gasped and backed away from the door. Your wand. You could blast the door to pieces and repair it later.

With a successful smirk on your lips, you ran over to your bedside table and reached for the thin piece of material.

And just as your fingers curled around the wand, you heard a distant shout of “Accio!” Then your wand was flying out of your hand and zipping towards, then under the door.

You shrieked in anger before collapsing against your bed. You couldn’t believe that was going to go any other way, considering how well you knew the boys. It was well out of your hands now.

“You’ll thank us later, darling,” Enzo’s laughing voice was heard distantly through the stone walls. It took only a second for it to be drowned out by your frustrated groans and Theo’s taunting against some unknown assailant. You just hoped they wouldn’t hurt any of those students too badly…sort of.

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#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #theodore nott #theo nott #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

Text

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos.

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter.

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt.

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then.

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole.

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out.

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh.

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks.

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.”

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve.

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time.

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country.

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here.

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn.

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears.

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken.

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening.

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone.

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone.

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs.

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone.

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt.

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters.

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car?

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho. And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is.

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says.

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums.

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish.

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham.

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else.

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time.

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again.

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles.

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands.

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest.

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses.

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees.

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink.

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before.

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt.

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips.

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful.

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message.

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out.

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall.

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently.

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it.

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them.

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock.

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex.

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner.

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity.

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly.

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!”

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd.

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument.

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares.

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder.

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

#gay bar au #steddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #featuring robin as the worlds worst wingman #i'm never not going to bully eddie for walking on those tables #'why does everyone here hate me🥺' mf it's bc you keep putting ur nasty ass shoes where people eat #i've said it before and i'll say it again. someone should have yanked on his leg and made him faceplant. he would have deserved it #we stay billy bashing 💪#in this au the byers didn't move to california #jonathan still goes to school there tho #why? bc he and argyle are soulmates and time and space moved for them to make sense next question #i need u to know eddie does not have sex magic and steve isn't actually as smooth as eddie thinks. they r just obsessed with each other #that one person who was in my notes truthing ab a stoncy threesome. i was excited when i saw that bc i had this written hope u see it <3

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dreamescapeswriting · 10 days

Text

Stray Kids Reaction | Your Pregnant And Scared

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

You sat at the doctor's office staring at anything but your boyfriend right now, you and Chan sat nervously, holding hands as you waited for the results of the pregnancy test. Your heart raced with fear, and your mind was consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. When the doctor finally entered the room, your hands trembled as you braced yourself for the news.

"Congratulations," the doctor said with a warm smile. "You're pregnant." Just like that it was like the whole world had frozen in place, pregnant? You and Chan had been so careful and yet you'd still managed to end up knocked up. Your initial shock quickly gave way to a flood of emotions, it was like you felt everything all at once. Tears welled up in your eyes as she glanced at Chan, who wore a mixture of joy and concern on his face. Chan had always told you he wanted to be a father but the two of you had only been together for two years, it was still too soon for you to have a baby.

As you left the doctor's office, your mind raced with worry. Were you even ready for this? What if you were a bad mum? What if you couldn't bond with the child?

"What are we going to do?" You whispered, your voice quivering. "I'm not ready to be a mother. What if I'm not good enough? What if I mess up?" Chan stood in front of you, holding your face in his hands and forcing you to look at him.

"Hey, we'll figure this out together," he reassured you. "You're going to be an amazing mum. I have no doubt about that." He whipped, his thumb wiping away one of the tears that was rolling down your cheek, you sniffled a little, still not able to shake your fears. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming, and the thought of becoming a parent filled you with doubt. What if you couldn't provide for your child? What if you made mistakes that would affect their future?

"I just want to be the best mom I can be," you admitted, your voice shaking nervously as you stared at him, you didn't want to seem as though you didn't want a family with Chan, you did, but you were terrified.

"Hey, I'm scared too...Okay? I want to be the best dad ever," He chuckles, slowly wiping your face again before looking at you with unwavering love and support.

"You already are," he said gently. "And together, we'll learn and grow every step of the way. We'll make mistakes, but we'll also share countless moments of joy and love. And no matter what, we'll always be there for each other and for our child." You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared at him,

"You're going to be an amazing mother, I've seen the love an care you give to everyone around you/ You're already a wonderful person, and you'll be an incredible mum too." He whispered before kissing you softly, you nodded a little. Your fears were still bubbling in the back of your mind but they were easing up little by little.

MINHO:

Minho sat beside you on the bench in the back garden, carefully wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as he placed a warm mug in your hand.

"You've been out here for a while, you okay?" He questioned, his eyes staring into the side of your head while you stared down at the floor. Minho knew you only came out here when there was something bothering you,

"Minho," You began, your voice trembling with nerves, you'd been torturing yourself all morning trying to come up with a way to tell him everything.

"There's something I need to tell you." Minho turned to you, his eyes sparkling with love, he'd missed hearing your voice all day.

"What is it, baby? You can tell me anything." You knew that, you loved that you could tell him everything it was something that made your relationship work. There were no secrets between you, everything was out in the open. Taking a deep breath, you met his gaze.

"I... I think I might be pregnant." You'd been dreading telling him ever since you thought you'd gotten pregnant. The two of you had been together for a year but the topic of children had never come up, you didn't even know if he wanted kids, or if you wanted them. Minho's face broke into a wide grin.

"Really? That's amazing, YN! I've always wanted to be a dad." You wanted to be as excited as him but your heart sank as you saw the excitement in his eyes. You swallowed hard, fighting back tears.

"I know, Minho, but I'm scared. What if we're not ready for this? What if I can't handle being a mother?" Minho reached out, taking your trembling hands in his.

"Hey, we'll figure it out together, okay? We'll make it work. And we have each other; we're not alone in this." You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I love you, Minho." You whispered, your eyes finding his as you relaxed a little.

"I love you too, Em," He replied, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"And I promise, we'll face whatever comes our way, together." At that moment, as the stars began to twinkle in the evening sky, you felt a glimmer of hope amidst your fear. With Minho by your side, you knew that you could handle anything life threw your way.

CHANGBIN:

Changbin stumbled upon something unexpected while rummaging through the bathroom cabinet for a new roll of toilet paper, he was still new to your place and hadn't figured out where everything was just yet. But tucked away in the corner, hidden beneath a pile of towels, was a pregnancy test, a positive one. His heart skipped a beat as he picked it up, his mind racing at the thought of you being pregnant with his child.

He hesitated for a moment before making his way to the living room where you were waiting for him.

"Hey, baby" he began tentatively, his voice betraying the unease he felt. You looked up, your brow furrowing in confusion at the serious expression on his face, you didn't think you'd ever seen him look so serious.

"What's wrong?" You asked, setting your book aside and making space for him on the sofa with you, Changbin clutched the test behind his back. He didn't want you to think he had been rummaging through your stuff.

"I found something," He said quietly, holding out the pregnancy test for you to see. Your eyes widened in alarm as you glanced at the test in his hand. Your hands trembled as you reached out to take it, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I... I can explain," You stammered, your voice so shakey you didn't even recognise it yourself. Changbin watched as tears welled up in your eyes, your bottom lip quivering with emotion.

"yn, what's going on?" he asked gently, his concern growing with each passing moment. If you were pregnant, why did you hide it from him? You took a deep breath, struggling to compose yourself as you met Changbin's gaze.

"I... I think I might be pregnant," you admitted, your voice barely audible over the rush of emotions coursing through you, it was clear you were since the home test was positive but you were still waiting for a doctor's appointment. After all, at-home tests were wrong sometimes.

Changbin felt his heart lurch at your words. He moved to sit beside you on the couch, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," he whispered, his voice filled with reassurance and confidence, almost making you believe him. But you couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of fear that gripped you, that had gripped you for days since you'd taken that test. It wasn't that you didn't want a family with him but you were terrified.

"I'm scared, Binnie," you admitted, tears streaming down your cheeks as you finally admitted it out loud and not just to yourself. Everything about pregnancy scared you, what if you ate something you shouldn't? Or did something wrong when you were carrying your child?

"I don't know if I'm ready to be a mother. What if I mess up? What if I can't handle it?" Changbin tightened his embrace, holding you close as he brushed a gentle kiss against your temple. The thought of being a father scared him but it also excited him, but he didn't want you to go through any of this alone.

"You don't have to have all the answers right now, Yn," he murmured, his voice filled with love and understanding.

"We'll figure this out together. And no matter what happens, I'll be right here by your side, every step of the way." You buried your face in his chest, you felt a glimmer of hope budding inside of you as you nodded a little.

"You'll never be alone, throughout all of this I will be here," He promised you, kissing your temple once again.

HYUNJIN:

"Yn, is everything okay in there?" Hyunjin called out, his voice tinged with nervousness. You'd been in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes now and he was starting to wonder if he should call a doctor or bust the door down to come and check on you. But he was met with silence from you, he pressed his ear to the door and listened for any sign of life when he heard you sniffle.

The door creaked open, and Hyunjin's eyes widened in surprise as he saw you sitting on the edge of the bathtub, a pregnancy test clenched tightly in your hand. Excitement erupted inside of him at the thought of starting a family with you but his excitement quickly turned to concern as he noticed tears streaming down your cheeks, your face etched with worry.

"Yn, what's wrong?" Hyunjin asked, rushing to your side and kneeling in front of you, his heart pounding with fear.

"Did... did the test come out positive?" The tears only streamed harder at his question and you nodded, your voice trembling as you stared at him, you struggled to speak through your tears.

"Yes, but... but I'm scared, Hyunjin," You admitted, your hands trembling as you handed him the pregnancy test. His heart sank as he saw the two lines on the test strip, confirming your fears. But despite the shock of the news, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of becoming a father. However, seeing your distress, his own excitement was quickly overshadowed by concern for your well-being.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," He murmured, pulling you into his arms and holding you close.

"I know this is unexpected, but we'll figure it out together, okay? We'll take things one step at a time." He told you reassuringly, the two of you had only been together less than a year, it was too soon for this. You couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of fear that consumed you.

"I... I think it's too soon," You confessed, your voice quivering with uncertainty.

"I'm not ready to be a mother. Are you ready to be a dad? What if I can't handle it? What if we're not prepared? W-What if you leave because it's too much too soon?" Tears instantly began to stream down your face once again and Hyunjin sighed, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

His heart ached at the thoughts going around in your head, he wanted nothing more than to reassure you but he knew it was going to take more than a few promises. He needed to show you he was here to stay.

"We'll figure it out together, Yn," he reassured you, his voice filled with love and determination.

"And no matter what happens, I'll be right here by your side, every step of the way." You stared at him and bit down on your lip.

"I'm here to stay Yn. I'm all in, no matter what." He promises, looking at his hand and pulling off one of the rings he was wearing and sliding it onto your finger.

"A promise that I won't go anywhere." He whispers, kissing your lips softly as you sniffle a little, doing your best to believe what he was telling you.

JISUNG:

For months, you have been brushing off the subtle signs your body was sending your way. The fatigue, the nausea—it was all easy to dismiss as stress or a mild bug. But as your symptoms worsened, you couldn't ignore them any longer. The day you found yourself doubled over in pain, you knew something was seriously wrong and so did Jisung who had practically dragged you to the hospital.

In the hospital waiting room, you gripped your boyfriend's hand tightly, your stomach tied in knots. You had tried to downplay your symptoms, hoping they would eventually fade away. But now, faced with the sterile walls of the hospital, you couldn't deny the truth any longer. You weren't stupid, you knew what all of your symptoms meant but you thought if you ignored them long enough it would mean you were in control a little longer. You could give yourself time to adjust.

When the doctor finally entered the room, your heart raced with anxiety. When the doctor delivered the news—that you were indeed pregnant—Jisung's eyes widened in shock, his grip on your hand tightening with a mixture of surprise and joy. But you couldn't meet his gaze. Tears welled up in your eyes as the weight of your secret finally came crashing down on you.

"I... I didn't know," you whispered, your voice shaking a little as Jisung turned to you, confusion etched on his face. Ale

"What do you mean, you didn't know?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. Pregnancy was a pretty obvious thing not to notice, there were some cases but it was rare. You took a deep breath, struggling to compose yourself as you met his gaze.

"I... I've been in denial," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I was scared, Jisung. Scared of what it meant, scared of how it would change everything." You and Jisung had been together for almost five years so it wasn't as though you were in a new relationship but things were great between you. You were scared having a child would ruin that, did he even want a kid?

As you poured out your fears, Jisung wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a comforting embrace.

"Oh, Yn," he murmured, his voice filled with love and understanding.

"You don't have to be scared. We'll figure this out together, okay? We've been together five years, it was either have a child or adopt a dog," He teased you, making you giggle a little as you wiped your face free from the tears.

FELIX:

You sat nervously in the coffee shop, fidgeting with your cup as you tried to focus on the conversation with your friend, Sarah. But the news you had just received was swirling in your mind, drowning out everything else. Today the two of you were supposed to be having a relaxing girl day but it was finally your chance to get all of your fears out about being pregnant.

"I just don't know what to do, Sarah," You confessed, your voice barely above a whisper scared that someone who didn't even know you was going to overhear and judge you for everything.

"What if I'm not ready to be a mum? What if I'm not good enough? What if..." You stopped yourself as you thought about Felix. The man you loved and had been with for the last four years, he should have been the one you talked to about this but you were scared. He seemed so excited about being a father,

"What if Lix doesn't want kids with me?"

Unbeknownst to you, Felix had entered the coffee shop moments earlier, hoping to surprise you with a lunch date. But as he overheard your words, his heart sank. He had been grappling with his own fears and uncertainties about the pregnancy, but hearing your doubts voiced aloud only intensified his concern.

Sarah reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

"Yn, you're going to be an amazing mom," she reassured you, her voice filled with conviction.

"And as for Felix... well, I'm sure he loves you more than anything. He'll support you no matter what." Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, grateful for Sarah's words of encouragement. But deep down, your fears continued to gnaw at you, leaving you feeling overwhelmed and uncertain.

Just then, Felix approached your table, a hesitant smile on his face.

"Hey, surprise!" he exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood as he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up, your eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Felix. But before you could say anything, Felix gently took your hand in his, his expression serious as he met your gaze.

"I heard what you said, baby," He began, his voice soft but filled with determination.

"And I want you to know that I'm scared too. But... but I want this. With you. I've always wanted a family with you," Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, your heart overflowing with emotion. At that moment, all your doubts and fears seemed to melt away, replaced by a profound sense of love and gratitude for the man sitting before you.

"I love you, Yn," He continued, his eyes shining with sincerity.

"And I want nothing more than to build a future together with you, whatever that may look like. So please... let's face this together, okay?" Tears streamed down your cheeks as you threw her arms around him, holding him close as she whispered,

"Okay." All three of you sitting in the cafe and planning your appointments for the next few months.

SEUNGMIN:

The sun was setting over the picturesque seaside town as you found yourself alone in the rented beach house, your hands trembling as you stared down at the pregnancy test in your hand. You had been feeling off for a while now, but it wasn't until you'd arrived on holiday with your boyfriend, Seungmin, and his friends that you realized you needed to know for sure.

As you sat on the edge of the bathtub, your heart pounding in your chest, you barely registered the sound of the door creaking open. Before you could react and hide the test, Jeongin stepped into the bathroom, a look of surprise flashing across his face as he caught sight of you holding the pregnancy test. He didn't know you and Seungmin had even been trying to make a baby, he'd never mentioned it.

"Yn, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize..." Jeongin stammered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he quickly averted his gaze. But it was too late. The floodgates had opened, and tears streamed down your cheeks as you crumpled the test in your hand. You couldn't hold back the overwhelming sense of fear and uncertainty that consumed you.

"Yn, what's wrong?" Jeongin asked, his voice filled with concern as he knelt down beside you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder.

"I... I'm pregnant," you whispered, you didn't know why you were telling Jeongin when it was Seungmin you should have been talking to but he was there and you'd always been close.

"But I'm scared, Jeongin. I'm so scared."Jeongin's eyes widened in shock at your words, but before he could say anything, your sobs grew louder, echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom. Sensing the urgency of the situation, Jeongin knew he had to act fast.

"SEUNGMIN!" he called out, panic lacing his voice as he dashed out of the bathroom in search of his best friend who should have been the one to find you first.

Seconds later, Seungmin burst into the room, his eyes wide with concern as he took in the sight of you sobbing on the bathroom floor. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees beside you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked, his voice soft but filled with worry as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. Through your tears, you poured out your fears to him, your voice trembling with emotion as you confessed your doubts and uncertainties about the pregnancy. You were terrified of not being ready, of making mistakes, of everything that lay ahead. But Seungmin listened to you with unwavering love and support, his own heart filled with a mixture of fear and determination. He may not have all the answers, but he knew one thing for certain: they would face this together, whatever may come.

"We're going to have a beautiful kid, and we're both going to raise our kids to be happy," He explained, before going in-depth about how he knew you were going to be amazing parents and trying to help your fears.

JEONGIN:

Jeongin moved through your apartment with purpose, determined to surprise you with a spotless home, you'd been stressed about something for about a month or so now and he wanted to do something nice for you. He'd drawn a hot bath, made food ready to be heated up when you came in and now he was cleaning up for you. As he tidied up, his eyes fell upon a small box tucked away in a drawer. Curiosity piqued, he opened it, only to find a pregnancy test and an ultrasound photo nestled inside.

His heart skipped a beat, a wave of shock and confusion washing over him. How could you not have told him about this? Why had you kept something so significant a secret? With a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him, Jeongin set the box down and made his way to the living room right as you walked through the front door. You smiled seeing him walking around your place,

"I missed you," You giggled a little, but his mind raced with questions as he struggled to find the right words to confront you about what he had just found.

"Yn...we need to talk," Jeongin began, his voice trembling with emotion as he stared at you. You looked at him, your brow furrowing in confusion at the seriousness in Jeongin's tone.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concern etched in your voice. Jeongin hesitated for a moment before he spoke, his heart heavy with the weight of the discovery he had made.

"I found something," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled out the test and photo from behind his back. Your eyes widened in alarm as you recognized the contents in his hand. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jeongin continued before you could say anything.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" he demanded, his voice tinged with hurt and anger, you both promised never to hide something for each other.

"How could you keep something like this from me?" Tears welled up in your eyes as you met Jeongin's gaze, your hands trembling with fear and uncertainty.

"I... I didn't know how," you admitted, your nerves building up once again.

"I'm scared, Innie. Scared of being a mom so young, scared of what it means for us." Jeongin's anger began to fade as he watched tears fall down your face, replaced by a profound sense of sadness and compassion. He realized that he had been so focused on his own feelings of betrayal that he hadn't stopped to consider how you might be feeling.

"Baby, I'm sorry," Jeongin murmured, reaching out to take your hand in his.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

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msbigredmachine · 1 month

Text

Black Sweatpants (Roman Reigns)

Why did the Tribal Chief arrive late to the Pat McAfee Show? Based on Roman's appearance on March 22 2024. Pat was forced to cut a promo on the fly because Roman took too long to come out 😂

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Smut

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

You knew he would get out there late, and you accepted full responsibility. But given the way you were getting dicked down right now, it was totally worth it.

Your blood-red lace thong dangled from your right ankle as Roman jackhammered into you, his thick shaft stuffed inside your tender walls. Biting down on your bottom lip, you wrapped your arms tight around the big man, long-awaited pleasure coursing down your spine all the way to your pastel-colored toes as he pounded you out in the corner of the spacious locker room.

"Oh, ohhh fuck," you couldn't help but cry out at one particularly deep thrust.

"Keep it down before someone comes in here," he growled. Hunched over you, the wicked gleam in his eyes watching you struggle to suppress your moans, told you he was relishing every second of your agony.

"I'm trying, you ain't helping," you whined back.

"Not hard enough," he countered, nudging your legs wider and making you watch his dick disappear inside your wetness. He slapped your hand away when you placed it on his abs to push him back because he was getting too deep. "Naw, you wanted this dick all day, you better take it now..."

When you ordered the new all-black hoodie and joggers set from Nike for Roman, you knew he would look good in it. However, when he returned for his scheduled private flight to Iowa for Pat McAfee's show wearing it, you didn't expect him to look that good. And you certainly did not expect his dick print to be on display like that. You had endured three tortuous weeks of no sex because he'd been away spending time with his two kids he shared with his ex-wife. So you were excited to have him back, and judging from that not-so-little bulge between his legs, he was excited to see you too. You could all but see it, that long, thick brown cock that time and again wreaked the unholiest of havoc in you, protruding against the cotton material and calling for your attention. But the man had the gall to play hard to get, deliberately spurning your advances, acting all platonic and professional, like the rest of his team didn't already know you were lovers. Never one to back down, you ramped up your actions, rubbing his inner thigh throughout the flight and on the ride to Field House, brushing your body against him every chance you got, teasing him right back, trying to get him to crack. As soon as he ordered everyone out of his locker room just minutes after arriving, you knew you succeeded.

Roman planted wet kisses along the side of your neck, the soft prickles of his thick beard unleashing another flood between your legs. His hulking body stretched over yours, his sweatpants rolled down to just underneath the curve of his ass cheeks for the purpose of this quickie. He was so hard inside you, demanding your pleasure as he impaled you with no mercy, his tempo hot and frenetic from the very start. His big hand slipped from your breast downwards to twirl his fingertips around your clit, your throaty whines music to his ears as your sweet moisture pooled around his fingers. The squelching noise pierced the air that was already thickened by your heavy breaths and his hips smacking into yours.

"Mmm, wet as fuck, just the way I like it," Roman grunted, leaning down to suckle on your left nipple, his saliva smearing the puckered skin when he released it with a wet pop, "I can tell you was goin' crazy without this dick, right, baby?"

"Yes, and yet your punk ass still ignored me all day, too fuckin' busy making your damn TikTok videos," you griped.

"Quit your whining, Daddy always gives you what you want in the end. Unh, how you feel so good all the time? I love it," he moaned, his brown irises rolling back briefly before they landed on yours again in an intense stare. Through the lustful haze of passion, you felt your heart thumping rapidly inside your chest as you looked into his eyes. It didn't matter if you were having sex or not; it always sped up in his mere presence.

You fell in love with him not long after you became his personal assistant a year and a half ago. You worked hard to please him, on the job and off it, and he showed you his gratitude in a plethora of ways, carnal and otherwise. You were a walking cliché, but you couldn't care less, not when it bagged you a man like that. The sex appeal oozed from his pores. He was confident and self-assured and had worked his ass off to get to where he was today. He got along with all of his team, was a decent and fair employer, and was generous to a fault, showering his staff with presents on birthdays and Christmases. The diamond pendant he gifted you for Valentine's Day currently hid between your cleavage he was kneading with his big hands. He was everything you could ask for in a boss and a boyfriend, which was honestly an impressive feat.

You placed one hand behind his neck and tugged him down to flick your tongue inside his warm mouth. His thrusts remained indulgent as you kissed hungrily, branding you, marking you, wiping out everything from your mind except the euphoric feeling that engulfed you every time he kissed and fucked you dumb. He pushed your dress further up your waist and gathered your supple ass cheek in his competent hand, lifting you right up against him. He was all up in your stomach and your walls suckled his cock greedily, holding him in a vice-like grip. The gruff yet sensual sounds pouring from him teased your core, making you need more of it, more of him.

"Awww, shit, yes," Your eyes fluttered shut when he began to wind his hips, circling clockwise and then in reverse, the head of his cock churning your sweet spot, his triumphant growl accompanying every thrust. In and out, in and out, the erotic loop punctuated by the low, husky groans of your Tribal Chief, causing your head to rock back from blinding bliss. "Ooooh baby, baby right there, ahh," you whimpered.

"Uh huh, I'm deep in that shit. Got this pussy feelin' good, huh?" Roman said, his haughty taunts disappearing in another moan as your pussy rippled around his dick over and over. He kept up his grinding strokes which seemed to intensify the throatier and more desperate your moans grew, as though the mere sound of them fueled his ruthlessness. His paw curled around your throat, his display of dominance leaving you a sopping, dripping mess as he made you take every inch of him. You were dizzy, on the verge of falling apart, and your body burned for release, yet all you could do was hold on while this man continued to destroy you, rendering you helpless and pathetic and under his heady spell.

"I'm gonna come, Daddy," you gasped. Your fingernails clawed at his forearm holding your neck, moaning his name as he fucked you harder, making sure there was no way you would last long with the kind of pounding he was giving you right now.

"Mmm-hmm, come on my dick, give it to me," he ordered, barely hanging on himself. He groaned as your pussy walls held his cock hostage, making him swell inside you as his climax beckoned. "Fuck, babe, ahhh, fuck..."

Burying your face in his broad chest, you barely kept your scream muffled as your orgasm tore through you, your body arching, legs trembling around his waist as you came hard. Time and space and coherence blurred into one sensual puddle. His heavy weight almost smothered you as he chased his own orgasm, his eyes glazing over in a telltale sign that he was right there with you. His hips jerked as his dick began to throb and twitch inside you, and you gasped at the feel of his seed spilling inside your walls, his big body shivering from the force of his release, his deep voice exhaling guttural moans as he succumbed to you. It felt so good, feeling him fall with you, toppling over the precipice of pleasure together.

After he finally caught his breath, Roman shifted back a bit to observe you, taking in your face, flushed with satisfaction, your lips plumped and ravaged by his own. You looked damn beautiful, and he showed you by brushing your mouths together in the gentlest, sweetest kisses.

"Happy now?" he smirked.

You grinned from ear to ear. "Very happy, Daddy. I've missed you. Love you so much."

"I love you too, baby," he replied with one last soft kiss, both of you moaning as his drained dick slipped out of your warm confines. You dragged yourself to a seated position when he climbed off you and hurriedly tugged his pants back up. Adjusting your dress, you checked your watch and sighed. "Great, you're two minutes behind schedule. You're not even mic'd up yet," you said, fishing out Roman's bottle of Jean-Paul Gaultier cologne from his backpack and giving the room a few quick spritzes to stifle the cloying scent of your latest sexscapade.

"Well, Pat's gonna have to wait," he answered flippantly as he raked his hair back into its trademark bun. He watched you reach for your underwear that had tangled around your foot and beat you to the punch, snatching up the tiny scrap of lingerie and tucking it into his back pocket.

"Roman!" you exclaimed.

"What? It's mine now," he declared, grabbing his gold championship belt and standing to his full height. You bit your lip as you drank him in, your gaze stopping between his sturdy thighs. You just had sex but you found yourself getting aroused again.

"Your dick print is still showing," you pointed out, licking your lips reflexively.

"Course it is, I got that thang on me," he bragged, smoothing his big hand over his groin, his body tingling from the memory of your delicious warmth. Noticing the heat in your eyes, he smiled that suggestive half-smile of his and tapped your backside. "Down, baby girl, Daddy's gotta go to work. You can have me all you want after TV tonight."

As you followed him out of the locker room and stepped into the cold sunshine, you caught the slightly pronounced limp in your man's walk, his glowing, kiss-swollen features, the extra width in his smile, and beamed with pride.

Yeah, I did that shit.

THE END

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

Another short one. Thoughts?

I have a few more Roman ones I'm working on and hope to get out soon.

Thank you all so much for reading!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

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#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x black reader #the bloodline #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x black oc

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kiwicopia · 4 months

Text

🔞 MDNI | Kinktober: Knife Play 🔞

🎃 Slasher!Toji x Fem!Reader 🎃

TW: Non-con, obsessed serial killer, reader bound and gagged, slight choking, knife usage, use of a pet name (doll), mentions of stalking, insinuated kidnapping, age gap (Toji in his mid thirties, reader in early to mid twenties), creampie, sideways position.

tags: @stygianoir @uzxotic @shes-so-insane

You never believed in monsters. The stories your parents told you as a kid were nothing more than that. Stories. Lies that parents told children to keep them in line, and you knew that. It was why you never fell into the paranoia that swept over your city with the latest string of murders. Some crazed lunatic that snuck in through open windows and sliced the throats of their victims before leaving without a trace. Maybe you were asking for it when you decided to leave your window cracked one night, or perhaps you were just wanting to see if they would show. Either way, you knew one thing: you weren’t afraid of a monster. Or so you thought.

You didn’t have time to even comprehend what was happening through the daze of exhaustion. Having woken up once you felt large hands move along your body before they roughly turned you over. That was when the fear kicked in, but it was too late by then, as your wrists were bound together tightly behind your back by cable. You tried to scream, but it seemed as though the intruder was one step ahead and shoved your panties in your mouth, silencing you.

“Can't have you screamin’, doll,” he drawled. His voice was deep, husky, and it sent a shiver down your spine as you lay in your own bed, completely at his mercy. “Been watchin’ ya for a while now. Pretty careless to leave your window open like that.” He paused, and you felt another shiver run down your spine as his blade slid carefully down your back. His body shifted as he straddled you and leaned his face down to your ear. “Unless it was an invitation,” he whispered. You tried to speak in response, yet your panties muffled the noise, and the man chuckled. “A girl like you ought to be careful. Didn’t your parents ever warn you?” Your eyes widened when his large hands shifted your body, turning you onto your side. “Gonna have a little fun with ya.”

Once again, your sounds were muffled as you tried to speak in protest, to which the intruder blatantly ignored. He was too focused on putting you in position. With you on your side and one leg on the bed while the other was placed over his shoulder, he unzipped his pants and quickly yanked them down. Your room was too dark to see him—not that you could from that angle—but you made a small whining noise when you felt his cockhead slide up against your folds. You should have been ashamed of how wet you had gotten, with your slick coating his tip enough for him to slide in with ease.

Your muscles tensed the further he pushed his cock in, only to pull halfway out before his hips snapped forward harshly. He got himself into a steady rhythm, and aside from your pathetic and muffled moans, the only sounds heard within your room were his grunts and the slapping of his balls against your ass. “Fuck,” he groaned. He relished in the feeling of your cunt as it constantly sucked his dick back inside of you, and his pace soon slowed as he shifted around again. His chest pressed against your back as he lay behind you, and one hand tightened around your ankle, keeping your leg up while his other settled around your neck. The slight pressure applied had you moaning against the panties in your mouth, all while he bullied your pretty cunt with his cock.

The position he had you in, the angle, it felt so good. Too good. Honestly, you really should have been ashamed, but the pleasure that flooded your body from the way he fucked into you clouded your judgement. His breath tickled your ear as he buried his face into your neck. “So good,” he mumbled. “All for me. All for me.” The hand around your throat squeezed a little once more before moving to your mouth, pulling out the panties that kept your sounds muffled. “Talk to me,” he said. “Tell me how good ‘m fuckin’ ya.”

“So good,” you whined. The man groaned at your response and shoved his dick deeper into your cunny. A moan fell from your lips as your head leaned back from the pleasure it gave you. “More,” you panted. “Harder.” His chuckle sent a shiver down your spine as he complied with your request. The pace at which his cock bullied your hole increased, causing your eyes to roll back at the feeling. It was like your pussy was made for him, and only him, but it was starting to feel like too much. You could already feel the way he twitched inside of you, yet he showed no signs of stopping or even pulling out. “Wait, stop—.”

“Shut up,” he growled. Your chest tightened at his tone, but you remained quiet, save for your wanton moaning that echoed off your walls. “Been waitin’ for this.” You didn’t know what he meant by that, and he knew it. You were oblivious to his stalking, and while you were supposed to be another victim, something about you changed his mind. He didn’t know what it was, but all he knew was that he had you now, and there wasn’t a damn thing in this world that would get in the way of that.

His hand moved back to your throat and tightened around it while the other hand squeezed your ankle, and his thrusts increased further as his cock practically hammered into your sopping hole. The lewd squelching only fueled his desire to fuck you even more, and that was exactly what he did—until he was driven over the edge. The man’s hips sputtered as he bucked into you one last time, spilling into you and painting your gummy walls with his cum. His hand around your throat tightened to the point where you struggled to breathe a bit, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bring forth an orgasm.

Your release came while your pussy milked him, and he groaned into your ear at the way your walls squeezed him, almost as if coaxing him to cum again. Your mind was in such a daze from the moment that you didn’t feel him slide out of you, however, you did feel him pull your nightgown up over your hips. A sharp hiss slipped out between clenched teeth as the tip of his blade dug into your skin, drawing blood, yet it only lasted for a few minutes. Once finished, the man sat back and admired his work before looking at you.

“I’d kill ya, but I want to keep ya,” he said. His body moved away from you as he slipped his pants back on and gave you one last glance. “I’ll come back for ya later.” All you did in response was nod and pant hard before watching him approach you again. There was a small cutting noise, and you realized that you could now move your hands. When your eyes looked back at him, he was already slipping back out through your window, shutting it before vanishing into the night.

You laid in your bed for a while longer, resting until you got enough strength to head into your bathroom. When you lifted your nightgown, you saw it. Jagged and still bleeding were two letters that seemed to be his initials. T.F. He marked you, yet you didn’t know why, and you would never know until he came back for you a week later.

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girlrotterr · 2 months

Text

Ultraviolence.

farm!ellie x fem!reader TW!: references to alcohol and substance abuse, along with instances of emotional and verbal abuse. Summary: Years after returning from Seattle, you and Ellie chose to adopt a baby, hoping to rebuild your lives after the traumatic events. However, several months later, Ellie began struggling emotionally, haunted by her past, expressing her pain through cold and distant behavior. a/n: AHHH!! soo excited to finally share this!! lmk if you angels would like a pt 2!

*⁀➷read part 2!

───── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ─────

The silence of the house was abruptly broken by a cry that echoed through every corner. It was a sound you recognized instantly, a heart-wrenching feeling that never failed to make your chest tighten. Those cries belonged to your child.

As you stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing away residues of dinner from the white porcelain plates – the very ones Ellie had lovingly chosen for you – memories flooded your mind. Each sponge stroke brought back moments shared with Ellie, her attention to detail in every aspect of your life together.

The kitchen, once a place of laughter and shared meals, now felt empty. The soft glow of the overhead light cast shadows across the room, emphasizing the solitude that enveloped you. How you longed for Ellie's presence, her warmth filling the space with love and comfort.

Yet, she wasn't physically absent.

She simply wasn't present.

"Go check on him," ellie muttered rudely, not even looking in your direction.

"Already on it," you replied, setting the plate down and drying your hands on a nearby cloth.

Making your way upstairs, the cries of your child grew louder as you approached his door. Your heart ached as you recognized them all too well. Taking a deep breath, you knocked and opened the door.

Before you could utter a word, he began pouring out his troubles. He knew it was you even before the door opened, aware that you were the only one who came to check on him. His other mom…hadn't done so in a long time.

He was sobbing into his teddy bear, his red and puffy eyes avoiding your gaze.

"Why is my mommy like that?" he asked, tears staining his teddy bear. "Why is she not playing with me? Does she not love me anymore?"

Closing the door gently behind you, you settled on his bed. His voice choked with emotion, he questioned why his mother seemed distant.

"Oh honey, she loves you.” you tried soothing by rubbing his back, “she’s just… been busy, but soon enough, she'll play with you again, okay? I'll talk to her.." you assured, pulling him into your arms.

"Promise?" This time he raised his head to look at you with those wet eyes. You'd been playing the mother role for the past half a year now. How many times had you made that promise to him?

"Pinky promise," you affirmed, feeling the weight of your words as you made yet another pledge to ease his worries.

"Thank you mama.." He smiled weakly, clinging to you with a sense of reassurance.

A voice in the background called your name – Ellie.

Abruptly, the heavy thuds of footsteps echoed up the stairs, her sharp voice vibrating through the silence of the hallway.

"What are you doing?!" she snapped, her tone laced with irritation as she barged into the room, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" Ellie snarked, her words cutting through the air. Her cold glare pierced through you. "Kid, go somewhere else."

As Ellie's coldness unfolded, you began to bite the inside of your cheek, a surge of anger towards her lack of empathy. The lack of interest she showed towards everyone's feelings aggravated you, you were growing exhausted.

"Stop it.” you intervened, hoping to convey to Ellie the need for a gentler approach toward the child. As expected, Ellie brushed off your attempt, a complete disregard for how her words affected the child.

"I said fucking go!" Ellie yelled.

Your child, tears swelling, quickly left the room, the echoes of his sniffles fading behind him. Dammit, Ellie...

You shoot her a glare filled with frustration, immediately getting up to exit the room. However, Ellie quickly grabbed your arm, her grip tight and nails digging into your flesh, causing you to wince and forcefully move toward her.

"Where the fuck are you going?" she snarled.

"Argh- Ellie, I'm not.. dealing with you right now-" you remarked..

Ellie tugged your arm harshly, her stare growing more aggravated. The scent of cigarettes lingering, the scent so familiar that you had become numb to it. This was the only time Ellie would even attempt to touch you, always using it to assert her control. In all other instances, you existed as nothing, always unnoticed.

“You don’t get to decide that.” She released your arm, shutting the door firmly and positioning herself in front of it to ensure you couldn't leave. Taking another drag from her cigarette, she exhaled the smoke.

Maintaining your glare, you scoffed and went to open the window, refusing to let the smell of cigarettes fill your child's room.

"What the fuckk are you doing?" Ellie asked, displaying no intention of stopping you, her annoyance being clear. She didn't bother pretending.

“What does it fucking look like?” you snapped, not bothering to turn and face her. You hated it when she tried irritating you.

Instead, your focus drifted toward the view outside the window. The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of warm gold and soft pink, casting a gentle glow. The fields surrounding the farmhouse with lively flowers, their petals swaying in the evening breeze.

The farmhouse itself stood as a sturdy, its walls covered with trailing vines of ivy. In the distance, you could hear the faint sound of cows softly in the fields.

Ellie remained silent, simply taking another prolonged drag of her cigarette. She didn't spare the time to respond to your snarky remarks.

“..he wanted to play with you today,” you mentioned, leaning your head against the window, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt. “He thinks you don’t love him.”

It had become routine for Ellie to try and get any information about what your kid shared. His troubles and worries seemed to be a curiosity for her. You never questioned it, always holding onto the hope that, in some part of her, she still truly cared.

"So?" she replied nonchalantly, walking over to you and flicking her cigarette out the window. "What's one of his little feelings to me? He's too attached anyway. It'd be good for him if I ignored him for a while."

Ellie's gaze drifted toward the window, her eyes captivated by the familiar view. The golden glow over the farmstead, a sight she had always cherished. It was one of the main reasons she had chosen this farmhouse for her family to live in.

You gazed at Ellie, taking in her features. Her heavy bags from the countless sleepless nights on the couch, her once-soft pink lips now only meeting the cold bottles of alcohol she consumed in the dead of night.

“He’s not the only one who feels that way..” You remarked, still staring at her, hoping that her emerald eyes would meet yours.

Ellie's heart sank, a flicker of emotion appearing on her face.

"Shut up," she muttered coldly. She didn't bother turning to look at you; your words had clearly affected her.

"I don't want to hear you talk. I'll do whatever I want. If I don't feel like playing with him, then I fucking won't."

She stormed off, and the moment of silence shattered. Her heavy footsteps descended the stairs.

Without a moment's hesitation, you rushed out of your son's room, your only focus being to find him. You swiftly walked down the hallway, your pace quickening. Leaving him alone, particularly when upset, was something you hated. As you walked down the hallway…

There he was.

In the bathroom, seated on the black and white tiled floor, clutching his teddy bear, with his face buried into his knees and headphones covering his ears.

He didn't want to witness his mothers arguing. He understood that whenever Ellie interrupted your time together, it signaled something bad.

You observed him from the doorway painfully knowing that he didn't deserve this, enduring the harsh environment that the house had become. It pained your heart to see that he had developed coping mechanisms for these moments.

He glanced up at you, his eyes red from crying.

You gave him a soft smile, walking over and lifting him into your arms, gently wiping away the tears from his face. “I’m sorry honey, mommy needed to tell me something-”

“I know,” he said softly, nuzzling his face into your neck. He already knew all your apologies.

You kissed the top of his head, tenderly stroking his hair and swaying side to side. Your mind raced, searching for ways to lift his spirits and make up for Ellie's behavior.

“Hey, why don’t we-”

"Mama... I’m tired," he interrupted, his gaze staring off as if he was drifting from this moment. It wasn’t just physical fatigue; he was tired of it all, exhausted from feeling this way.

You nodded gently. “Okay, let’s head to bed then…”

You walked over to the sink, sitting him on the nearby stool where you usually did to brush his little teeth. The tap gushed water as you applied toothpaste to his green toothbrush covered in tiny dinosaurs, a choice Ellie had insisted upon a while back. You remember her begs of "pleaseee!!" throughout the shopping trip.

With the toothbrush in hand, you gently brushed his teeth, being careful not to hurt his sensitive gums.

“Okay, now you can spit.”

Ptui!

“All clean, mama!” he exclaimed excitedly, clapping his hands together and flashing you his newly cleaned smile.

You leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Good job, honey!”

He carefully climbed down from the stool, making his way towards your bedroom. Sleeping with you always made him feel safe, and he eagerly headed for the bed, emitting little grunts of tiredness along the way.

Finally settling onto the bed, he lay down next to his teddy bear, giving it a small pat.

“Mama will join you after she’s done cleaning, okay?” you assured him, tucking him into his space-themed blanket. The blanket, a dark blue adorned with various planets and stars, was one of his favorites.

It was a gift from from grandpa Joel, who had been thrilled to learn about your and Ellie's news of starting a family. He couldn't contain his excitement, bombarding Ellie with endless parenting tips and even purchasing books on child development in preparation.

Joel never got to meet him.

“Okay...” he said softly, turning away as you walked towards the door. You stared at his back, an ache overwhelming your thoughts, and all you could think about was saying, "I’m sorry." Though you knew you weren’t responsible for Ellie's behavior, you felt like you owed it to him.

You and Ellie were eagerly excited on the journey to adopt a child together, ready to try again. Jackson had many kids in need of a loving home. When you adopted your kid, you promised him a life filled with love and joy, but that promise crumbled far too quickly.

You stepped out of the room and closed the door behind you.

Heading downstairs, you found Ellie sitting on the couch, smoking a joint and watching Breaking Bad, an episode she had already seen twice.

Resuming your routine, you began cleaning up the kitchen. Drying dishes, sweeping the floor, and wiping the countertops. All tasks you were now accustomed to doing alone.

Ellie gradually stopped helping, a gradual drift. The same snarky excuses: “I’m too fucking tired” or “I have some work to finish up.” Eventually, she left you alone in the silent kitchen, where everything felt still.

“Goodnight,” you said, looking towards Ellie as you headed towards the stairs.

Silence.

Ellie remained motionless on the couch, smoking her joint and staring blankly at the TV. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, trying to detach herself from the world.

You took a deep breath, attempting to control your emotions and suppress the ache that surfaced every time she responded with silence. Placing your foot on the first step, you began to ascend the stairs.

"C'mere,” Ellie said, actually looking at you for once.

Your heart raced at her sudden attention, her piercing gaze catching you off guard. You walked over to her, standing in front of her. Up close, you couldn't ignore the mess she appeared to be. Her eyes were puffy and red, a foolish smirk plastered across her face.

“c’meree..” she said, motioning you to come closer.

Ellie brought the joint to her lips, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke right into your face, giggling at how it was causing you to cough.

She started laughing, “you look stupid.”

Irritated, you smacked the joint out of her hand. Causing ellie to jolt at the sudden movement.

“Be fucking stupid and pick it up,” you snarled, glaring at her, your eyes piercing through her.

Ellie simply looked at you, no words, no movement, her gaze fixated on you. You couldn’t decipher the emotion behind her gaze there were thoughts behind those eyes, but you couldn’t recognize them.

Scoffing, you turned away, no longer wanting to be near her. Heading upstairs, you headed straight for the bathroom. Closing the door behind you, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Tears welled up, but you refused to let them fall. I need to be strong..she can’t..can’t win…

You couldn't help but feel stupid. Stupid for thinking she would offer you even a shred of affection. Her undivided attention, a drop of care.

Turning on the faucet, you splashed water on your face, feeling its cool touch soothe your heated skin. It was as if the water washed away the tension, calming your mind. Each droplet felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders, easing the ache you carried.

Taking a deep sigh, you began your nightly routine, another task you were accustomed to doing alone.

Slowly opening the door to your bedroom, you found your child fast asleep, clutching his teddy bear tightly in his arms and cocooned in his blanket. His gentle breaths filled the room with a sense of tranquility, a small smile gracing his lips as he slept peacefully.

In that moment, he appeared like a peaceful, angelic child, as if he were innocent and free from life's worries.

Closing the door behind you, you approached the bed, gently laying beside him, fingers caressing his soft hair, humming a melody –a melody Ellie used to sing to you back then. Never missing a chance to soothe you with her singing whenever you couldn’t sleep.

He appeared so innocent, carrying that light within him. The idea of him being exposed to Ellie's behavior filled you with guilt. He was the reason you tolerated Ellie, not demanding for more.

You had an urge to fight for his safety and his right to happiness. All he deserved was love and affection, and ellie failed to provide it.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you closed your eyes, letting sleep envelop you as you tried to quiet the endless thoughts swirling in your mind.

Thud.

Sometime later in the night, you heard Ellie stumbling her way up the stairs. Her movements were unsteady, the effects of alcohol. It seemed like she hadn't slept at all. The only evidence of her rest was the blanket and pillow on the couch.

You heard the sound of ellie turning the doorknob and entering the room, not bothering to turn on the lights. The room filled with the sound of Ellie rummaging through drawers and opening closets. You had no idea what she was looking for, but she appeared determined to find it.

You tried to catch a glimpse of Ellie in the darkened room. Your eyes adjusted, and you could make out the outline of her figure as she searched. She stood there in a tank top and boxers, her arms revealing prominent veins, and her hair ruffled messily around her face.

“El’s?..”

Startled, she jumped and stopped her search, clearly taken aback by the sudden sound of your voice. She turned around with a scowl, not bothering to whisper back.

“What?” she snapped, clearly annoyed.

"What're you… doing?" you asked sleepily, being awoken by her rummaging.

"Nothing," Ellie replied with a heavy sigh "Go back to sleep."

You looked into her eyes, your eyes glistening in the gentle moonlight.

Ellie was startled for a moment at the sight of the eyes that met her. But snapped herself back into reality.

"Don't… give me that look," she muttered before turning around and going back to rummaging through the drawers.

You gently extended your hand towards Ellie, wanting her to sleep with you. Your fingers moved slowly, reaching out for hers.

She paused, her shoulders rising and falling as she took a sharp inhale of air. She sighed and then looked at you. She didn't pull away from your touch, her demeanor appearing softer as if she was trying to resist you.

"No,"

You stayed silent at her response, silently hoping for her to change her answer.

"I said No. Go… back to sleep." She tried to say firmly but her tone was softer now.

You turned away from Ellie, silently acknowledging her rejection. Each time your attempts were turned down, the familiar ache grew duller, as if numbed. You wrapped your arm around your child, closing your eyes in an attempt to drift back into sleep.

Your child's peaceful breathing filled the room, a comforting reminder of his presence. Though still awake, you could hear Ellie's silent breaths nearby. She lingered by the bed, her presence still even in the darkness. It felt as if she was trying to find a way to be near you without you knowing.

You resembled an angel in the soft moonlight, your skin radiant. Ellie couldn't help but admire you, considering you the most beautiful sight she had ever seen—as if you were kissed by the moon.

The night was warm, the gentle wind gentle and comforting. In this moment, you hoped to never wake up.

Your soft hair laid on the pillow like soft and silky thread. Your gentle breathing was soothing. Your body looked like a painting created by heaven itself. You were its beautiful muse and the moon was the painter showing its admiration.

Ellie couldn't help but gaze at you, her eyes lingering on your lips for a moment longer than usual. She then looked down at your child, peacefully nestled with you For an instant, a longing for love stirred within her, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a very long time. It reminded her of the days when you both were deeply in love.

Your body was so peaceful, ellie found herself entranced, her eyes tracing every curve and line. Ellie felt an overwhelming desire to simply…admire you, to preserve your presence.

Without a second thought, Ellie found herself slowly lying down beside you, her body acting with impulse. The comfort of the bed and the softness of the cotton sheets gave her a warmth that she had long forgotten.

She pressed her body as close as she could get it against yours. Her hands folded under her chin, as if she was too afraid to touch you.

She found herself lost, aching for a connection she feared to ignite.

#ellie angst #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie fanfic #ellie x y/n #farm ellie #ellie fanfiction

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lalacliffthorne · 9 months

Text

⚔️ I really don't think now's the best time ⚔️

Azriel x Reader

summary: battlefields are really not the right place for important revelations.

notes: like I said, this is totally inspired by that iconic scene in Pirates of the Carribeans. there's a shit ton of fighting involved, so prepare for graphics. if you want to go all in, listen to this specific part of the soundtrack over and over again and the vibes will be immaculate. now go and have fun, kids.

______________________________________________________________

The middle of a battlefield was arguably the worst place for any kind of not remotely expected revelation.

“Why,”, gritting my teeth, I swung my swords and neatly decapitated the huge, wolf-like beast, “do they,”, dodging a blow, I dropped to my knees, whirling through the mud and slicing open another one's belly, “keep,”, I slid to my feet and finished in an angry, “coming?!”

Slashing my sword across a soldier's throat, I turned around. A gust of wind sent a splatter of rain right into my face, strands of soaked hair clinging to my cheeks as I breathed heavily, my gaze darting over the world going to shit around me, my heart rising in my chest as I tried to catch a glimpse at the familiar sight of blue blazing siphons and leathally flowing shadows.

The battlefield was complete and utter chaos. The heavy rain that had set in only shortly after the begin of the battle had turned the land into one huge muddy puddle, dirt splashing and covering allies and enemies alike. Our defenses seemed to be close to being overrun. In the sky, only a few Illyrians were left fighting alongside Gwyn, the only Valkyrie on the northern flank, up against gryphons with talons like iron and bloodred eyes. The rest of the Illyrians had taken to the ground, now fighting side by side with the Fae warriors left on foot, but more enemies seemed to just come flooding from north, like a never ending stream of monstrous beasts and soldiers armed to the teeth.

Something churned in my chest, and I had to fight the surge of dread rising in my chest.

Unless Feyre turned up with reinforcements soon, we were screwed.

There was a call of my name, deep and thundering over the sound of battle, and when I slashed my swords over one of the beast's throat and raised my head, my heart tilted in a wild flutter.

Azriel kicked a soldier back before turning to look at me over his shoulder. His dark hair was soaked by the rain, mud sprinkled over his armor, the sword in his hand and Truthteller in his other gleaming with blood. His eyes looked wild, but something flashed through them for nothing more than a second when they found mine.

“I need to tell you something!” His deep voice reverberated over the battlefield.

I sent a soldier flying with a kick to the chest and caught another's blade with my crossed ones, yelling back: “I'm a little busy at the moment!”

Slicing my swords down, I dropped to my knees, sliding over the muddy ground and taking down a row of soldiers with blades to their legs before coming back to my feet, and my breath hitched, my heart falling out of rhythm when Azriel appeared right in front of me from a cloud of shadows, wet hair curling and mud and blood spattered over his face as his eyes darted over my face, wild and almost desperate.

“It can't wait!”, he called.

Breathing heavily, I stared up at him through the rain pelting down, feeling the ache of my sore body wash over me now that I wasn't moving, and my brows furrowed as concern tightened my chest; because I had never seen him so blatantly unguarded and expressive, emotions practically swirling in his eyes.

“What –“

Azriel pushed me back, and I whirled around, deflecting a blow of a soldier coming at me as the shadowsinger rammed his daggers into another one's chest in the place I had just stood, rain running over his face and shadows rising, wrapping around a third soldier's throat.

“I really don't think now´s the best time!”, I yelled, the slight absurdity of Azriel of all people deciding he needed to talk in the middle of a battlefield making my voice dip almost comically.

"This might be the only time!” Azriel's deep voice vibrated over my skin, his rough shout audible even over the roar of the rain and the clashing of weapons, and I whirled around, sword flying down on a soldier´s neck and sending blood spattering.

A hand closed around my biceps and pulled me back, then I was spun around, and my heart skipped into my throat when Azriel's chest pressed into mine and he dipped his head, his eyes flying over my face as streams of rain ran over his own, and something like desperation flashed through them when he called over the war cries and clashing of weapons: “I –“

His eyes darted up as my instincts flared in warning, and we moved at the same time, his shadows throwing up a wall against a wave of ash arrows as I slid past him and Threw one of my swords at the beast, huge and bear-like, flying at us. The weapon sank into its side, causing it to crash onto the ground, and I whirled around and rammed my other sword into its throat.

“I need you to know –“ Azriel broke off again, dodging a sword and gutting the belonging soldier in one smooth movement, and I landed a kick on another soldier's back.

“Are you sure this can'´t wait?!”, I yelled back, diving to avoid a blow to the head and rolling off over my shoulder, sliding through the mud and baring my teeth at a beast that growled back before jumping at me, and I dipped and slit it's throat.

Azriel stabbed his daggers into another wolf-like monster, siphons blazing as he beat his wings and a wave of shadows rolled away, drowning a row of soldiers as he turned, and something staggered in my chest at the sight of him, shadows shrouding his tall, lean body and curling around his shoulders, even broader under his black armor as a flash of lightning illuminated his face.

Even caked in dirt and blood, drenched by the heavy rain as drops of water ran from his hair over his cheekbones, he was utterly and annoyingly beautiful.

“Yes!”, he called back, and I whirled around, swords slashing and reflecting another strike of lightning as thunder rolled and I knocked a soldier to the ground. “I need you to know tha–“

There was a snarl, and I dove out of the way, rolling through the mud as a beast crashed into the spot I had been in a mere heartbeat before. I slammed my swords down into its back with an angry sound, then I raised my head, my heart thrumming and adrenaline rushing through my veines, and my eyes met golden ones, desperate and wild and only hesitant for a second before the chaos vanished, replaced by something else, something deep and worldshaking. Then Azriel's deep voice rumbled over the noise of the battle.

“I love you!”

The world fell still for a moment. Became quiet and stagnant as my heart did one mighty leap.

Then time fell back into place, something staggered in my chest, and my eyes grew wide.

“What?!”

Somehow, I dodged the next blow, parrying another and directing it to the side as I slid my other blade over the soldier's throat, ramming my shoulder into his chest to push him back before turning around wide eyed, and my gaze met another, shining like amber in sunlight.

“You –“

Movement at the corner of my eye made me duck, and I swerved, dropping to my knees and sliding over the muddy ground. Ramming my swords into two soldier's lower regions, I pulled them out and used the momentum to push myself to my feet. Then I whirled around and yelled, disbelief and sheer shock making my voice rise an octave: “You what?!”

A hand closed around my wrist and pulled me forward, and I stumbled into a solid chest, my heart jumping into my throat as my head whipped up and I could feel the sensation of shadows rising behind me and heard swords dropping and a struggle. But it all felt far away, because I could feel Azriel's body press against mine and his eyes were piercing, looking wild and desperate and pained when he called over the noise of the battle, voice rough: “I love you!”

My throat closed as I opened my mouth in shock; Azriel pulled me past him, and I whirled around and parried the blows of a soldier, slicing my swords over his arms before ramming my blades into his chest, then I threw my head around, my wet hair clinging to my face, and Azriel dropped another soldier. For a second, our eyes met, mine wide and completely dumbfounded, then he dodged a blow.

“You –“ I tried to get closer to him but almost got jumped by a huge beast. Shadows wrapped around me and pulled me back, and Azriel slit a soldier's throat before looking back at me, rain running over his face and desperation flashing through his eyes as he yelled: “I had to make sure you knew!“

A war cry made me spin around, and I dodged, swerving the blow of a sword and slashing my own across the soldier's throat, blood spattering as I yelled back in almost comical disbelief: “So you're telling me now?!”

A hand wrapped around my wrist, whirling me out of a beast's reach and right into the way of a sword crashing down, my own blades catching it effortlessly. A familiar scent rose into my nose, distinct even under the smell of blood and dirt, and my heart thrummed into my throat as I pushed, my swords sinking into the soldier's chest, then I spun around, rain dripping over my skin as I stared wide eyed at the male right in front of me, so close I could hear the roughness in his voice even though he didn't shout, one corner of his lips quirking almost helplessly as his eyes dragged over my face like he wanted to ingrain it into his mind when he called hoarsely: “Better late than never.”

My heart skipped into my throat as I stared up at him, and my lips opened, but then Azriel's eyes darted up, and he pulled me out of the way, his sword catching the one of an enemy soldier.

“What –“ I gutted a gigantic wolf, widening my eyes as I threw the shadowsinger a disbelieving look. “How late is late?!” I ducked, swerving the blow of a sword and ramming my own blade into the side of the soldier's neck.

“Since the day you stayed up with me for first time!” Azriel dodged a blow. “Probably even before that.” He raised his head, and something rose in my chest when his amber eyes found mine, his voice raspy when he called lightly: “Probably from the moment I met you.” His gaze flickered over my face, and my heart skipped and tumbled at the emotion swirling inside as he added hoarsely: “It's always been you.”

My throat closed up, and I kicked a beast to the side and sliced through some soldier's necks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it's you.” Even though Azriel's voice was raised, I could still hear how unsteady it was, raw as the words tumbled from his lips as he called them over the raging battle around us. “From the day I met you, there was something about you, something that made everything wash away, that made breathing easier, everything easier! Where I didn't have to hide!” His eyes flickered over mine, chest rising and falling quickly with his heavy breaths as rain streamed over his face and his throat worked like he was trying not to swallow. “And it scares the fuck out of me, but I don't care!” His rough voice sent shivers down my spine when his amber iris found mine. “You're it.”

Something rose in my chest, fluttering so wildly it felt a little difficult to breathe.

“Why the hell did you never say anything?!”, I yelled in disbelief, and Azriel's jaw shifted as he dodged a blow, slicing the soldier's throat.

“Because I was afraid you didn't feel the same!”

“What?!” Rain pelted down at me, my soaked armor becoming heavier with every moment, but for a change, I didn't feel any of it. Breathing heavily, I stared at the godsdamned beautiful male, and my heart rose, rose until it was in my throat and the world turned into a tilt. “Of course I do!”

Azriel's head whipped up, and I kicked a soldier away and slashed his throat before turning around, feeling the words echo through me as I yelled: “I love you too!”

As the last syllable left my lips, Azriel stared. Stared as something seemed to rise in his eyes. Then darkness wrapped around him, and he appeared in front of me like formed from shadows. His amber eyes were bright with desperation and something so much deeper, it caused my breath to simply still. Caused my heart to swell and time to slow as he took one last step and slipped his arm around my waist, his scent washing over me in an intoxicating wave, his movements never faltering as he leaned down without an ounce of hesitation, and something shifted in my chest, locking into place with a soundless snap when his lips crashed onto mine in a hard, desperate kiss.

My heart pulsed once. Twice, as something bloomed under my ribs, warm and rising until it thrummed through my whole chest, pulling towards the male pressed against me, body tall and solid and unwavering, and I sucked in a soft, trembling breath.

Oh.

Slowly, Azriel broke the kiss, like he had to force himself to pull back, his nose brushing against mine and causing my heart to miss a step. Then he slowly raised his head, and my breath hitched, gave out completely for a second when I caught the way his iris shifted like amber in golden sunlight, lips parted and gaze piercing mine.

There was a war cry behind me, and Azriel's eyes snapped up, sharpening.

My heart flew, and my instincts kicked in.

Azriel pulled me out of the way with a growl, and I whirled around, swords clashing with two others, blocking blows as I dropped to my knees and turned, and the blades found their home in the soldier's stomachs. Pulling them out, I raised my head, and my throat closed up when I saw our lines slowly beginning to unravel as the steady stream of beasts and soldiers didn´t seem to waver.

My gaze found Azriel, in a cloud of shadows, teeth bared in a snarl and blades flashing in a clash of lightning, rain pelting onto his shoulders, and that feeling in my chest rose until I was sure it had to be visible, like a golden light thrumming under my ribs.

“Azriel!”, I shouted desperately, and he slammed the hilt of his sword onto an enemy soldier's head before turning around, amber eyes finding mine.

My heart tightened almost violently, and before I could stop myself, before even really thinking, I called, my voice a little weak: “Marry me?”

Azriel froze. Stilled on the spot as shadows swirled around him, catching ash arrows and knocking out soldiers, his eyes piercing mine as emotions swirled through them like the storm above.

And suddenly I knew he felt it. Maybe not yet that the bond was vibrating in my chest, thrumming in synch with my racing heart. But that he knew.

Azriel blinked against the rain pouring over his face, and I could see how he suppressed the urge to swallow. Then he shouted, his deep voice causing my breath to flutter: “Gwyn!”

My breath hitched, and Azriel's eyes pierced mine, golden and bare and burning as he yelled: “Marry us!”

“I'm a little occupied right now!”, Gwyn shouted from high above us, cursing as her winged horse barely managed to swerve around a gryphon.

A soldier came at me, and I dodged his blows, sliding my sword over his chest.

“Gwyn!”, I yelled, my voice breaking, and somehow, she must've heard it over the noise and chaos, because she yelled back, only halfheartedly annoyed: “Fine! If I fall, it's your fault!”

I landed a kick on the soldier's chest and sent him backwards, then I turned around, and Azriel was there, his hand wrapping tightly around my wrist as he pulled me forward until we were chest to chest, and that golden thrum in my chest soared at the way his eyes pierced mine.

“Dearly beloved,”, Gwyn yelled over the roar of thunder, “we've gathered here today to pull every single one of your feathers, you miserable excuse of a chicken!”

There was an irritated screech followed by a scuffle high over our heads, and Azriel pushed me back as two enemy soldiers came at us with swords drawn. Swinging around, I sent my blade down onto the right one's hand, severing it cleanly, and as he screamed, I shoved my sword into his chest.

Azriel called my name, and when my head whipped around, his hand closed around mine, pulling me out of the way of a beast and with my back into his chest, his deep voice rumbling through my body when he shouted over the rain: “Do you take me,”, I kicked out and the beast yelped, “to be your husband?”

Slashing my sword over the beast's snout, a laugh bubbled in my chest when Azriel spun me around, and my heart rose in my chest when I stared up at him, feeling pressure build in my throat as his eyes darted over my face, almost like he was expecting me to change my mind, pull back -

“I do!”

Azriel blinked, and his eyes brightened, became as radiant as amber held into the evening sun. Something shifted in my chest when a smile spread over his face, widening with every second, until creases formed in his cheeks and crinkles around his eyes, and I had to physically fight to keep myself from burying my fingers in his messy hair and pull him in to kiss him.

There was a war cry from our left, and I widened my eyes and jumped back, feeling the a blade whizz down where I had been standing just seconds before, and Azriel growled, wings flaring and sending out a wave of shadows that took down the row of soldiers behind him as I parried the next blow and slammed the soldier to the ground.

Whirling around, I grabbed Azriel's outstretched hand and yelled: “Do you take me,”, I ducked under his arm and blocked a blow, “to be your wife?” Azriel pulled me back, parrying the next as I stabbed my sword into another soldier's stomach. “On the good days and the bad; though,”, smoothly slicing the soldier's throat, I growled, “we might not see a lot more!”

Azriel's grip tightened, and he twirled me around, pulling me out of the way of another soldier, and my heart fluttered violently when my chest pressed into his and that golden feeling thrummed when Azriel nodded, eyes darting over my face and deep voice hoarse when he called over the rain: “I do!”

My breath hitched and heart fluttered, the feeling in my chest rising, and above us, Gwen yelled: “Then hereby, you may be bound! Bound by soul, bound by heart, bound to one!”

There was a flare of heat in the middle of my chest, and my breath hitched when Azriel's grip tightened like he felt it too; the burning of a tattoo appearing on his skin, the sign of the vows made visible in ink.

Gwyn's voice echoed through the skies when she yelled: “You now may –“

Movement at the corner of my eye made Azriel and me dart apart.

“You now –“

I dodged a blow, Azriel's hand closing around mine and spinning me around to parry another as his sword clashed with a third.

“You may kiss the –“

Thunder struck, I ducked under a beast's claw, then Gwyn shouted in frustration: “Godsdamnit, just kiss her!”

My heart surged and skipped; Azriel pulled me around, and his arm wrapped around my waist as mine slipped over his shoulder, I could feel him dipping me back lightly as he leaned down, then he kissed me.

Kissed me as rain poured down our faces, my free hand slipping up to cradle the side of his neck and my breath hitching as I kissed back, deep and desperate, and a hoarse sound rumbled in Azriel's throat as he tightened his grip around me, kissing me like it was the first and last time.

The sound of a horn ripped me back into reality, reminding me that the world was close to ending.

Azriel pulled me back up onto my feet, breaking the kiss, and I was thankful that he was just as out of breath as I was, could feel his heart pounding just as quickly. Then he raised his head, and when I looked over my shoulder, my heart skipped high as relief so kneebuckling washed over me, I was glad Az was still holding me.

The cavalry had arrived.

“Come on, you two!”, Gwyn yelled somewhere above us, sounding gleeful. “Let's finish this!”

I raised my head, and Azriel's arm slipped away from my waist, amber eyes finding mine. For a second, I could see something flash through his gaze, like he expected me to pull back, suddenly regret this.

But I just sent him a wide, wicked smile.

“Shall we?”

It was still raining, but the storm had moved on. In the west, the clouds were breaking up, allowing the light of the sinking sun to flood over the lowlands, making the light rain shimmer as a rainbow spanned across the sky.

Breathing in deeply, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes as I felt the rain drizzle onto my face and body, washing away the smell of blood from the air and only leaving the scent of wet grass and moss to fill my nose with every slow inhale.

Feyre's arrival with the reinforcements had turned the tide, every last warrior gathering all their remaining strength. Still, there had been many losses, even after our victory, and wandering through the bloody mud, paying respect to the fallen, had caused a weight to rest on my chest, one that could not even be brushed away by the knowledge that my friends, my family was alive; exhausted and strained and with quite a few scratches, but alive.

Which was why I was standing on a hill, a little away from the tents, just listening to the patter of rain and breathing in the clean air as I felt the tension slowly melt from my muscles, leaving only exhaustion and heaviness in my limbs and a feeling of being so tired, I could have fallen asleep on the spot.

I felt him before I heard the call of my name, the feeling in my chest that had shrunk to a small, warm hum pulsing and growing.

Tipping my head back down, I looked over my shoulder, and my breath hitched when Azriel came towards me.

Just like me, he was still in his armor, specks of mud and blood on his cheeks, hair damp and curling like he had attempted to dry it and then got distracted. His dark brows were drawn together as his golden eyes pierced into mine.

“What are you doing?”, he called, his low, deep voice sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

He looked so close to his usual scowl, I felt my heart rise and skip as my lips curved up.

“Cleansing,”, I called back, and Azriel huffed, but it almost looked like he was fighting to keep his lips from twitching as he crossed the last bit of distance.

Turning around, I squinted up at him through the drizzle of rain, the thrumming thing in my chest soaring at the sight of him.

Godsdamned beautiful.

Up close, I could see the signs of exhaustion. His shadows were lazily swirling around his feet, his wings were drooping so much they almost grazed the ground, and his eyes were tired. But something sparked in them when they moved over my face, my heart skipping when I could feel his warm breath brush over my forehead.

“You know we have this ingenius invention for that? It's called a shower.” His voice was so dry, my heart skipped, and a smile slowly spread over my face, wide and bright and freeing in a way that caused something to stagger in my chest.

Azriel´s eyes narrowed in, and his shoulders seemed to sag a little.

“I know.” Squinting up at him, I felt my smile grow smaller as I shrugged softly, something tightening gently in my chest.

Azriel's gaze flickered over my face. Then he blinked, and my heart fluttered into my throat when he reached out, gently pushing a wet strand of hair out of my face. His fingers, out of his gloves, brushed over my skin, warm and rough, and my breath hitched, a shudder running over my spine.

One corner of Azriel's lips curved, and that thing in my chest pulsed and thrummed at the way his golden eyes started to shine.

The shadowsinger dipped his head, and my heart skipped and jumped when his lips brushed over mine. Then his thumb and forefinger gently closed around my chin, and Azriel tilted my head back to kiss me, deep and slow until I sank into his chest, my knees simply too tired to keep up with the way all of him made the world spin. My fingers curled into his sides, and Azriel´s other hand rose to move to the back of my neck, gently tangling in my hair, and his thumb brushed over my skin until a soft sound broke from the back of my throat and my whole body shuddered.

Azriel's lips curved up against mine. Then he slowly pulled back, and my heart skipped when I saw his eyes, lids heavy and iris hazed over, the only thing betraying him; showing that I had more than the same effect on him that he had on me.

The thought made something rise and flutter in my stomach.

I blinked. Then I furrowed my brows and mumbled: “Crap.”

Azriel's gaze cleared a little, brows drawing together, and his hand slipped down to rest against the side of my neck. “What?”

I stared past him into nothing.

“I just realised we have to explain to Rhys and Cass that we got married without them.”

#azriel #az #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel imagine #azriel/reader #az x reader #az imagine #az/reader #acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #lalacliffthorne

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bunnyreaper · 5 months

Text

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 5 — 𝖕𝖙 4 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 7.6k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom/sub dynamic, petplay (as always), thigh riding, pussy eating, johnny gives reader a piggyback ride.

notes - it's here! and my life and health is worse for it, but it's here! please don't expect the next part any time soon, but thank you to those patiently waiting ♥ also on ao3! ♥

"Told you, pet, this mouth is mine now."

Johnny's mouth continues its loving assault on yours, overwhelming you with his kisses. It's filled with the same passion as the first time, but now Johnny's heat seeps straight from his bones and into you.

His hands fall to your wrists, his touch warm and caressing and pinning you ever so slightly in place—just enough to keep you still, not enough to really restrict you.

It's Johnny who pulls away from you, an exhaled fuck falling from his lips—your eyes flutter open to meet his, the baby blues flooded with lust.

His gaze flickers to your lips before he whispers. "I dinnae want to stop kissing ye."

He steals your breath with both the words and the feeling of his lips when they return to yours, each slide against you as if he's stealing them, afraid he won't get another for too long. Though with Johnny, you get the feeling any second your lips aren't connected to his are ones he wishes for nothing else.

"Yeah, fuck..." You sigh as Johnny pulls away, his grip loosening as his forehead settles against yours.

Neither of you can fight the smiles on your faces, as you both bask in each other's joy, and the rush of endorphins and arousal running through you.

Johnny always makes you feel electric.

He laughs breathlessly, eyes sparkling with mirth as you can see him try to restrain himself. "'Spose I should let ye get settled first before I ravage ye."

"I have no complaints if you don't." You giggle in return, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before willing yourself to pull away too. "But yeah, probably a good idea."

If both of you had less self-control, you had no doubts the tension could have pushed you into rutting in the entryway like rabid dogs, only managing to bare yourselves just enough to have Johnny sink inside you. From the look in his eyes and the feeling of his hardness pressed against you, he wants to take you here and now—but he's nothing if not a gentleman.

You have no doubt that your own glassy eyes and soaked panties betray your need just the same, and there's a desperate, animalistic part of your brain that wants to drag him inside by the belt so that you can fall to your knees before him.

Johnny straightens himself up, taking ahold of your hand and preparing to head into the flat proper. "Want the tour of the place?"

You nod eagerly. "Of course."

You pull your hand free for just a moment to abandon your shoes by the door-—leaving them amongst the existing pile of boots, which Johnny only adds to with his own.

With your hands reconnected and fingers intertwined, he guides you into the warmth of the flat.

"I mean, the place is tiny, so it won't take long." He jokes, as he pulls you in further and throws his keys on the countertop. "Tada, living room and kitchen all in one."

You take in the open space around you—the room flooded with moonlight and a faint glow from under the kitchen cupboards, as well as a lamp that's lit in the corner. The ceilings are high, and the floors are wooden—the kitchen and living room combined to create a large, albeit cosy room.

"Nice and spacious! I like that it's open plan." You coo, as Johnny paces forward, and you allow him to guide you. Your eyes rove over everything, from the well-worn couch to the framed photos of him and his squad, or the pictures of wild-eyed kids that can only be Johnny's nieces and nephews.

"Aye. Can have ye curled up on the couch while am cooking, terribly, mind ye." Johnny nudges you playfully with his hip, drawing your attention back to the radiant smile on his face.

You follow him down a small corridor with doors on both sides. The door to the left opens into a bathroom with a large, walk-in, waterfall shower, illuminated with soft lighting when Johnny flicks the switch.

"Bathroom, with no bath." He explains, before his expression flickers to something briefly resembling a kicked puppy. "Bit sad about tha'."

"Are you a bath man?" You ask, your mind visualising the muscular man indulging in rich aromas and piles of bubbles—it serves as quite the entertaining mental image. And then your mind flickers to him in the shower, water cascading down his toned body, knots in his shoulders just begging for relaxation...

"Absolutely. And if yer not into baths, I think I know just the way to convert ye." His hand squeezes yours playfully as he throws you a wink, and you're left wondering if he could somehow sense that your thoughts have turned dirty.

"I like the sound of that."

Finally, you cross the hallway into the bedroom—a room filled with a mixture of earth tones and navy blues, the place is clean and tidy, beside the pile of clothes and various other things piled onto the chair in the corner.

"And where we'll be staying, unless you'd prefer I sleep on the couch."

You don't miss the sheepish look on his face, the look that tells you that sleeping apart from you is the last thing he'd rather do tonight—but you know that he'd do it in a heartbeat if you asked.

Stepping closer into his space, you lace your other hand in his and sway them back and forth, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I will be falling asleep on your chest. That's non-negotiable, Johnny."

"I'm glad tae hear." He pushes himself forward to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment after. "Can be ma little blanket for the night."

"... But aye, that's about it." He gestures to the room with one of your intertwined hands.

"It's cosy here, I like it." You comment with a smile, taking in the welcoming atmosphere of the room—the hints that the place is lived in.

Johnny comments as he moves closer to your ear—his breath warm as it flutters over your skin. "Hopefully, the first visit of many."

"I hope so too. I'll be leaving my toothbrush here before you know it."

You pull yourself from Johnny's hold, falling back onto the mattress and allowing your dress to ride up your legs as you prop yourself up on your elbows and stare at Johnny temptingly.

Your eyes trail over his body, savouring every delicious inch that is John MacTavish. His eyes chart a similar path, following up your exposed thighs.

"Anyway, I think I'm all settled in now." You purr, trying to coax him back into kissing you like he was earlier.

"Steamin' jesus." He all but growls as he comes closer, crawling over you and leaning down near to your lips as his arms cage you in. "Someone's a needy pup."

With his face hovering inches from yours, you relish the opportunity to drink him all in. His baby blues sparkle with lust and fondness as they peer down at you, slightly hidden behind hooded lids. His eyelashes flutter so prettily, bouncing off his sweet, stubbled cheeks.

Your eyes fall to his soft lips, the scar underlining them that you want to trace your thumb and tongue across—learn the story of.

"Kiss me again, Johnny, please." You whisper softly, as one of his hands begins to stroke the top of your head.

"Askin' so nicely, how can I say no?" He smirks one last time before closing the gap, both of your eyes fluttering shut as your lips finally reconnect.

There's never a moment when Johnny's lips don't feel heavenly—he kisses you like a man starved and allows his hips to falter and press against your core. His clothed erection rubs against your centre, the denim pushing across your thin panties and sending your brain spinning.

It's instinct when you buck your hips up into his, chasing more contact from his throbbing length. The more time you spend around Johnny, the more intoxicated you become on his presence—your hesitations melt away, replaced by an overwhelming need that's only sated when Johnny is pressed against you.

The moan that leaves your throat is entirely accidental, but causes Johnny to buck against you and groan right back at you—after the moment of slipped control, he stills.

"Bonnie..." Johnny pulls away, a soft, hesitant look in his eyes as he tries his hardest to hold back. "I meant what I said about not expecting anything."

For a moment, you feel awful, like a temptress pushing him to the limits of his self-restraint—but your own desires swirl inside you dangerously, with every moment with Johnny only adding fuel to the fire.

The fact Johnny can want you so passionately and still remain firmly in charge of the both of you only reinforces the disgustingly puppylike crush you have on him.

"I know. I'm just enjoying kissing you properly." You sigh before taking a deep breath to release some of your pent-up arousal.

"Aye, me too." He continues to stroke at the top of your head as his thumb brushes across your warm cheek, making you shiver. "Hard to keep ma hands to myself."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Your hands rake down his chest, slowing once you feel the hardness of his abs beneath the cotton.

Johnny's hand falls to clutch your wrists, stilling your exploration of his body. The look in his eyes is all cheek and charm. "I should get you fed."

"Boo."

The look turns ever so slightly warning. "Pup, Johnny knows best, aye?"

"To the kitchen!" You announce cheerfully, breaking through the tension of the moment and redirecting the both of you before you end up wrapping your legs around Johnny and refusing to let go until he's spilled himself inside you.

With a breathy laugh, Johnny stands from the bed, turning around and offering his back for you to climb upon. When he finally has you safely stowed on him, his fingers gripping at your thighs as your arms wrap around his neck, he carries you to the kitchen.

Johnny doesn't let you back down to the floor immediately, instead heading to the fridge with you still clinging to him like a koala.

"Probably should've asked ye what toppings you wanted, but I just grabbed a bit of everything." He explains as he opens the door and reveals a shelf bursting with cheeses, vegetables, and meats.

You quickly scan the shelf for any nasty surprises like the anchovies or olives Johnny had mentioned on the way over, and find yourself relieved that everything on offer is delicious—with some of your favourite pizza toppings even there. "So much choice, and nothing disgusting, I'm surprised, Johnny."

"Hey now, I do have taste... sometimes." The pout in his voice is evident as he shuffles you further up his back before removing the hold of one of his hands to start removing the dough, sauce, and toppings so he can set them atop the counter.

Your eyes fall to the rest of the shelves, with the vast majority of them being stacked with the same plastic poultry liners. "Johnny, your fridge is 90% plain chicken breast, I'm not sure that I trust that."

"Well, actually, some of that is turkey." He smirks, until you lean forward into his sight-line with a grumpy look on your face. "Dinnae go glaring at me, bonnie girl."

"Clearly I need to be fed so I have less of an attitude." You huff, playfully teasing him about his earlier interruption to your fun.

Johnny finally lowers you to the ground, setting you beside him before he grabs the final few ingredients. "I'm working on it!"

With everything ready and set out, you start to plan out the deliciousness that will be your creation. Everything Johnny picked out is fresh and delicious, and almost calling out to you to be a part of your meal. You rush to wash your hands so you can get started.

"I feel like I'm gonna pick too many toppings and my pizza will just be a mess." You explain as you start to open a few packets while Johnny moves to the sink. "What are you having?"

"Lil bit of everything, why no'?" He shrugs, the smile on his face wide and infectious.

"I'm so excited!" You giggle, already thoroughly enjoying your little pizza party with Johnny. As you watch Johnny dry his hands and then begin to work the dough, a mischievous thought pops into your head. "It's a shame we didn't make the dough from scratch, though."

As soon as Johnny looks at you, he knows exactly where your thoughts have headed, and his face splits with an amused grin. "So ye could throw flour at me?"

"Flour fight, exactly." You nod.

Johnny sets down the dough, moving into your space and grabbing you by the hips to spin you to face him. He looms over you— grin now devilish, eyes sharp and tone teasing. "I'd win, hen, dinnae think otherwise."

You bite your lip, staring up at Johnny and shivering under his touch. "Hmm, you'd be covered in flour and looking so good, so I think I'd really be the winner."

"Next time, then." He purrs as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. He pulls away after a few moments, yet lingers in your space and sends heat rushing through your veins.

"I suppose I could still smear sauce all over you." You tease, your arousal making you even more daring and flirtatious.

"Just askin' fer trouble with tha'." He growls, pulling you flush against his body as he pulls his lip between his teeth.

"Oh no... how terrible."

One hand moves in a flash, slapping lightly and groping at your ass as Johnny rubs himself against you. "Ye won't be saying that when yer arse is red raw." He groans in your ear.

"You wouldn't be spanking me when I'm too busy licking the sauce off your face." You giggle, squirming under his touch. Brattiness isn't your usual go-to around Johnny, but sometimes he just inspires it.

"Dirty fuckin' pup." He growls, his voice almost feral and animalistic in the way it rips from his throat.

He holds your gaze, commanding you with just a look as he removes his hands and leans to the counter. He returns with the jar, popping open the lid with ease before offering it to you.

"Go awn then." He commands, his expression serious as he urges the jar closer to you.

You glance between him and the jar, uncertain of what he's asking for a moment before the realisation hits—he's making you cover him in the sauce.

The moment stretches on in the heavy silence, as Johnny stares you down with an expectant look, waiting for you to comply. You timidly dip your finger into the sauce, hand trembling as you move to swipe it across Johnny's cheek. You assume he's going to messily return the favour, but he just continues to hold your gaze.

"Now lick it." He whispers, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You can't help but comply, pushing yourself up close to his face and darting out your tongue just enough to clean his stubbled cheek.

It's then he grips you again, stilling you in place as you're draped across his body. "Good fucking girl." He purrs, and then returns the favour—gripping your cheek with one hand and smearing your face with sauce with the other.

Then he licks you, long tongue trailing slowly up your cheek and leaving you wet and squirming.

"Johnny, ew!" You giggle wildly, almost feeling tickled by his tongue against your skin.

"Ew? Really, lass? Won't be saying tha' later when it's my tongue in yer cunt." He makes sure his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he continues to tease you with his words. "Won't be sayin' tha' later when I have ye slobbering all over my cock."

He punctuates the last sentence by pulling you tight against him once more, making you feel the weight of his throbbing cock against you. You find your self-control rapidly slipping once more, especially when his lips dip to press kisses to the bare expense of your neck.

"Mercy, please." You squeal, attempting to wiggle free from his hold. "Otherwise, we might have to abandon the pizzas."

Luckily, Johnny is feeling kind as he pulls away and gives you space—yet the glint in his eye remains.

"Mercy, for now."

You and Johnny try your best to focus on making the pizzas without further incident—listening to early 2000s pop punk and exchanging little bits and pieces of conversation. He informs you that his Captain's house is more in the countryside and has a proper brick pizza oven in the garden that gets used precisely once a year when he throws a birthday party for Gaz.

It makes you chuckle how Johnny seems to enthuse about how much better the pizzas are when they aren't made in his "shitty little electric oven". It also makes your heart swell when Johnny mentions how Gaz's birthday is just around the corner, and that you have to come with him to the party.

When Johnny pulls your pizzas from the oven, you're surprised to see they both managed to cook well despite the pile of toppings and cheese.

The two of you eat your gooey pizzas as you curl up on the couch and watch an episode of Midsomer Murders. Admittedly, you'd been sceptical at first, and a little confused as to why a man in his late 20s was so into a show you watched growing up with your aunt. Then you heard his enthusiasm for solving the cases, and couldn't bring yourself to care about the slightly amateurish acting or the way the theme tune reminded you of the smell of her house.

When you realise halfway through that you're pretty sure Johnny's guesswork about the case is wrong, you feel your puppy love grow at least ten sizes, and say nothing as you watch the misguided enthusiasm and smugness sparkle in his eyes.

After a second episode finishes, you ready yourself to head back to the kitchen with the plates but find yourself stilled as Johnny grabs your wrist.

"Do you not want help with the dishes?" You ask, head tilted slightly in confusion.

"Maybe later." Johnny pulls you back down onto the couch before fixing you with a look that makes your cheeks flush. His hand finds its way to your face, cupping your burning skin as his thumb traces over your lips with intent.

"Oh, later, I see." You can't help but smile, and Johnny's thumb chases the newfound curve of your lips.

A lustful fire ignites in the pit of your stomach as you watch Johnny's eyes fixate on your lips, and you notice his pupils are blooming with arousal.

It's instinctual and automatic, the way you feel your body call out to connect with Johnny's once more, and you give in to the magnetic pull as you climb into his lap and settle atop him. Your hands curl around the thick column of the back of his neck, steadying yourself as you squirm around to get comfortable.

Johnny's large hands cling to your hips—a warning grip stilling you as his cock stirs to life underneath your core and pushes harsh denim against the soft cotton of your panties.

"Bonnie." The word is growled, yet wrapped in playfulness, as his eyes flare with warning and his fingers continue to dig into the plush of your hips.

"Yes?" You coo innocently.

"Careful now."

"I just want to kiss you." You whine, while resisting the urge to grind down on Johnny's length. Instead, your lips fall to kiss his stubbled jaw, and the protruding veins on the side of his neck. "Can't get enough of you."

Your own words break the dam of your self-restraint, as you give in to your urges and chase the bolts of pleasure that course through you, nudging your clit back and forth against the cock you crave so badly.

"Neither can I." He whispers brusquely, the words sounding throatier as you continue to kiss him and writhe against him. His hands guide your hips along your path, each thrust earning you a growl from deep within his chest. "Ye drive me mad, steamin' fuckin' jesus."

Your hips continue to writhe on instinct, addicted to the feeling of rocking on Johnny's bulge and the way the sensation ebbs at consciousness and makes your brain cottony around the edges. You nuzzle into Johnny's neck, seeking comfort and closeness as you continue to slip deeper and deeper.

"Johnny, I'm going crazy, I need you." Your words are whined against his skin, desperate pleas appealing to his baser instincts, practically begging him to just give in and take you already. The impulsive voice in the back of your head chants his name over and over again, as it always does.

This time it's stronger, overwhelmingly so, as you're wrapped in his arms and able to melt into his touch.

"Ya have me, pet." He whispers—holding you close, nuzzling you back, and pressing the gentlest of kisses to the top of your head. "'m all yours."

Johnny continues working his hips up into your core, meeting you thrust for thrust and grind for grind. The sensation of your bodies meeting draws groans from his throat, each erratic connection making you both tremble.

Your eyes meet, an intense connection as Johnny's eyes search yours—him seeming to read every little flicker of emotion within them. Whatever he sees there spurs him into action, as he repositions his grip and redirects you—widening his legs before he pushes you down against his thick, denim-clad thigh.

"Tha's better." He sighs, immediately moving your hips again for you, rubbing your pussy across his muscle and giving you much-needed contact.

You find your rhythm quickly, working with Johnny to build delicious friction—the heightened sensations and connection have you overly sensitive, your blood fizzing all over your body just at being able to grind against Johnny. You know he's going to ruin you when things really start to escalate. You also know you're not going to last long at all.

"Humping my thigh like a good pup." Johnny groans as he buries himself into the crook of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin—you tilt your head to accommodate him getting access to wherever his mouth pleases.

"Gonna leave a wet spot." You feel the way your wet panties are clinging to your folds and know some of your arousal is leaking through to the denim beneath.

Johnny growls, his thigh pushing up to meet you more firmly, as if begging to be soiled further. "Go awn, soak ma jeans."

"Johnny..."

"Sound so pretty whinin' fer me, whimperin'." He purrs straight into your ear, making your back arch as your skin tingles all over. "Gonna bark for me?"

You quickly shake your head before hiding in Johnny's chest, cheeks ablaze. "'m shy." You whisper, hoping said reservedness won't disappoint him.

One of Johnny's hands makes its way up your body, stopping to stroke the top of your head soothingly. "It's okay, pup, it'll come." He reassures you, not let down in the slightest. "Jus' keep grinding."

Your hips move with renewed fervour, chasing the rapidly building high that twists and coils in your stomach. Pleasure radiates out from your core, flowing through your veins and clouding your brain—refocusing yourself entirely on being good for Johnny.

"Feels good?" Johnny asks in response to your escalating whines and moans. "Use yer words for me."

Words are hard to form when your throat is so tightened and your mind so blissed out, but you have to obey. Each thrust pushes you closer and closer to the edge, closer to your reward. The tension between you and Johnny has been building for so long, with your need rapidly spiralling from the moment the two of you first started talking.

You need the release, need to cum under Johnny's touch and command—finally let him into your mind where his commands will make their home. As your thighs tremble around Johnny's, you force yourself to summon the strength to lift your head, to use your words just like Johnny had asked.

"Feels good, so close." You admit, voice not above a whisper as you get hypnotised by the sparkling blue eyes that are hidden by hooded lids.

Johnny is looking at you like he's going to devour you, and all you've done so far is rub your slick cunt all over his thigh. You shiver with the thought of just how much more intensity can build between you—you wonder how you're going to survive it.

"Needy pup, want ye tae cum fer me. Jus' fer me." One of Johnny's hands now cups your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes locked onto his as you continue to writhe wildly against him.

His words push you so much closer, your brain waiting for his word as you try your hardest to not cum even a second before he tells you too.

"Can ye do that, pet?"

You nod mindlessly as your body goes into overdrive, the pressure making your body coil tighter as your brain finally fizzles out of any coherent thought. All you can do is keep your eyes fixed on Johnny, as you replay his words over and over in your head.

Pet. Pup. Hump. Whine.

Operating entirely on instinct, your mouth falls open, tongue lolling out as you pant and whine—right on the edge, waiting. As if in your thoughts, Johnny senses that you're right at the edge, as his thigh tenses to be the perfect surface for you to rub against, and his hand forces your cunt down even more snugly before.

"Pretty pup, tha's it." He coos, voice dripping with sweet, gentle authority. "Cum fer me."

With his command finally whispered, you buck one more and fly over the edge, straight into the ecstasy of a blinding orgasm—one that's weeks in the making.

Johnny continues to coax you through it, whispered praise and encouragement accompanying every little aftershock until you practically collapse against his chest.

"Oh my god, that was..." You struggle to breathe, still struggle to think as you sink into Johnny's embrace. "I needed that, thank you."

Soft touches adorn every inch of your body, Johnny petting you sweetly and embracing the sensitivity of your skin in the afterglow. "My pleasure. Ye were such a good girl fer me."

"Sorry about your jeans. And you not—"

Johnny doesn't let you finish your unnecessary apologies. "Dinnae be."

He pulls you even closer, arms wrapping around your waist and back and holding you in a tight, reassuring embrace as the both of you come back down to normalcy. You can practically feel the smile on Johnny's lips with every kiss against your forehead, and his unbridled joy is still radiating off of him when you finally lean up to reconnect your lips with his.

After a few sweet pecks, you find yourself burrowing back into his chest as you try to suppress a yawn.

"Tired, bonnie?" Johnny asks, voice quiet.

You respond simply with a gentle nod.

"Let's get you to bed, then." He chuckles, tapping the backs of your thighs to encourage you to stand.

You can't help but whine just a little, entirely resistant to moving even if Johnny's bed is only a short walk away. "It's too early to sleep." You try to reason, even if you have no clue of the time.

Johnny presses another kiss to your forehead—his smirk cheeky and eyes bright. "Who said we'd be sleeping?"

With assistance from Johnny, you sleepily stumble to his bedroom and immediately plop yourself down on the edge of the mattress while Johnny fetches your forgotten bags from the entryway.

Your orgasm has left you a little boneless and ignited an even stronger craving for connection with Johnny. He parts from you for even a moment, and your body calls out to be cuddled up with him again.

Luckily, he returns quickly, setting the bag down beside you so you can sleepily rifle through the bag for your pyjamas.

When you finally locate the silky set, you urge yourself off the bed and head for the bathroom. Johnny stops you by the wrists before you can reach the door.

"Where are ye going?" He asks, an adorable look of confusion on his face.

"To get changed." You explain, trying to stop your voice from trembling with nerves. Despite just cumming on this man's thigh, there's something startling about the vulnerability of changing before him that makes your walls shoot up and your body stiffen.

Johnny's thumb runs over your wrist, as his expression softens, and he releases his hold.

"'s okay." He nods, turning to grab his own pyjama bottoms and beating you out of the door to the bathroom, leaving you in the comfort of his room. "Shout me when yer done, aye?"

The door clicks shut behind Johnny, as your heart fills with warmth at his easy and sweet accommodation of you.

You slip off your dress first, folding it semi-neatly and slipping into the bag before you opt to slip off your panties too—they're still soaked through from your earlier activities and were clinging to your folds almost uncomfortably. You quickly shimmy on the matching silk set—cute shorts with a cami top, as you try to remember the confidence you felt when trying the set on.

You call out to Johnny, beckoning him back into the room and hoping his reaction to your outfit is everything you could hope for.

When Johnny slips round the door, his eyes almost jump out of his head—though you're sure yours are doing the same. "Fuckin' christ, bonnie."

Your eyes rake down Johnny's body just as he does you—his chest is bare, and his plaid pyjama bottoms are slung low on his hips. You can't tear your eyes away, as they dart around taking in every little feature—the broad muscles, slight dusting of hair, or constellation of scars and freckles all down his torso. It's hard to decide which part of him is the most delicious, the most deserving of your eyes' attention.

"Christ yourself." You whisper, completely in awe.

Johnny steps forward, taking your hands in his and pulling you into his warmth. His smile is adoring, his eyes showing nothing but reverence as he takes in every detail of you—you wonder if he's recognised just what you've done.

"You look so good, I wanna eat you." His words are purred into your neck as he presses kisses along your skin, and his hands slip all over your silky skin and barely-there clothes. His hands find their way to the hem of your top, pausing slightly as if asking for consent.

"Johnny..." You whine as you turn your head nervously, shielding your embarrassed expression from view and desperately hoping you don't have to explain yourself further.

He cups your jaw tenderly, without any intention of turning you to face him. His voice is just as considerate. "Nervous?"

"I know it's silly, but..." You trail off, unable to finish your sentence.

I'm scared you won't like what you see.

I'm scared you'll leave once you get what you want.

I'm scared I won't compare to what you imagined, to what you deserve.

Johnny can sense it all, or at least some of it—as his eyes briefly flare with intense worry. He pulls away before you can ask, flicking the light switch and plunging you both into inky darkness—the room only illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights.

"How's this, hen?" He asks, finding his way back to you.

Somehow, the barely-there lighting of the room feels like a safety blanket—a joyous hiding-in-the-pillow fort feeling, instead of being subjected to a spotlight that seems to amplify all your insecurities.

"Better." Your smile is genuine as you reposition atop the bed, pulling Johnny with you gently as you seek comfort. The two of you scramble up the bed, laying over the covers and facing each other—just inside each other's embrace.

Johnny's handsome features are visible enough in the dim, with his easy smile still lighting up the room. "Will just have to feel ma way around... if tha's okay."

"Touch but don't look, instead of the other way around." You laugh, the act releasing some of your pent-up worry. Your hand chases Johnny's, moving it from the bed to your body and encouraging him to touch you. "Sounds good to me."

"That's ma girl. Ye feel fucking divine." He sighs his words into your skin, leaning forward for a kiss as his hand dips under the fabric of your top and rests on the curve of your waist. His thumb still appreciatively strokes across the satin of your pyjamas.

"I bought these just for you." You admit, voice a soft whisper.

"Did ye pick the colour of my eyes on purpose, pet?"

So he had noticed, you think. "Yeah..."

Johnny's easy expression falters for a moment, his usual confidence wavering in the face of such a heartfelt act.

"Fuckin' christ." His hand squeezes at your side as he lets out a shaky sigh. "And as if I wasn't hard enough."

"Oh?" Your hand reaches out to rest on Johnny's chest, fingers raking down slightly on your path of exploration, headed straight for the waistband of his bottoms where your ignited curiosity is focused.

Your fingers itch to feel his cock again, remembering how deliciously hard and huge he had felt under your touch in the café. This time, you could feel him without reservation, and experience exactly the effect you have on him without any barriers of material or propriety.

His eyebrow arches at the action, and his eyes sparkle interest. "Bonnie, where's tha' hand going?"

"I wanna feel it, please." You whisper, accompanying your words with a teasing touch as you slip your thumb under the waistband and tug at the elastic.

Another tremulous exhale passes his lips before he pulls the lower one between his teeth. "When ye beg like tha’, how can I say no?"

Your hand dives below his waistband as you eagerly wrap your hand around the satiny smooth skin of his cock—feeling the bulging veins and the way the tip leaks with sticky pre.

“Fuck.” You continue to explore his length, stroking slowly and reverently as you watch his face for his reactions—relishing in each quiver of his brows or flutter of his lashes. “Honestly, I don't know how I got this far without begging you to show it to me.”

He chuckles as his hips buck slightly to meet your touch, frenetic energy building inside of him. “Guess for now you’ll just have to keep feelin’. Make up fer lost time.”

“Johnny…”

“Yes, puppy?”

You stroke down to the base, gripping it firmly for a moment as you speak. "There's no way you're fitting that inside me—"

Johnny's eyes flare with ravenous need, his smile turning delightfully sinful before he devours your protests with a messy kiss—a hand gripping at your chin.

"Shhh, I know that pretty cunny can take me." He purrs his words into your mouth, forcing you to practically swallow them and all of their intensity. "When the time comes, we'll go slow. I'll take care of ye, train my puppy to take me."

Your body squirms involuntarily, arousal and surrender washing over you in waves as Johnny's authoritative tone melts you back into a submissive headspace.

"Your mouth is evil, Johnny." You whine and shiver. "You know what you do to me, right?"

"I have an idea." He smirks, as the hand gripping your down trails down your neck and over your body before stopping at your waistband for permission. "Wouldnae mind more of one, though, if tha's okay."

"Please."

It's impossible to hold back your gasp as Johnny's thick fingers finally slide in between your soaked folds and make contact with your sensitive clit.

He swipes through your wetness repeatedly, dipping down to tease at your entrance before pulling more slick over your clit and swirling it easily with his fingers. You curl into him slightly, forehead falling against his as your legs fall apart, and you surrender to his touch.

Each stroke feels electric, and your hips rise and fall to chase every little sensation you get from the way he explores you. You find your eyes drifting shut from the pleasure, and the need to shield yourself from the intensity of his hungry stare.

"Fuck, drippin' fer me." His voice is lower, coming from deeper in his chest, as you feel his dick throb. He's stopped rutting into your hand, instead focused entirely on you.

"... When I got home after our date, I was soaked right through." You admit, voice shaky and unsteady and wracked with pleasure. The glow radiates outwards from your core, coiling in your stomach. Despite your earlier release, your need is still overwhelming—Johnny's touch feeling better than anything you've felt in so long.

"Always makin' a mess. Making a mess on ma fingers right now."

"I can't help it." You whimper helplessly, and even more so when Johnny's fingers withdraw from your folds and leave your cunt aching for him.

Your eyes fly open in time to watch him take the soaked digits in his mouth, cleaning your mess off of them with his tongue as he gives you an intense, unwavering look that makes your cheeks blaze.

"Taste heavenly, bonnie. Think I need more of a taste, though." He grins, his eyes raging with a hunger that makes your stomach flip.

"Fuck," You sigh, wanting his mouth on you and yet feeling a sense of guilt for even thinking about letting him. "I... I should get you off first."

You return to stroking his length, your movements having stilled as he had focused on you, but his hand moves to grip your wrist—stilling it in its tracks.

"Lass, if you give me the word, there's nothin' coming between me and eating tha' kitty of yours. Not even my own cock."

The certainty in his tone and his look almost have you convinced, but that niggle of insecurity and worry still lingers in the back of your mind, urging you to deny yourself of the pleasures Johnny can give you.

"I don't usually..." You trail off, struggling to finish your sentence. Part of you wants to say you don't let guys go down on you, but it's not like the last one even cared to offer.

You haven't even told Johnny any details, yet he seems enthusiastic enough to compensate for any of the experiences you've had in the past.

His expression cycles through a myriad of emotions—confusion, sadness, and anger, before he settles on a soft yet determined look.

"Do you want me to go down on ye?"

"Yes." Your answer slips out far too quickly, but the thought of his mouth on your cunt makes your head spin.

His hand returns to cup your cheek, stroking reassuringly as his eyes plead with you. "Then please, bonnie."

You swallow, pushing away the voices in the back of your head as you nod, and Johnny scrambles down the bed.

He pulls down your shorts and tosses them aside, before his arms wrap around your thighs to pull them apart. His lips quickly find their way to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, kissing and licking and biting ever so slightly as you squirm helplessly beneath him.

His muscular arms keep your lower body exactly where he wants you, as his kisses move higher and higher before they press the outside of your folds and make you cry out.

"Poor little neglected kitty." He coos, before pressing more kisses to your lips.

"Johnny—"

"Shh." He interrupts you sharply yet playfully, looking up from between your legs and fixing you with a light-hearted glare. "Am making introductions."

He refocuses his attention back on your cunt, a hand moving so he can stroke his thumb back and forth over your sensitive nub while he coos sweet nothings into your centre.

"Need someone to take care of ye? I'm a good owner, promise." He dives in and captures your clit in an open-mouthed kiss, sucking slightly before pulling off with a pop. "Know how tae play with ye just right."

It's overwhelming, the way he talks and the fact he's talking to your cunt like it's separate from you, and yet something he's just enamoured with.

He starts eating you in earnest, tongue swiping up and down your folds, stubble rubbing against your skin—sweet, hot pleasure trickles through you with every little sensation, and you know you're not going to last long under Johnny's mouth.

"Fuck, can't wait to see ye properly. Pretty pussy, all fer me."

He dives back in, all tongue and lips and slick, wet heat as he makes love to your clit and folds with his mouth—drawing out every whine and whimper you're capable of making.

"Oh my god," You gasp, hand falling to his head so your fingers can tangle in his hair. "You're so good fucking with your tongue."

When he pulls back to talk, his lips glisten with your arousal. "'m not just talk, bonnie. Think ye can take my fingers too?"

"Please, please." You beg, almost urging him back to your core as his fingers circle your entrance before slowly sinking in.

The two digits stretch you slowly, getting you accustomed to the assault before his tongue is on your clit again, all of him working in tandem to make you shiver and squirm. Your cunt squelches with each thrust and lick, Johnny forcing more arousal to leak from your pretty hole as he lavishes you with attention and pleasure.

"Such pretty sounds." He mumbles, though his eyes don't meet yours.

"Do you mean me or..." You swallow nervously, shyness overtaking you as you summon the words to address yourself. "...her?"

"Both of ye." He growls, before feasting with renewed fervour.

You've never had a man eat you like this in your life, as Johnny drinks your nectar like he needs it to survive, and caresses your insides with the most reverent touch. His has you completely undone beneath him, moaning loud enough to disturb the neighbours and racing towards your peak in record time.

Your legs shake against his hold, your hips naturally rising to meet his mouth as your pleasure builds and builds, pushing you ever further toward ecstasy.

"I'm close." You whimper when the precipice arrives, and Johnny doesn't hold back in the slightest.

"Cum fer me." He mumbles, before sucking you over the edge. Your thighs squeeze and tremble around his head as you explode under his tongue and clench around his thick fingers.

His attention doesn't wane until he's wrung every little bit of pleasure out of your quivering body. "Mhmmm. Good girl."

He presses one last kiss to your clit, bidding her goodbye before he gently slides your shorts back up your legs and joins you at the head of the bed.

"Fuck..."

The afterglow flows through you like lava in your veins, filling you with a warmth that only grows as Johnny strokes your face.

"Can I kiss ye?" He asks, his lips hovering just a fraction from your own.

"I need you to. I'll just ignore the taste of myself."

"Your loss."

He closes the distance, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, one so achingly sweet you pay no mind to the taste of yourself on your tongue.

Johnny continues to caress your face as he deepens the kiss, making you breathless once more.

You find yourself having to turn away from the kiss to bury your head into the pillow as you stifle an overwhelming yawn.

"Tired fer real now, sweetheart?" Johnny whispers, chasing you to press kisses to the side of your head.

You turn back to face Johnny, noses almost brushing together as you give the slightest confirmatory nod. "'m a little sleepy."

Johnny rushes to slide off the bed, throw back the covers, and position himself on his back. He pats his chest in invitation, smiling at you ever so sweetly. "Your pillow awaits. Non-negotiable, aye?"

It takes a little bit of shuffling on both behalves to get you settled under the covers and snuggled up to the warmth and comfort that is Johnny's chest. Your cheek is pressed to his pec as your arm settles across his torso—he loops an arm around your back and pulls the other one over his body, holding the thigh that rests over his hips.

You cuddle in closer, relishing the way your bodies fit together, and the way his chest cradles your head so perfectly. "Mhm. Comfy pillow."

"I'm glad—"

You interrupt him immediately, your hand coming up to smooth over his chest and squeeze appreciatively.

"Shh." You whisper condescendingly, imitating Johnny's tone from earlier when he was between your legs. "I'm making introductions."

His chest rumbles with a laugh, as he lets you get well acquainted with his pecs. "Brat."

Your eyes quickly slip shut, your hand stilling of any further movement. Johnny's voice is a sweet whisper from above you as you drift out of consciousness.

"Sweet dreams, bonnie."

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

Text

It was supposed to be a one time thing.

Steve had always been in charge of feeding the kids, a self appointed position that didn't do anything to stop the mom jokes but Steve liked making sure his kids were happy and fed. He knew what it was like to come home from school and have to fend for yourself in terms of food, he didn't want that for the kids.

He had taught himself to cook and bake as he grew up, quickly getting tired of heating up spaghetti-os or TV dinners. His parents always left the house well stocked with ingredients even though they weren't there so he had to make do.

Steve liked baking things for the kids, he knew everyone's favourite cookie and cupcake flavour and made sure he made them if he heard one of them had had a bad day.

Max had been the one to ask him originally. The high school was having a bake sale and Max's mum wasn't around enough to give her the flyer and Max had asked him if he'd make those caramel brownies that she loves. He agrees as long as she learns to make them with him which she had happily agreed to.

To Steve's suprise his brownies had been a hit at the bake sale. There were a few stink eyes from some of the moms there but mostly there were big smiles and punched cheeks and "aren't you just the sweetest boy" from everyone there. The kids had nagged him for cash for the sale which they mainly used to get his brownies even though he'd told them he made extra at home.

After that, it just became a thing. Whenever there was a bake sale one or more of the kids came to ask him to make something for them, some half baked (excuse the pun) excuse as to why their own parents couldn't do it.

"Mum always burns her cupcakes."

"Dad says he only knows how to grill."

"I swear she put salt in them last time."

"Do you want to give the school food poisoning?"

"Yours are just better." Steve liked that one.

Soon the kids didn't even have to ask him, he had moms putting the flyer in his mailbox. Once he opened it to ten of the bright pink papers shoved in there. It wasn't even just bake sales. The PTA moms had practically adopted him and wanted him at all the school events, sports carnivals, school musicals, pep rallies. Everyone wanted Steve's baked goods.

"I swear you're at the school more than I was in all my senior years, Stevie."

"You're just jealous that the moms love me."

"I've always thought you're sweet, sweetheart."

Steve had even started experiment with his recipes. Robin and Eddie were more than happy to be his guinea pigs.

"Steve if I liked dudes I would marry you to eat this cupcake everyday."

"Fuck you Buckley I'M marrying him AND I'm getting to eat this brownie til I die!"

"You don't need to marry me for me to bake for you two."

"Yeah but then I'd get to brag to all the PTA moms that I have Stevie Harrington's sweet goods and sweet cheeks."

"EDDIE!"

Steve had been struggling with what he wanted to do with his life, he didn't go to college, he worked minimum wage and his parents had practically cut him off. It was at the last bake sale before spring break that one of the moms Steve had gotten close to approached him.

"Steve, honey?"

"Hey Mary, what can I do for ya?"

"Well, you know I'm in real estate and there's this sweet lil storefront down on Maple that recently flooded but it's got good bones just needs a lil love and I'm rambling but I saw it and I knew it would be perfect for you."

"Perfect for what ma'am?"

"For your bakery, hun!"

"Oh ma'am I'm not opening a bakery."

"Why not honey? Everyone loves your sweet treats and with the flooding the place is basically being given away, I didn't wanna sell it til I talked to you first, so what do you say?"

"Can I give you an answer first thing tomorrow."

"Sure hun, but don't wait too long, things like this don't come around often."

Steve had been pacing the apartment by the time Eddie got home from the shop.

"Stevie, baby what's wrong?"

Steve stopped pacing and turned towards his boyfriend.

"If you were really good at something and every said you were really good at something and someone gave you the opportunity to do that thing every day would you do it?"

"Um probably, do what you love and everything right?"

"Mary stopped me today and says there's this store that needs work but could be worth it and I could open my own bakery there Eds, mine, all me doing something for me, but money would be tight for a little while and I don't want to do anything rash and if you think it's not a good id—"

"STEVIE! Sweetheart breathe. Does baking make you happy?" Eddie had put his hands on Steve's shoulders trying to calm him.

Steve nods.

"Then do it baby. Sure money might be tight for a bit, but we have some savings, and I've got my job pretty stable now, so fuck it if it makes you happy of course I want you to do it."

Steve pulled Eddie into a hug whispering a soft thank you.

The following day Steve signed the deed for the shop on Maple St and Eddie and the party and Hopper and Wayne and the girls and everyone helped him him clean out the debris and put up new walls and paint until two weeks later it was finished.

Steve's Sweets was finally open. Robin had been hired to work the coffee to go with Steve's treats and the kids got part time jobs after school and on weekends working the register. Robin and Eddie still helped try out new recipes and soon the whole town knew about Steve's new store.

Steve still baked things for the school's bake sale but now he got to feed his friends and family and the whole town everyday and he was never happier.

#fluff #stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #st4 #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things season 4 #pta mum steve #mama steve #the party #baker steve #ficlet #steddie ficlet

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clockwayswrites · 6 months

Text

Like Betta Fish Do Part 27

Wc:3213 Masterpost CW: Hospitalization, discussions of temporary character deaths

The hospital was pure chaos. Reporters were at the door, police were at the reporters to stay back, and the Waynes were pacing.

None of them had wanted to be left behind, not with this, so as soon as those who had been playing hero changed, they all headed for the hospital. Bruce had met them in a waiting room that had been cleared out for their use. There were benefits to having a wing named after one’s father.

“Clear,” Babs said as she and Tim finished typing on the tablets that they had brought from WE. “CTV cameras will just loop past this room.”

“There are no bugs. I’ve activated scramblers for parabolic mics or anything, not that they should be able to get to us in here anyways,” Tim said.

“What happened?” Steph asked, looking to Bruce.

Bruce looked to Dick. The rest of the eyes followed.

Dick sighed.

“It’s not my secret to tell.”

“I believe we are past that, Richard,” Damian snapped.

“Why don’t you start with a debrief of tonight,” Bruce coached.

“I was almost in suit when Babs came over the comms, telling us they took Danny. I started to look for suspicious vehicles given the time frame. I wasn’t successful at spotting anything before the…” Dick was really glad that Jason was back with Danny and not here listening to this. “…before the trap went off. I saw one of the buildings go dark.

"Cass joined me. We took out the henchmen at the van and leading into the building. Based on intel, I headed straight for the basement. The place was flooded an inch or two deep. They broke the sprinkler valve, I believe. Danny was tied to a metal chair bolted in the middle of the room. A wire had been tapped into the circuit breaker and was at Danny’s feet. His shoes were off.”

Dick swallowed hard and let his arms drop to his side. That urge to punch something was still there. He flexed his hands and then purposefully relaxed them.

“I was sure he was dead, but when I called out his name he moved. I made sure the circuit breaker was off, disconnected the wire, and went to him. He was…” Dick snorted, shaking his head. “He was making jokes. He was conscious but not fully lucid. Confusion, slurred words, panic. He didn’t want to be taken to the hospital. He thought they would cut him open if ‘they knew’. I was able to convince him to come by saying we’d get Leslie and that we’d protect him.”

Damian scoffed. “Of course we will.”

“Case?” Cass signed, face scrunched up in question.

“And asked Alfred to bring a case, one that Jason put in the Cave that Danny gave him,” Dick confirmed.

“What’s in it?” Tim asked.

Dick just shook his head.

“He’s a Meta, isn’t he?” Duke asked. The question was quiet, but it felt loud in the tense air of the waiting room. He wasn’t staring at the ground rather than any of them. “Something new. Maybe something dangerous or, worse, something useful. It’s why he’s afraid they’ll cut him open.”

Steph cussed and turned to punch the wall only to be stopped by Tim.

“Is he?” Tim asked.

It seemed like there was no getting out of this question. “’Close enough’ was the way it was put when I stumbled in on… the secret.”

“Are his powers electricity based?” Babs asked. “Is that how he survived?”

Dick laughed. The bitter sound made a few of the others flinch or grimace.

“No, opposite, really. He’s weak to it. I think they only got him because they used tasers and it really knocks him out.” I’m so sorry, Danny, Dick thought. “Danny… Danny’s been electrocuted before when he was a kid. It killed him, however briefly. Really… I’m not sure if it didn’t actually kill him again tonight.”

This time Tim didn’t stop Stephanie from punching the wall.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Dr. Thompkins said as she peeled off her gloves.

Danny just glared at the IV in his hand that had been carefully tapped down and put under a mesh glove.

“It’s like she doesn’t trust me,” Danny whispered loudly to Jason.

“She’s right not to,” Jason said.

Danny pouted at him.

“Fish,” Jason said with a wet chuckle. He ran his hand through Danny’s hair again, which seemed to soothe him. “You said loudly and repeatedly that you were going to go out the window as soon as she stopped watching you or if she took your blood or if she put the IV in.”

“She did take it,” Danny whined.

“I did,” Leslie said, “and I also promised you no one else would get a hold of your blood and I meant it. I need a baseline for you though. It’s my job now to make sure that you’re well.”

“And no clones,” Danny said.

“And no clones,” Leslie said.

She shot Jason a look who just shrugged helplessly. He didn’t know enough about what went down with that to answer her questions.

Leslie gave up with a sigh. “You really went and found someone who fit right in with the family craziness I see.”

“Nah, Doc, he goes above and beyond.”

“Well… that should make for an interesting file.”

Danny flinched at that, hard enough for Leslie to notice and stop what she was doing.

“Danny, listen to me,” Leslie said. She waited until Danny met her eyes to continue. “No one else will see the file. It’s encrypted by Oracle, Batman’s tech person, and that’s understating them. I need to keep a file so that I can treat you and keep you healthy, that’s all.”

“No experiments,” Danny croaked.

Jason wanted to punch someone again.

“No experiments,” Leslie promised.

Danny gave a little nod, turned away from her, and all but climbed into Jason’s lap.

“Make sure he doesn’t pull that IV out,” Leslie ordered and went back to making her notes.

Not long after Jason had gotten him and Danny settled into the hospital bed, there was a knock at the door. Jason’s hand went immediately to the scalpel that Leslie had generously pretended not to notice Jason palming earlier. It didn’t matter that it was a knock Jason recognized, he wasn’t taking any chances with Danny right then.

Jason only relaxed when Dick had stepped fully through the door alone.

“Hey Danny, how are you doing?”

“Leslie took my blood.”

“Yeah, she does that,” Dick said. He was smiling, words cheerful, but Jason could see the cracks in his brother’s facade. “Alfred is going to be here in just a moment with the case. Can I send him in when he arrives? Or I can bring it myself? Or any of us. We’re all out there.”

Danny turned his head enough to be able to peer at Dick with one eye. “You’re worried.”

“Yeah, little fish, we’re all pretty worried. We care about you,” Dick said gently.

Jason resisted the urge to kiss Danny’s pout away as he shifted his gaze from Dick to Leslie.

“Can they come in?” Danny asked.

Leslie pursed her lips. “Only for a half hour. After that, it’s only Jason and one other allowed at a time and that’s only because I want Jason to try to get some rest too. Whoever else is in here is on a minimum two hour shift so not to wake you up every five minutes.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dick chirped.

“And tell them to keep it calm,” Leslie called after Dick as he slipped back out the door. She sighed and shook her head before focusing back on Danny. “Now, there will be nurses who come in.”

“Noooo,” Danny whined.

“Yes,” Leslie said. “They’ll just be taking your blood pressure, which they’ll know to expect to be low, and changing out your saline and pain medication. I’ll be back in the morning myself to check on your burns. Everyone who steps foot in this room will be approved by Bruce and I. Someone from the family will be with you the whole time, you’ll be safe in every way.”

Danny’s pout deepened before he sighed heavily and seemed to deflate. “Fine.”

“Thank you, Danny. Now please try to rest after the group leaves, both of you.”

“Sure, Doc,” Jason answered and sent her a smile. He’d have to do something to help her clinic out soon, she really went above and beyond for them tonight. He managed to get Danny turned around so that his boyfriend wasn’t buried face first into his pecs before his family invaded.

It seemed like everyone was really trying to listen to Leslie and they all filed in orderly and tucked themselves onto the couch and chairs and each other. Bruce and Alfred stayed standing.

“Hi guys,” Danny said with a wobbly smile.

Some of the family flinched at how ruined Danny’s voice sounded. The flinches weren’t obvious to be noticed by anyone by a Bat, except maybe for Duke’s, but they still happened and Jason noticed. They all looked wrecked, really, in various ways. One would almost think they had been the ones kidnapped and murdered tonight.

It was Jason’s turn to flinch at his own thoughts. Greedily, he soothed himself by pressing a kiss to Danny’s temple.

“Hi Danny,” Duke said back. “How are you?”

“You know, feeling a little extra crispy,” he joked.

The room seemed to lose all the air for a moment before Tim groaned. “God, there are two of them now. No wonder you’re dating Jason, you have the same morbid sense of humor.”

The tension in the room broke and Barbie even laughed. (They all ignored how the laugh was a little too tinged with hysteria to be truly happy.)

Alfred cleared his throat and stepped forward. “The case, Master Jason.”

“Ooh, is that…” Danny asked, zeroing in on the case.

“Yep,” Jason confirmed, popping the ‘p’.

Danny held out his arms, making grabby hands at the case. Alfred raised a brow, looking to Jason for permission, before he moved forward and handed over the case. Jason rested his hand on the lid before Danny could open it.

“So,” Jason started. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “no one freak out, okay? What’s in the case isn’t what it looks like. And… and we’ll explain?”

He wasn’t sure if they would.

He wasn’t sure if they could afford not to.

“We’ll explain,” Danny confirmed.

“Okay, Jay-lad,” Bruce agreed, though Jason could tell he didn’t know what he was agreeing to, other than trusting his son.

Jason took a breath and removed his hand. Danny flipped the lid open. It was innocuous at first, a simple black padded case. Then Danny plucked out one of the glowing, Lazarus green ectoshots and the stances of several Bats shifted.

“That is—” Damian started.

“Nope,” Jason interrupted.

“Jay—” Bruce rumbled.

“I’m sure,” Jason said. He glanced at Cass. “Really.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Tim asked, sounding a little strangled.

“Drink it,” Danny answered.

“Drink it?!”

Danny’s nose wrinkled. “Does everyone in this room have issues with that— what did you call it— Pit water?”

“Pit water or Lazarus water,” Jason said. He calmly ran his fingers through Danny’s hair as he made sure to not have a reaction to the ectoshots. Danny needed to drink them, he couldn’t have any of it spilled from misplaced panic. “And a lot of us, yeah. It’s… been a thing. My situation didn’t help any.”

Tim frowned at the vial, clearly itching to get his hands on it. “If that’s not Lazarus water, what is it?”

“Ectoplasm,” Danny sing songed and then just downed the vial to the wince of the room. A shudder ran through his body before he slumped bonelessly against Jason.

Jason plucked the empty vial from Danny’s limp fingers, pressed a kiss to his temple, and put it back in the case. “From best we can think without getting our hands on Lazarus water, they’re a bit related, but ectoplasm is a pure source where as whatever Lazarus water is, it’s fucked up. Beyond that, I think…”

Jason sighed and buried his face in the top of Danny’s head. He didn’t know how to explain the next part to his family. He didn’t know how to tell them he was still, at least a little, dead. He didn’t want to hurt them like that.

“Ectoplasm isn’t a miracle cure, not like it sounds they use Lazarus water for,” Danny said around a jaw cracking yawn. “Doesn’t work for normal people.”

“Does it work for you because you’re a meta?” Duke asked. The sympathy in his voice was hard to hear.

Danny’s laugh wasn’t any easier to hear. “Nope! I mean, like, sure how you count Superman as a meta I’m a meta, I guess. More a different species.”

Steph made an incredulous noise. “You’re an alien?”

“I wish,” Danny snickered. “I’m dead.”

“That is not funny, Nightingale,” Damian snapped.

Jason peered up at his bristling little brother. Demon brat really was already attached to Danny. “He’s not trying to be funny, Dami. Danny is half dead or, rather, half ghost.”

“Okay, which of your parents fucked a ghost?”

“Miss Stephanie,” Alfred chastised.

“Sorry Alfie,” Stephanie mumbled under Danny’s snickering.

At least having almost died (again) tonight saved Danny from being admonished too.

“Ancient, no, my parents hate ghosts,” Danny said.

“But you’re half ghost,” Babs pointed out, gently.

“Yeah. And there’s a reason that I changed my last name and don’t talk to them anymore, not that they know,” Danny said. He stretched out his arms, arching like a cat. Clearly the ectoshot was starting to have an effect. “No, I’m half dead ‘cause I died and then didn’t.”

“You’ve died before, Danny?” Bruce asked, voice carefully gentle in that way he used only when talking to his kids or those who were basically family through his kids.

“Yeah,” Danny sighed. “It was, um, don’t like talking about it. It’s a ghost thing. But my parents built a portal to the ghost’s realm to try and study them. It didn’t work, not at first. I stepped in it, tripped, hit the on button and bam… ten thousand volts of electricity later and I’m dead.”

Tim and Cass both reached out to stop Steph from moving.

“Thing is, the portal turned on,” Danny continued. “So I also got pure ectoplasm shot right through me. It brought me back, kinda. I’m a halfa; half ghost and half human. Half dead and half alive.”

“You’ve died by electricity before,” Bruce said into the silence of the room.

“Probably died again to it tonight,” Danny said with a casualness that had Jason tightening his arms around Danny. Danny just giggled. “But like I told Dick, I’m immune now.”

“You know,” Barbie said. She narrowed her eyes as Danny shrugged before she glanced to Dick. “And you knew.”

Dick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Little wing?”

“Go ahead, Dick. I’m pretty sure you’ve connected all the dots now,” Jason said. Maybe it would be easier, no, smoother if Dick explained it. He was better at hiding his anger.

Though by the way Dick had to shift on his feet, maybe not. “I… I think I have. Then you’re…?”

Jason nodded.

“Fuck!” Dick twisted and paced to the door and back again.

“Master Richard!”

“Don’t be so harsh, Alfie,” Jason said. He couldn’t make Dick be the one to tell them; that had been a selfish hope. “Dick just put two and two together that if the ectoshots only help Danny because he’s dead—”

“Part dead,” Danny chimed in brightly.

“—then that means I’m still part dead too.”

“Jay-lad?” Bruce prompted after a tense moment, voice rough.

Jason just smiled sadly. “The Pits healed me. It sorta… filled in the cracks, but it couldn’t fix that whatever brought me back didn’t bring all of me back… or couldn’t bring all of me back. I think that’s part of why the Pits had such a hold on me. Not that it’s an excuse, but just… whatever. Point is, I’m a halfa too, even if I’m still healing enough to be a proper one.”

The family practically curled around each other in grief. Dick tucked Damian against his side. Tim slumped into Steph and Cass. Steph reached out to squeeze Bab’s hand. Bruce took an aborted step towards them. Even Alfred raised a hand to his mouth.

“I’m alright,” Jason assured them.

“You’re still dead!” Dick snapped.

“I’m half alive, that’s more than I was before,” Jason pointed out.

Dick hunched into himself at that, prompting Damian to give Dick an awkward looking hug.

“What all does that mean, being a halfa?” Bruce asked. He held up a hand as he paused and took a measured breath. “I don’t mean that as an interrogation. Right now, what’s important for us to know to make sure you’re both healthy? Or is there anything that we should avoid doing?”

Jason snorted. He appreciated the clarification, the attempt at being gentle, he did, but, “I know you want to know more than that.”

Bruce smiled, though the expression was more mocking himself than anything. “Of course I do. You know me, chum, I don’t do good with only pieces of information, but right now I’m not the important one. I can deal with some… unease so that we can focus on you and Danny.”

“Danny should drink at least another ectoshot in a bit. They help us heal as halfas. Dick knows because there was an incident where I got stabbed. Danny sensed my distress and showed up to give me an ectoshot. I had called Dick already. Which means Danny also knows about everything.”

“Danny sensed your distress?” Tim asked.

“It’s a ghost thing,” Jason said with a shrug, unsure how to really explain it. “It comes from ghosts having cores which are sort of their central organ.”

“You core?” Cass asked, clearly struggling to verbalize right then with how her nose wrinkled.

“I do. Or, I’m getting more of one. Because the Pits put me back together badly I was really messed up.”

“It’s coming in well,” Danny said sleepily. He yawned wildly (a little too widely) and turned to bury his face into Jason’s chest. “Pretty lava core too. It’s good to have close for healing. It’s warm and lovely.”

Jason snorted and kissed the top of Danny’s head. “Go to sleep if you can. You’ll need lots of rest.”

Danny huffed a mumbled protest, but Jason could tell that Danny was fading fast.

“We’ll talk more later, Jay-lad,” Bruce said as he finally let himself come close to help Danny and Jason better settle into the hospital bed to sleep.

“Yeah,” Jason said as he fought his own yawn as the head of the bed lowered. “Have to have Danny show you his ghost form, it’s really something.”

Tim echoed ‘ghost form’ quietly in the background as Alfred murmured something to the group.

“Do you want myself or Dick here for the first shift?” Bruce asked.

“Stay?” Jason asked. His eyes dropped closed as his dad ran a hand through his hair.

“Always.”

---

AN: a very tired taaaaaada. They got the bulk of the explanation! Though still things to learn and talk about. I was going to put in more bits, but this felt full the way it was! Next chapter more answers, more questions, and someone shows up.

I no longer tag people but you can subscribe on the masterpost.

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

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hellishjoel · 8 months

Text

slow shift

7k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Next Chapter

series summary: Tommy’s Diner is where dreams go to die and burnouts clock-in for work. Waitressing would be boring without the flirtatious distractions of line cook Frankie Morales.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), swearing, talking about w33d, alcohol consumption (not by reader or frankie, but discussions of alcohol), oral (f! receiving), discussions of periods and Plan B, frankie having a fat d!ick, slightly public sex, unprotected p in v (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), you know how I roll

A/N: welcome to the first part in my linecook!frankie series! It's all just going to be chaos!! enjoy dirty dishes, cussing, and decent food made by the hot linecooks. I’ll have a title as soon as I stop putting it off <3 enjoy! let me know what you think! also how LIT is the banner

here's my masterlist!

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**

“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle. You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him. “Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.

Welcome to hell.

A makeshift building somehow still holding up four walls that housed a small restaurant inside.

This wasn’t some secret treasure that belonged on an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives or a hidden hole-in-the-wall five-star Michelin Restaurant. This was Tommy’s Diner.

The locals had different names for the run-down dump you called your place of employment: the Hometown Heartburn Hut (true), American Pie ( ha-ha funny), the Rusty Spoon (some guy OD’s behind the place one time, and no one ever forgets), or Tumbleweed, your pothead coworkers liked to call it. It was a tumbleweed because the restaurant was barren, emphasis on the weed to accommodate the faded line cooks that lurked in the back of the restaurant.

Don’t let today’s slow shift fool you; there were times when Tumbleweed was cram-packed. Friday night football games were busy with tailgaters, bustling with teens after a championship game. Other times, it was when a Greyhound bus or a similar cross-country vehicle drove through and took a stop for the passengers.

The most popular time of year was in the summer. Tommy’s Diner hosted Saturday night Cruise Nights. The town would flood with classic cars and hot rods, and the diner would transform into a drive-in. Their engines revved through different cities from far and wide to be at Tommy’s. That’s when the place felt the most alive, bustling with people and their laughter, little kids running with their milkshakes and flipping quarters into the rigged claw machine.

But it wasn’t a Saturday in August. It was a Monday. You were stuck with the misfit motley crew that did everything from dishwashing, cooking, bussing, running the register, being half-ass managers, and, of course, the token pretty waitress. You.

You will admit that each character working at Tumbleweed had a unique story etched into their grubby hands or baggy-eyed faces. They’ve weathered years of late-night shifts and condiment, grease-stained aprons.

Tonight there was Lou, the jaded by heartbreak teenage busboy. He walked with a shuffle, always sniffling about an ex-girlfriend. He worked slow and god damn, did that piss you off.

Then there was Tina, the aspiring singer stuck in a small-town type. She was newer, still learning how things worked since she had never waited tables a day in her life. She had that fresh twinkle of stardom in her eye despite being in her late 30’s. You were training her and trying not to let her drive you up the wall whenever she started singing different songs on the jukebox. Note to self: Put a sticky note saying it’s busted every time you work together.

Paul was the do-it-all guy. Toilet clogged? Get Paul. Dishes piling up? Ask Paul to do it. The cashier on a bathroom break? Paul can run the till. He was useful, just complained and grumbled a lot.

Tommy of Tommy’s Diner hasn’t worked a day in years. He’s older, so it’s understandable. Last thing you heard was he was down in Florida, living out retirement in a cheap home with a gambling addiction. Sounded like he was doing well for himself. But now his idiot son Rudy ran the place. Tommy’s picture was still on dusty display, toothy smile and all at the front door that people huddled in and out of—speaking of.

Your head lifted to attention as the bell above the door chimed, sighing in annoyance as you leaned back onto the counter. It was just Frankie.

“It’s fifteen after. You were supposed to be here on time today because we have to set up for Carla’s thing.”

Frankie breezed past you, aviators and stupid ballcap on, his smile lifted in a sneer. He was smacking on pink bubble gum as he neared your part of the counter and purposely shuffled past you with his hips against yours in an attempt to get into the kitchen. You couldn’t help but lean into him with a little smirk.

“Tommy said it was fine I was late.” He joked once he ducked into the back, your arms crossed as you followed him aimlessly.

You sigh and lean back against the locker next to his, watching him shuffle off his jacket.

“You disappoint me, Frankie.” Your face held a teasing pout.

“Never meet your heroes, baby.” That stupid fucking cocky smirk painted his face.

You opted to roll your eyes and look away as a defense tactic against Frankie’s flirty moves. Frankie calling you baby made your guts twist.

He was an ass ninety-nine percent of the time, but you two were hired the same summer a few years back and were the only ones who stayed once summer had run its course. You supposed it was bonded trauma after that.

New workers had come and gone, but you and Frankie were still at Tommy’s, still working crappy shifts on crappy hourly pay. Despite Frankie being a douchebag, he made the place bearable. He was comfortable. You knew each other.

“Can you just meet me on the floor like you were supposed to fifteen minutes ago and help with the banner? Carla’s going to be here at five, and you still have to make her special-”

“Jesus fuckin’- yes, I’ll be out in a few.” Frankie playfully groaned, shoving the brim of his hat into his mouth to hold it, his hands busy as he tied a tattered red bandana around his forehead before he replaced the cap back on. Okay… hot.

He took a deep breath once he finished, and leaned against the locker beside you, arms crossed, mimicking you as your shoulder brushed his bicep. You looked up at him, so many inches taller than you, as he looked down. Maybe too far down. He started at your eyes, but those eyes of his tended to wander right down to the cut of your shirt.

“Ugh- Frankie!” You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, readjusting your top as he playfully threw his hands up on the defense.

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous today, by the way!” He shouted as you exited the locker room, smiling and shaking your head with your back to him and throwing up your middle finger before the door swung closed with your exit.

---

You stood on the top of a dining table in your sneakers, attempting to hang a shitty banner you had painted for Carla’s birthday. You glanced down at the table and made a little face about the scuff you put in it. Oops. You can try and scrub it later.

There was no other person you or Frankie would do this stuff for. But it was Carla’s birthday and she was a diamond in the rough at this dump.

Carla's position at Tumbleweed is a mixture of human resources, accounting, decent management, and a mother figure to not just you but the entire staff. Besides Carla, we could all care less about everyone else's birthday. You were burning this ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner as soon as the clock struck midnight.

You let out an exhausted huff as you attempted to tack the final hanging string into the wall, but it was just out of reach. That’s when you heard the smacking of his stupid pink bubble gum. You didn’t even have to look.

“Are you gonna help me or not, Morales?” Your voice seethed in annoyance, not only to Frankie but also cursing your short legs and your just not long enough arms.

He didn’t say anything. Just crossed the differential space between you and took the tack and string into his meaty fingers.

You glanced down, watching his teeth capture his lower lip in concentration, checking to see if it was straight. Pushing the pin in, he backed up to where you stood on the dining table and crossed his arms in observance.

It was incredibly crooked. But it was the thought that counts, right?

“Good enough for me. You?” You glanced down at Frankie, and he was biting back a smile.

“What?” You pushed, narrowing your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good.” Distracted by something else. “D’you paint this?” The warmth of his hand slowly crept onto the back of your calf, your chest tightening as he slowly skated it higher with no interference from you.

You gently nod, avoiding his eye contact as you look at the sign. Now, his hand was on the back of your thigh, and you had to take a breath. A mhm was all you could muster up.

His fingers delicately skimmed the skirt of your uniform, knuckles brushing against your backside. You used to hate these 50’s style waitress uniforms, but now they didn’t seem so damn bad because Frankie’s movements were making you lightheaded. Snap out of it!

“Need help down?” Frankie asked, hand at the ready on your hip.

You shook your head despite using his assistance anyway. You squatted on the table, black lace panties peeking out as you used Frankie’s broad shoulders as leverage. You put one foot down onto the linoleum and then the other, wiping your hands cleanly down your uniform as you both returned to look at the lopsided sign.

You hoped it was enough. You hoped she appreciated it, especially all that she’s done for you over the years. Covering your shifts, leveling out the register when you accidentally gave someone the wrong change, tucking extra tips into your apron when she knew your rent was coming up. Everyone needed a Carla, not everyone was lucky to have one.

“She’s gonna love it,” Frankie seemed to sense your nerves as he lifted his cap to bring some air to his sweaty dark curls before putting it back into place. “I’ll start workin’ on her special. Mushroom Swiss patty melt?” He said before disappearing into the kitchen again, only leaving once you gave him your little nod of assurance. You liked that he remembered.

---

“Happy birthday, Carla!” Uncoordinated voices cheered as Carla entered Tumbleweed right on time for her shift.

Her face lit up, and she looked beautiful. She packed a little extra blush and eyeshadow to commemorate the special occasion.

“Oh, shit- oh my- You guys! Thank you!” Carla made special eye contact with you, knowing you were the only one caring enough to orchestrate this shindig.

Carla has this soulful charm about her. Raised in Louisiana, she loved to cook family recipes and bring the leftovers to work for you and Frankie to fight over. You remember she had three kids at home, so she had this curvy mom's body that put a proud sway in her walk. A playful and confident woman at heart, she was all the regular’s favorite to see. And she knew everyone. And she knew everything. She put Tommy’s back in business during the slower seasons. People would come to see her face on Sunday mornings over their coffee and runny eggs.

“Oh, baby, thank you.” She cooed as she cupped your cheek and squeezed, making your face tick. “This the red velvet?” Her voice hummed as she observed the cake in your hands, pushing her finger lightly into the frosting to taste it.

You had pulled one of the cakes from the display case and shitily piped it with chocolate sauce ‘HBD!’.

“Of course, your favorite... Right?” You pursed your lips and snuck a nervous glance at Frankie before you set the cake down on the countertop.

Carla looked beyond touched for something you’d consider a bit lackluster. “It’s my favorite ‘cause you made it. Thank you, baby.”

You glanced around for the cake cutter, watching as Tina pushed a quarter into the jukebox and got the party started. Everyone was doing shitty dance moves, even the one or two customers that had filtered in for a cheap dinner.

You sighed as you looked behind the counter for the cake cutter, grabbing the cake and its stand to haul it to the back.

You thrust your shoulder blades into the swinging door, setting the cake stand on the counter as you started sifting through the different drawers to find the serving knife.

Half a carton filled with cigarettes; Frankie’s. Matches from an old jazzy gentleman’s club; Rudy’s. Hair ties; yours. Where’s the fuckin’ cake cutter?!

The music from the jukebox was more faded in the kitchen. The serving window, professionally called the pass, was just big enough to see faces and hand plates through from the kitchen to the front.

You made a face when you found the cake server inside a large pot-- how, no, why? Jesus Christ. Fucking idiots.

The swinging door to the kitchen wooshed in before slowly creaking closed, seeing Frankie coming to stand beside you in your peripheral.

You carefully plunged the slicer into the soft sponge of the cake, carving a piece for Carla and setting it on a plate. You reached forward across the counter for another small plate, the short skirt of your uniform revealing the curve of your ass to an overly curious Frankie. You could feel his heat burning through his chest.

“Could you be less obvious?” Your voice held teasing notes, putting another piece of cake on a plate and pushing them away to make space for more.

He had tried this a handful of times with you, and he had yet to be successful besides that one time when you both drunkenly made out at the last December holiday party. You were pretty sure he had been hung up on you ever since. You enjoyed watching him try.

Your eyes flitted over to his, observing his body and facial features.

He looked gross, honestly. The two meals he cooked including Carla’s special before she came in for her shift made his face and neck sweaty and his hands greasy, his apron to match. It was white at one time, a long, long time ago. His stupid red bandana was still tied around his forehead, catching the spare sweat droplets, as the kitchen became unbearably hot in the middle of August.

You probably didn’t look much better. Hair all over the place with makeup you put on in the morning probably half smudged off by now. Your hands were checkered in pen ink, a spare papercut from snagging a receipt from the register. But still decent. He was still decent.

His hand was back in dangerous territory, lingering low on your waist. He didn’t care if anyone saw him. You could feel warmth flooding your body, heat from the heart of his hand burning into your hip. He was admiring your body, slow and appreciative as he cupped the curve of your ass. And then he squeezed.

Your shaky hands barely got the fourth slice you cut onto a small serving plate. The cake cutter clattered onto the metal counter as Frankie shifted his body behind yours, his watchful eyes on the pass. No one was watching, stupid and oblivious. You swallowed a lump down your throat, your small hands clenching the rim of the counter. His hips were flushed against yours. Worst of all was that you really fucking liked it.

“This okay?” You’re flattered he asked after the fact.

You leaned back into his touch, quietly humming on the brink of a little moan. You were a little desperate for touch, maybe you’d be on your period soon. “Mhmm..”.

Frankie was a douchebag, but you two have been flirting back and forth with one another for years like an ongoing tennis match. He was older, he had years on you. Not an obscenely amount, but enough to make people raise an eyebrow. You were surprised he had the balls to actually make a move on you like he was right now.

“Like you in black.” Frankie’s voice was cut down to a murmur, low and all-enveloping. You weren’t sure if he was referring to the black in your waitress uniform or your black panties. Probably the latter.

His fingers brushed past your goosebump-covered ass and slipped between your legs to your clothed pussy. You softly gasped, eyes shifting closed as your hips involuntarily leaned into Frankie’s touch. You didn’t look subtle at all. You looked like you wanted to be touched, manhandled, kissed, fucked…

“Open your eyes, baby girl.” He purred, your chest already heaving. “Act normal.” You forced your eyes open, looking back at him with wide, innocent eyes. Needy pupils connected with his blown-out ones. The back of your head brushed his shoulder, setting it there for just a moment before he looked straight ahead.

Frankie nodded back to the pass, your eyes following his eye line to everyone distractedly dancing and sipping coffee mixed with bourbon on the floor.

You bit down on your lower lip, knuckles cast over in a milky white with the iron grip you held on the metal rim of the counter. Frankie’s body heat had disappeared from your back, and now you felt it cast against the back of your legs. You glanced around, seeing him on his knees behind you with his mouth now latched to the back of your thighs. Oh, fuck. His kisses sponged up higher, towards your heat.

Your eyelashes fluttered, Frankie’s act normal echoing through your hollow head. With distracted hands, you resumed cutting the cake. You probably looked slow and stupid, but feeling his patchy beard hair nestle between the sweet skin of your inner thighs had you in a haze.

Frankie’s big hands reached under your skirt, lining the black panties that sat snugly on your hips with his forefingers. He slowly peeled them down, feeling the material roll as he stopped them to rest halfway down on your thighs.

Your shoulders shuddered as your warm pussy met the slight chill of the outside world, panties adorning a little soaked spot.

“Frankie,” Mm? “Someone’s gonna see.” But you weren’t stopping him. You weren’t telling him to fuck off. You weren’t kicking him right in the gut like you probably could. In fact, you were leaning into him.

“Such a pretty pussy... Can’t stop, baby.”

A helpless whimper left your lips, thighs shaking at his affectionate, warm kisses.

Frankie’s hand swatted at the inside of your right ankle and then the other, hinting for you to spread yourself for him. You pursed your lips and shakily sighed, parting your legs as your sneakers lightly squeaked on the checkered floor. Fuck me, Frankie.

You didn’t know how much longer you could be patient. The waiting was tantric, hypnotizing you into seduction.

Spread for him and dripping, Frankie’s mouth finally attached to your slit. Your knee lightly jerked up and smacked a bus tub filled with dirty dishes, a few eyes on you through the pass as you nervously laughed. “S-Sorry!”

Frankie couldn’t help but let out a warm puff of laughter against your cunt, and you swore your insides were twisting at the sensation.

“Easy pretty girl… Don’t need us gettin’ caught. You want me to stop?” Frankie’s voice was husky, warm palms spreading your thighs, your body lightly bending over to lean on the counter. You tried to look busy with something, stupidly polishing a random fork. With the extra exposure, he had full access to your sex.

“Does it look like I want you to stop?” You finally punched out through air-abducted lungs, anxiously chewing on the skin of your lip. “Frankie.” You said in a hushed warning tone, wanting more and not knowing how to ask nicely for it. But that’s what he liked about you. You weren’t nice.

His lips finally attached properly to your pussy, his devilish tongue lining the center of your cunt and flicking off your clit. Your head dropped, ears ringing at the sensation.

You wondered how good he would feel if he could take his time instead of giving you head quick while all your coworkers were distracted. Maybe he could run his thumb over the front of your panties, trace the seam of your pussy, and feel how soaked you were for him and his attentive fingers. You thought Frankie had always been so down bad for you. He probably dreamed about getting this opportunity. He finally got you when you were just as horny for someone with a pulse. But this wasn’t all the time in the world; this was a slow shift at Tommy’s.

You rut your hips back into Frankie’s face, hot pants fanning fog onto the cool metal of the counter.

Frankie put his mouth where you needed him most, his tongue dedicating a poem to you. He flattened his tongue and licked a wide, wet strip up through your core, taking in all your juices. His tongue lapped at your weeping hole, thighs shaking against his head as you stifled a moan into the counter.

He was good, manipulative, a fucking menace.

Frankie’s tongue made precision flicks against your bundle of nerves, a gasp a bit too loud leaving the kitchen as you whimpered broken fragments of his name.

You weakly looked up, seeing Tina pluck another quarter in the jukebox, cranking the volume to some seventies soul music. Fuck being quiet.

Concealed by the groove of Stevie Wonder singing We Can Work It Out, your moans were hidden by the shake of a tambourine and plucks to an electric guitar.

“Goddammit, Frankie, mmm, so fucking good,” a gasp and a moan followed suit, lazily smirking with your eyes closed. “So fucking… hot.” You murmured.

Frankie’s mouth was a welcome wonder, dedicated to making you cum. He was swirling his tongue around your clit, weakly flattening your front over the counter again and pressing your cheek against the cool metal. Don’t be a douche right now, Francisco Morales. Make me fuckin’ cum.

The kitchen door swiftly swung open, and your body flew up to stand straight as Carla waited in the doorway.

“What’s taking you so long to cut my cake, baby? I know that bitch is stale as hell, but that don’t mean I don’t want it.”

Your eyes were wide, lips parted in an attempt to speak, but Frankie’s movements didn’t cease despite Carla’s unexpected intrusion. You bit back a whimper as he lined his tongue just barely into the tight entrance of your walls, his greedy fingers piercing into the flesh of your thighs to keep you spread. Thank god the counter covered your waist down.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll be out in a sec.”

Carla looked you up and down, curious but ultimately not giving a damn. You could feel Frankie’s dirty smirk against your thighs.

“Alright... Hurry up. I’m tryna get my dessert.”

And with that, the door swished closed, and your back slumped at the relief.

Frankie’s unexpected voice made you jump lightly, his words echoing against you. “Gotta make ya finish fast, princess. Want my dessert, too.”

You whimpered but willed yourself to stand up straight and turn around to face him. He looked like a mess. Lust-filled black eyes and a cocky smirk to match. Your juices glistened on his lips and chin. Frankie would be incredibly hot if he knew how to keep his mouth shut.

“Taste as good as you look, princess.” Frankie stood up, tall and broad body making a white hot spot form in your stomach. Fuck, you couldn’t do this right now. Not right here.

He could tell. He took a few cautious steps away, you watched him carefully like a rattlesnake. He knew when not to push you and when to let you make the decisions. He also knew how to give you orders when you were too pussy fucked to think straight.

“Serve that cake and meet me out back.” He was looking over you, enjoying the few times you looked totally fucked like you did right now. He stepped back into your space and pulled your panties back into place, a sobby whimper leaving your lips as he gently cupped your aching mound with a smirk. “So fuckin’ needy, huh?”

“Fuck off.” You mumbled, fixing the bottom half of your uniform.

You watch as Frankie grabs the beer bottle you all used as a makeshift door prop and his half-carton of cigarettes you had brought out of a drawer in an attempt to find the cake cutter. He disappears out back into the alley. Shit, the cake.

You hurriedly sliced the remainder of the cake, placing a few stray candles into the slices. You lit them once you greeted the group waiting on the floor, singing a shitty rendition of Happy Birthday. Paul lights his cigarette from one of the candles, puffing smoke across the frosting.

The crowd hastily grabbed one of the small plates and a fork. Most of you only tried a bite or two. The cake had been in the display case for far too long.

---

Anxious and impatient, you slip into the back with everyone’s dirty dishes and sneak back into the kitchen. You do nothing more with them than chuck them into the sink for Lou to wash up at some point or another. Your eyes stare at the beer bottle keeping the back kitchen door ajar. You take in a deep breath, leaving a shaky sigh before following Frankie out into the alley.

The air was warm, a welcome breeze passing over you. The alley was everyone’s hideaway, littered with crushed beer and soda cans, two large garbage dumpsters, and a large one for recycling. You could see the highway in the distance. The sun was setting, and the sky was turning purple and blue. You’d watch those cars drive right past your little town, paying no mind, probably off going to somewhere bigger and better. The only people from the highway who stopped to visit Tommy’s were people who didn’t know any better.

A flick of a lighter crackled, dividing your attention. Frankie was smoking his cigarette, his back leaning against the brick wall of the diner. He was trying not to smirk. Seeing you out here was way too much power for him. He took a drag, the end of his cigarette lighting up in a glowing orange haze before he pulled it from his mouth. The smoke he exhaled was taken by the breeze.

“Happy to see me?” His goading tone asked.

“No.” A challenge. A pause.

“So, you want me to go back inside?”

“No.” Another beat. A step closer to him, arms crossed. He’s smart enough to let his cigarette land on the ground.

“So, you want me to stay out here?”

Silence. Staring. Gauging each other’s reactions. Your tight jaw meets his cocky smirk. Too stubborn to ask meeting too stubborn to give without begging. Fuck.

Maybe it’s because you’re both desperate. Maybe because Frankie knows you. Knows you’re too stubborn to ask for him to fulfill your needs. Your inaction meets his unwillingness to waste another moment that he could be inside of you.

Stomping on his cigarette before closing the distance between you two, he envelopes you in a kiss that robs you of your breath. He tastes musky and bitter. The smoke that recently captured his lungs was hot on your lips.

Your heart was beating with excitement, happy to lose control for a moment as Frankie walked you blindly backward into the brick wall. Ouch.

Your tongues danced in a rhythmic motion, seducing you into letting him take the power as the kiss deepened. The flavor was subtle but distinct. The Marlboro’s held an acrid undertone, an unexpected layer of the kiss you sort of liked. If he tasted like spearmint gum, it might have turned you off.

It was like you were his cigarette now, breathing you in and clinging to you in addiction. It was his bad habit, but who were you to judge. You had a closet full of skeletons you weren’t open to anyone seeing. Maybe this was one of his.

His hands were a welcome guest, feeling his warm palms explore a body he had probably fantasized about.

“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle.

You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him. “Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.

Frankie guided you further from the backdoor, hearing voices enter the kitchen. Probably Paul and Lou to start working on closing chores. He took you behind the dumpsters and hiked up your dress. You decided to be useful and push your panties down. He rounded up the material that was tying you up at your ankles and shoved them into his pocket. You were not letting him keep those.

You pushed his apron aside, fingers fussing over his belt buckle. He watched, amused, unwilling to help. He liked seeing you so desperate for his cock. Unbuttoned. Unzippered. Black boxer trim peaking out now. You made slight eye contact with him before you shoved his pants and boxers down to his thighs. Your heart clenches at how girthy he was. Fuckkk, this was gonna feel good.

He didn’t take his apron off, merely shoved it to the side as it haphazardly swayed on his hip. He closed the distance between you again, a greedy kiss, a kiss to mark you with. You pulled away to spit into your hand, taking him by his base and squeezing.

Frankie’s eyes shuddered closed, his head dropping as you took his manhood in the small of your hand. He was.. more than a handful. He was so meaty, not even able to wrap your fist fully around him.

You purred out a little moan as you worked your hand over him, feeling him grow heavy in your hand as you lubed up his tip, slowly circling your thumb teasingly around the pulsing head.

“Enough.” He muttered. He didn’t like you toying with him.

Frankie hiked up your leg by the underside of your calf, hooking around his hip as you leaned your back against the cold brick wall. It wasn’t comfy, but when you fuck against a run-down diner, you don’t get many options.

Your chest shuddered as you felt his cock heavy against your folds, erect and brushing up against where you needed him most. He was running his hand up and down himself now. You watched as he put down another line of spit from his mouth to his cock before his knuckles shuffled up and down his shaft a few more times.

The sight made you reel your head back and stare up at the sky. As eager as you are, you’re worried about feeling how thick he is. He knows.

“M’gonna go real slow.” He punches out, setting his forehead down against yours, and you shakily nod. Please don’t fucking split me in two, Frankie Morales. You still have a shift to finish, after all. You’re thankful he at least acknowledges his girth. It’s sort of the elephant in the room.

You both look down at your centers, your dripping one and his angry, pink head meeting in unison. It’s sort of fucked up the way that you’re two horrible people. But you knew horrible people always seemed to find each other.

You wet your lips and bite down. Hard. You weren’t a fresh spring virgin, but this wasn’t any other half-decent dick.

You lay your head back against the wall as Frankie guides himself into your welcoming entrance. Your wetness lubes him up well, but he’s still large.

You clench your eyes close and smile. The pain is always pleasure. “Fuck,” you mutter, your head wanting to come back down and watch.

Frankie’s being gentle, an odd word you’d never describe him as. He’s grunting and impatient, but patient for you. He fills you up to the brim and your head is flooded with clouds. You’re in the sky, lightheaded, but so fucking horny.

His hips meeting yours are a gentle greeting, both of your lips brushing as you shared pants of desperation as well as relief. Your stomach was tight, recoiling with the pressure he was providing to the inside of your walls.

“God-

“Jesus-

“-fucking damn.”

“Christ.”

The two of you moaned in unison.

Your nails are piercing into his shirt, bunching around the tops of his shoulders. You move to grip his apron for some sort of control. There is none.

One of his hands is still supporting your leg wrapped around his hip, the other flattened against the brick wall beside your head. You took solace in his arm, resting your forehead against it weakly.

He was cocky for a reason. His length in inches was his amount of reasons.

“Fuck me.” You finally mustered up enough strength to demand. He shakes his head against yours.

“Give it a minute.” He mutters, barely coherent. You’re scrumptiously tight around him, and you know it. You both do.

“We don’t have a minute.” You feverishly bite back, attempting to shift your hips against his. He retaliates by planting his hips against you, fucking the final few inches of his dick into you as you both fell deeper into the wall.

A hot moan rolled off your tongue, hiding your face away in his forearm and shuddering your eyes closed. Frankie’s hand slipped from your leg, cupping the globe of your ass in his warm hand. He squeezed and it made you smile as he reeled his hips slowly back.

He grumbles something.

“What?” You asked with a dopey grin. He pushes back inside you and wipes the smirk clear off your face.

“I said… you’re so fuckin’ impatient.” His voice was tattered with grunts, your tight little pussy making it hard for him to breath.

Now he was creating a rhythm, fucking you into the wall in steady thrusts. You were already feeling your insides tug eagerly in excitement, the hot pool he had created in your guts simmering to a boil.

“Mhmm, mhm, mhm,” you moaned in silent begs, moans you had to read between the lines to understand. Fuck me, fuck me harder, fuck you feel good, I-I can’t think of anything other than fuck! Fuck me, Frankie!

He filled you up to a brim you had yet to discover you had. His tip tickled your cervix with each snap of his hips. He was getting greedy, a little sloppy. You’d judge him on this short-lived fuck later, for now, it was perfectly timed to get back into work without anyone noticing.

Your eyes widened and met his murky brown ones as he moved the hand he had against the wall nudged between your thighs, circling your clit. It was messy at first, but he found what made you tick and adjusted. Now he was running tight circles around you, and you were finding it hard to stay silent.

“Feel so fuckin’ perfect for me.” He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing motion. You actually wanted to taste him again, so you leaned into it, your tongue lining his mouth and tasting his old cigarette with a moan.

Now he was filling you up, no hesitancy in his hips as he snapped the full extent of his length into your cunt. Your head flew back against the orange and red brick, a fucked moan leaving your mouth. Neither of you cared. Frankie’s face was nuzzled against your jawline and neck, sloppy kisses tasting old perfume as the circles on your clit intensified your impending orgasm.

“F-Fuck, Frankie, shit, I’m gonna-” You gasped and closed your eyes, clutching your arms weakly around his shoulders and holding him to you. His body enveloped you like a shield protecting you from anything in your surroundings.

Your orgasm crashed over you, coursing through your body like a million volts of electricity as you whimpered and moaned into his neck. Your eyes were clamped closed, your walls clenching and fluttering around his sensitive cock.

His moans were heavenly, guttural and deep, a little shaky even as he puffed them into your neck and shoulder. His hips twitched against the inside of your thighs as he came undone inside of you. It felt like he was cumming for days, filling you up with white rope after white rope of his semen and painting your insides with only remnants of him.

You couldn’t think. You just focused on the distant sound of the highway, creating a bustling amount of white noise for you. You gently held his head to keep him close, your shaky hand winding into his hair as the two of you reconciled over your orgasms.

He was the first one to move. He slipped himself from you and gave you a few lazy kisses. Your stomach fluttered before you shook your head.

Stop it, Frankie.

‘M not doin’ anything.

Teasing smiles. Hands softening their holds on each other’s bodies. Fixing hair. Fixing undergarments.

He would have held onto your panties. He probably hoped you forgot about them. You tugged them from his pocket and attempted to slip into them with ease, but you ended up having to use the brick wall as a support to lean into.

You steadied his apron straight, and he pulled the skirt of your uniform down. Teamwork.

You don’t really talk, just clean yourselves up, nod, and dart back inside before anyone can really notice or give a damn that you were missing in action. You kept having to excuse yourself to the bathroom, feeling Frankie still seeping from you. It made your chest hot, an embarrassed smile on your face.

Fuck it. That’s what Plan B is for. Or you can just wait to see if you get your period in a few days time.

---

You and Frankie danced around one another during the closing shift. Carla went home and took the cake in a to-go container to give to her kids. It was shitty that she had to work on her birthday, but she said that getting to see your gorgeous face was a present of its own.

You tiredly yawned, seeing it was a few minutes past ten. You helped Tina even out the cash register, putting today’s earnings in an envelope, then putting it in the safe for Rudy to take to the bank at the end of the week.

“You sure you don’t mind cleaning up on your own?” Tina asked, giving her a tired smile and a soft shrug.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you Wednesday.” Despite her annoying singing, Tina wasn’t that bad. She gave you a big grin before she hopped off the stool and left out the front door. Lou and Paul had already left at the start of closing. You didn’t know if Frankie snuck out the back early.

You did a double take to the jukebox, watching Frankie flip his baseball hat backward and push a quarter into the machine. Your face softened, seeing him flip between the different records before landing on one.

Something by Fleetwood Mac started playing. You watched him reach up and untack your banner from the wall easily. You nodded softly before grabbing the spray bottle filled with disinfectant and began wiping down the counters, seats, and tables.

He walked up to you once you finished cleaning, handing you your folded-up banner. You twisted your lips in thought, rolling the banner around in your hands.

“Wanna help me burn this in the burn barrel out back?”

Frankie sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Yeah. Fuck it. Got nothin’ better to do.”

---

With Frankie’s lighter, both of you watched with glassy eyes as the Happy Birthday! banner burnt to ashes. His face was lit up in orange and yellow hues. He haphazardly tried to lean into the flames with a cigarette dangling between his lips, a stupid laugh leaving you. He shrugged and put the cigarette behind his ear.

“Fuck it.” He huffed, both of your eyes transfixed on the fading flames.

There was a beat of silence.

Frankie’s eyes met yours. “We should do that again sometime.”

Half of your mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Do what?”

He cocked his head to the side in annoyance. “You know what.”

You shrugged and shoved your hands into your jacket pockets. The hum of the highway in the distance made you flashback to just a few hours ago with Frankie railing you against Tumbleweed. A black and purple-streaked night sky submerged the two of you, making you feel tiny. You sigh and shift on your feet, keeping your eyes on the flames that licked up the ay! in Birthday!

“Maybe.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Maybe?”

“Mhm.”

Frankie teetered on your half-ass decision. Even the notion of having an open door left for him to sneak in was enough to make him happy. “Okay. I’ll take a maybe.”

God, you were bluffing so hard. Maybe it wouldn’t be sooo bad to throw him a bone every once in a while.

Your fantasizing was cut short as ashes of the banner spewed up from the depths of the barrel and fluttered up into the air between you and Frankie, both of you taking a preemptive step away.

His lighter clicked again; he had to do it a few times before the end of his cigarette caught a flame. “I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmured. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was trying to walk you to your car, wanting to leave, but not until you started heading home, too.

He swung his body into the driver seat of his beaten-up pickup truck. You decided to follow suit, sliding into your car. You saw Tommy’s fade away from the rearview mirror in the distance. But the thoughts of Frankie between your legs, fucking you into oblivion, and begging to serve your aching center would sit with you until your next shift at Tumbleweed. Sorry. Tommy’s Diner.

---

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