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kisses4reid · 2 months

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convenient pt.3 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 | pt.2 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - spencer likes the girl from the convenience store

warnings - awkward conversations and long silences, both of them being hopeless romantics, allergies/sickness

genre - fluff!!! college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

a/n - thank you for the love and support on this series. it goes without saying i appreciate all of you all 🫶 thank u @raevyng for the cameo. sorry this is short, it’s either i upload this part or i make y’all wait for another week - i like you guys too much to do that.

“good job on you’re stem cell report, y/n. it was very informed and unique. i liked the, now who was it… william blake quote you included!” the teacher spoke before a class of 60. it was back to teaching new information before the next assessment, you were just about finished typing the professor’s notes before she spoke up. the mention of your name nearly made you jump.

a few of the students looked back up at you, some looking around because they had no clue who you were. you liked it better that way.

you also had no idea who william blake was.

“oh- um. thanks.” you say barely above a whisper. professor raena simply smiled and pushed back her shoulder length bob from her face. she started talking again, so did your friend.

“thanks? the professor who’s known to call out people for their incompetence more than smile in the classroom just praised you. that’s all you had to say?”

maybe logan wasn’t your friend per say. maybe she was just someone who sat next to you the first class and also happened to be your neighbour. she was stubborn and straight-forward, insanely intelligent and also smelt great. but she was caring, and gave you tough love when you needed it.

you glanced at her and smiled awkwardly, “i didn’t have much time to think about an answer.”

“i spend most of my time thinking about what i’d say to professor raena if she ever complimented me.”

“that’s because your-“ you suddenly muffle a cough into your hand, “obsessed with her.” you bring out a small packet of tissues from your bag and wipe your nose, nose reddening. logan leans slightly away from you and you roll your eyes.

“you’re not going to catch anything, it’s just allergies.” you lean back and try to continue typing notes but logan continues,

“you should go home, have some medicine, get some sleep.”

“i can’t, i’ve got work.” you whispered, a man in front of you turning around to shoot you with a side eye.

“you’ve told me multiple times that your manager wouldn’t care if you stole from the store. i’ve also told you many times i also don’t care.”

“yeah well… i like working there, that’s all.”

she rolls her eyes again, and waves you off, her long brown hair blocking her disappointed expression from you.

you stayed loyal to your job for two nights, for nothing. sure you got paid, and sure you got to steal some strawberry milk to ease your throat for a couple of minutes, but it felt boring. you actually started to file through the month old magazines you sold for double the price of a new one. you almost made it a third day without dying of allergies (and another secret feeling of sickness you constantly ignored), before you decided you were over it.

you stood up, flipped the door sign so the word ‘open’ faced you, and turned off half of the fluorescent lights before someone was suddenly in the corner of your eyes. spencer was opening the door so quickly you thought you were being robbed, you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the bell ringing on his entry.

“y/n.” he panted, watching your fingers hover over the last light switch. there was two lights left flickering softly above the front door and the check out desk. he looked stoic in the light, dressed in a grey sweater a little too big for him (like his mother had bought it for him telling him he’d grow into it) and black slacks. he seemed to have gotten a trim, his hair just under his ears now. “you don’t close until 1.”

he was confused, eyes wandering with a light hint of relief. like he was happy he didn’t miss you.

“yeah.” is all you said before you turned away from the light switch and returned to the register, assuming he would get his usual. but he didn’t keep walking, he just turned his body to face you. his eyes were expectant, delirious in a way like he needed something from you.

it was silent before the tension literally forced you to speak, “um. i need to close the store before i pass out. so i can uh… get home alive.” you look down and realise the pile of tissues before you was making a mountain, quickly grabbing them and stuffing them in an over filled bin.

“um.” a cat caught his tongue, he looked down to his feet.

spencer was sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his government provided computer through forums and websites on ‘how to ask out a girl.’ not realising a majority of his team was reading them as well. he heard a small, familiar giggle behind him, quickly closing the tab and turning his head to be met with many other faces. jj slapped garcia on the shoulder with a smile, who’s hand was over her mouth, morgan and emily also smiling. spencer sighed and was about to cover for himself before morgan stepped in,

“look, pretty boy. no websites or article is ever going to teach you how to ask out a girl. they know nothing.”

emily joined, “yeah, none of those things are going to work. i mean, one of those said ‘don’t take no for an answer’. that’s straight up harassment.” she chuckled. morgan walked forward and placed a hand on spencer’s shoulder.

“all you have to do is talk. learn to what she likes, and be confident.”

“that’s easy for you to say.” spencer mumbled.

“who is this girl anyways? who’s taking our genius away from us?” garcia asked, today her hair was adorned with green themed pieces and a small pink flower clip.

spencer couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth perk up when he thought about the girl who worked at the convenience store. the girl who’s report honestly impressed him. the girl who knew his total without looking at the register. the girl who called him good looking without noticing, like it slipped off of her tongue with no second thought. “just someone.”

you were not just someone.

“yeah you should get home. you look terrible.” spencer’s eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, “no i mean- not terrible- you never look or have ever looked terrible- i just meant today- no you- like you’re sick and obviously- i mean you don’t obviously look terrible- it’s just uh…” he nodded at himself after he noticed a smile creeping onto your face. “you know what i mean.”

“i know i look terrible, thank you.” he was slowly walking up to the register.

“you really should go home, i shouldn’t keep you here because of some coffee.”

you eyes stung and were puffed in redness, you nose dried yet running, eyebrow lines permanent from warding off a migraine. any other customer you would stay for, but you felt less guilty with him. not because you didn’t care, because you knew he did.

“yeah, thank you.” you grabbed your bag, put your empty water bottle into it and walked over to the lights, turning off the last ones, leaving you both in darkness. spencer was waiting for you, quite creepily as he was basically just a block of void. “you sure you don’t need your 3 minute lasagne?” you joked, and he smiled.

“no, this is fine.”

this? them? you thought this man was articulate.

you opened the door with a key-accessed button that automatically locked it after it closed, and walked into the warm streetlight with spencer.

“bye spencer.” you looked up to him only to find his eyes already on you. his face was plain of emotion, except maybe it was just the lighting that made you think he looked disappointed. not at you, at himself. he was silent, hands making their way into his pockets. it was a habit, you had learned. “what’s wrong spencer?” you asked softly, sniffling immediately after.

it was cold, the wind let a stray piece of hair cross your stuffy features.

“do you like old bookstores, y/n?”

you blinked, taken aback. “yeah. i like old bookstores.” you huddled into your sweater, a darker grey compared to his with a large font displaying your university.

“okay, goodbye y/n. see you tomorrow.” he hurried off into his car and you followed him with you eyes in curiosity.

you were already walking away before he could turn around and ask you something, he felt like he had missed his chance. but there would be more. spencer closed his eyes in frustration and took a breath, starting his car before texting the team’s group chat.

“Attempt One failed. 😐👎”

there was a string of messages after but he didn’t read them. all he could think about was the percentage of people who die alone, and then the percentage of people who are like you.

the next night he appeared at the normal time, around nearly 11pm. but he wasn’t the only one, logan was there with you, studying behind you on the floor.

she was bored, and needed to get out of her room, and the only person she knew well enough was you. there in her mens pyjama pants and an over-sized shirt that read ‘RIP Princess Diana’ with a photo of owen wilson on it, her computer warmed her lap and made a soft whirling sound the in the background.

“hi y/n.” spencer waved, he felt bad about last night. you were barely walking straight when you left and he could tell you wouldn’t get out of your ‘work clothes’ (whatever you wanted to wear with a vest over it) before falling onto your mattress, and he drove away. he didn’t even offer to take and walk you home, let alone give you a ride. but his hands were sweating and his heart thumping in his ears, and he couldn’t think straight.

“oh, hi spencer.” you turned from your own textbook splayed on the counter beside you to see spencer and his tall self. a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him.

he wasn’t meeting you eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before telling him his total with a sniffle.

“i’m sorry for not driving you home,” he lifted his head, a piece of chocolate brown hair crossing his left eye, “or walking you home. or making sure you made it home safe.”

you widened your eyes slightly and sat still before spencer cleared his throat and continued, “i was nervous, about being around you. and my friends- my colleagues- told me i need to be more confident around you so.”

logan had stopped writing, glancing through her bangs up at you both. your mouth was slightly agape before you realised how stupid you looked and how awkward you were making it.

“oh- no it’s okay spencer, you don’t have to say sorry. i was- i’m fine. um,” you tilt your head with the corner of your lips quirking up with little resistance, “you talk about me to your friends?”

spencer nodded, put his hands in his pockets and thought for a second. he wished there was a better place to do this, a better person to take over for him.

all you have to do is talk.

spencer is great at talking.

“did you know that you could be scrolling for seven weeks before you can reach the end of ‘how to ask a girl out’ results on google? i was scrolling for a long time but then my friends told me to just talk and be confident, but i’m only good at one of those thing. so i was trying to ask you out last night but then i- well i failed basically, it isn’t my strong suit,” he took a breath, “so basically i’m saying sorry for not asking you out and not driving you home.”

it was silent, even a customer stopped humming.

“and also your allergy medication isn’t strong enough for your symptoms.” he glanced down to a white and blue box by your hand. you looked down, seeing logan in the corner of your eyes, hand covering her face.

“spencer-“

“dude just ask her out.”

spencer’s face dropped, and he looked over the counter to find another woman sat down, a cringed out expression on her face. his nervousness increased after he realised this wasn’t as private a conversation as he thought. wiping his hand on his vest, he continue with a gulp,

“no i can’t. not here, um. i’ll see you on monday. and i promise i’ll uh- be better? i’ll try again, so. okay see you on monday.” he quickly took his groceries and walked off quite speedily. you watched him walk away and then once he was out of sight, you simply stared at the box of allergy medication on the counter.

logan groaned in the background and said something about growing balls, but it was tv silence for you.

you didn’t know how to go out with someone, your last relationship was in your first year of high school with a guy who thought baby’s came out of a woman’s bum. not that spencer meant he wanted a relationship, no it could just be a friend ‘going out’. totally not romantic.

you slump and stuff your face in your hands. you didn’t care if you hadn’t dated for however long, he didn’t seem to be a man-whore at all. you just cared about how you were actually going to say yes to a man you’ve only talked to inside of an off-brand convenience store on the night shift.

you muffle a scream before the same silent customer placed a carton of milk on the counter.

“$2.50.” you grumble.

you carried logan’s computer bag as she took out a box of strawberry pocky on the sidewalk. the store was locked, the air was crisp, the light was flickering. you didn’t say much until logan couldn’t stand it anymore.

“you know when you’re this silent it’s actually pretty nice, i like peaceful walks home.” you nodded, and continued your racing thoughts with your line of vision stuck on the concrete as you both walked the block to your apartments. she sighed, “but it’s odd. you love talking. a guy likes you and you go mute?”

“his name is spencer, he does something dangerous for a living, he likes old books and drinks a lot of coffee. he gets home late at night, looks skinny but can lift a box of flour above his head with ease. he’s insanely smart and reads poetry, and helped me with my stem cell report.”

you look over at logan who looks a little disgusted but mainly confused.

“he helped me lift that box of flour without me asking. i have no idea who william blake is. i have no idea how he managed to put poetry in a biology report, and i have no idea how he can admit he’s going to ask me out and then not ask me out. his favourite colour is purple, his favourite fruit is grapes but he buys apples because they’re cheaper. and his name is… spencer.”

logan stopped in her tracks, making you copy. you flung out of whatever trance you were stuck in and raised an eyebrow at logan, “what?”

“what? oh no i don’t know, maybe you’ve just never told me about a man you happen to know a lot about, and yet don’t know anything about. you sound insane- not in the ‘loony-bin way’, in the romcom way. it’s disgusting.”

you both continued to walk, climbing the stairs to the foyer of your building before she took back her bag and gave you the pocky, mumbling, “you need these more than me.”

the elevator ride was mostly silent, and that continued before you both unlocked your apartment doors right beside each other.

“you need to ask him out, if he doesn’t do it first.” she entered her apartment before you could speak, let alone think.

suddenly your apartment felt lonely.

so did spencer’s.

he was cross legged on his plush couch on a call with penelope garcia, she was squealing every second minute trying to create a plan for spencer to ask someone out.

“spence, you’re making this very hard. how am i supposed to be your coach if i only have half a team?”

“you can find someone’s address with half a fingerprint, i think you’ll be fine.” he takes a bite of his 2 minute bolognese.

“that takes the fun out of it. i can only give you tips if i know her personality.”

spencer sighed, and thought for a second, he could practically hear penelope’s growing smile knowing she had won.

“her names y/n.” garcia squealed. “she’s smart and pretty. and her favourite colour’s purple and she studies biology. she knows my groceries off my heart and she’s allergic to pollen. she works late at night at the convenience store two blocks away from my apartment building, and she likes old book stores. she’ll be introverted around an extroverted person, but extroverted around an introverted person. she can read my expressions faster than anyone else, she tries out different hairstyles when nobody’s in the store, and she’s funny.” spencer smiles to himself, “she’s pretty.”

“you mentioned that, lover boy.”

pt.4

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid series

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bucksboobs · 20 days

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On their way to a fire, Buck opens his big mouth and says something very stupid. Not an unusual occurrence but this one is unique: “Hey, Hen? Can I ask you a gay people question?”

Hen side-eyes him. “Are you sure now’s the best time?” The engine shakes on its suspension.

Buck blusters forward. “So Tommy and I have been dating a month and a half now.” The mention of Tommy grabs both Chim and Eddie’s attention.

“Wait, really?” Chim asks, Hen’s not sure if he thought it was shorter or longer than that. His memory of time seems to be the worst hit by the encephalitis.

“2 months next Thursday.” Eddie says.

“Y-yeah… that’s right.” Buck raises his eyebrows at Eddie. The rest all stare, Hen included. Those two have always been locked at the hip but knowing each other’s anniversaries seems excessive. Buck seems to agree.

“How do you know that?” She asks.

“Their first date was the same day I asked Marisol to move in with me.”

“When did Marisol move in with you?” Hen and Chimney ask in unison. Last she heard about Marisol she had only just met Chris, moving in seemed a long way off for them. Since when was she living with him?

“She didn’t” Bobby answers, giving his sternest glare to the rear view mirror. Hen knows this means she’s in charge of keeping these fools in check so he can focus on driving.

“Yeah we decided against that. Anyway Buck you were talking about Tommy?” Hen stifles a laugh. There was a story there she was going to have to wring out of Bobby because Eddie’s deflection abilities are legendary.

“Yeah so- um- ho-how long before we can uh…”Hen cocks her head. What exactly is Buck after with Tommy right now, they’re not nearly to the point of I love yous and she doesn’t think Buck would be this nervous about dating advice. “I mean how long did you and Karen wait until you, uh” Oh.

“Had sex?” Hen asks bluntly.

“Whoa, you and Tommy haven’t had sex yet?” Chimney asks, astonished.

“Buck when’s the last time you waited this long with anyone?” Eddie asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Never? Maybe high school?” That tracks.

“Or Abby.” Chim offers. Buck winces at that. She knows that woman did him dirty, looks like the scar still aches.

“Six minutes to ETA.” Comes from the drivers seat. “5 and a half…” Bobby takes a sharp turn that shakes the whole truck. “5 minutes.”

“So how do I ask him to fuck me.”

A chorus of “BUCK!” rings through the truck. Eddie looks petrified at the idea of his best friends having sex with each other, Chim looks exhausted with his brother-in-law of barely a month and look, Hen would give the world to see this kid happy but sometimes he’s just too stupid for his own good.

“Buck. I think you need to remember Tommy doesn’t have a lot of experience in this area either.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Did you forget he’s only been out as long as you’ve been at the 118?” Hen learned that about Tommy from Buck’s gushing the day after the wedding. She’d also talked to him in a fluorescent lit waiting room after the most gorgeous hospital ceremony she’s ever been a part of, so she’s aware that he’s not used to being with men that want more than just sex from him. “He might think you’re just as nervous as he is.”

“I didn’t know he got nervous.”

Chim huffs at that. “Next time you see him ask him to tell you a story about a rooster.” That makes Hen smile.

“He probably won’t believe you’re ready until you can talk to him about it.”

“I don’t— I-it usually just kind of happens. You get a look, there’s a nod, they look at your lips and lean in…”

“Yeah but that was women who knew what they wanted and what you wanted. Tommy won’t know unless you tell him what you’re ready for.”

“So to get him to fuck me I have to tell him to fuck me?”

“Jesus, Buck. Yes.” Hen laughs. They are, thankfully, finally pulling to site so she doesn’t have to enumerate exactly how he needs to ask. If she did she’d have to explain birds and bees that she is not the best person to explain.

“Come on, kids, let’s save some lives.” Bobby calls as he pulls the parking break.

The fire looks pretty bad, two story house, they’ll have to split up by floor. As they gear up Buck says, privately, off-mic. “Thanks Hen, you’re a good Gay Yoda”

“Do him or do not, there is no try.”

#Henrietta Wilson #Evan Buckley #BuckTommy #little ficlet of the wlw/mlm solidarity that I couldn’t get out of my head #I tried Hen PoV let me know what you think!!!

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stevesjockstrap · 8 months

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@stcreators event 01: favorite

Ahoy Captain

“Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie stopped walking so sharply that Gareth ran into his back. He did a double take and his jaw was on the floor.

“What the fu-“ But Gareth followed his gaze and his jaw also dropped. “Is that?”

Jeff came to stand next to them, eyebrows raised. “…Steve Harrington in a sailor outfit?”

“That’s the Steve Harrington you won’t shut up about?” Drew said, especially loud in the crowded mall.

“Shut up!” He turned to hiss at him before rounding back to stare across the hall. “Did I die and go to heaven? Pinch me.” He pulled the sleeve of his leather jacket up and offered his arm to Gareth. He pinched his forearm roughly, without looking down. All of their eyes were locked on the figure in the brightly colored ice cream shop, now coming around the counter to crouch down to hand a cone to a small child. Doing so making the tiny shorts ride up his thighs, but Eddie’s eyes were suddenly drawn to where his v-neck hung open, getting a glimpse of chest hair.

“Buh,” he turned to Gareth to announce.

“Yo, we have to go in there. This is like once in a lifetime shit.”

Eddie adamantly shook his head and started backing away but Gareth and the guys shared a look before suddenly grabbing him under the arms to escort him awkwardly through the mall thoroughfare.

“Oh no. Oh no.” He chanted under his breath.

Back behind the counter now, Steve greeted them as they bodily pushed him into the store. “Welcome, fellas! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain!”

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed. It’s so much worse, being this close. Steve’s eyes shine under the terrible fluorescent lighting and he can see the muscles in his arms flex as he leans onto the counter.

“If you need any help let me know. The flavor of the week is triple decker extravaganza!”

Eddie’s brain had stopped working. His arms were dropped as his friends went further up to the counter to look at the ice cream options. He continued staring stupidly at Steve as he leaned a hip against the back counter.

“You guys check out the new record store yet?” Steve Harrington was actually making decent conversation with them. What universe did he teleport to this morning?

“No, not yet,” Gareth answered. “That’s where we were heading actually, when uh-“ he awkwardly turned around to make eye contact with Eddie, still a few feet behind them and drawing Steve’s attention over to him.

“You don’t want anything?” Steve asked him. Oh he wanted something. Wanted to drop to his knees in front of him. Or the other way around. He wouldn’t mind either way. He would’ve done anything to have Steve’s undivided attention on him and now that he had it he was blanking on English. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. He finally forced his body forward, tearing his eyes away from Steve to send a panicked look at Gareth. He just smirked, the absolute asshole.

Steve frowned at him and he wanted to melt into the floor. “If you’re not a fan of ice cream we have cookies, too.”

Steve being so sweet to him finally rattled some brain cells loose. “Oh, um, no, that’s-“

Jeff chuckled from the other side of Gareth. “Eddie here loves ice cream. That’s why we had to stop in. Isn’t that right, guys?” The rest of his band laughed obnoxiously and nodded. Steve looked at all of them confused, but still with an easy smile when he turned back to Eddie.

“What’s your favorite?”

“Um, huh?” Eddie blinked at him. He watched as Steve pulled his bottom lip in to bite it, probably trying to figure out what was happening with him and the guys. Eddie’s gut clenched. He hoped he didn’t think he was doing anything wrong or they were making fun of him.

“Your favorite ice cream? We can talk about any of your other favorites after we get that out of the way,” he grinned at him and Eddie had to grab the counter in front of him when his knees threatened to give out.

“Rocky road?”

“Perfect. Coming right up! Cup or cone? Or waffle bowl? It’s like a big cone in a cup?”

“Cone please?”

Once he wasn’t under the heavy gaze of gorgeous brown eyes, he turned to his friends for help. But Drew just snickered at him and Jeff sent him a thumbs up. Dicks.

Steve handed him his cone and their fingers brushed. He dumped all the change he had into the tip jar and Steve fucking winked at him. The guys ordered their ice creams suspiciously easily, but Steve kept coming back to Eddie’s side of the counter. He tried hard not to hold eye contact with him as he licked across his ice cream.

“So was it worth it?”

“Wh-what?” He stammered.

“Coming in, for the ice cream?”

“Definitely. The ice cream is… great.” He looked around and realized his friends had gone to sit in the furthest booth by the door. Steve had only been sweet and amazing to him and he couldn’t leave without at least having a somewhat competent conversation. “But I- I really came in to see you.”

“Me?” Steve leaned further across the counter towards him. He turned those big brown eyes up at him and Eddie wasn’t sure if he could get any other words out.

“Couldn’t walk away from you in this getup.” His hand moved on his own accord to reach out and tug on the red tie in the middle of his chest.

“Oh,” he huffed. “Yeah. I wish I would’ve known before I agreed to work here. Not that I had any better offers.”

Eddie’s fingers itched to run along the blush that appeared across his cheeks.

“No, no, it’s- I mean, I like it.” He winced as it came out, but his eyes shot open when Steve chuckled. “Really. I really like it.” He cleared his throat because that couldn’t have been his voice. It was deep and gravely and sounded way too fucking hot to have come out of his mouth.

Steve’s wide eyes tracked his tongue as it came out to wet his lips. Fuck.

“Oh.”

Eddie leaned a bit closer, drawing on this unknown confidence that came from Steve Harrington hanging on his every word. “So what time do you get off, Captain?”

This was a benedryl-fueled thought but Scoops!uniform Steve was the only thing my brain wanted to give me for “favorite.”

@lighthousebeams

#mine #steddie #steve Harrington #Eddie munson #scoops ahoy outfit #stranger things #stranger things fic #event fic

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bruisedboys · 1 year

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underneath kitchen lights — james potter x reader

summary — james has a crush on you, lily’s shy and unbelievably sweet coworker. you nurse a crush of your own. (based on all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine!)

or .. you got a slurpee for free, I caught you looking at me, in the 7/11 under fluorescent lights. I spilled mac and cheese on my pants, and thought about kissing you underneath kitchen lights!

contains — shy!fem!reader, florist!reader, strangers-ish to friends to lovers, rugby player!james, modern au, flirting, mutual pining, fluff, james being a total sweetheart, sirius being a twat and a good friend, wolfstar because I couldn’t resist, kissing, lovesick!james, idiots in love tbh, and ummm lots of references to all my ghosts!!

notes — um I am very nervous to post this. but also please don’t let it flop.

fem!reader 8k words

James has an embarrassingly big crush on you. For someone he’s only met twice now, you’re very good at getting stuck in his head. It’s hardly his fault — you’re lovely. You always smell like flowers (which is kind of a given, he supposes. You work with Lily at Harriet’s, the florist’s down the road). You’re very pretty. You’re quiet and a bit shy but you’ve spoken enough that James at least knows you’re polite and friendly.

He’s talked to you a grand total of one time. You’d exchanged a few words and James had been very very quick to fall in love with everything about you. Your hands as you wrung them in front of you — a shy tell, he’d guessed. Your voice, pretty and soft, and how it’d sounded when you said his name. The way you dressed, your hair, the quirk in your mouth when he’d made a joke, the hitch in your breath when he’d shook your hand. He was a goner the second he’d met you.

“Prongs,” drawls Sirius, followed by a hard punch in the bicep. “You know you’re not as subtle as you think.”

James scowls in the general direction of Sirius’ voice. He’d been staring at you, he’s sorry to admit. You’re talking to Lily and you’re smiling about something she’s said and you just look so pretty.

He badly wants to talk to you properly, he has ever since the first time Lily bought you around to a party like this one, but he’s scared of embarrassing himself. He’s not exactly the best flirter when it comes to girls he actually likes. His tongue gets all tied and he can’t say two words without ultimately embarrassing himself. He’s not as much of a charmer as everyone thinks he is. He’s also scared you won’t like him, but he won’t get into that.

“Shut up,” he advises Sirius, rubbing his sore arm. “I don’t even know what you’re on about.”

Sirius, sprawled on the couch next to James, rolls his eyes and snorts. “Yeah, okay,” he says, all sarcasm. “S’not like you’re burning holes into Y/N’s face or anything.”

For a split second James panics. He whirls around to look at you so fast he almost snaps his neck in half. Have you heard Sirius? Do you think James is a total creep now? No — you’re still engrossed in your conversation with Lily. James breathes a sigh of relief but it’s cut short when he realises Sirius is laughing at him.

“Mate,” he guffaws. “You’re hopeless.”

It’s James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he says dryly.

Sirius grins with all his stupidly perfect teeth. “Y’welcome.”

James sighs and scrubs a heavy hand down his face. Maybe he is as hopeless as Sirius thinks. He’s certainly feeling quite hopeless right now. With you across the room and him sitting here unable to make himself get up and talk to you. As subtle as he can he twists to look over the back of the couch again to see what you’re doing. He’s just in time to see you disappearing into the kitchen by yourself, Lily now talking with the other girls by the ranch slider.

His heart rate spikes. This is his chance.

James is getting to his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He dodges another hearty punch from Sirius, pretends not to hear Lily when she asks him where he’s going, and follows you into the kitchen on clumsy feet like a puppy on a leash.

He stumbles into Lily’s kitchen and there you are. Standing with your head in the fridge, the bright white lights cast over your skin. And there’s a lot of skin to look at. Your shoulders, your upper back. There’s a beauty spot on your back, just next to your shoulder blade. Your dress floats just above the halfway point of your thighs. You’ve got really nice legs. James snaps his eyes back up to your head before he can feel too guilty and clears his throat.

You start and then whirl around, eyes wide as saucers, one hand curled around the fridge door.

“Oh,” you say, breathless. “James. You scared me.”

James is so busy melting over the way you say his name that he almost forgets to speak. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to.”

You shake your head and your big dangly earrings jingle like bells. “No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”

You smile all soft and pretty and James really thinks he might pass out. He steps forward and leans against the kitchen island as casually as he can, when really he’s using it for support lest he keel over.

You’re looking at him like you’re expecting him to say something. He clears his throat again.

“Um,” he starts lamely. He braves through. “I, um— you look really nice tonight. I wanted to tell you earlier but Lily’s been stuck to you like a leech since you got here.”

You blink at him and James worries he’s said the wrong thing. Maybe this was the worst idea he’s ever had. And he’s had a lot of bad ideas. But then you beam.

“Oh,” you say, shocked like you can’t quite believe it. Which should be impossible, really, James thinks. You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to believe it. “Thank you, James.”

James smiles back. Your shyness at being complimented only fuels him. “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell Lily I called her a leech.” At this, you giggle, and James stammers through his next words, dazed from your laugh. “So, uh— are you looking for a drink?”

He gestures to the fridge, which you seem to have forgotten about, the door hanging wide open under your grip.

“What? Oh,” you say sheepishly, and suddenly you’re embarrassed and staring at your shoes. “No, I’m…” You lift your head and blink at him under your lashes. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

James is perplexed, but he’s not gonna laugh at you if you don’t want him to. He licks his dry lips. “Yeah, I promise.”

You smile, then dip your head towards him like you’re sharing secrets. “I was cooling off,” you admit, sheepish. “It got too hot in the living room and Lily’s patio has mosquitos.” You hardly give him time to reply before you’re cringing, saying, “It’s weird, right?” Like you know he’s gonna think it’s strange.

He doesn’t think it’s strange. Well, maybe a little. But he’s been found in worse positions at parties. You look so embarrassed about it James is almost sorry he asked. Almost, because embarrassed you is adorable. You lean back and scrub your neck awkwardly, bracelets clanking on your wrist.

“No, I know,” he groans sympathetically, nodding vehemently. “Lily really needs a mosquito net or something, so we can open the damn door without getting eaten alive. Can I join you?”

You look baffled for a moment, and then shy all over again.

“You want to join me while I stick my head in the fridge?” You ask, an amusement to your tone that James adores.

James shrugs. “Why not?”

You smile outright then. “Okay,” you say, stepping aside so there’s more room in front of the fridge for him. “C’mon, then.”

James practically skips over to you. The moment he steps into your space he can smell your lovely scent. Flowery and sweet, something floral like hyacinth mixed with something sweet like honey. It’s intoxicating. He feels like he could drown in it. But there’s no time for drowning, not when your hand wraps around his elbow and pulls him into your side, your feet shuffling to accommodate him.

“Move closer,” you urge shyly. “You gotta get the full experience.”

James moves closer. So close his arm brushes yours and he could hold your hand if he wanted to. He very much wants to. He imagines your skin is as soft as it looks.

The coldness of the refrigerator washes over him and it’s actually really nice. Even though he can be a total party animal sometimes, he understands why you would be here instead of in there. It’s quiet in here. Nice and cool. No lingering scent of heavy wine. No Sirius to tease him and no Marlene to badger him with questions about his love life.

“This is nice,” he says quietly, over the gentle buzz of the fridge.

You giggle softly. James thinks he’d like to make you laugh a million times over. “Isn’t it?”

“Mm,” James hums. “I should do this at parties more often.”

You laugh again, delighted at his joking. “You should. Then I wouldn’t be so lonely when I escape to the kitchen.”

James laughs too. He can’t quite believe his luck right now, squished in front of Lily’s refrigerator with you, elbow to elbow, the rest of his friends and the party long forgotten.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he says, smiling big.

The next time James sees you, it doesn’t go quite as well as previously. To put it simply, it’s a disaster.

First of all, he’s late. Remus and Sirius are having a housewarming party at their new place and he’s had training all day so he’d forgotten all about it. It’s not until 9:30, an hour after the party was supposed to start, that he’s climbing in his car after training and his phone buzzes.

He picks it up, exhausted, expecting one of his teammates. Instead it’s a string of messages from Remus.

You’re late James!!!!

We started without u. Where r u????

Sirius is gonna wring ur neck

James scrolls through the messages with a mixture of confusion and dread. Confusion because at first he has absolutely no idea what Remus is talking about. Dread when he realises.

He speeds all the way home, showers at lightning speed, pulls on a rumpled shirt and a pair of jeans that he’s sure aren’t clean, and he’s out the door within ten minutes of getting home. Still, by the time he gets to Sirius and Remus’ place it’s almost 10. His hair looks a mess but it’ll have to do. He doesn’t even think about the fact that you could possibly be there. That is, until he’s finished apologising profusely to his friends and Sirius mentions you. James perks up from where he’d been slumping on the couch, feeling exhausted and sorry for himself.

“What?” He asks, too loud. He tries to tamp it down but honestly, it doesn’t really work. He’s still buzzing with nervous energy when he asks, “Is she here?”

Sirius grins, looking uncharacteristically cat-like. “Uh— yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. His stupid grin only grows and James thinks he’d quite like to punch his teeth out. “She came with Lily. Moons thought we should invite her. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

James knows he’s teasing but can’t quite bring himself to care — the prospect of seeing you has demolished all other feelings of pathetic-ness. He leaps off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, guessing that’s where you’ll be, a barely touched drink in his hand and Sirius’ teasing following him all the way. He’s so busy fixing his shirt before he sees you that he doesn’t see you. He walks right into you on the threshold of the kitchen.

“James!” You gasp, stopping short.

James’ drink, to his horror, has spilt all down your front. His glass, previously full, is now half empty, the rest of it splattered all over your white top.

You barely have time to be surprised before he’s apologising.

“Shit,” he curses, mind blanking. His hands go to fix the damage before he realises he probably shouldn’t touch your chest, where his drink is now seeping into your top and showing no signs of stopping. He pulls his hands back lamely. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N. Oh gosh. I’m so dumb, I—“

Your rush to forgive him is almost as quick as his apology. “No!” You shake your head and it’s awfully cute despite the situation. “No, it’s okay, James. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

James grimaces. He tries not to look at the dark red stain that looks like blood on your white blouse. It is quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve spilt on you.

“It’s okay,” you say again, softer, reassuring, probably clocking the pathetic look on his face.

“Don’t, angel,” James says, shaking his head. “S’my fault.” He grabs your elbow gently and starts to pull you out to the living room, seeking Remus, who he knows will have a spare t-shirt that’s at least clean. “C’mon, I’ll find you something else to wear.”

“Wait, James. Wait.” You plant your feet in the doorway of the kitchen and James stops walking. He looks back at you, feeling guilty, hopeless, confused, and a bit endeared by you still, all at once.

“What?” He asks as gently as he can when he’s feeling like such a loser.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip so hard James is sure it hurts. You’re shy, he remembers. Quiet and polite. You probably don’t like people making a fuss over you, even though you should really. You’re pretty enough that people should be making a fuss over you all the time. “I think I’ll just go home, s’only a ten minute walk. I was going to leave soon, anyway.”

James frowns. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head. He also can’t let you feel uncomfortable. He conjures a compromise. “Look, how about you wait here while I go ask Remus for a spare shirt? And then I’ll walk you home to make it up to you.”

He knows walking you home isn’t near enough to make up for ruining your top. But it’s the best he can do right now.

“But you just got here, didn’t you?” you say, frowning yourself.

James shrugs. That’s hardly a problem for him. “Don’t worry. I see those two asshats every day of my life, sweetheart.”

You still look unsure but James isn’t changing his mind. He’s going to walk you home if it’s the last thing he does. But first, something for you to change into. He leaves you in the kitchen and finds Remus, whom he asks for a shirt, to which Remus says, “What’s that for?” too loudly.

James explains what happened dejectedly. He’s not exactly surprised when Sirius laughs at him for it.

It’s a quiet walk to your place. You live close, which is both good and bad. Good because it means every time James is at Remus and Sirius’s, he’ll know you’re only ten minutes away. Bad … well, for the same reason.

James tries his best to fill the silence with easy conversation. It’s not hard, especially when you’re so sweet and kind and answer his questions so pleasantly. You’re easy to talk to. You don’t laugh at him when he slips on his words. You don’t make him wait for answers. You ask him questions, too, timid as you are about it.

James finds he enjoys your company even more than he was expecting. You’re like a breath of fresh air. You’ve got the radiance of an early spring morning and the softness to go with it.

It’s safe to say he’s disappointed when you come to a stop in front of your place.

“This is me,” you say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You’re in one of Remus’ band tees and James thinks you look much better than Remus does in it. As much as he loves Remus. He realises he’s staring too late, his eyes following you as you walk up your front steps.

You unlock your door and then look back at him, timid.

“Did you want to come in?” You ask, sweet in your shyness.

James would very much like to come in. He also thinks he might fall on his face if he spends much more time with you. He’s already dizzy on his feet and he’s been with you all of fifteen minutes.

“No, no, that’s okay,” he says as kindly as he can. “I should probably get back, or Sirius’ll have my head.” At least he knows where you live now. In a totally not creepy way.

He steps forward to take your wrist in his hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point. He can feel your heartbeat. It’s not quite as fast as his feels but pretty close.

“I’m really really sorry about your top,” he tells you. He spreads his fingers over your forearm, your skin warm as late summer under his touch. “Can I do anything to make up for it? Buy you a new one?”

He wasn’t joking, but you giggle, your face lighting up, your eyes crinkling at the corners. James feels something akin to a mad swarm of butterflies in his ribcage.

“No, James,” you laugh, breathless and lilting. Your free hand lands on his forearm and his skin burns under your touch. “It’s okay, really.”

“Okay,” James breathes. His head spins as you squeeze his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. You smell so nice. “But, seriously, let me know if there’s anything I can do. It was such a nice top, it looked lovely on you.”

You flush like James knew you would. He’s slowly discovering he likes making you flustered more than he’ll admit.

“Thanks, James,” you say, and James imagines if he touched your face you’d be burning. “But, really, it’s okay. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. See you around, angel.”

It’s only after you close the door and James is at the bottom of the steps that he realises he should’ve asked for your number. He really is as hopeless as Sirius says.

James Potter is on your mind most of the time. You can’t help it. You’re not above admitting you have a crush on him. You are above admitting how big said crush is.

He’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Sure, you don’t meet a lot of people. But you’re sure if you did he’d still be one of the best. He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s unbelievably charming. He’s a bit awkward sometimes and you like that, it makes you feel better about your own social ineptitude.

It also helps that he’s very very handsome. You would look at him all day if you could. He’s all dark, velvety skin, inky curls that you’ve imagined weaving your fingers through more times than you can count. Deep brown eyes turned bright with his ever-present smile. Thick eyelashes, a lovely sloping nose, a quirk to his mouth that you think you could get drunk on. He dresses well, too, though you’re sure he’d look just as good in a hoodie and sweatpants. Or nothing at all. You’d squashed that thought before it could go any further.

You don’t even mind that he spilled wine all over your nicest top. Sure, the stain is never gonna come out. It’s sitting in your closet, ruined. Embarrassing as it is, you smile every time you see it. James had made up for it tenfold anyway, walking you home and telling you he was sorry about a hundred times. It would be hard to not forgive him.

“Y/N?”

There’s a call of your name from the office door. You’re in here on your lunch break, not really eating more than you are thinking about James. Margaret, the older lady who owns Harriet’s but only comes in Thursdays and Tuesdays, is poking her head through the door.

“Hi, dear,” she says. “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a customer out here asking for you? I can tell him to come back later, if you’d like, but he seems quite insistent.”

He. Of course, your mind flies straight to James. Which is ridiculous, you know, but it was already parked and idle at James, anyway.

“He’s asking for me?” You ask, perplexed. You don’t usually get personally requested by customers. And if it is James, you’re sure he’d ask for Lily instead.

“Yes, dear,” Margaret smiles, and she looks amused.

You get up because it’s your job, not because you’re hoping like hell it’s James. You put down your barely-eaten sandwich, brush past Margaret with a small ‘thank you’ and emerge into the shop.

There, standing at the counter, is James Potter.

“Y/N!” He says as soon as you emerge. He’s bouncy. Frazzled. You would even say excited. “Hi, lovely. I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this, were you on your break?”

“Oh, um, no. It just ended,” you lie. You still had a good ten minutes left. Not that you’re gonna tell him that.

James’ smile makes the lie worth it. “Perfect. ‘Cos I need your help.”

You think you physically perk up. Like a cat when it smells food is near. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“Okay,” you smile. You’re happy to help if it’s James you’re helping. “With that?”

James explains that he needs a bouquet, your best work, better than a boring one you can get at the grocery store because he really really needs this person he’s giving it to to like it. Your smile fades at this. At the fact that he’s getting flowers for someone else. He won’t tell you who this someone else is. He also won’t tell you why he’s giving it to them. You’re sorry to assume it’s a girl he likes. Possibly Lily? Maybe that’s why he asked for you and not her. You wouldn’t be surprised, they’re close and she’s gorgeous.

Of course, you help him anyway. You recommend flowers that last the longest, colours that go together, which ones smell the best. He’s asks you what your favourites are and ends up going with those, saying he trusts your judgment.

You have to admit it’s all very endearing. And you have so much fun helping him that by the time he leaves, arms full of a huge bouquet made up of all your picks of flowers, you’re beaming. Despite the daunting fact that he’s walking out of your shop with a bouquet for someone else.

Margaret appears once he’s gone. She’s got this big smile on her face that you can’t quite make sense of.

“He’s a handsome one,” she muses. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Your cheeks go redder than the roses on the shelf behind you.

Much later, you’re in the comfort of your small home, a bowl of steaming hot mac and cheese in your lap while the TV drones on. It’s some sort of romantic comedy that you can’t say you’re very interested in. Despite the lead male being very attractive. You’re about to change programmes when there’s a knock on your door.

You start. Nobody ever comes over. You don’t have many friends, and the ones that you do have, you tend to go over to their places, rather than the other way around. You’re so busy worrying about who it is that you haven’t even stood up before there’s another knock.

You get up off the couch, mac and cheese forgotten on the coffee table. You give your outfit a once over. You’re in sleep shorts and a hoodie that’s too big for you. Not your best work, but it’ll have to do. You fix your hair with little to no care and then open the door.

It’s James. You gape. You definitely should’ve paid more attention to your hair.

“James,” you say.

He beams right back, seemingly unaware of your sleepy appearance. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You stare at him. He looks pretty as ever. It’s only just going on sunset, and the colourful sky casts streaks of orange and golden yellow over his pretty face. The last bits of sun tangle themselves into his curls and drown themselves in his eyes. He’s dressed casual, but he still manages to pull it off, like you’d thought. A hoodie and jeans, a pair of beat up converse. He’s hiding something behind his back and you think you hear cellophane crinkle when he moves.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he’s saying. He doesn’t have your number. But Lily does. Is it crazy to think he’s maybe asked her for it? “Is this a bad time?”

His kindness reminds you how to speak. “Uh— um, no. S’not a bad time, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you— um, did you want to come in?”

You’re rambling, you know. He hasn’t even told you why he’s here and you’re asking him to come in.

James smiles kindly and it makes it all better. He’s good at that. At making you feel okay for being a bit of an awkward loser (your own words, not his, of course.)

“I’d love to come in,” he says, all smiles. “But first, I have something for you.” He pulls whatever he’s been hiding out from behind his back and offers it to you between your chest and his. “To say I’m sorry about your top.”

You blink. It’s a bouquet. It’s the bouquet. The one you’d helped him put together. The one that has all your favourite flowers and colours and smells because despite you thinking it was for someone else, you’d still wanted the best for James. You blink again.

“James,” you say, a little breathless, a lot speechless. “They’re for me?”

James laughs and you feel dizzy for a moment. He’s got a really nice laugh. “F’course there for you, sweetheart. Who else?”

He makes you take them from him, one of his hands guiding yours around the stalks. His skin is warm and sets yours on fire. You’re surprised the bouquet doesn’t go up in flames when you take it from him.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter. “I thought …” you don’t finish your sentence. You’d thought they were for some other girl who’d caught his eye. You change tactics mid sentence, “They’re lovely, James.”

“I know they are, dove. You picked ‘em out.”

You giggle then. He’s the sweetest boy on the planet, you decide. He let you pick out your own flowers, and you didn’t even know it. You’ve never properly been given flowers before, despite working at a florist’s. It’s a new feeling. Like a star burning in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to go out. It hovers in you ribcage and stays there, buzzing madly.

“Thank you,” you say, lifting your eyes to his. You find he’s already gazing right back at you. There’s a rogue curl falling over his forehead that you’d love to push out of the way. “Really. I love them.”

James flashes you a boyish grin. “Good, ‘cos if you didn’t, I’d have to have a word with the girl who chose them.”

You’re still beaming when he comes inside. He follows you into the kitchen, where you find a vase for the flowers. You set about taking them out of their packaging, cutting the stalks and putting them gently in the glass vase filled with water.

James watches you and you can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about it all, about being in your space, but his eyes scan your kitchen like it’s a map he’s trying to figure out. Your mismatched mugs on the counter. Your magnets and Polaroids and receipts on the fridge. Your overgrown plants on the windowsill.

You carry your flowers to your small living room and put them in the dead center of your coffee table. The bouquet is so big it would block most of your view of the TV if you sat on the couch. You hardly care. You’d rather look at them than the TV, anyway.

Setting the flowers down, you spot your half eaten mac and cheese and hope James doesn’t take you for a slob. You’re lucky he didn’t catch you on a Friday night. You’d be drowning in ice cream, probably.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, half hoping he’ll say no, because who in their right mind asks their crush if they want macaroni and cheese? It’s so lame, but you can’t take it back now. “I have mac and cheese, but that’s about it, sorry.”

You cringe and wish you’d held your tongue, but James beams.

“I’d love some mac n’ cheese,” he says. “Unless it’s boxed, that shit tastes like cardboard.”

You get him some mac and cheese, glad you made it yourself, gladder you haven’t resorted to boxed food just yet. The two of you sit in the kitchen on your tall kitchen stools under your golden lights and eat. James is easier to be around than anyone you’ve ever met. He makes you feel special but not to the point where it’s too overwhelming. He’s kind and he’s golden, he acts like you’re the only person he ever wants to talk to.

Watching him eat in your home is more of a pleasure for you than you’d like to admit. He compliments your cooking. He says he likes the bowl he’s got, which is a white one with pink flowers all over it that you bought at a market ages ago. He gets a string of cheese dangling from his lip and makes a dorky face trying to get it into his mouth without using his fingers. You think you’d like to kiss him. His lips all puckered and eyes crossed as he attempts to scoop the cheese into his waiting mouth.

You’re so busy laughing at him that you don’t notice your own bowl balancing precariously on the edge of the counter. When you go back to take another spoonful, your hand knocks the bowl and it goes tumbling. Right into your lap.

“Shit,” you curse, gasping when a dollop of hot pasta lands half on your thigh and half on your shorts. The sauce spreads like wildfire over the fabric of your sleep shorts. Why do things keep spilling on your clothes when James is around? It’s becoming a theme. Your horror grows when the bowl clatters to the floor and while it doesn’t smash, it spills mac & cheese everywhere. “Oh, shit, that’s embarrassing. Um.”

You bend to clean up your mess but James beats you to it.

“Here, let me,” he says. He slides off his chair and is quick to start scooping up the ruined pasta.

“Sorry,” you stutter, standing helplessly as James cleans up your mess for you.

“Don’t be,” James shrugs and looks up at you, his cheeks dimpling as he smiles kindly. “Go change, I’ll sort this out.”

You feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude and affection for him that makes you want to kiss him stupid. You don’t. Instead you go down to your room and find something to change into. Seeing as he’s already seen you in your sleep shorts, you suppose your checkered flannel pyjama pants aren’t really much worse. Nothing can be more embarrassing than what’s just happened, you decide.

By the time you’ve changed (plus spent a lot of extra time staring at yourself in the mirror, practicing your smile), James has cleaned up the spill and is washing your bowls in the sink. You decide then and there that you like him a lot more than you’d initially thought.

You emerge into the kitchen on light footing. You feel like a magnet being drawn to him like this. It’s bizzare, how much you want to be around him, no matter how shy he makes you. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. A rip in the ocean calling your name. You know of the danger but you don’t really care. You ignore the signs because he’s James and you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body. The warning signs basically don’t exist.

“Thank you, James,” you say, standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

James flashes you a big smile, up to his arms in soap and suds, scrubbing away at a bowl. He looks like a house husband. It’s almost more than your heart can take. “That’s okay. Hey, nice pyjamas. Y’look good.”

You can tell by his tone he’s not teasing. He’s being genuine, which is somehow worse than if he’d been teasing. Your smile is so big it hurts.

James is gonna kiss you tonight. He’s sure of it.

So far, all of his advances have gone well. Perfect, even. Unless you count the drink-spilling incident, but if it hadn’t been for that he’d probably never have found the courage to get you alone again.

He’s taken you out to lunch once. He’s been into your work twice, not including the first time. He’s invited you to his rugby game tonight, to which you’d said yes more enthusiastically than he’d expected. It’s not exactly a date, per say. But he’d wanted to see you today and he had a game and his coach would blow his head off if he’d missed it for a girl. No matter how lovely said girl is.

He’s waxed poetic about you to Sirius and Remus more times than he can count. He’s yet to kiss you. Sirius thinks this is beyond absurd.

“So you haven’t even kissed her yet?” He asks, incredulous. He’s in his rugby kit, hair up in braids, chugging a Gatorade though the game hasn’t even started yet. “What’s the hold up, mate?”

James groans. Sirius is yet to understand that some people don’t like to jump into the deep end before they’re ready. “I don’t want to scare her off,” he explains, straightening up from where he’d been tying his laces.

“Oh yeah, you’re reaaally scary, Prongsie,” Sirius drawls, dripping in sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and then clasps James’ shoulder. He’s surprisingly and uncharacteristically genuine when he says, “Look, I think she likes you enough that kissing her won’t scare her off.”

James blinks and looks up at his friend. “You think she likes me?”

Sirius makes a face. “Are you kidding? What other girl would want to watch you eat shit in a field with a dozen other sweaty guys?”

And he’s back, James thinks. Trust Sirius to be a sweetheart one second and as asshole the next.

Soon enough James is out on the field and he wants to say his mind is on the game and not you but he’d be lying.

For the first five minutes he’s distracted trying to spot you in the stands. Then the next ten minutes are spent trying not to stare at you. You’re with Remus, whom James is hoping isn’t relaying anything he’s ever said to him about you.

You look as though, to James’ extreme delight, that you’ve dressed up for this. In a pretty dress and a jacket that borders on being so big on you it swallows you up. Sure, you’d still looked pretty drop-dead in your pyjamas the other night. But this is another level of gorgeous.

The first chance he gets he bounds over to you, ignoring his coaches instructions to ‘stay with the team’. Most of the team has scattered for half time, anyway. James makes a beeline for you.

“You came!” He shouts as soon as you’re in shouting distance.

You grin and wave at him, brilliant and dazzling and so damn pretty in the early evening sun. You’re not far up the stadium and James is grateful he doesn’t have to climb too many steps — though he’d definitely climb all the way to the top row to see you if he had to.

“Hi, James,” you say, looking happy as a clam to see him.

James beams back. He wonders vaguely if he looks as lovesick as he’s feeling. He can’t even bring himself to care if he does. He’s lucky Remus is nowhere to be seen — probably loving on Sirius somewhere.

“Hi, angel,” James says, smiling around his words, which come out all sticky-sounding and fond. “I’m so glad you came.”

You beam and rock on your heels, looking one part shy and two parts delighted, your hands clasped in front of you like you’re not sure what to do now.

“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. “I’m so happy to see you, I might explode if you say no.”

He’s joking, of course. Or maybe not so much. You nod, a tad vehement, James notices smugly.

“Yes, please,” you say, breathless.

James steps into your space, heartbeat a mile a minute. You smell like flowers again. Lavender, he thinks. He definitely doesn’t smell anywhere near as good. “You’re sure I’m not too sweaty and gross?”

You shrug. “I don’t care, James.”

“You should. You look lovely.”

You make a noise that sounds half pained and half pleased and it makes James’ heart skyrocket.

“Can you just hug me?” You ask, a hint of desperation in your tone that’s actually much more than a hint but James is trying to be a gentleman. “Please?”

James thinks if you keep this up (by this, he means, acting as though maybe you like him as much as he likes you), he’ll die on the spot. He hugs you. For his own and your sake. Wraps you up in a big strong hug that’s so passionate he accidentally lifts you off the ground slightly. You don’t seem to mind. Your arms weave around his neck like they were meant to and you hook your chin over his shoulder and go all melty.

James almost moans. He can’t believe how perfectly you fit in his arms. How your body melds into his so nicely. He’s big and firm and loud and you’re quiet and small in your own way. But it works, and James is so glad it does.

“How was work, lovely?” He says into your hair. Your hair, which smells like coconut and something sweeter.

“It was okay.” Your voice is quiet but you sound just as pleased as he does to be wrapped in each other’s arms. “Lily says good luck.”

“Hey!” This is Sirius, jogging towards the stands and the, for want of a better word, lovefest. “Why don’t I ever get hugs like that?”

James releases you but keeps a good hold on your waist, twisting to meet Sirius. “What? You want one too, Pads?”

He lets go of you and holds his arms out for a hug, half joking but also half serious.

“Not from you!” Sirius scoffs, backing away from James like his hug will give him an incurable disease. “From your pretty cheerleader over there.”

Sirius plants his hands in his hips and nods his head towards you where you’re standing behind James. James doesn’t need to look to know Sirius has probably made you embarrassed.

“She doesn’t want to hug you,” he says dryly, in an attempt to save you from his obnoxious friend. “Where’s your boyfriend? You can hug him instead.”

Sirius scowls but it doesn’t last long. You brush past James and it takes him a second to realise what’s happening.

“I’ll hug you, Sirius,” you’re saying sweetly. “C’mere.”

And to everyone’s surprise, you hug Sirius. James finds it both endearing and highly annoying. Annoying because Sirius is smirking at him over your shoulder, his hands on your lower back. Endearing because it’s apparent you’re trying to make friends with James’ friends and he couldn’t be happier. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as yours and his, though. And Sirius doesn’t quite lift you off the ground like James did.

James watches, reluctantly fond, as Sirius pulls away and smiles at you all kind and un-Sirius-like.

“Thank you, m’lovely,” he says, swooping down to kiss your cheek. James shouldn’t feel jealous, because Sirius kisses everyone on the cheek, but he does anyway.

His jealousy quickly fades when you practically skip back over to him, all smiles.

“Sorry about him,” James says quickly. He’s very used to apologising for his friends.

“No, that’s okay,” you shake your head and then take James’ forearm in your hand unthinkingly. Heat licks all up James’ arm.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding more confident than he feels. “Do you—?”

The shriek of his coach’s whistle cuts him off. Time to get back on the field, it says. James groans, long suffering, throwing his head back like he’s been resigned to the worst fate in the world. You giggle and it makes it all better.

James’ team loses the game. It’s embarrassing and then it’s not, because you bound up to him afterwards and give him a hug even better than the one at half time, gushing about how good he was, telling him it doesn’t matter that he lost because he played amazing, anyway.

He sure feels like a winner as he walks with you to the parking lot, his duffel bag swept to his wrong side so he can walk as close to you as possible.

“I didn’t know you were so good.” You’re still gushing and James thinks he’s never blushed more in his life. “I mean, not that I didn’t expect it. You just never told me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Sirius,” James murmurs, feeling overly feverish.

“What? What’s that mean?”

James gestures vaguely with his hands. “I don’t go around bragging, is what it means. And I’m not that good. We’re just a local team, babe.”

It’s your turn to flush. Head to foot you go all shy. He thinks it’s the pet name that did it. And maybe the fact that he’s pointed out your gushing.

“Right,” you say to your shoes. “Well, I think you should play for the country, is all I’m saying.”

James laughs, delighted and a bit startled at your joking, but mostly just sick as a dog in love with you. “Really? Wow, you should tell my coach that, sweetheart. I think he’d totally agree.”

You pick up on his sarcasm and burst into giggles that make James’ chest want to explode. He realizes you’ve almost reached his car and puts his plan into action.

“Hey, did you drive here?” He asks.

You look up at him and James thinks he sees an inkling of hope in your pretty eyes. “No, I caught the bus. Why?”

“Did you want to go get Slurpees with me? I saw a 7/11 near your place the other night.” Then, because he really wants you to say yes, “I’m paying.”

Maybe it’s James’ wishful thinking but he’s pretty sure you light up like a Christmas tree. He really thinks if you keep doing things like this his head is gonna get too big for his body. You beam, looking like an angel on earth in the last fragments of sunlight, skin painted in an array of bleeding golds and pinks and oranges.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod. “Except you don’t have to pay for me, James, I have my card.”

James shakes his head, grinning as he fishes his keys from his bag. “Nah, don’t worry. Pretty girls get slurpees for free.”

He’s ninety-eight percent sure you freeze up like a block of ice as he unlocks his car. He has the generosity to not mention it.

The drive to the 7/11 closest to your place is quiet. But good quiet. James puts on the radio and is delighted when you start humming along like he’s not even there, your fingers tapping along the window where you’ve rolled it down, the wind brushing over your pretty face. He can’t quite get enough of you. Even just driving in silence with you feels like cloud nine. He’s enamored. Totally lovelorn. He’s surprised he can even drive straight.

When you get there he parks the car and then tells you to wait so he can open your door for you. He holds your hand to guide you into the 7/11. It feels like walking on air.

You both greet the guy at the cashier, you much more shyly, but James is learning you’re nothing if not polite. It’s practically empty inside, which James is glad for. How is he supposed to kiss you if there’s a bunch of strangers around? He leads you over to the slurpee machine with the excitement of a kid in a candy store.

“What flavour do you feel like?” He asks, grabbing a cup for you.

“Um,” you lick your lips and James wonders, not for the first time, how it would be to kiss them. “Grape, I think.”

“Grape?” He wrinkles his nose in pretense. “I’m more of a cherry guy, but I’ll let it slide ‘cos I like you.”

You giggle and flush, to James' extreme delight. He lets go of your hand to fill your cup for you, all the way to the top. He pops on a lid and a straw and passes it to you, cold condensation dripping over his fingers like raindrops.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the cup from him, your fingers soft as they brush his.

James gives you a big smile in place of a you’re welcome, then preoccupies himself with filling his own cup. He can feel your eyes on him all the while. Practically burning holes into the side of his face. His face, which feels like it’s on fire. He finishes filling his cup and shoves a lid on.

“Have I got something on my face?” He asks without looking at you, definitely teasing but he thinks you can take it.

You groan and punch him in the arm. Punch isn’t really the right word. It’s more of a brush of your knuckles. James hardly feels a thing. “James.”

James laughs, delighted at your reaction. “What?” He chuckles, picking a straw and turning to look at you. “You were—“

But you’re gone, turning into the candy section just in time for James to see the back of your jacket disappear. He follows you, grinning like mad.

“Y/N,” he says, sing-song.

“James,” you copy, with half the enthusiasm but twice the sweetness. He can almost hear you rolling your eyes.

James can’t help it, he snags your jacket in his fingers and pulls. You squeal as he twists you to face him, his hand coming to hook around your waist. Your slurpees get crushed in between your chests. James can feel the coldness of his soaking into his shirt but he hardly cares. You’re so close he could kiss you. He’d like to. It’s what he’s been trying to do all evening.

You’re gasping, breathless from the closeness and his sudden attack. “James,” you say again, panting. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Nuthin’. Did you want some candy?”

You swallow and adjust your grip on your cup where it’s pressed to his chest. You’re staring at his lips. He’s staring at yours, too.

“No,” you say, your pretty eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “I don’t want candy.”

James licks his lips, partly because he thinks he’s about to kiss you, but mostly to tease you. “Then what do you want?”

Your eyes follow the slow movement of his tongue. “Um.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, softer now. Less taunting. More sincere.

You stare at him. “We’re in the middle of a 7/11, James,” you chastise. But you don’t turn him down.

“So? There’s no one in here but us.”

He inches closer. His slurpee is probably spilling over with how much he’s squashing it but he can’t bring himself to check. He’s too transfixed by you, the hopeful look on your pretty features, eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted.

“Okay,” you breathe, hardly a word at all.

“Okay, what?” James says back, just as quiet. “I can kiss you?”

“Yes,” you nod once. Your hand ghosts over James’ elbow and he hopes you’ll grab it when he does finally kiss you. “Please.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He kisses you, and the very first thing he thinks is that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Thrown himself in the deep end, chum for the sharks. Because it’s glorious. It’s better than he ever imagined, better than anything he could’ve conjured up in his mind. You taste like grape slurpee, sugary and sweet. You’re tentative like you always are, but it doesn’t mean you hold back. You let him kiss you as hard as he pleases, tilting your head up to meet him, gripping his elbow with your free hand like you never want to let go.

He kisses you firm but careful, passionate so you know how much he likes you but soft enough so you know he’s okay to go slow if you need to.

Soon enough the moment is ruined — James shouldn’t have expected anything less. The guy at the cashier is wondering aloud if James is planning on ever paying for the Slurpees now dripping condensation into both of your clothes and hands.

James sighs and goes to pull out his wallet, but not before pressing another kiss to your smiling mouth.

feedback and reblogs are very very appreciated! please please lmk if u liked it (but not if u didn’t ahahah) xx

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plush-rabbit · 1 year

Text

Coffee and Fated Tragedies

Something cute about The Spot or something, but like before he became The Spot. Maybe I'll do something about him and his holes later

Word Count: 5K

A/N: I need him, like carnally. There’s like nothing about him and I need to get this off my chest before I like combust so¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You stand near a water cooler, watching the bubbles float to the top. Your cup has been empty for the past minute, and you consider taking the rest of your break outside. The fluorescent lights are making it difficult to stay awake, and the sterile air at Alchemax is burning your eyes.

With a sigh, you reason to yourself that the short trip to the parking lot would waste the remainder of your break, and you’d have to walk back to your desk by the time you even stepped near the doors. You turn your head, and watch as a scientist turns the corner, taking slow and careful steps to make sure the obnoxious amount of files that he’s holding doesn’t tip over.

He slows down enough, taking a pause next to the water cooler, and with a peek around the files he spots you looking at the files with wide eyes. There’s a certain look in his eyes that has your neck burning.

“Um-” you clear your throat, placing the empty cup of water in the trash- “do you need any help?”

His eyes scan you, giving you a quick run down, suspicion twisted into his features. “It’s fine- I'm fine,” he snaps, holding the file just a bit tighter, almost defensively. And as if the world were against him, the top half of the stack nearly spills over, before you hold onto it, steadying the stack once more. The tips of his ears flush into a deep hue of red, and you smile at him nervously.

“I’m on my break,” you tell him. “It wouldn’t be a bother. Plus, I’m sure you would much prefer for the files to be in order rather than all er- out of order,” you reason.

His eyes dart around the room, before finally letting out a sigh. “If you wouldn’t mind, then yes. I’d appreciate the help,” he says slowly, as if still can’t believe that he’s allowing someone else to hold such important paperwork. “Please and thank you,” he mumbles.

You smile, nodding your head, quickly grabbing halfway through the stack and holding it firmly in your hands. Having the files fall after offering assistance is the last thing that you need- especially after the scientist had such a tone in his voice.

Words stay stuck in your throat as you follow behind him without a sound. You’re sure you should be talking to him, but he isn't making conversation either. Plus, you aren’t entirely sure what you would talk to him about. The weather? You only felt it when you clocked in in the morning. Lunch? No, you’ve heard around that most scientists don’t even take their lunch these days- too busy with whatever has been going on these days. Your mouth pulls into a thin line. Truth be told, you want to ask about the files- you’re positive that it has something to do with whatever has ad the building in such a buzz. But you doubt he’d even tell you.

“I apologize for making you waste your break on this,” he mumbles, giving you a quick glance over his shoulder. He makes eye contact with you briefly before he looks forward once again.

“Huh? Oh! That’s fine. It’s no worries, really. I was the one who offered after all,” you say hurriedly. He huffs and silence befalls the both of you once more, but you’re much too eager now after his words. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where are we delivering them to?”

“Dr. Octavius’s office. She said that she needs to review the recent ana-” he stops short and he straightens his back, clearing his throat- “experiment.”

“Oh,” you say. You don’t have the luxury of knowing the inner workings, and a part of you wishes that you did. You always were a bit of the nosey type. “Are you part of those experiments as well, um- I’m sorry I don’t believe that I asked for your name.”

“Johnathan. Ohnn. Dr. Ohnn,” he says, stumbling over his words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Ohnn,” you say with a smile, stopping just behind him when he turns his head.

“And you are?” There’s a tense layer laced into his words, but when you answer, he smiles slowly and nods to himself. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he mumbles.

It's only been a few days since your encounter with the scientist and maybe it's because you've finally noticed him, that you notice him more and more.

You see him in the cafeteria, surrounded by other scientists.

In the hallway, carrying a much more manageable stack of files that asking if he needs assistance would probably be offensive.

You see him peering into the different break rooms located on each floor, locking eyes with you for a moment, before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

He lingers in doorways, looking around and lifting his chin to peer over the crowd, trying to find someone. Sometimes, you’ll catch his eye and when you do, he looks away quickly and walks away.

A part of you thinks that maybe he’s waiting for you to approach him, but you can’t be too sure on that assumption. It is a nice thought to have though.

It isn’t until your coworkers grab your bicep and whisper in your ear at how convenient it is that Dr. Ohnn appears where you are. There’s a smile that stretches across their face, and for a moment, you play along that the doctor might be interested in you.

“Oh yeah, the cute and stalkerish scientist,” you say with a smile, placing a hand over your chest. “What a catch,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at the fits of giggles.

Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind having said cute and stalkerish scientist be fond of you, but it probably isn’t that. It’s a nice thought to have, but you don’t fester on it for too long. He’s a scientist- one of the important ones around here, and you’re simply here for your paycheck and the benefits.

You sit at your desk, typing and retyping emails, answering calls, and sneakily going on your phone when you can. For a moment, you think to yourself that maybe you should quit- live in the middle of nowhere, tough it out, but then your coworker drops off a pastry at the edge of your desk with a hasty “you’re welcome” and when taking a bite, the idea of living without the sweet baked good.

A shadow crosses over your desk, and there’s a soft ‘click’ sound and you look up to see a cup of coffee placed on your desk, and over it stands the scientist who’s been not-so-secretly searching for you.

“Hello,” he greets you, his tongue tripping over your name. “I was wondering if you wanted a cup of coffee.” There’s a fiddly tone laced into his words, and it makes you smile.

He certainly is cute.

“Hello Dr. Ohnn,” you greet. “Thanks for the coffee.” You grab the cup, and peer inside the cup. It’s half full. You glance up at him. “I don’t suppose you brought creamer or anything like that with you?”

You see the apple in his throat bob as he gulps. “No,” he says, almost ashamed. “I uh- I didn’t know how you liked it and thought to play it safe with black. I apologize.”

“Would you like to walk with me to the breakroom?” You offer, standing up and grabbing at the cup. You grab at a napkin and cover the pastry, before taking a step away from your desk.

Instantaneously, he perks up. He smiles at you, taking a step back to allow you to walk with him. His forefinger and thumb pinch at the leg of his glasses, adjusting them so they sit properly on his face.

The walk is short, only light conversation about the weather and how the day has been going so far fills the air.

Thankfully, the break room is empty. You don’t think that Dr. Ohnn would like an audience when he’s with you.

You walk to the counter, and grab a pack of creamer and sugar. The dark coffee turns to a lighter version of itself.

“So-” Dr. Ohnn rushes to your side when you start to speak- “what made you bring me a cup of coffee?” You stir in the contents and bring the rim of the cup to your lips, giving him the chance to speak.

“I wanted-” he trails off, and turns his head- “I just thought it would be nice to repay you. After you helped me with the files the other day.”

A smile graces your lips and he returns it, before looking away and clearing his throat. “Well thank you for the coffee, Dr. Ohnn. It was much appreciated.”

“Johnathan,” he corrects. You tilt your head, confusion scrunching your brows. “You can call me Johnathan.”

“Oh,” you chirp. And realization dawns on you, as you smile. “Okay then. Thank you for the coffee, Johnathan.”

He nods curtly. “I just apologize that it wasn’t anything better than the break room coffee. I made sure to brew a fresh batch.” He shifts his weight nervously on each foot. “I’d have brought you some fancy coffee, or taken you somewhere but-” his face turns into a deep hue, and he pulls along the collar of his shirt. “I uh- didn’t know your schedule or if you’d even want to go.” He lets the end of the sentence trail off into a rushed slur of words.

You dig your nails into the cup as the realization of what he wanted to do dawns on you.

The cup is placed down, and suddenly the room feels hot. “Oh! Really?” You unconsciously lean towards him, and he nods, looking away from you. "I’m flattered.” You can feel the tips of your ears burn. “I mean, if you’re not too busy after the end of the day, I’d love to get a cup of coffee with you.” You bite the inside of your cheeks before taking a risk. “Or we can get a bite to eat? Whatever you prefer of course.”

“Really?” He asks, a smile stretching across his face. “I’d love to do that. Either. We can definitely get something to eat.”

“That’s great!” You exclaim, clapping your hands together. But you immediately retract. “Ah. I usually take the train to work, so if we can get something maybe close by? Like walking distance or-”

“I have a car,” he rushes. Your eyes widen and he straightens himself. “I can take us wherever you want to go. I don’t mind. I can drop you off at the station or at your home. Wherever you’d like.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” You ask, nerves making your stomach twist and turn.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t mind. Honest.”

Nodding your head, you smile. “Okay,” you tell him. “If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind, then we can go to whatever restaurant- so long as you pick it.”

“Okay,” he says, smiling widely at you. “I’ll meet you at your desk, after I clock out,” he says confidently, before smiling a bit more softly. “Is that alright with you?”

“It’s alright with me,” you confirm.

“Great. It’s a date.” There’s worry laced into his words at his sentence, and you can't help the grin that grows.

“It’s a date.” He smiles when you agree with him. You reach your hand over, pausing and about to retract. With his eyes on you, you decide to commit. You reach over and grab his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I’ll see you later, Johnathan.” You give him another smile, before you wave goodbye, walking back to your desk with the coffee in your hand.

He sits down in front of you. After the rush of Spider-man- Spider-men, he reminds you- the building is in a panicked state. You’ve found some place to rest where the alarmed employees won’t peek through.

Your thumb ghosts over the red spot where the bagel had hit Johnthan. You click your tongue, frowning, and run your hand through his hair.

“Sorry about messing up your hair,” you mumble, running your fingers through the strands.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He looks up, and your hands follow, curving down from the top of his head, down to cup his face. “Bagel had already messed it up.” He looks away from you, face growing warm under your palms.

“You took a hard hit.” He looks back down and you return to the top of his head, pinching away at any crumbs. “I forgot how strong Spider-man is.”

“Was,” he corrects.

You frown. “Is he not Spider-man?”

He murmurs something under his breath that you are unable to hear. “Not ours. It’s what I’m so busy with.” You choose not to respond, and he takes it as an invitation to continue further. “You saw me get hit with a bagel,” he groans. You smile softly even if he can’t see it.

You want to press further about whatever it is that he’s working on and why there are two Spider-men, but you know that it isn’t the time for that. You gulp and try to fix his hair, the once red spot, growing faint. Your mouth pulls into a thin line, and you take in a breath.

With his head still down, you return to cup his face, lifting him up slightly. He turns his head, his nose and mouth pressing against your palm. You smile at him, and lower yourself, pressing a chaste kiss against the spot. His face flames up once more.

“I’m just happy it was a bagel and not an apple,” you tell him. “Come on,” you tell him, reaching down to grab at his hand, “I’m sure one of us is being looked for.” He squeezes your hand, and follows you quietly.

You sit beside him, the car playing a song from your playlist, and the air conditioner blowing a nice cool breeze to combat the warm air that is outside. Your legs are tucked underneath you, the drinks dotted in condensation as the two of you eat inside the car.

Rain starts to pitter patter against the windshield and you turn your head to watch the drops collect.

You turn back to Johnathan, watching as he eats his fries. He raises his brows at you. “Sorry to make you waste your gas,” you say, feeling just a bit bad about it, but not enough to lose your appetite.

He shakes his head, quickly grabbing at your drink and taking a sip. You smile when he realizes that he grabbed the wrong drink. “No, no,” he comforts. “I like being with you. This is fine. Plus as a scientist, the pay is fine. As long as I have access to my bank account, I’m fine. There’s no need to worry about that type of stuff.” He reaches for your drink again, stopping short and sending you an apologetic smile, before grabbing at his own. He bites the tip of his straw, and takes a small sip before letting go. “If anything, I’m sorry that I took a drink from your soda.”

The rain collects, a storm furthering on, and you think you hear thunder somewhere. You two have flirted enough, been on enough dates to classify yourselves as “seeing each other” - whatever that means- when people ask, that it seems fine to take drinks from each other's straws. You know that what he did is an indirect kiss and you wonder if he knows that.

You reach over, cupping your hands over his and tilting the drink towards you. You look at him, before returning your gaze to the drink and place your lips over the straw, taking a small sip. The taste of his drink rests heavy on your tongue, and you want more of it.

“Now we’re even,” you say softly, letting go of his drink and returning to your side of the car.

His face flushes into a dark color, and his lips are parted open.

There’s a realization far off into your mind that he did realize what just transpired between the two of you and a soda.

Johnathan sets the drink down and adjusts his glasses, peering out the windshield where the rain washes down in waves. He turns back to you and reaches past the boundary that are the cupholders. His hands are warm as they cup your face, one reaches around, fingers curved over the back of your head, and the other holds you gently, letting you pull away if you were unsure about this, but you lean towards him.

Your heart beats against your chest, and you think that it’s going to bruise you, leave you battered and spill out, a bloody mess over his car.

You’d really have to apologize then.

The beating doesn’t stop- not when he’s pressing closer to you. It goes on, drumming inside of you, erratic and following the heaviness of the raindrops. It goes on as he kisses you, hands fumbling to keep the drinks steady when he pushes himself too close to you. He kisses fiercely, and desperately. His glasses press against your face, and you grab onto his shirt, twisting the fabric

The kiss deepens, and he pulls away for a breath of air, gasping for it as he presses pecks against the corner of your mouth. The cups be damned. You press yourself against him, your hands flat against his chest as you push him back, clambering across to sit on his lap.

His hands find themselves at your hips, and yours rest over his neck. He leans into your touch, and there’s a loud honk. You both startle, but he keeps kissing you, a hand leaving you to fumble with the seat.

Thunder booms in the sky, and he bunches your shirt in his hand.

The seat shoves back with full force, and you break away. You stare at each other with wide eyes, and you’re the first one laughing, wrapping your arms around him and giggling into his neck. Your heart still beats with a heavy pitter-patter. His laugh echoes in the car, and he holds you tightly.

“I like your laugh,” you mumble into his neck. You press a kiss against him, and when you nuzzle into him, you can feel his pulse quicken.

“I like you,” he says tenderly. “A lot.”

You pull away, and his hands slip underneath your shirt, his hands burn against your skin as he holds your waist. “I like you a lot too.” You press a kiss against him. “Do you want to come back to my place?” Your hands move to cup his chest. “I’ll make it worth your while,” you tease, kissing along his jaw. Underneath you, he stiffens and you smile. “How ‘bout it Dr. Ohnn?” You press yourself against him, giving a soft roll of your hips. “Wanna continue this back at my place?” You fix his glasses, and smile as he stares at you with heavy-lidded eyes with pupils blown-out.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “I’d-” and as if the universe were against the idea itself, his phone begins to ring. Quickly, you and him search for the phone, and just as abundantly as the tension had started, it ends. He grabs at his phone and clears his throat, giving you a smile before answering it. You can catch only snippets of the conversation, and you watch as his face falls, and he gives you a sad look.

Disappointment makes your shoulders fall. Whatever was going to happen, isn’t. At least not tonight. Clumsily, and something a lot worse than the “walk of shame”, you move awkwardly off of him, careful to not touch the drinks, and to not hurt him.

He finishes the conversation, just as you sit down. You turn to him, and wait for him to start.

“I have to go. It’s about work,” he says pitifully. “I- I don’t know when- Maybe we can-” he stops himself short. “I’m sorry.”

You smile, and close the gap between the two of you with another kiss. “‘T’s not your fault. Maybe we can pick this up again sometime.”

“Yeah?” He asks hopefully.

You nod. “Definitely.” You press another kiss against him. “I really do like you Johnathan.”

“And I really like you,” he mumbles, and your name sounds honeyed on his tongue.

“Mind dropping me off at least?” You ask, not really looking forward to having to call for some taxi service of the sort.

“Of course,” he says. “Anything for you.”

There’s a tapping at your window. It’s soft at first, and you only noticed it due to the pattern behind it. You groan and turn over, grabbing at your phone and hiding under the covers. The screen is bright and blinds you for a moment before you read the time.

The tapping at the window hurries and it’s far too late- or early depending how you look at it- to deal with whatever or whoever is behind the glass. You close your eyes, your stomach twisting into itself and hoping that after a few more knocks, whoever or whatever will just move on.

Then it starts to bang, and you jump with a start, almost going to turn on your bedside lamp, but stopping yourself. Maybe you could trick whoever is behind the glass that you’re asleep or not home.

You’re tempted to grab at the pocketknife that you have hidden somewhere in your bedside table. The knocking on your window grows relentless. Whoever is there is banging, and then it just stops. You hold your breath, slowly reaching your hand to grab at the knob to the drawer to blindly look for the knife while your gaze stays focused on the window.

On the other side, the words are muffled, and soft, but you hear them. Your name is whispered again in a hushed tone, the knocking returning, begging for you to answer. Slowly, your hand returns to your side, and the bed creaks as you shift your weight.

You recognize the voice. It’s him.

“Johnathan?” You ask in a shaky voice, hoping that you’re right.

“Yes,” he says hurriedly.

The blankets have twisted themselves around you, and you kick them off. As you shift and turn, the bed creaks. Light fills the room, a warm glow that has you wincing and moving towards the window.

“Give me a minute. Let me open the window.” Your hands fist at the curtain when he replies.

“No!” He shouts, and in a softer voice, he speaks again. “Don’t.”

Your hand returns to you, and you remember the rumor that was going on around Alchemax.

How Dr. Ohnn wasn’t- right. How he wasn’t human, or how he should have died. It was a joke around the office, as if whatever happened was humorous, but when someone asked, the joke died.

He couldn’t be whatever it is that the others were describing him as.

“Johnathan?” You call out. He knocks against the window. “Are- You can come in. It’s okay,” you reassure him.

“No,” he says again.

You frown, and fist your hands together, your nails digging into your palms. “Then I’m going to open the window.”

“Don’t.” He sounds scared.

“Johnathan.” Your voice is stern, at least that’s what you’re hoping for.

“This was a mistake,” he says. You’re sure that he’s talking to himself, but even so, you reply.

“You came here,” you hiss out, face burning with some type of emotion.

It’s silent, and you fear that he’s left. “I wasn’t thinking,” he says. “I just- I wanted to see you,” he mumbles.

Your shoulders slump. “I wanted to see you too.” It’s silent and you take a deep breath. “Please come in.”

“Okay,” he finally concedes. Before you can make your way to open the window, his voice starts again. “But you don’t have to open the window. I can get in.”

A nervous laughter escapes your mouth before you can stop it. “Whatever you say.”

You look around, wondering what he’s going to do. Maybe he’ll walk through the door. Or appear in a vent. But then a black spot forms on the ceiling, and you watch as something white, and black spotted exits through the hole. And then all at once, a lump of whatever it was falls to your floor.

It groans out in discomfort, and you watch as legs and arms straighten themselves out. Once upright, a man-shaped person- you aren’t entirely sure- is faced towards you. A black spot where a face should be stares at you.

The rumor was true. There’s a twisting in your stomach, and you yelp, pressing yourself against your headboard, and you immediately regret it, when he stiffens and moves closer to your bedroom door.

It’s Johnathan.

He’s all skin and spots, standing far too tall in your bedroom.

“I’m sorry. I just- I wasn’t expecting-” you bite at your bottom lip- “spots. Do you-” You pause. Does he eat? Does he drink? He stands so awkwardly, shifting his weight, and it reminds you of him. It’s still him. “Do you want to sit down with me?” You pat the space next to you, the one on the bed that’s close to the wall.

He must be feeling some type of way because he nods and walks over. He’s a mess of limbs, legs long and hands cup and twist at the bed sheets as he sits next to you. He still looks away from you.

You missed him. You open your mouth to tell him just that, that you wanted to see him and were worried for him.

“How have you been?” You bite the inside of your cheeks at the wrong words.

“What do you think?”

“I’ve missed you.” He looks at you, and you stare into the hole that place where his face once was. You wonder what expression he would make. You think he’d look surprised. “I quit Alchemax. There were cops and stuff and well thankfully I wasn’t a scientist so I was able to just leave. Cops still asked me some questions.”

“Where are you working now?”

“There’s this little library a few streets over-” you wave your hand in a vague direction- “pay’s all right, but I had some money saved up. I uh- might move. Get a smaller place, you know.”

“I think I’m not gonna have a place to live.”

“You can stay with me,” you say. “I’d like the company. You know, as long as you help pack and stuff. We- I can get your stuff from your place. You know, if the police haven’t taken anything as evidence.”

“Most of it has been taken.” He doesn’t explain further.

“I can get you some new clothes.” You peer at him, and you can’t help but just stare at him. “I’d uh- I’d have to measure you. Get you a scarf, or a hat. Maybe both,” you add.

“I can’t believe I’m in your bedroom and I look like this.”

You frown. “Yeah, well,” you trail off. You rest your head on a white part of him, your hand over his chest, fingertips just below a black spot. “I’m glad that you’re here. I was worried. I thought that- that something else had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry for making you worried.” You know that he means it.

“It’s okay.” You aren’t sure if you mean it. You worried yourself to tears. He grunts out a response, and you kiss at a white area on his shoulder. “Are you hungry?” You furrow your brows. “Can you eat?”

“You wanna ask about the holes, right?” He says, and you nod. “Might as well get it out of the way,” he mutters.

“What are they?”

“Spots. I’m thinking about calling myself The Spot.” He turns to you, and you grab at a hand, rimming the edge of it with the pad of your forefinger. “What do you think?” He says your name, but stops short, when he realizes what you’re doing. “Oh.”

You pull away, and he grabs at your hand and brings it back. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Can you feel it?” You ask, returning to another spot.

He nods swiftly. “You can put your hand in it.” You look up at him and tilt your head curiously. “In my hole. You can put your hand in my hole.” You snort at the phrase, but take him up on his offer.

Your hand disappears, and you watch as it comes up on another spot of his body. You flex your hand, and it’s surreal, seeing it appear from somewhere else.

“Woah,” you breathe out. “You’re so cool,” you mutter.

“You think so?” He asks incredulously.

“Mhm.” You nod slowly, pulling your hand partly out, watching as your fingers still peek out. “Super cool,” you mumble. You pull your hand out and you smile up at him. You turn your hand, seeing it fully intact, and you try to fight back a yawn, only to fail. “Are you tired?”

“I woke you up,” he says in a small voice.

“I’m glad that you did,” you say earnestly. “I’m happy that I got to see you.” You hold his hand in yours, and your fingertip goes along the white area of his body. “Do you want to spend the night?” You tighten your hand around his. “I want you to. I’d like you to get some rest.”

“You would?”

“Of course.”

“In your bed?”

You snort. “Of course, in my bed. It’d be fucked up if I gave you the couch or something.” You let go of his leg and slap his knee. “Come on, Johnathan. Get under the covers.” You grab at the furled up mess of blankets, straightening them over your body and his. He watches your every move, and keeps his face turned in your direction until the light clicks off and you can’t see him. You lay beside him, turning on your side, and resting your hand over his chest, careful to not let your hand dip into one of his holes.

“Goodnight,” he says your name in a quiet voice, one of his hands clutching onto your forearm.

“Night Johnathan,” you whisper, pressing a kiss against him.

#across the spiderverse #atsv #the spot #the spot x reader #johnathan ohnn #johnathan ohnn x reader #jonathan ohnn #jonathan ohnn x reader #atsv spot #spot x reader #i love him #he's so fucked up #i wanna like kiss #i fell in love with him the minute i saw he was all limbs and silly #and then i wanted him when he was all scary and limbs

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maddiericciardostroll · 6 months

Text

Dress | AA23

in which alex’s reputation of sweet and innocent comes crumbling down after a risqué insta post, so you fix it in an unconventional way…

warnings- fluffy fluffy fluff , inappropriate comments , risqué pictures , online bullying (jokingly)

a/n- alex girlies rise up!! he doesn’t get enough attention and when he does it’s about how sweet he is so here is this for a change … also i haven’t been feeding you guys but dw because i’m officially on vacation so more is coming!!!

your.username

liked by alex_albon , kellypiquet , and 607,528 others

your.username only bought this dress so you could take it off…

username this feels like something i wasn’t supposed to see

username so basically…

your.username im spilling wine in the bathtub

alex_albon actually she was kissing my face and we were both drunk

liked by your.username

alex_albon baby you just ruined my sweet and innocent reputation

your.username sorry , you were a fraud anyways

username not on my 2023 bingo card

username this isn’t even that bad it’s just shocking because it’s alex

username oh he is never gonna live this one down

liked by logan sargeant

lando.jpg never wanna see either of you call each other baby online again

alex_albon

liked by your.username , danielricciardo , and 405,679 others

alex_albon carve your name right into my fucking bedpost .

your.username id let him **** my ****** till i ******

alex_albon gladly.

username fed. absolutely fed.

williamsracing don’t quote me on this but i think this is a breach of contract-

liked by alex_albon

username they cant keep getting away with this

username these 2 need to be stopped

liked by logansargeant

your.username pook i love you but we gotta go somewhere because you are looking super pasty in the fluorescent lighting

alex_albon why are you mean when i’m just trying to love you :((

oscarpiastri please for the love of god stop stop stop

username i expect this behavior out of daniel and heidi but not them

danielricciardo um what does that even mean ??

alex_albon and your.username

liked by williamsracing , heidiberger_ , and 1,254,703 others

alex_albon and your.username we figured we’d really shut you up with this one. 💌

your.username let the record show we fought about the caption

alex_albon i still think i’m right

your.username i never said you were wrong

username they really shut us right tf up.

username congrats!!!

username i feel like it’s just gonna get worse from here

danielricciardo congratulations to be the best couple out there 🍾🍾

liked by your.username

alex_albon everyone thinks that they know us

your.username but they know nothing about

alex_albon all of this silence and patience

your.username pining and anticipation

alex_albon my hands are shaking from holding back from you.

oscarpiastri we are so happy for you guys!! keep making us sick to our stomachs

lando.jpg what oscar said

username first paddock wife in a while

username mom and dad got married

#fluff #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #logan sargeant #smau #daniel ricciardo #dr3 #dr3 x reader #f1 #alex albon #aa23 #williams racing #alex albon x reader

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buckyalpine · 8 months

Note

I adore all of your stories and turn to them at night when my brain won’t stop running. I have kind of a weird request. How would Bucky react to his girl temporarily losing her memory? (I once lost mine for two weeks due to a bad reaction to a medicine, so this pops in my mind from time to time.) The reader doesn’t remember who he is, but still feels safest when she’s with him. I’m sure he’d be the absolute sweetest. And since he’d know what it was like, he’d probably know what’s helpful and what makes things worse. When she eventually recovers, she remembers all he did for her and falls even more in love 🥰 Maybe some spicy thank yous?

Sorry if it’s too specific or out of your comfort zone! Feel free to change anything (I did base it a bit on what happened to me, but I’m sure it’d be different for everyone). Thanks!!

YESS THIS IS SO SWEET AND SOFT AND ADORABLE

"I need back up on the east wing!" Steve's voice crackled through the coms, his breathing labored as he tossed off another hydra operative against the wall, "A-agent down!"

You were passed out on the floor, dust and rubble surrounding you after exhausting yourself, 3 stab wounds were bleeding profusely from your abdomen along with other cuts and bruises littering your skin. Your head throbbed in pain from where you'd been hit and with each passing second it became harder for you to stay awake. You'd tried your best to keep your eyes open with Steve's pleading but it was too much; the pain started to dull and the world went black.

"It's a strong medication and she might be out for a little longer but she's going to be okay. We just have to keep monitoring her" Dr. Cho's voice spoke softly just outside of the room where you still laid unconscious. After getting patched up and scanned for damages, you were dosed with anything and everything to keep you rested and to help with pain. You had visitors day in and day out to check on you but the one that never left your bedside was your sweet boyfriend.

"Baby please wake up" Bucky softly pleaded as he ran his fingers gently across your face, not wanting to disturb you but also unable to keep his hands to himself. Not when he just wanted to see you open your eyes again, hating the fact that he hadn't heard your voice in two weeks.

Two weeks.

That's how long you'd been out for.

He was patient, not wanting to rush your healing time but he missed you so much. He continued his soft ministrations, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles and peppering kisses across your cheeks. He noticed the slight flutter of your lashes, sitting up immediately when your heart monitor picked up.

"Sweetheart?" He kept his voice low, paging for a nurse to come check on you while holding your hand, his heart racing when you finally opened your eyes. "Oh baby"

You blinked at the fluorescent lights of the room, looking at the sterile environment surrounding you. Bucky stroked your hand, hoping to ease away how disoriented you were probably feeling, giving you a soft smile when you finally met his eyes.

"How are you doll?"

"Um-I'm fine?" You stared at the handsome stranger that was by your bedside, his beautiful blue eyes swirling with emotion as he continued to clutch onto your hand.

"I was so worried y/n"

"Who-I'm really sorry, who are you?"

Bucky's eyes widened with horror, quickly recomposing himself seeing your confused expression. He dropped your hand, immediately adding space between you both, offering you comforting smile before heading out of the door.

"Let me get the doctor" He didn't want to worry you, keeping a steady voice as he spoke before speeding down the corridor as soon as he was out of sight. He wasted no time informing the others about what had just happened, the team all patiently waiting outside of your room while the doctor checked on you.

"Will she be okay?" the words came tumbling out of Bucky as soon as Dr. Cho finished running a few tests, shutting the door behind her, letting you rest. He'd been pacing up and down the hall like a changed animal the entire time, only stopping when he heard Dr. Cho gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Her memory will come back eventually but until then it's important things are calm for her. Between the hits she took and the medication, she doesn't remember much from the last 2 years. You have to remember, throwing too much information at her will set her back so do your best to keep things the way she'd understand"

It wasn't going to be easy. There was no time line for when your memory would return and you had just joined the team two years ago. You didn't remember anyone, having no recollections of all the memories you'd built with them, nor remembering any of the friendships you had. As soon as you were discharged, you took the first day to rest in your room, not knowing that Nat had cleaned out all memories of Bucky so you wouldn't feel more confused.

After sleeping for most of the day, a man knocked on your door and introduced himself as Tony Stark, the very Iron Man. You couldn't recall too much but the name rang a bell; you knew he was the main person for you to go to if you needed anything. His first task was to take you around the compound, introducing you to various members of the team.

You met Nat and Clint training together in the gym. Sam had been tinkering with something called Red Wing. Steve had welcomed you with a warm hug and Bruce had been working away in the lab. Tony continued his tour, walking you through the kitchen when your eyes landed on a familiar face from before.

"And whose that" You felt your face heat up as you pointed over to the handsome man that has been by your bed earlier in the day, still feeling his soft touch on your skin.

"That's Bucky, or Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes" Tony stated, smiling at the way your eyes lingered on the soldier for longer than necessary. "Here, let's go say hi"

Tony sauntered over to where Bucky was nursing a cup of coffee, the bags under his eyes growing from a lack of sleep but that didn't stop him from throwing you a bashful smile when Tony introduced brought you to him.

"Barnes, this is y/n, she's joining our team soon"

"Nice to meet you doll" Bucky shook your hand with the utmost care, the pet name he had just for you rolling off his tongue with ease. "Let me know if you need anything"

You felt butterflies at the smirk the soldier threw your way before making his way over to the gym, the blue eyes twinkling with something you couldn't quite place. The rest of the day went by smoothly and later that night you accepted the teams invitation to join them for dinner and then later a movie night.

You were aware that you'd sustained an injury which was affecting your memory; what you still didn't know was how much of your memory was missing. You felt nervous as you made you way to the dining table, everyone sitting in their designated spot, chatting away while passing dishes to each other.

Before you could quietly retreat to your room, you locked eyes with those familiar baby blues, a smile growing on his face. Bucky got up from his seat, noting how anxious you looked, understanding seeing everyone together would be overwhelming when you didn't remember any of them. He knew exactly how that felt and there was no way he was going to let you ever feel even an ounce of that.

"I hope you're hungry, doll" Bucky spoke to you softly, not bringing attention to where you'd backed up against the wall in hopes of not being noticed.

"A little" You lied, the rumble of your stomach giving away that you were starving.

"Would-would you like to join me out in the garden? I'll bring some food out for you" Bucky offered, hoping you'd feel less overwhelmed with a bit of space.

"Yes please, thank you Bucky" You shyly smiled as he stepped away to get you some food, taking both of your plates outside to eat under the soft glow of the moon. You appreciated that he didn't bombard you with questions; the both of you eating in comfortable silence until it was time for the movie. All the anxiety you'd anticipated feeling disappeared into thin air when Bucky made some space for you to sit beside him. He picked a section of the room where you'd be able to sneak off undetected if you wanted to leave early.

There was something about the Sergeant that made you feel safe. You felt loved by everyone but with Bucky it was just different. You felt safe around him. You trusted him. You didn't know him all that well and yet whenever he was around, you knew you didn't have to worry.

There were days where your anxiety would be at an all time high, worried about why you were getting vivid flashes of random memories and terrible headaches that made you nauseous. In those moments where you felt so lost, so out of control over your own thoughts, Bucky would ground you, just being around him making you feel better.

You couldn't understand why you felt so safe around a man you barely knew but you found yourself seeking him out more and more, desperate for more of his kind words, gentle touches and soothing voice.

He really was the sweetest.

It killed Bucky. His heart was hurting. He was a stranger to you and it shattered him, wishing he could kiss and cuddle you every night and tell you he was so glad you were okay, that a part of him nearly died when you didn't wake up. Everyday he had to bid you good night with nothing more than a smile, so badly wanting to hold you tight in his arms instead.

None of that mattered right now.

Not when you needed him the most even if you didn't know it.

He was going to do whatever it took to get you better, taking care of you every step of the way in the best way you needed until you remembered. He could tell by the way you giggled, by the way you smiled, that even if you didn't remember everything, there was always something between you both.

He'd never give up on you no matter how long it took.

"Shit" You hissed, dropping the mug of tea you were sipping on, the cup shattering on the floor with a crash. Searing pain felt like it was splitting your head into to, your hands clutching onto your throbbing temples, squeezing your eyes shut, the headaches you'd been getting happening more frequently.

You'd cut back on the medication you were taking, which had actually helped with regaining some of your memory but it also meant you'd go through bouts of pain without anything to help it. Flashes of a mission gone wrong streamed through you memory between fiery throbbing, even the soft day light overwhelming your sense.

"B-Bucky!!" You cried out, your knees buckling as you slumped onto the floor, blinking back tears as another wave of pain passed. You didn't need anything else but you needed your Bucky, the only person you felt felt safe with, the person you'd loved for all these years, the man who was by your bedside for days on end after you didn't wake up-

"Doll? Fuck, y/n, whats wrong sweets" Bucky found you curled up in a ball on the cool kitchen tile, sweeping you up into his arms and holding your head against his chest, his arms covering your face from the light, while his cool metal arm was pressed firmly against your forehead to ease the pain. "M'here y/n, you're okay, you're okay"

He rocked you, not moving from the floor while whispering in your ear, hoping the pain would pass quickly.

"Jamie, it hurts" You whimpered, clutching onto his Henley, the scent of his body wash calming you down. Bucky froze, not saying a word, his heart hammering against his chest at what you'd just called him.

Could that mean-

"Do-do you want to go lie down sweets?" Bucky spoke carefully, feeling you nod, still staying tucked against him. He carried you up to your room, only to have you shake your head as best as you could, wanting to go to his room instead.

"Just want to sleep for a bit baby, please?" you pleaded with him, hardly realizing the tears that were now streaming down his face as he made his way down to his room instead. He was your Jamie, your baby, you were finally coming back to him. Bucky pulled back the covers, setting you down carefully before climbing in with you when you tugged his wrist. Your eyes were still closed, the throbbing in your head slowly dissipating though not gone entirely as you snuggled against his chest, letting out a content sigh.

"Bucky?"

"Yes doll"

"I remember"

Bucky stirred awake to the sound of a whimper, his brows knitting together into a frown when he felt your body tremble in his hold.

"What is it baby?" Bucky's deep sleep laced voice carried through the darkness as he pulled you closer, soothing your sniffles. "Why are you crying darling, c'mere"

"Y-you didn't give up on me" Your emotions got the best of you, remembering everything from the moment everything went dark, to the panicked voices around you to the way Bucky had stayed by your side through it all, nursing you back to health while his own heart was hurting.

"Never doll, I'd never give up on you" Bucky said sincerely, kissing your forehead while stroking your hair, "How could I when I love you to much"

"But I-I didn't remember you-you still love me?" you whispered, feeling guilty that it had taken you so long to regain you memories and feeling more guilty that you couldn't remember Bucky for so long.

"Y/n, angel, I'd love you no matter what, do you have any idea how badly I wanted to tell you that for these past few weeks? That's all I wanted to do baby, just hold you and tell you how much I adore you-

You couldn't put into words how much love you had for him in that moment, cutting him off with your lips pressed onto his. The kiss grew more needy, hands desperately grabbing each other; you needed Bucky to know just how much you loved him too, feel every bit of what you couldn't say with words.

"Baby, let me- Bucky was ready to take care of you but that wasn't what the night was about. Not after all he'd done for you.

"No" You shook your head, gently pushing Bucky to lay on his back, straddling yourself on top of him, "Let me take care of you for taking care of me" you murmured against his lips before pressing them against his heated skin, tracing your tongue along the column of his neck. "Please Jamie, let me show you"

"D-doll-I-I can-

"Just let me Sergeant, please" You shimmed out of your oversized t-shirt before slipping your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, puling them down, leaving him perfectly bare under you. Bucky wasn't typically a shy person but the way you gazed at him with such love made him blush, his thighs tensing when you settling yourself between them.

"Sweetheart you don't have to-oh-f-fuckkk" His words melted into a deep moan, feeling your lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock, your tongue probing his slit, lapping up every bit of precum that dripped out.

You worshipped his cock with your mouth and tongue, making him feel pleasure like never before, your hand softly rubbing and rolling his balls. You pulled off with a pop just to dip your head lower, nursing on his heavy sack, the slutty, needy moans he was letting out growing louder.

"B-Baby, g'nna cum if you don't stop" His thighs spread apart further for you, back nearly arching off the bed as you licked a thick stripe from his balls to the tip of his cock, crawling back up his body to line your soaking cunt up with his length.

"Please y/n" Bucky blinked at you with glassy, lustful eyes, rutting his hips up to feel more of you, his hands flying to your thighs, needing to touch you.

"Anything for you baby" you cooed, gasping at the feeling of his tip catching against your hole, throwing your head back as you began to sink down on his cock, the both of you moaning together at the feeling of him stretching you open.

You began to grind your hips down on him, your clit rubbing against the curly hair at the base of his cock before slowly picking you pace up, your hands resting on his chest for leverage.

"Feel's so good princess" Bucky's eyes rolled back as you started to bounce up and down, practically squealing each time you slammed yourself back down, obscene squelching noises filling the room.

"You deserve it sergeant" you whimpered, letting Bucky's hands roam your body, grabbing and pinching your nipples, your tight cunt squeezing his cock.

"C'mere baby, c'mere please" Bucky pleaded, pulling you down to his chest and wrapping his arms around you, planting his feet against the bed so he could fuck up into you, "Fuck that's it, mark me up!"

Bucky could feel you nip and suck on his neck hard enough to leave bruises, your words starting to slur as you both got closer and closer to your highs.

"F-fuck I love you!" you cried out, biting down hard on Bucky's shoulder as you started to cum, the head of his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust, his pace growing sloppy.

"I-I love you princess, I love you so much-God m'gonna cum-fuck-s'so much for you-HNGG" He clung onto you like his life depended on it, shoving his cock in as deep as it would go, ropes of his warm spend shooting into you.

"I love you so much Jamie" your pussy clenched around his softening cock making him jolt, the both of you panting, pressing light kisses on sweat slicked skin. "Fell in love with you twice Sergeant"

Bucky blushed before throwing you a cocky smirk, still feeling happiness beyond what words could explain having you in his arms again.

"I'll always love you" Bucky whispered before pulling the covers up over both of you once again, staying deep inside you as you started to drift off to sleep, "No matter what"

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celeryb1tch · 2 months

Text

how you and spencer meet!

receptionist!reader starts a new job at the BAU, and a very handsome coworker shows her around!

content: meet cute, fem!reader, pov you’re an idiot who’s sensitive to blood, fainting for the plot and not in the way it works in real life lol, confident-ish but pretty canon compliant mid-seasons spencer!

—

the FBI certainly isn’t the place for squeamish little pansies…

at least, that’s what you were told in your interview. and you had nodded diligently, ignoring the lump in your throat as you thought about how you almost fainted the last time you had bloodwork done. but as a secretary, how bad could it get, right? you tried to assure yourself of this when you got the job offer.

on a brisk friday morning, you were wandering through the FBI Academy campus in an attempt to find your office. everyone around you seemed to be in a hurry, and no one had given you the time of day when you attempted to ask for directions. so fifteen minutes before your first day started, opposed to the promised half hour, you entered the NSAVC building with your tail between your legs.

the bullpen was empty. you had expected to be met by a trainer, or perhaps the person whose job you would be taking over, but you instead faced a grouping of empty desks. as you peered around the open area, your eyes landed on a conference room with large windows, allowing you to see a group of agents. with a sigh of relief, you headed up the stairs and knocked on the door lightly before letting yourself in.

before you was a circular table seating five people, all with their eyes trained directly on you. “hi!” you chirped. “i was looking for-“

“i think you’re lost, miss. students shouldn’t be allowed access into this department,” demanded a man in a full suit, who seemed to be in charge.

your smile faded as you saw the various displeased faces looking back at you. “oh no, i’m not…” in an attempt to avoid eye contact, you raised your sight to the opposite wall, projector casting images of open wounds and a dismembered corpse. and in only a second, your vision was going black.

—

the white of fluorescent bulbs seared even through to the inside of your eyelids, but despite this you still blinked a few times to shake the disorientation and open your eyes.

your legs were eased up in the air with a chair, brand new pencil skirt hiked slightly up your thighs. you felt the texture of carpet against your back through your blouse and the cool of ice on your forehead. your first instinct was to sit up and reorient yourself, which you tried to no avail.

“hey, hey, easy,” an unidentifiable voice said soothingly. you scanned your surroundings, finding a man with chin length chestnut hair in your periphery who couldn’t be much older than you. he was crouched beside you, apple juice box in hand and concern in his eyes. god, his eyes were pretty, you thought. like pools of dappled sunlight.

it took you a few seconds to recognize him as one of the displeased members of the conference room, and the previous events rushed back to you, bringing a flush to your cheeks. “i am so sorry, sir. um, agent. detective? there was a misunderstanding, and that was so unprofessional of me.”

he had a small smile playing on his lips as he scanned your face. he seemed to be entertained by the fact that you were so flustered, letting you finish rambling before he replied. “doctor spencer reid, and no worries at all. a freeze response to gore is a fairly common reaction. while you were unconscious we were able to identify you as the new front desk secretary, we thought you were starting next week so we weren’t expecting anyone.”

you visibly relaxed at his explanation. it seemed possible that you wouldn’t be fired on the spot for this. you took the hand he outstretched to you, helping you up from the ground slowly. he offered you the juice box, to which you shook your head. “i’m okay, but thank you.”

“i would recommend it. after fainting it’s likely that your blood sugar is low, and fruit juice is packed with natural sugars that will allow you to feel better almost immediately.”

“doctor’s orders, huh?” you joked, to which he cracked a smile again.

“i’m not exactly that kind of doctor. but yes, i do strongly advise it.”

so you took the juice box, and spencer walked you down the few steps from the office you’d been laying in toward the bullpen. suddenly you were filled with anxiety once again as the faces you had seen minutes ago holding inconvenienced stares now looked on with concern.

the man from before who was so clearly the leader of this operation approached, offering a hand to shake. “supervisory special agent aaron hotchner, i apologize for the misunderstanding.”

you winced away from him slightly, worried that any further mistake would result in you losing the position you had yet to start. “thank you, sir. i am so sorry for interrupting a meeting like that, and fainting. that wasn’t exactly the first impression i wanted.”

he had an easy smile, that of a reassuring father. “i can assure you that no punitive action will be taken, if that’s what you’re concerned about. if we knew you were coming today we would not have left graphic case evidence up on the screen.”

oh, thank god. you exhaled deeply, feeling the tightness in your chest subside. you stepped back toward spencer, whose gaze had never left you. “what should i be doing now? i was never informed of what my training would be, not to mention where my desk is.”

“linda’s out sick today, which is why we thought you weren’t coming until monday,” said the woman sat in the desk rightmost of you. her hair was pure black, with straight, blunt bangs that suited her well.

“we don’t exactly have training for you today without your predecessor here, so i thought you could shadow my agents to familiarize yourself with the office. and i’m happy to show you to your desk, but since you’ll mostly be seeing our faces daily, we should get introductions out of the way first,” agent hotchner said.

you glanced at spencer beside you almost unconsciously, in search of reassurance. despite knowing him for about three minutes, he was the closest thing you had to a friend or ally so far. and seeming to sense this, he shot you a smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes. you felt your anxiety melt a little, and you realized that everything was going to be okay.

—

by lunchtime, you had your things at your desk and nothing to do without a computer login or training. you remembered that hotchner had suggested shadowing someone, but the idea of asking one of the agents made your stomach churn. they sat only a dozen feet away from you, laughing and bantering as if they’d known each other all their lives. who were you to butt into their dynamic? so you sat twiddling your thumbs for the rest of the lunch hour, peeking at the group occasionally to confirm that you hadn’t spontaneously gained the confidence to approach.

spencer specifically appeared to be deep in thought once he got back to work. you thought that it would be best to shadow him if possible, given you were most familiar with the tall brunette, but you really had no business to interrupt his work. still, you worked up the courage to advance to his desk.

“would you like some more coffee, dr. reid? i could go get some for you, you seem pretty busy,” you offered in an attempt at nonchalance. but uncertainty and regret crept up quickly when you received no reply.

emily prentiss, the previously unnamed woman with dark hair, noticed the interaction. with a slight grin on her lips, she interjected. “don’t take it personally. he gets so into his case readings, it’s hard for him to pick up on anything else.”

“hey, pretty boy,” cooed derek morgan from another desk. “someone’s trying to talk to you.”

spencer lifted his head reluctantly, eyes following a moment later. he looked dazed, not quite focused on anything in particular. “sorry, what?”

“i noticed your coffee was almost empty, would you like some more?” you asked meakly. it took everything in you not to run and hide of embarrassment.

he finally registered the question, shaking his head fervently. “no, i couldn’t ask you to do that. i’m perfectly capable of refilling my own coffee, but while i do i could show you the kitchenette? it’s crucial to the operation of the office.”

and with a nod, the two of you headed to the tiny kitchen adjacent to the bullpen. you stood slightly out of the way as spencer placed his mug on the counter, refilling the drip coffee maker for a fresh batch. you watched him card his fingers through his hair, looking around casually.

“so, the kitchen is important why?” you inquired, head tilting slightly to emphasize your interest.

spencer finally met your eyes again, letting out a little breezy laugh. “oh, it’s not. i noticed that you were having trouble potentially asking one of us to show you around, so i thought this was an opportune moment.”

you flushed slightly at the confession, apparently caught red-handed in your effort. “wow, you’re pretty good at reading people. or was i just that transparent?”

“is that a joke?” his eyebrows knotted as he looked at you, no air of humour on his face.

you stared back, equally confused. “am i supposed to know that? do you have a particularly well known judgement of character?”

“well yes, you’re in the behavioural analysis unit.”

and with that, you were sure that you had damaged your ego and reputation in this job position irrevocably.

—

after a brief explanation of the lack of background information provided when accepting the job, spencer assured you that he wouldn’t tell the others. he expressed his surprise that the FBI hadn’t been as diligent as they usually are, and you had to agree.

“i mean, i told them that this was my first job after graduation. i was doing my field placement two months ago, and that was in a law firm!” you stifled a giggle, feeling at ease leaning against the kitchen counter with spencer taking occasional sips of his coffee.

“that’s astounding. they hired me young, but i’d argue that i was overqualified for the position,” he admitted. “you, however…”

you gasped in feigned offence, rolling your eyes. “hey, i learned a lot in that law office! i can photocopy anything you need me to, and schedule dry cleaning for same-day pickup.”

it had been well over a half hour at this point, with you and spencer getting gradually closer until your clothed elbow rubbed against his. no one else had come in, until mid-reply spencer was greeted by agent aaron hotchner himself, who happened to also need a fresh cup of coffee.

“reid, i see that you’ve taken it upon yourself to let our new team member shadow you. but maybe you should show her some places other than the coffee counter?” he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

spencer looked caught, eyes flitting from you to his boss. your boss too, you supposed. “of course. sorry hotch, we got a little caught up.”

“i can see that. as long as you get your files finished by end-of-day, it’s really none of my business.”

“yes, sir,” spencer yelped. he gestured rapidly for you to follow him, exiting the kitchen to return to his desk.

you watched him put his mug down and shuffle some papers around before his eyes lit up in recognition. “i actually do need you to photocopy this for me,” he admitted shyly.

“of course!” you replied, just before your smile dropped. “you actually never showed me where the copier is.”

spencer chuckled with you, getting up from his chair once again. “no problem, i’ll show you.”

and as the two of you began walking down the hallway together, the others laughed upon hearing, “by the way, would you like to go for dinner with me once we clock out? i have a lot more to tell you.”

derek grinned. “i didn’t know that kid had the balls.”

—

(hi guys!! thank you for all of the love on my first spencer post!! i’m having so much fun writing these! psa tho: as i said before, i’m a lesbian i just have a weird thing for this one particular fictional man- so if u follow me, pls expect woman-centred content mostly!!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #molly’s!

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solitary-traveler · 16 days

Text

Stars Around My Scars

The scars on your wrists stood out to him though and he usually expresses great displeasure towards it. “I don't like them” he frowns, “They reek of desperation”

Kabukimono x Gn!Reader

Notes: Hiii, so um let me clear a couple things first. I'm not able to post the second part for ascent to oblivion since I'm busy and exams are coming up. I promise I'll upload it as soon as possible. Take this simple gift for now. And yes this is a repost. Anyway, I just merged them together. That was a shitty decision honestly. Seriously, me and my impatient ass yesterday-

Art: @OogyPng (X)

Warning: mentions of self harm, i swear there's fluff-

The beauty of mortal life comes with its finite period of existence, that fleeting period before dissipating in the blink of an eye.

Much akin to that of a firework display.

They explode, bragging their scintillating colors that douse the sun in jealousy. With an ear-piercing blast, it blankets the night sky, fluorescing like the moon as it gleams like the stars above.

If life was momentary for a puny human, why not make use of it?

Why not become a wanderer and travel the world?

You get to region hop and satiate your wanderlust. To encounter unfamiliar faces and attach their names to your expanding friends’ list. To pick up tidbits about riveting stories recounted by elders and children alike. The possibilities are unending, a spectacle waiting to be unboxed.

Yet there’s always the impending menace of falling victim to the grappling claws of solitude.

You’ve been plunged into that headspace a few times already. Despite your protests, the glister of joy and love you’ve gotten from simple things flickered faintly, the bleakness settling in. Your surroundings felt barren, as the dismal winds swept away every inch of ecstasy from within you. Your godforsaken history comes back to taunt you, a reminder of your internal demons who’s having a field day tormenting you.

“You’re so fucking petty it’s almost hilarious. So undeserving. Why are you still here? You’re not worth anything. And you’ll never be.”

“An accident? That’s a bullshit excuse.Without you, the accident wouldn’t occur. It’s all your fault. Everything is.”

“Everyone hates you. Why can’t you get that right? Everyone you talk to finds a fault in you that they don’t dare say to your face. But they know. They can’t help but judge you. Of course they would wouldn’t they? You’re a weirdo”

“A disgrace.”

“A worthless piece of shit.”

The thoughts bounce within your mind, endlessly toying with your emotional state.

You emit a burst of bitter laughter.

It‘s cold.

The temperature was rather freezing despite the incandescence the sun was offering. You can barely feel it radiate through your skin, as a pang smashes through your heart.

You don’t want to be cold.

Your gaze shifts to your sword resting on the patch of grass beside you.

Another benefit of wandering. No one would suspect that your scars are self-inflicted.

As far as you’re concerned, It’s only natural for wanderers to acquire marks that resemble cuts and bruises on their bodies. Incessantly faced with the turmoil of threats and hazards, scars are assumed to serve as tokens of the risk they have confronted on their previous journeys.

Besides, it’s not like you wanted to do it. It just felt right. Like the self imposed wounds on your wrists belonged there. It felt as if the blade slicing your hand like paper was supposed to do it. That watching the red liquid flow out of it was because you deserved it.

At least you’re not cold anymore. Who knew blood could be so warm?

—-------------------------

The distant display of lights crackle against the tranquil night.

You flash a mixture of colors, expressing the turmoil of what you refer to as your emotions. Yet the speck of your allure was gradually dwindling.

It wouldn’t take long before you vanish.

Like a pretty firework.

But what use is a pretty firework when it waves and dances all alone with the stars, concealed far from anyone's vision?

What use is a pretty firework when they're just meant to blink momentarily and dissolve?

You got your answer when you met an eccentric puppet during one of your travels. Sweet, little Kabukimono found your dying spark and rekindled it with his saccharine smiles and candied words.

You grasped the concept of how fireworks are meant to shine for others to see, for at least one person to view and relish. For them to admire. And for them to love.

And Kabukimono loved you.

There’s no denying that.

Your traveling companion cherished you, always doting you with his presence. He would never leave your side unaccounted for and often offers you praises that you find doubtful.

“You’re so cool Y/N! You’re so efficient in fighting! Can you teach me??”

“I didn’t mean to stare! You just… looked pretty from here…”

“I just wanted to spend time with you! …Is that so bad?”

Much to your skepticism, you find yourself hesitating to swallow his words. They felt like lies, sugar coated phrases meant to lure you into a trap of false hope. False sense of security. I mean, who would find you this interesting? Who would want to be by your side? Who would want to constantly seek you out because they enjoyed your presence? Because they enjoy being with you?

Lies.

Every honeyed statement that rolls out of his tongue are nothing but lies.

He was going to leave you. Sooner or later.

But for whatever reason, the puppet stayed. He would not tire from his sickening performance of pretending to care for you. He should visit the theater sometimes, given how top tier his acting skills are. He claims with a two faced, innocent grin that the place beside you was his, and only his for as long as you were together. He says he wants to know about you—to study and learn what makes you… you—all the while those deceitful puppy eyes stare at you whenever you recount tales from your journey.

You’re stubborn self refuses to acknowledge the fact that he’s showing you genuine affection. Authentic fondness.

Maybe… it’s not an act?

You were perplexed. You aren’t sure how to navigate through the solution of this problem, considering how you have no experiences regarding this matter. You aren’t aware of what to do, of what to say. It was frightening really, venturing into uncharted territories.

So you do nothing.

And Kabukimono remains by your side.

The puppet was nosey when it came to you. One time, he caught a glimpse of your scars when you attempted to snatch a fish for dinner, only to result in you falling into the water. You sure had plenty of them. He sighs, wondering how much they must’ve hurt. Poor you.

In all honesty, he pities you. You carry an aura of despair, a chilling sensation that never seems to go away. It was attached to you in a way, like a melancholic burden that lays upon your shoulders. A suffering the puppet doesn’t want you going through.

He would often ask about the origin of your scars. You were quite reluctant at first, but his persistence was soon rewarded by one of your wondrous tales. He cherishes your stories. It was always enchanting to hear about different regions that he can not visit.

The scars on your wrists stood out to him though and he usually expresses great displeasure towards it.

“I don't like them” he frowns, “They reek of desperation”

In the young Kabuki’s mind, he notices that they don’t match the other marks on the surface of your skin. They were messy and painful to look at, like a blend of misery and torment was doused over that certain area. A mixture that can’t be dried, that can’t be removed.

He detested seeing you drowning in your sorrows.

An idea invaded his thoughts. He picks up a bright yellow marker from your bag and gently clutches your arm. He pops open the cap and uses your hand as a canvas, doodling little stars around your scars. This warrants an eyebrow raise from you, a look he just dismisses.

“What are you doing?”

He flashes you a grin—one of the many precious expressions he loves to show off to you—as he huffs proudly, “I'm drawing stars!”

You were baffled. “...Why?”

“So that these little guys can protect you! That way, no more painful scars when I'm not around!”

When I'm not around.

A tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

You were feeling a bit cold today.

But Kabukimono seemed to have warmed you up in his own way.

For a moment, your inner demons and insecurities were thrown behind a wall, padlocked there while Kabuki held the key. The world stilled, no movement dared to interrupt the serene moment between two wanderers who found solace in the presence of each other.

Your gaze never left the indigo haired puppet as he continues to work on the stars. He was focused on it like it was some masterpiece he was dying to show to the world.

…Seriously, he's such a silly guy.

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ayyy-pee · 7 months

Text

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.

Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU

Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here

Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)

Chapter 1 - Inheritance

A/N: There's some Danish in fic that I hope I'm using correctly! (If not let me know) Nanami calls his mother "Mor" in this fic, which is Danish for Mom (according to Google lmao)

“Are you okay with this arrangement?” a stocky, bald man ahead asks. In the harsh fluorescent lighting of the office, the beads of sweat forming on his head are apparent. He reaches up and swipes his hand across where his hairline probably resided at some point in time, but is now long gone. He clears his throat, repeating the question.

“Um-” he glances around at the other men at the table, dressed in bland, ugly suits. A bunch of blank faces that’ll be forgotten once this is over. The man behind taps his shoulder.

“Mr. Nanami?” He speaks.

Nanami’s brows raise as he’s brought back to the present and he looks around to find the men surrounding the table staring at him. He looks back to the bald man next to him. “I’m sorry. What was that?”

The bald man wipes his forehead again and Nanami hopes whatever paperwork and pen he is about to offer him is passed with his other hand. He resists shuddering in disgust.

“I was saying your mother has left her bakery to you in her will and testament with the wish that you continue to keep it open.”

Right. Nanami remembers now. His mother is dead - the only family he can remember having now leaving him alone in this world. He figured this would happen eventually. She was elderly and in declining health. He was truly surprised she lived as long as she did. To top it off, she wants him to keep the piece of shit bakery that’s been passed down generations in business.

Nanami didn’t get to see his mother often. He worked as a corporate executive so he didn’t have much time to allocate to visiting her and being forced into the kitchen with her. Instead, he opted to call her often and visited when he had the time.

The sensation of his bottom lip trembling pulls Nanami from his thoughts.

“I don’t want it.” He confirms, voice as even as he can manage.

The bald man glances around nervously before looking back at Nanami. “Mr. Nanami, I understand this must be a lot to take in and quite difficult for you. However, this bakery has been in your family for generations. Your grandfather left it to your mother when he passed and now your mother to you. Are you sure you don’t want to–”

“It’s a sinking ship”, Nanami cuts him off. “I’ve seen the books a few times. I know it’s bleeding money and has been for some time. What do you suppose I do with that?”

The man shrugs, not that Nanami truly expected him to have an answer. Nanami pinches the bring of his nose, his brows stitching together in irritation. He really doesn’t want to deal with this. It’s annoying and an inconvenience. He wants to coast by in his cushy corporate executive job until retirement, making loads of money and not worrying about the crippling debt brought on by selling baked dough in some sad, rundown family owned establishment.

His mind drifts back to the very last time he was at the bakery, remembering his mother kneading the dough between her shaky, liver spotted fingers. When the aches became too much for her, she asked Nanami to give her a hand. He always complied if only to keep himself busy for the moment.

“When will you settle down? Work won’t be there forever”, she would ask as she took a seat on her stool next to the confectionery ovens. The massive machines loomed over her thin frame and Nanami wondered how she did this everyday. He wished she would close up shop and live the rest of her days resting. He had offered many times to support her, each time being met with a hard “no”.

“I don’t have time to date anyone. Besides, they’d just end up leaving me anyway. I’m too busy to make time for anyone else.”

His mother hummed in acknowledgement. “Yes, but you have to make time for them, Kento. A relationship is about compromise after all.”

“I don’t want to have to compromise. That’s the point of me not dating anyone right now”. His mother was always pushing for him to find someone. Asking for him to bring someone home to meet her before she met her demise - her words. She was always so dramatic, often prompting Nanami to roll his eyes in amusement.

Nanami molded the dough into an oval shape, grabbing the bread lame from the side of the table and quickly slicing leaf cut patterns into the dough - both his and his mother’s favorite. Carefully, he placed the dough onto a baking pan before gently shooing away his mother from her stool to slide the pan into the oven and turn it on.

“Kento, money comes and goes. You won’t have forever to live your life the way you see fit. And I want to see you get married before I’m dead and gone!” His mother sighed dramatically as she took Nanami’s large hard in both her smaller ones. “In all seriousness, sweet boy. I want to see you happy, living your life to the fullest.”

Nanami smiled softly down at his mother. He gently folded her up in an embrace. “My life is full as long as you’re here, Mor .”

His mother smacked him playfully in the chest. “Don’t try to butter me up with speaking Danish”, she scolded, though her voice held no anger. “Kento, take a break. Life will pass you by before you know it and you don’t want to look back at your life to realize you wasted it sitting in an office rotting under those awful lights.” She squinted her eyes to drive her point home. Nanami rolled his eyes playfully, looking down at his watch.

“I have to go back to work. I’ll call you later this week.” He bent low to place a kiss to his mother’s cheek before heading out through the front of the store.

The quiver in his lip returned and he let out a shaky breath to steady himself as the bald, sweaty man next to him slid over what looked to be a contract.

“If you’re sure, Mr. Nanami, we will have the bank take possession of the property. I’ll just need your signature here.” He extended his hand to give Nanami a pen and he fought the curl of disgust threatening to form on his lip when he noticed he held it with the same sweat-slathered hand he’d been using to wipe his head this entire meeting.

Nanami’s eyes roamed across the room. The faces of men he’d likely never see again surrounded him, just like every other day in this godforsaken boardroom. All dressed in some variation of the same ordinary suit and tie, talking amongst themselves about who knows what. And the lights, the fucking fluorescent lights threatening to trigger the same migraine Nanami found himself having everyday.

Life will pass you by before you know it and you don’t want to look back at your life to realize you wasted it sitting in an office rotting under those awful lights.

Nanami squinted just as his mother did that day, a wry chuckle escaping him. Fuck it. What did he have to lose?

“Actually–” he begins.

- - - - - - - -

Nanami is standing in the front of the bakery he now owns. It’s been about two weeks since he inherited this gaping wound bleeding out money every second it’s standing. He’s quit his corporate job, his peers whispering that his loss must have triggered a mental breakdown. They were almost right. The moment he signed the legal documents to take over the bakery, he felt free - as though the weight of the corporate world had been lifted from his shoulders. Now, as he entered the bakery and flipped on the lights, watching as a piece of ceiling tile tumbled to the lobby floor he felt his impending breakdown sneaking closer.

This place was a mess. He couldn’t blame his mother. She wasn’t able to handle the upkeep on her own and honestly, Nanami should have come around more to help out. Now, he was literally paying the price. It was no wonder the place was struggling when it was open. The furniture was worn, the decor was outdated and not in a trendy way. He understood wanting to keep the family memory alive, but the bakery was feeling more like a moldy old hole in the wall and not as welcoming as his mother believed it to be.

Repairs would be needed as soon as possible if he wanted to have a reopening for this place next month. He also needed to renovate the space and hire a baker who knew how the hell to run this place because he had no intention of doing it himself. No way. He fully intended on staffing this place up and collecting money from behind the scenes - the perfect retirement plan.

Nanami spent the day scheduling repairmen and interviews for the Head Baker position all within the next week. If he could find someone knowledgeable and adept, he could breathe easy knowing he would never have to be here unless absolutely necessary.

After scheduling the last interview, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. This sucked. He was putting in way too much effort already and it did not seem worth it. Only time would tell.

- - - - - - - -

The first interview was easy enough. A young girl who seemed exhausted but eager. She had prior bakery experience, but the way the bags hung under her eyes made Nanami uncomfortable. It was as though she had something clinging to her and if he were totally honest, it gave him the creeps. At the end of the interview, he wished her well, advised her to try to get some rest and maybe see a medium about whatever strange aura was following her.

The second interview was an odd man with tattoos all over his body that looked something akin to stitches. He was young and lively, but it was apparent the moment he entered the bakery that he lacked basic hygiene skills. His long, gray (how old was this kid?) hair hung messily around his shoulders and the stench…Nanami could not describe the stench. If he absolutely had to describe it - like gun to the head, forced to recall the smell - he'd compare it to something along the lines of a sewer rat dipped in rotten eggs and left in the sun to bake. There was also the awful vibe Nanami got from him. He had a feeling if he hired this guy, Nanami would come in one day to find the entire bakery empty, the only thing left behind being hand soap since this man definitely didn’t wash his hands after using the bathroom, or shower, or brush his teeth or–

The third interview was annoying, but by far the best. Nanami sat at a table in the lobby as his eyes skimmed over the resume in his hands. A previous position as a Head Baker already, excellent. This resume even included custom recipes and pictures of their creations which he could not deny looked delicious. Nanami had to admit he was already impressed.

The door to the bakery opened and Nanami stood. Your eyes roamed around the lobby until you spotted him. You offered him a wide, friendly smile, holding your hand out to him as you approached. He asked your name, to which you confirmed and he shook your hand. Professional already. He liked it.

You both took a seat across from each other as Nanami went over the interview questions he had prepared. The usual - tell me about yourself? Tell me a time when…How would you handle…

Your answers were professional with enough of your personality shining through to let Nanami know you were a likable enough person. Nanami especially enjoyed the way your eyes lit up when you went over how you came to write your recipes. Clearly you were passionate about baking, something his mother would have appreciated. As you explained to him how you once created a cake made of broccoli for a child’s birthday party that had not a single crumb left by the end of the night, Nanami couldn’t help but think how much his mother really would have liked you. He shook the thought away as he watched you take in the bakery again. He suddenly felt ashamed of its condition.

“I apologize. This place is an absolute dump, but I’ll be renovating soon enough and will be sure you have top of the line equipment should you get the position.” He muttered, rubbing his temple to ease the migraine that had been slowly creeping up on him since his last interview.

You shot him a look of confusion, tilting your head to the side. “What do you mean a dump? This place is gorgeous !” You beamed. “I mean, look around. There’s so much character in this building. You can tell whoever ran the place loved it. It looks like it really met its purpose.” You ran your hand across the worn wood of the table and sighed wistfully.

Nanami scoffed. “It appears outside of baking, you have questionable taste.”

“How can you look at this place and see a dump?” You questioned, genuinely curious.

“Because I grew up in this bakery and it didn’t used to be a dump and now it very obviously is.” Nanami said easily.

Your grin faded into a scowl. “Mr. Nanami, with all due respect, you seem to be looking only for flaws here.”

You stood from the table and pointed behind the front counter to the kitchen in the back. “Do you mind?” Nanami shook his head, sighing as he stood with you and followed you to the back.

Your head whipped around as you entered the kitchen, taking in the worn down appliances, pans, tools and other materials. You didn’t touch anything, only a small smile gracing your features as you observed everything.

“I love bakeries like this personally. I love to be in a space that feels like lots of love and care was put into the end product. Anyone can throw flour into a pot with some eggs and sugar, but what makes one bakery different or better than the next?”

You watched Nanami intensely, not speaking. Oh. Was he the one being interviewed now?

“How much money they make.” He answered confidently. You snorted.

“Loud and wrong”, you stated. “It’s love , Mr. Nanami.”

He rolled his eyes and you burst into laughter. Nanami was now slowly becoming convinced you were a crazy person.

“I’m joking…to an extent. But if you put in the time, the effort and the care into your baking you’ll gain so much more than you ever thought possible. The fancy furniture and stupid bright lights won’t make a difference if you just slap whatever dry, shitty bread onto a plate and sell it.”

Nanami stared blankly.

“What’s your favorite memory here, Mr. Nanami?” you asked suddenly.

“Irrelevant to this interview”, he replied instead. You scowled.

“Come onnnnn, indulge me”, you pleaded.

“No.”

You folded your arms across your chest stubbornly. “Will you always be this difficult if we work together?”

Nanami’s brows shot up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Will you always be this difficult if we work together?” You repeat, a little more slowly this time.

“I am not difficult”, he lied. He knew he was being difficult at this moment, probably sounding like a child arguing back. He could have just answered your damn prying questions but…he didn’t want to. Okay, yes he was being childish. Regardless, he continued.

“Why should I give you this job?”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on it absentmindedly while you thought about your answer. “Because I love baking. I love baking more than I love breathing and I could work a boring office job like anyone else, but I know I’d hate myself for it. This place needs a little help and I want to be here to make it into whatever you need it to be.”

Hating yourself for working an office job, huh? Nanami could relate. He was in this position mere weeks ago. You were sort of annoying always trying to see the bright side - rainbows and butterflies and shit - but maybe he could look past that. He did need a baker after all and his only other interviews were not exactly what he was looking for. But, he needed to establish some ground rules first.

“If you accept this position, I will be your boss and you will respect me. Please don’t misinterpret this relationship. I am not interested in establishing a friendship. I simply need you to run this kitchen and make sure your desserts are up to par.”

You stood up straight, your demeanor shifting to strictly business. “Noted.”

Nanami sighed, feeling relieved that he was able to establish who the boss was around here before things got out of control. He squared his shoulders, looking at you from across the kitchen.

“Now, I am formally offering you the position of Head Baker. Do you accept it?”

“Absolutely”, you said with no hesitation before continuing. “But if you’re standing in my kitchen, I demand respect too”, you spoke up. “My desserts will never not be up to par, Mr. Nanami but please don’t misinterpret this relationship either. When you step into my kitchen, I am in charge here.”

You moved across the kitchen and held your hand out to Nanami, who shook it quietly as he assessed you. You were passionate, spoke your mind, demanded respect but you were also annoyingly way too positive. It would be an adjustment for Nanami to work with someone like you. He was used to the drab routine of office work and the bland personalities that came along with it. This entire process was going to be an adjustment for him.

Nanami walked you out of the bakery, giving you a start date of next Monday to go over recipes for a soft reopening. He watched you go, a small skip in your step and for the first time since losing his mother, his lips curled up into a tiny smile.

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jazziejax · 14 days

Text

The Challenge

Pairing- BlackOC! X Challengers Cast

Summary- moments between Orion O’Connor and the Challengers cast that the people loved

Warnings- swear words, flirtatious between costars

Author’s Note- This sucks raccoon ass, it’s 2am, and I haven’t written in a very long time so cut me some slack, I beg you! I’m gonna write for Challengers at some point but I’m waiting because I want to write a series and I’m gonna need it on streaming services to do that(because I already paid to see it twice). But I’ll probably write some one-off things for you guys. Sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes. As I said, it’s 2am.

Word Count- 2,686

“So, I have to ask.” The woman interviewer said, mainly looking over at Orion. Said girl’s expression went from calm to suspicious as she turned her head and side eyed the woman. The interviewer was about to open her mouth to speak again before Orion lightly gasped as she faced forward again.

“Let me guess.” She stated, leaning forward in her seat. Everyone paused, waiting for the girl to speak. “You’re gonna ask if we’re married.” She said, her left index finger motioning between her and the British man next to her. The woman’s mouth fell open a little bit as she stared at the brown woman across from her.

“How’d you know that?” She asked, genuine surprise in her voice. Orion slightly nodded as she adjusted herself in her seat. She crossed her right leg over her left and her body was slightly tilted to where she leaned Josh’s way. “Everyone has the same look in their eyes before they ask.” She shrugged. The tension of such a question could be felt throughout the room but also on social media. Fans went crazy with this clip, seeing the obvious signs that Orion was tired of such a question and was getting bad at hiding it. Some people called her rude while others defended her saying the interviewer was bad at her job for asking the same thing they already know the answer to.

“I just wanted to know how you guys felt about such rumors going around about you two?” The interviewer asked. Orion looked over at Josh, seeing if he wanted to give the question a go. Said man glanced down a little to make eye contact with the woman next to him before turning to the woman in front of him. “Um, the rumors don’t necessarily bother me. Not anymore at least.” He stated. “People have been saying this since the beginning of our careers, almost, because we became friends right before and have been for so long. So, I guess it just seemed like we were married?” Josh said with confusion written all over his face, his tone rising at the end since he was more so asking a question.

Orion dry chuckled as she watched the man deliver the answer she was tired of giving. “I say it’s rather flattering, in a sense, that people think we are married. Because Orion is an amazing woman that anyone would be lucky to call a wife.” He finished softly, glancing over at the woman next to him. “But no, we’re just best friends with the same name.” He said, visibly pink in the face as he continuously glanced at the woman next to him.

With the new craze of Challengers, every cast member gained new fans along with the one they already had and all were tuned in on their press tour. Social media went crazy over Josh and Orion, new fans because of their on and off screen chemistry while old fans were just excited to see the pair in another project together.

Orion made a cute pout at his words, her face heating as she looked at him in his blue eyes. Her big eyes reflected the fluorescent lights above them as she stated into his. “He’s too sweet for his own damn good.” She said in a sad tone as if she was crying. She leaned her head on his shoulder for a split second before raising it and dropping her façade. “Let me just say this.” She started, sitting up straight in her seat. Zendaya and Mike, who felt as if they were third wheeling the whole time, chuckled at her. “I don’t understand why I keep getting asked that when it could be easily answered by taking a look at my hand.” She said, showing her left hand. She used her right index finger to rub her left ring finger as she stared directly into the camera lens. “I do not have on a ring.” She said, shaking her head. She grabbed ahold of Josh’s and and held it up. Before she could even speak, her cast mates burst out laughing, knowing she was very riled up, which was quite amusing.. “He does not have on a ring.” She then looked back at the interviewer. “I would never do such a thing. I would be mad at Josh if he allowed me to do such a thing.” She stressed. “And I would also never let him or any man disrespect me in such a way. Isn’t that right?” She asked, looking over at the British man next to her. Josh immediately nodded.

“Correct.”

The initial context of video was ignored once clips hit other media sites. All people could talk about was the sheer amount of times Orion and Josh caught the other one staring. And if not them then the camera caught it. They all went feral over the last line, finding the way she demanded an answer out of him attractive and the way he answered her immediately. The compatibility between the two could be felt through the screen. Many edits were made out of the two and their characters, Dion and Patrick.

For backstory, Orion and Josh have been friends for many years. Meeting each other on the set of The Durrells where Orion was the only American that used an English accent for an obscene amount of time to play her character ‘Daisy’. They were only together in a couple of scenes but off screen, Josh and Orion became good friends. They grew even closer when Josh moved in with Orion when she went back to America. He would be staying for a while for work and Orion wanted the transition to be easy for her friend since he was such a big help for her in Europe, so she offered him a room in her New York flat. That’s when the rumors started. Seeing pictures of this pair of up and coming actors with the same last name, doing activities and living together. They blushed and joked at the rumors at first but after a while it started to get pretty annoying.

This being brought up again, fans started researching for old pictures of the two and they couldn’t get enough of the pair. Pictures of them holding pinkies as they walked around New York. Most of them from the same day as Orion showed him all of her favorite spots. There were pictures of them on the subway reading a book together. Pictures of them on visiting each other on set when they worked on different projects. So many pictures for the fans to choose from.

A while later in another interview, the energy seemed to be more prominent between them all.

“Do you think is most like their character?” The interviewer asked them. All of them immediately pointed at Orion, who even pointed at herself. Seeing that they all had the same idea, they laughed at one another. “Why is that? What makes you like you’re character?” He questioned again.

“Um, it’s actually funny because they changed things around for Dion once I was casted for her.” Orion started. “Her name was changed for be more boyish after I was casted because Luca and Justin liked the contrast of such a sweet and feminine character with a “boys” name.” She stated, doing air quotations around the word boy. “They did a lot of tweaking to the script after I was chosen for…whatever creative reasons they have.” She chuckled, waving her hands to indicate she didn’t know why but it was slowly up to them.

“I would hope I would be the most like my character because it’s almost based off of me at this point.” She shrugged. “But I would say I'm most like her in the way I love and express myself. In the movie, Dion is very physical with her friends which I tend do to be.” She chuckled to herself. Mike nodded his head next. She looked over at him, her smile big on her face as she blushed out of embarrassment. “Oh yeah, she’s like a baby koala. Or a sloth.” He started, seeing that the attention was on him. Everyone laughed. “She was always on top of someone in between takes. She falls out when she laughs, and she’s always sleeping.” Mike said, sitting up in his chair as he listed, his voice showing mock annoyance. Orion covered her face in embarrassment, leaning her head back as she laughed.

“I’m sorry, okay! This is just how I am!” She shouted. After a while of everyone laughing, they calmed down and sat still in their seats. “I see where my affection is not wanted.” Orion said sassily as she rolled her eyes, crossing her legs and leaned away from Mike. Mike groaned at her dramatic behavior and rolled his eyes too, doing the same as her. Seeing this, Orion softly scoffed at him. “Art wouldn't treat me this way.” She joked, causing laughter to fill the room again.

“Why do you guys say Orion is like Dion? Where do the similarities lie in your eyes?” The interviewer asked. Mike was the first to answer.

“I say she’s like Dion in the way she stated, herself .” He said, gesturing over to Orion. “Dion is a very loving and passionate character. You see that in the way she treats her friends, and in the games she plays. She doesn’t play for competition , she plays for the feeling it gives her. Like in the scene where she goes against Tashi, it didn’t cause them any strife because she doesn’t see it as ‘who’s better’, she sees it as a relationship and almost a way of communicating.” He said. “I see that a lot in Orion because she doesn’t really communicate through words, she communicates through her actions, in real life and within a character.” He finished. There was a moment of silence as everyone sat with what he said. Mike quickly looked around the room at the silence before looking over at Orion.

“Aww, Mikey.” Orion said as she pouted and leaned over to give him a side hug, placing her head on his shoulder. Breaking the tension in the air, the room chuckled. “He knows me so well.” Orion spoke up, placing her cheek against his with her hand on the other side of his face, smushing them together. They both smiled, feeling their cheeks mush together.

Fans were already in the Art Donaldson/Mike Faist train before they even saw the movie and especially afterwards. During most of the press tour the cute moments were between Josh and Orion and Zendaya and Orion, since the girl has previous history with them. But when Orion and Mike had their cute moments, fans almost felt like they were in love.

It was admitted in an interview Mike had without the whole cast he really admired the work Orion did before he formally met her. He first saw her on the comedy show Community. He found her really funny there and could tell her chemistry with the cast was impeccable. But her acting skills really shined to him when he saw her in Fleabag and The Handmaid's Tale. When he heard that she was going to be in the movie with him, he had a fanboy moment to himself for a few hours before calming down. Little did he know that Orion admitted herself in a solo interview that she used to have a crush on Mike after first seeing him in Dear Evan Hanson. She said that even though she hated that musical, she watched it for him. That’s also why she went and saw Brokeback Mountain live. Fans loved hearing this information, the Art and Dion edits having a mega surplus afterwards. Their interview moments together were cute but people mainly loved their red carpet interactions, Orion either bullying him for what he had on or the way he posed. She never let him live.

Another moment that went viral was their interview talking about intimate scenes together.

“Was that awkward to do with your best friend?” The journalist asked Orion.

“No, because we’ve done that before.” She answered quickly, not thinking of what she said. Zendaya’s head snapped to her, eyes a little wide as she gave the girl next to her a questionable glare. Mike raised his eyebrows while Josh tried to hide his laughter, and his red face, behind his hands. Seeing the reactions she got around the room, Orion chuckled before trying to save herself. “Not like that. I just mean I’ve seen him naked before.” She defended no better. Now all you could hear was the laughter of her cast mates. Mike and Z leaning on one another as they laughed while Josh put his head in his hands. “You guys know what I mean. We’ve done things like this before.” She continued to try to defend herself. Seeing her get nowhere, Josh placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked over at the cute smiling British man next to her, unconsciously smiling along with him.

“What? Tell them this isn’t something new for us.” She demanded the man. Josh placed his large hand on top of hers that was resting on the arm of the chair. “Our characters in The Durrells were in a relationship. That’s what she means.” Josh said, his face still red from trying to hold in his laughter. And blushing.

“The real question is, did you enjoy it?” Orion asked, looking over at the man next to her. But before he could speak, Mike spoke first. “Oh, I enjoyed it.” Mike joked. “Art and Dion were like rabbits at Stanford.” He emphasized.

“Her and Patrick were pretty wild too.” Zendaya said. “

“I think Dion was just like that with everyone, honestly.” Josh said. At that, Orion turned back to him, an eyebrow raised. “What’s that supped to mean?”

“No, byy everyone I mean, Tashi, Art and Patrick.” Josh rushed out, looking her right in the eyes. That’s something the fans caught into a lot. Whenever Orion looked his way, he would never break eye contact. No matter how many times she glanced off to the side or down at her hands playing with his, he never took his eyes off her face, especially when she was speaking. “Which is quite interesting when you take into account Dion was almost in control of everything.” He finished.

Orion immediately rolled her eyes and turned away from him. . Before she could say what she was going to, her other cast mates spoke in agreement. “100%.” Zendaya said.

“I’m not about to have this conversation again.” Orion spoke. “Dion is innocent and she was done wrong.” She said, looking directly into the camera.

“Dion played everyone.” Mike said.

“Like a game of tennis.” Josh finished, a small smirk on his lips. His eyes never left Orion, as if he was waiting for her to turn around. Mike and Zendaya groaned at him while Orion turned to him, a smile on her face when she looked his way. “That was so corny.” She said through her laughter that increased the more she thought about the terrible joke. Oriron loved a bad joke that was delivered kind of awkwardly. The rest of the interview consisted of small moments between Josh and Orion. Jim raising his hand to play with her dangling earring when Mike was talking. Her pinkie wrapped around his when both of their arms rested on their chairs.

Needless to say, the people loved Orion O’Oonnor and were on the edge of their seats to get more of her.

oconnorschildren

liked by, joshoconnorstoe, orionstar, and 36, 792 more

oconnorschildren you mean to tell me that this is Josh O’Connor and Orion O’Connor when they lived together???

view 3,944 comments

zendayacollective sups cute!!! ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

mikeyfaist they look like a couple

orionstar and they’re wondering why people assumed they were married 🙄

⤷ oconnorschildren right! they act in love and get mad at us!

⤷ joshoconnorstoe they should just get married

tomdayaofficial I don’t know who I want her with more, Josh or Mike

⤷ oconnorschildren me neither, she’s has such great chemistry with both! I love her with them!

liversometennis I can’t wait until challengers is on streaming services so I can’t watch her kiss them all day everyday

zendayastwin I wish people would post the moments between her and Z, they are so cute together. Small hints of flirting but amazing friends.

⤷ oconnorschildren I’ll post some in the future because they are cute together!

#challengersmovie #challengers #art donaldson #tashi donaldson #tashi duncan #zenday coleman #zendaya #josh o connor #josh o'connor #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #mike faist #jazziejaxwriting #jazziejaxchallengers

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ruh--roh-raggy · 3 months

Text

Flowers For My Valentine (Steve Raglan x Fem! Reader) - Valentine's Day Special

Hello hello and Happy Valentine's Day my lovelies! We have some sweet and flirty Steve Raglan this time around thanks to a wonderful Anon who made a request (this was so fun thank you so much!) If you would like to see more of this, more fnaf in general, or would like to be added to my tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: Age gap (Reader is in her late 20's, Steve is in his early 50's), office romance, flirting, mutual pining, reader very briefly talks about how she doesn't feel good enough, some swearing, not proofread, if I missed any please let me know!

You can find my Masterlist here! ~ AO3 Link!

Word Count: 6,189

“Good morning Linda!” You greet your co-worker jovially.

“Oh, perfect, you're here.” She waves you over, her long bright red acrylics clacking together. “Could you bring this down to Mr. Raglan’s office? I’d go do it, but he likes you better.” She teases with a chuckle, making your cheeks warm. She hands the pink flier over to you. It was the announcement for the office's annual Valentine’s Day party.

You walk down the plain, beige hallway, the walls lined with matching, cheap doors, their old brass hardware glinting in the fluorescent lights that hang from overhead. You paused in front of the last door on the left, ‘Steve Raglan' printed across the nameplate. You tap softly, a soft smile finding its way to your lips as you hear him call you in. He says your name softly, grinning brightly at you. “What a pleasant surprise.” He motions to the chair across from him. “Please, sit! Um, would you like some coffee? Tea maybe?” He hurries to stand, banging his knee on the desk in the process and making him curse under his breath.

“Mr. Raglan are you okay?” You hurry to his side, your look of pure concern making the older man’s features soften.

“I'm fine rabbit, being around pretty girls just makes me nervous.” He says with a wink. You giggle, growing flustered at his compliment.

“You flatter me, Mr. Raglan.” He gets lost in your eyes for a moment, the playful glimmer in them drawing him in. His gaze flashes down to the paper you held in your hands.

“What do we have here?” He smiles, taking the flier from you. He reads it over silently, running his fingers down his tie. “A Valentine’s Day party, huh?” His silvery eyes flash to yours, a playful smile lacing it’s way across his lips. “Are you going to drag your boyfriend to this thing?”

“Oh, there's no boyfriend to drag along.” You giggle. “I'm probably going to be stuck in some mindless gossip loop with some of the other ladies if I go.”

“If you go?” He repeats the last part of your statement.

“I'm not really a big Valentine's Day girl.” You admit, swaying awkwardly on your heels. “The whole holiday tends to be a bit of a let down if I'm being honest.” Your eyes widened slightly as you realized you were being far too casual. “I'm sorry, Mr. Raglan. I shouldn't be talking about this stuff at work.” You hurriedly tried to head for the door, wanting to excuse yourself as quickly as possible before you became even more flustered. You slam the door behind you, managing to slip into the bathroom just as you heard his office click back open. You silently berated yourself for looking so stupid in front of him. “Let’s just open up to him about every shitty Valentine's we've ever had!” You mock yourself in the mirror. You sigh, studying your reflection. It was silly really. For a brief moment the thought flashed through your head that maybe, somehow, some way, Steve would've asked you to go to the party with him. You splashed some water on your face, reluctantly deciding to go back to the office. Hopefully he would forget about your awkward little interaction by tomorrow.

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“Alright, who is he?” You freeze in your tracks as you walk through the office door.

“Excuse me?” You ask, your gaze trailing up to the reception desk. You were met with the sight of a beautiful, elaborate bouquet made up of yellow, purple, and white flowers.

“They're addressed to you. You better not have gotten a boyfriend and not told me about it, I thought we shared everything!” She pretends to be hurt, making you chuckle.

“We do, you're my work wife, I wouldn't survive without you.” You pout, she laughs, shaking her head slightly. “Was there a card?” Both of your curiosity over the matter bubbled up as you did a quick investigation of the scenario.

“There is, but no name.” She hands the small, cream colored piece of cardstock over to you.

“I know flowers from your secret admirer are cliche, but I wanted to do something special for the woman who never fails to brighten my day.” You couldn't stop yourself from smiling as you read over the message.

“Do you think it's someone in the office?” She asks in a hushed tone.

“I don't see why not. I don't have anyone that would send me flowers at work, even as a joke.” You explain, trying to place a face to the neat script that swirled across the card.

“Wow.” Your eyes snap up to Steve Raglan. His short sleeve, yellow button down with brown pinstripes tucked neatly into his perfectly pressed pants. “Someone's a lucky lady.” He smiles at Linda, more than likely assuming they were from her husband.

“Oh they're not for me, someone has their eye on your best employee.” She states in a teasing tone.

“Is that so?” He shoves his free hand into his pocket, the other holding a comically small looking mug of coffee. “Guess someone might have a date for the Valentine's Party yet.” Warmth pools behind your cheeks as your eyes meet his striking silver ones.

“You didn't happen to see who dropped these off, did you Mr. Raglan?” You ask curiously.

He shakes his head, “I'm afraid not sweetheart, but I'll keep an eye out.” He chuckles. “I have to make sure whoever is trying to catch your attention only has the best intentions in mind for my favorite girl.” You let out a flustered giggle as he winks at you. He pulls his pager off his belt, quickly reading the message. “I'm going to have some new client paperwork that needs to be filed, I'll have it on your desk within the hour if that's alright?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Raglan. I'll take care of it.” You smile brightly at him.

“This is why you're the best!” He compliments you. “Thank you beautiful, I'll be back.” You noticed Linda’s gaze trail after him, watching him intently until he shut his office door behind him.

“Do you think Mr. Raglan might have left you those flowers?” You choke on your drink, coughing and sputtering as you try to regain your composure.

“Now where the hell did that come from?” You ask in response, unable to meet her eyes as you try to hide your nervous expression.

“Well, you're obviously his favorite, everyone that works for this company knows that. He always compliments you, he’s always telling you how pretty you look or how good of a job you're doing. If it’s anyone in the office my money’s on him.” She rattles off the first few reasons that came to her mind.

“Oh, I don't know about that.” You nervously wring your hands in your lap, staring blankly down at the stack of papers that sat in front of you. “I'm nothing special, plus I'm sure he has a wife.” You try to wave her off.

“I've never noticed a ring.” Your breath froze in your throat as you saw her attention turn to you. A smirk spreads across her lips, “and from how flustered you look right now I'm assuming that someone definitely doesn't mind the attention.” She whispers.

“Okay, okay, hang on.” You wave your hand in front of her, wanting to cut her off before she has the chance to keep snowballing her idea. “If I tell you this, not another soul hears about this, not even Mark!” You point an accusatory finger at her.

“Honey, please, my husband doesn't give a rat's ass about work gossip. Tell me everything.” She leans an elbow on the desk as she spins her chair to face you, taking a long sip of coffee from her mug as she waits patiently for the details.

“I might have a bit of a thing for him.” You admit, your cheeks already heating up at the simple confession. “He's funny and charming and handsome and… I don't know, I feel so stupid.” You groan, dropping your head into your hands.

“You shouldn't feel stupid.” She rushes to reassure you. “You are a gorgeous young woman, I'm sure he would be absolutely flattered-”

“It's not even about that.” You sigh. Linda gives you an incredulous look in response. “Okay, maybe it is a little about that. But, on top of the fact that he could just outright reject me, he's my boss, he's quite a bit older than I am, he's going to get to know me and see that I'm just some stupid young kid and it's going to make things weird here and I'm going to have to quit my job because of it.”

“I think someone is overthinking this way too much.” She laughs, shaking her head slightly.

“I get it, it's scary. There's a lot of unknowns and different ways it could all pan out. But, you'll never know if you don't try. I'm not saying burst in there right now, rip your clothes off, and try to seduce him.” You can't help but laugh at her over the top idea. “All I'm saying is maybe make a little effort to flirt with him, test the waters, see how it feels.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair, “I don't even know how to even try if I'm being completely honest.”

“Listen up, buttercup, it's time for a crash course in office flirting 101.” She laughs.

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You smooth your blouse as you stand in front of the last office on the left, repeatedly reading over the name ‘Steve Raglan’ printed in neat gold lettering in front of you as you try to build up your confidence. You tap softly on the door, waiting for the quiet ‘come in’ before entering. “Finished up with that paperwork already?” He smiles brightly at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he speaks.

“Yessir, I just wanted to come hand deliver it myself.” You shoot him a coy grin.

“Can I interest you in some coffee?” He asks, still reading from the paperwork you handed him, expecting you to flit out of the room like you normally did.

“Do you have any tea?” You saw him pause, his brows furrowing slightly before he looked up at you.

“I do.” It took him a moment to continue, still trying to process the situation. “Why don't you sit down, I'll put the kettle on.” You nod, plopping down into one of the slightly too hard chairs that sat opposite him at his desk. You can't help but giggle as you glance over your shoulder to find Steve studying you.

“You seem a bit surprised that I stayed.” He snaps himself from his thoughts.

“I am, if I'm being honest. I feel like every time I invite you to stay for a cup of tea you practically sprint out of here.” He chuckles, slowly walking back to his desk and sitting across from you. “I'm not that scary am I?”

You shake your head, “no, you're not. I think you're sweet, Mr. Raglan.” You fidget with your fingers for a moment before deciding to take a rather bold approach to the flirting Linda had suggested. “Being around handsome men just makes me nervous.” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching as the realization set in that he had said something very similar to you the day prior.

He breathes out a laugh, a smile lacing its way across his lips. “Well, thank you rabbit. I'm flattered that a pretty little thing like you thinks I'm handsome. Also, feel free to call me Steve, I think we know each other well enough at this point, don't you?”

“I think you might be right.” You perk up at the sound of the kettle going off, immediately hopping out of your seat to get it.

“Oh, I can-” you cut him off with a small wave of your hand.

“Steve, you have to be one of the hardest workers I know.” You fill his mug first, carrying it over to him slowly to make sure you wouldn't spill any coffee. “I think you should let someone take care of you for a change.” You wink at him, your hand trailing across his shoulder as you step next to him.

“Well how can I refuse such a tempting offer.” He grins, his silver eyes flashing across your features. You made your own cup of tea before returning to the seat across from him. You feel his gaze trailing over your much smaller form as you carefully cross your legs. “Any leads on that secret admirer of yours?” He asks casually, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“Nothing yet, but I'm hoping I can figure it out soon.” You run your finger along the rim of your mug. “I'm hoping I can manage to find out who it is before the party.” He clears his throat as he shifts himself in his seat slightly.

“Anything's possible isn't it?” He responds, lacing his fingers together as his hands come to rest on his stomach. You were both interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Steve, sorry to interrupt, you got a minute?” It was one of your coworkers.

“I'll stop by later Mr. Raglan, thank you for the tea.” You smiled softly at him, his eyes locked with yours as you stood, smoothing your clothes slightly before sauntering out of the room.

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You jump when somebody calls your name. You look up to see Steve shrugging into his thick, gray jacket. “You're still here?” He asks with a warm smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“I had some emails to send, I was just about to head out myself.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he slowly approaches you.

“Would it be alright if I walked you to your car?” He asks carefully, as if he was trying to pin down the exact right way to ask you. “It's late, I want to make sure you get there safely, is all.” You could hear the slight hesitancy in his tone, that fact he seemed almost nervous made you smile.

“That's very sweet of you Steve, thank you.” You smile warmly at him. He helps you into your jacket, stuffing his hands back in his pockets as he slows his long strides so you could keep up easily. “Are you going to be bringing your wife to the Valentine's Day party?” You finally ask after walking in silence for a while.

Steve chuckles, “oh, I'm not a married man, rabbit. I'm afraid it's just going to be me.” You feel your cheeks warm at the sound of his gravelly tone.

“It's a shame, I guess we're both going to be single for Valentine's Day.” You giggle.

“What a shame indeed, I'm very surprised some dumb little boy hasn't tried to scoop you up. A pretty thing like you deserves a man who’ll make her feel special.” He smirks down at your flustered state.

“Well, maybe if I can get to the bottom of who sent me those flowers I could get to the bottom of that.” You brace against the cold as he holds the door open for you. Steve holds his coat open, pulling you into his side and shielding you from the wind.

“You never know, he could be a lot closer than you think.” He winks at you, making you let out a flustered giggle. The end of your nose tingles from the cold as you stop in front of your car. “Have a good night, rabbit.” He smiles softly down at you, his silver eyes searching yours with a subtle intensity.

“Good night, Steve.” You pull open your car door, a dull ache settling in your chest as you watch him start to head off. You called his name, making him pause. He turns to glance back at you, your smaller form moving before you have a chance to overthink the situation. You pushed yourself up onto the tips of your toes, your hand wrapping around his strong bicep as you leaned in, allowing your lips to come to rest against his cheek. “Get home safely.” You whisper, letting your eyes linger on him before you hopped in your driver's seat and watched him walk to his own car with an absolutely dumbfounded expression on his face.

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You were one of the first people in the office this morning. Having to come in early to prepare the conference room for a meeting and to send out reminder emails for said event definitely wasn't your idea of fun, but there was something oddly tranquil about the nearly empty space so early in the morning. You had been called over to one of your coworkers cubicles to help with a paper work issue, smiling at Steve as you watched him push into the room, flurries of snowflakes trailing in through the door behind him. The memory of you kissing him on the cheek the night prior raced to the forefront of your mind, your eyes widened slightly, your cheeks growing warm as you rushed off before he had a chance to confront you about it. You had felt guilty about it, he was your boss, now you've probably made whatever small relationship the two of you had extremely awkward. You looked around as you headed back to your desk, expecting him to emerge from nowhere at any second. You froze when you noticed a red, heart shaped box, all wrapped up with a matching satin bow. ‘These chocolates will never be as sweet as you, but they're the closest thing I could find.’ you smiled as your eyes drifted over the familiar neat script. Once again, the card contained no clues as to who your secret admirer might be. You carefully undid the bow and lifted the lid to find a stunning box of extravagant assorted chocolates. “Another gift from your prince charming?” Linda asks with an excited grin as she roughly tossed her purse and jacket into her chair.

“The funniest part is… these definitely weren't on my desk when I got here. They must have just been dropped off.” She eyes you curiously before looking around at the possible suitors within the small space. You noticed her lips pull into a smile as her eyes locked onto someone.

“Well, good morning Mr. Raglan.” Your blood turned to ice in your veins at the mention of his name.

“Good morning ladies, I hope you're having a good day so far.” You reluctantly turn to face him at the sound of your name. “Another present?” His eyes dart down to the half open box before returning to your face.

“Um, yes sir.” You squeak in response. “Still no name though.” You giggle.

“Shame…” he trails off as he studies you. “I hope he reveals himself soon, I'd like to know who's keeping that pretty smile on your face.” He winks before quickly turning and heading off.

“Something happened between you two, I can feel it.” She narrows her eyes, passing you your own mug of coffee as she settles in with her own. “Spill.”

“So, remember how you brought up that whole flirting thing?” She nods. “Well, I may have pushed things a little further than just, you know, giggling and fawning over his muscles, right?” Her silence was making your nerves run rampant. “I may or may not have kissed him on the cheek when we were parting ways last night.” She gasps your name in shock. “It felt right, okay!” You yell-whisper. “He walked me out to my car, I had already been flirting with him a little bit earlier, he was being his usual sweet and handsome self… I don't know what came over me, it just sort of happened.” You bury your face in your hands.

“What did he say?” She pushes your shoulder lightly to regain your attention.

“I don't know, I got in my car and I left.”

“Are you kidding me? You kissed him and then just walked away?”

“On the cheek!” You rush to clarify.

“On the cheek or not doesn't matter, what if that could have turned into something more?”

“Doubtful-”

“But how do you know?” Your mouth snapped shut at her statement. “Give yourself a little more time to feel things out, but I would say after that you should definitely try to make things a little more serious.”

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You tapped softly against Steve’s office door, a pile of folders situated neatly in your grasp. He calls you in, his back facing you as you enter the room. You wait patiently for him to finish up the phone call he was on, jumping slightly as he slams down the receiver. He groans as he spins in his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “I swear, they always stick me with the worst damn clients.”

“It's because you’re the best career counselor in the state, if anyone can solve hopeless cases it's you.” You laugh softly, Steve brightens up at the compliment.

“Why thank you bunny.” He says before letting out a quiet chuckle. “I don't know about the best, but flattery will get you everywhere young lady.” He winks at you, making your cheeks grow warm.

“I brought you Mr. O’Malley’s file, along with the applications and other paperwork for the company's we work with that hire people with criminal records. Is there anything else you'd like from me?”

“For you to come to dinner with me tonight.” The request rang in the otherwise silent room like a gunshot. You could hear the blood rushing behind your ears as you processed whether or not you had heard him correctly. “You've been working a lot of late nights, if it's alright with you I'd like to handle things for you for a change.” He smiles warmly at you, you stared back at him with a shocked, empty expression as your mind struggled to catch up with your words.

“I…” you trail off, the warmth in his eyes quickly turning into an expression of panic.

“Sorry if I overstepped, you can say no I won't be offended.” He hurries to apologize.

“Steve.” You jolted slightly at how forceful your own voice came out. You sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to steady your pounding heart. “I would love to. You didn't overstep, I'm just… surprised?” It came out as more of a question but that felt fitting for the moment. You were beyond excited, still not fully believing that he had just asked you to dinner.

“Why's that rabbit?” He rests his chin in the palm of his hand as he leans on his desk, his expression more perplexed than anything else.

Your hand slid over the cool metal doorknob. “It’s just kind of hard to believe that the most handsome man I've ever met is asking me to have dinner with him later.” Your lips pull into a coy smile. “I'll see you later tonight, Steve.” You quickly slip out of his office, heading quickly back to your desk. You decided it was best to wait to mention this to Linda, your nerves were already running rampant as it was. You tried your best to get through the rest of the work day without looking suspicious, but her sharp eyes noticed how frequently you checked the time, how you nervously flipped your pen in between your fingers as you sat idly at your keyboard.

She swivels her chair to face you, her long acrylics drumming rhythmically across the desk. You internally cringe as you watch her eyes narrow. “Spill-”

“He asked me to dinner.” The pressure was immediately too much. “I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to be thinking about it all day but I can't stop.”

“I'm sorry, you didn't want to tell me about the biggest development in your love life since I've met you? He's so into you, this is going to be great!” She tries to encourage you.

“What if he doesn't like me? What if I'm boring or I'm not what he thought I would be like outside of work?” You start to ramble out your anxieties.

“Slow down, that's not going to happen. You are so cool, I need you to remember that.” She starts to dig around through her purse, producing a few makeup products and some tissues. “Go touch up if you want to, I can hold down things here.” You quietly thank her, heading to the bathroom to freshen up your makeup.

The remainder of the day crawled by until five o'clock eventually rolled around. Linda sat at your side, fussing over your hair and trying to convince you to remove the sweater you were wearing to reveal the slinky black cocktail dress you were currently wearing as a skirt. “I'm going to freeze to death.” She practically throws her jacket at you.

“I know exactly which dress that is, you look hot as fuck in it. Give me the sweater.” She orders. You groan and reluctantly pull it over your head, tossing it at her before standing and slipping your arms into the satin lined sleeves. “Heading out, Mr. Raglan?” She couldn't hide the excited tone in her voice as you heard his heavy footsteps approach behind you.

“As long as this pretty little thing is ready to go.” You turn to face him, your cheeks warm as you try to hide your flustered expression. “You look beautiful, rabbit.”

“I'll see you tomorrow Linda.” You smile as he offers you his arm, guiding you into his side as you leave the building together.

He opens your door for you, holding your hand as you lower yourself into the impeccably clean vintage muscle car. He slides into the driver's seat with a soft groan, his gold framed aviators glinting in the setting sunlight. A smile spreads across his face as he studies you in the seat next to him. He silently starts the car, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he turns to back up. As he sits back down his arm remains in place, his large warm hand settling on your arm and pulling you to him. You lean in and place a soft kiss to his cheek, your eyes immediately darting down to your lap. He chuckles, taking your chin between his fingers and running his thumb over your bottom lip. “You better be careful, you might get yourself into trouble doing things like that.” He chuckles, watching your eyes widen under his hungry gaze.

Steve drove you to a cute little bistro that overlooked the river that ran through town. With you tucker safely away into his side to brace against the cold he led you inside. You were sat in a corner, tucked away from everyone else. He ordered for you, wanting you to just enjoy your evening. “Thank you for coming with me.” He says with a bashful smile.

“Thank you for asking me.” Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched his large, calloused hand reach across the pristine white table cloth to envelope your own.

“The Valentine's Day party is tomorrow.” He suddenly chimes in. You hum in response, eyeing him curiously. “Have you decided if you're going or not?”

“I've definitely been considering it. At the very least I'd get to see you, if anything.” You smile warmly.

“You're sweet.” He gives your hand a soft squeeze. “I'll never understand why you willingly choose to spend time with an old man like me.” Your eyes snapped to him, your heart beginning to race as you debated just putting all of your feelings out into the open.

“Well,” your voice shakes when you finally find the nerve to speak, “that's because I-”

“You folks have a wonderful night.” Your jaw snaps shut as the waiter approaches your table to drop off your check.

“You, what, rabbit?” You search his features for a moment, the building confidence spurring you forward had fizzled out in an instant. You slowly pulled your hand out of his, folding it neatly in your lap, he quickly copied your motions.

“I just think you're really easy to talk to.” You mumble, fidgeting with your fork in front of you. “It should be me who's confused.” You try your best to force out a laugh. “I'm just some dumb little post grad who can't find a job in her field, I'm nothing special Steve.”

“Did you know, it took me seven years to find a job in my field after I graduated college?” His voice came out gentler than you had ever heard it. “Bunny just because you're at a different point than you thought you'd be by now doesn't mean that you're not special or that you're falling behind or any way you could look at it. I look forward to coming to work everyday not because I give a singular fuck about what I do, let's not get that confused.” His crass statement made you giggle, you notice your lightening composure made his shoulders relax slightly. “I look forward to coming in every day because I know that you're going to be there. You're going to bounce into the office in your pretty outfits with your cute little heels and that infectious smile of yours… Honey, I know it's hard to see from the outside looking in, but you are a goddamn treasure to have in my life.” He chuckles. Your cheeks burned as you fidgeted with your fingers in your lap.

“Thank you Steve, it's nice to hear something so positive from someone I admire so much.” He settles your tab, walking to your side of the table to offer you his hand. You smile softly, allowing your fingers to ghost over his rough, calloused skin.

“I don't like seeing my girl looking so down.” You squeeze his hand, your fingers pushing through his as he gently tugs you towards the door. You rode back to the office in a comfortable silence. Steve's arm draped over your shoulder as you settled into his side, the warmth creeping into your body from his own making your eyes heavy. As you pulled in you were a bit reluctant to leave. Every subtle, slightly too long glance made your heart thrum, the way you pressed into him felt like a puzzle piece finally slotting into its perfect match. Being with Steve felt like home.

“I had a great time with you tonight.” You state softly in the small space.

“Same here rabbit.” He carefully reaches out, tucking some stray hair behind your ear. “I do have one more, albeit strange, question for you.” He chuckles.

“And what might that be?” You found yourself leaning in closer to him, your gaze slowly falling to his lips that were tantalizingly close.

“Will you dance with me?” As intoxicating as the idea of kissing him was, you were definitely more perplexed by the offer that had just materialized before you.

“I would love to.” Steve found a station playing some old love song, the trumpet’s lazy melody bringing a smile to your face as your stomach filled with butterflies. His strong arm slides around your waist, pulling you to him as softly as he could manage. He treats you as if you were made of glass, as if the smallest rough movement would have you shattering beneath his fingers. The bright light of the full moon made you glow before Steve's eyes.

“You look so beautiful rabbit.” He whispers. You allow him to effortlessly spin you around the pavement, your movements easily falling in time with his. The world around you faded away, leaving nothing but you and him and the dreamy, far off sound of the radio drifting from his car speakers. He dips you low, your body falling into his hands with complete trust. As you pull back up your eyes find his, striking silver that only seemed to draw you in deeper. He takes a step back from you, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“You're a wonderful dancer.” You compliment with a soft giggle. He holds you close to him as he guides you back to your car. He opens your door, holding your hand in his as you lower yourself into your driver's seat.

“You're not so bad yourself.” He grins down at you, shooting you a wink. “Goodnight rabbit.”

“Goodnight Steve.” You couldn't keep the sad smile off your face as he turned to leave.

“You deserve someone who's going to choose you every day, not that it would be a hard choice.” He chuckles. “Bunny, you're beautiful, funny, kind, smart. Anyone would be lucky to have you by their side… especially me.” He states in a hurried tone before leaving you to sit in the still, silent night.

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The next morning started out just like any other. You went through your daily routine the same way you always did. But, you couldn't shake the memory of what Steve had said to you the night before. ‘Anyone would be lucky to have you by their side… especially me.’ You finished off your makeup before grabbing your coat and heading out the door. You greeted your coworkers in your usual chipper tone as you made your way to your desk. You were met with the sight of a small, yellow plush sitting on your desk, a rose situated neatly in his lap. You picked it up with a smile, rubbing its soft, velvet ear between your fingers as you study it. The note that was left with it contained a single sentence. But, those three words were enough to tell you exactly who your secret admirer had been this whole time. You struggled to keep your composure as you repeatedly traced over the neat script that you now recognized perfectly. “To my rabbit.” You breathe out through a laugh, your vision blurring as tears welled up in your eyes. You cradle the stuffed animal close to your chest, hurrying down to Steve's office. You didn't bother knocking, pushing through the door to find Steve answering emails, an alarmed expression on his face as he whips around to face you.

“Bunny are you o-” you wave your hand in front of him, cutting him off as you try to find the right words to say.

“I'm falling for you.” The confession hung thick in the air after it fell from your lips. Steve blinked a couple times, his brows furrowing together in confusion. “I'm tired of hiding this from you. I was worried what would happen if I told you, I mean, you're my boss, you could fire me right now and there's nothing I would be able to do about it.” Both of you laugh, the tension melting slightly at your small joke.

“I take it you found out who your secret admirer is.” A smile stretches across his lips as his gaze darts down to the rabbit in your hand.

“Why didn't you just tell me?” You sniffle, a tear trailing down your cheek. He pushes himself out of his seat with a soft groan.

“Because, I had convinced myself that you could do a lot better than me.” He takes your hands in his. “But, I'm starting to realize that's not true…” He smiles as he studies how small your hands were in his. “Sure, I can't give you all the money in the world, I can't buy you fancy jewelry at the drop of a hat, I don't live in a mansion…” he sucked in a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. “What I do know is that I want to be the one to pick up the pieces when your world feels like it's falling apart, I want to be the one to hold you tightly in my arms while we drift off to sleep at night. I want to be able to choose you day in and day out because I can't imagine a more perfect woman to fall in love with.” You looked away from him, your cheeks streaked with tears.

You reached out, grabbing him by his toe to yank him down to your level. His lips crashed into yours, two strong hands finding their way to your waist to steady both of you. As you tried to pull back you felt his fingertips press into the soft flesh of your hip, keeping you rooted in place as he drank in every second of this moment. You both separated with a soft gasp, your lungs burning with need for air. “Steve?”

“Yes my beautiful bunny?” He responds breathlessly, tilting your chin up gently with his finger.

“Will you be my Valentine?” He chuckles, no words were needed for you to know his answer. He captures your lips in a much softer, more tender kiss that leaves you feeling light headed.

“Does this mean I should get you more flowers?”

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @loudchaosking @residentevilbeast @weirdoartist21 @lokanda @emmbny @yukkkiki @dij-ology @maria-moll (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

#fnaf #william afton #five nights at freddy's #springtrap #steve raglan #william afton x reader #william afton imagines #fnaf william afton #william afton fnaf #william afton x you #william afton x reader fluff #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan fluff #fnaf x reader

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ereardon · 9 months

Text

More Than Enough [Bob Floyd x Reader]

A Single Dad Bob Fic

Summary: The first two times Bob Floyd ends up in your emergency room he’s a mess. You never expected him to return a third time. But when he does, it changes everything.

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC

Warnings: Medical setting, blood and needles, cursing Word count: 4.4K

Bob Floyd masterlist here

“We’ve got another one.”

You sighed, lifting the hair from the back of your neck and fanning it before clipping your hair up and straightening your scrubs. “Be there in a second, Liz.”

Your charge nurse nodded, waddling away from the desk and you pushed back from your chair, wandering down the hall, knocking lightly before walking through the door on the right.

“Hi,” you said, grabbing the chart from the folder on the wall and stepping further into the room. “I’m Y/N, I’ll be your nurse today.”

“Hi.” You looked up. His voice was deep and gravely and insanely sexy despite the fluorescent lights of the ER and the sterile aesthetics of the triage room. The patient on the bed had sandy blond hair that was combed back neatly and a pair of wire glasses that slid down his pert nose. His pink lips were curled up in a delicate, shy smile, large hands spread out on either side of his body. “How are you?”

You laughed, skimming the clipboard chart one more time before setting it down near the sink. “Better than you, Mr. Floyd, by the looks of it. Says here you have a hook in your foot.”

The man nodded, lifting his left leg and you saw it immediately: an old fishing hook sunken into the flesh toward his ankle. You grimaced while putting on a pair of gloves.

“And how did this happen?”

“Playing football on the beach,” he said as you poked at the skin around the hook. “Just stepped somewhere I shouldn’t have, apparently.”

You nodded. “Well, Mr. Floyd–”

“Bob,” he said.

You smiled. “Bob. I’m going to give you a shot for tetanus. We’re not sure where this hook has been, so better safe than sorry.”

Bob winced as he watched you dip the syringe into the glass vial of medicine.

You sat down on the rolling stool and reached out, pushing up the sleeve of his shirt from his upper arm, rubbing a circle spot with an alcohol swab. “So beach football. That sounds fun.”

“I, um, I play with my team.” Bob closed his eyes as you slid the needle into his skin, pressing the depressor slowly.

When you pulled it out, covering it with a fresh cotton ball, reaching for a band-aid, he kept his eyes closed. You patted his arm softly. “Mr. Floyd, you’re doing just fine.”

His eyes shot open and he smiled, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m a major wuss when it comes to needles.”

“Most people are,” you said, examining his foot. “What kind of team? Like a rec league?”

“Oh, no,” Bob said as you cleaned around the entrance of the metal hook on his foot. “My squadron. I’m in the Navy.”

“Really?” You pressed down on the top of his foot, looking up at Bob. He caught your eye.

He nodded. “Aviator, ma’am.”

“What’s that like?” you asked. Just as Bob opened his mouth to reply, you yanked on the hook, eliciting a sharp grunt from him. You shook your head with a sad smile. “Sorry, better not to see it coming.”

“Think you’re right about that,” Bob said, his voice a little higher than before.

You smiled sweetly up at him, pressing against the wound with cotton to stop the bleeding. Bob laid back against the bed, looking a little more pale than before. “Mr. Floyd?”

“Bob,” he gasped.

“Bob,” you repeated. “Are you feeling dizzy?”

“Not a fan of blood, either,” he muttered and you looked down to see that blood had soaked through the cotton you were holding. You quickly switched it out.

“Lay back for me,” you said softly, “and close your eyes.” Bob did as he was told and you wrapped his foot gently once the blood had stopped flowing from the wound. You ran the sink with cold water, dampening a towel and folding it up, placing it gently on Bob’s forehead. He sighed audibly. “There. Just try to relax, OK?”

He chuckled. “Not a very good first impression, huh?”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ve had worse.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth and ask about his personal life, the door swung open and a beautiful brunette entered the room with a little girl on her hip. Your heart sank in your chest as she set the toddler down and watched as the toddler rushed to the bed. “Daddy!”

Bob’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled brightly. “Hi Sugar.”

“She insisted we follow you,” the brunette said. She was gloriously tan and chiseled, wearing just a black sports bra and a pair of small athletic shorts. She turned to you with a grin. “How’s our boy doing?”

“He’ll be just fine,” you said, trying your hardest not to be jealous of this perfectly kind stranger who just happened to be the wife of your patient. But you also wanted to claw her eyes out and claim him as your own.

“Daddy, you fainted.” The little girl had her hands on the sheets where she could reach and Bob leaned over, trying to scoop her up, but couldn’t quite reach her.

“Here.” You crouched down next to the little girl. “Want me to help you get on your daddy’s bed?”

She nodded enthusiastically and you smiled, lifting under her arms, plopping her against the sheets and Bob’s waiting arms. You watched as Bob enveloped her in his embrace, veins and muscles on his arms rippling as he held her tight.

The brunette cleared her throat. “Floyd, I can take Andie home, depending on how long you’ll be here?”

Bob turned to you. “Y/N?” he asked and you liked the way he said your name instead of nurse or hey you or even ma’am. “How long do you think?”

“I just want to keep you here another fifteen minutes or so, make sure you’re reacting OK to the vaccination and you’re no longer a fainting threat, and then we can get your discharge papers completed. Won’t be more than an hour.”

Bob nodded. “I’ll take her home, Nix, don’t worry about it.”

The brunette put one hand on her hip. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You want to stay with me, Sugar? Or do you want Auntie Phoenix to take you home?”

Andie clung to Bob’s side. “I want to stay with you, daddy!”

You caught the auntie part of the conversation. As you swapped out his gauze for a bandage you looked quickly.

No wedding ring.

Things were looking up. You smiled as the brunette leaned over, kissing the top of Andie’s head. “OK sweetheart, you can stay with your daddy. Floyd, I’ll check on you later. Bradshaw will drive you home, OK? He’s in the waiting room.”

Bob nodded. “Thanks. Tell him we’ll be out soon.” Bob turned to you as Andie settled in his arms, her gaze already on the TV in the corner. “Sorry, that’s my pilot, Natasha.”

“She’s pretty.”

Bob flushed. “I, um, I was going to say the same thing about you.”

You loved that he was flustered. In his arms, Andie stirred. “Daddy? How much longer?”

“Just a little bit, honey,” he said. “Do you want to wait with Uncle Bradley?”

She shook her head. “No, daddy, want to be with you!”

“OK Sugar,” he said, looking up at you sheepishly. “Sorry, she’s three and a little antsy.”

You waved one hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. She’s adorable.” You finished your note on his chart. “Well, Mr. Floyd, you’re going to be just fine. In about fifteen minutes, the floor nurse will come in and get you the discharge papers and you two will be free to go.”

Just as you were about to turn on your heel, Bob’s voice caught you. “Y/N?”

You turned. “Yes?”

He looked down at Andie’s blonde head and then back up at you and sighed. “Um, thanks. For everything.”

You smiled but it was thin. “Of course, it’s my job.” You waved. “Bye sweetheart.”

“Bye!” Andie’s sugary voice rang out in the sterile room.

You turned on one heel, flattening yourself to the hallway after shutting the door, letting out a breath. For a moment, you had thought he was going to ask you out. But of course he wasn’t. Who were you kidding? A gorgeous pilot with a daughter? He was surely off the market, even if he wasn’t wearing a ring.

You opened your eyes just in time to see an incredibly beefy guy slide down the hallway, his brown eyes landing on yours. He grinned, white teeth, slightly crooked smile. Fuck, he was beautiful, too. What was going on?

“Hi,” he said, stopping in front of you. “I, uh, I’m looking for Bob Floyd’s room?”

You hooked a thumb to your left. “Right there,” you said.

He grinned. “Thanks.” He didn’t make a move to leave.

You pushed yourself off of the wall and nodded. “Anytime.”

The mustache man followed you with your eyes as you walked away from the room, as far as you could get from the tiny little corner of the hospital that was inhabited by the most beautiful people you had ever laid eyes on within a ten minute span.

Back at the nurse’s station, you collapsed into your chair.

“I know that look,” Liz said, eyebrow raised.

“What look?”

She shook her head, grabbing for her water bottle. “Watch out, sweetie. There’s only one reason you could possibly look like that?”

“And how do I look?”

“Fucked.”

***

You hadn’t been able to get Bob Floyd out of your head. That’s why, two weeks later, when he rushed into the ER in the middle of the night, you blinked rapidly, convinced that the night shift was melding with your subconscious somehow.

“Hello?” he called out into the hallway and you rushed forward, noticing that he had Andie in his arms, her face pink with anguish. “She won’t stop crying and throwing up and oh my God, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Put her down here,” you said, leading them to a bed and drawing the drapes tightly. Andie rolled onto her side, clutching her abdomen. “Hi honey. I’m just going to take a look at your belly, OK?” She nodded, but continued to cry as you lifted up the hem of her pajama top, touching her distended belly gently as she cried out. You looked up at Bob. “It’s most likely appendicitis but we’ll need a CT scan to confirm.”

Bob ran a hand through his hair. He looked much more disheveled this time and you almost wanted to sling an arm around him, pull him into a hug. He looked like he needed it.

“Let me call down to radiology, we should be able to get her in immediately.”

You stepped toward the phone on the wall, speaking quickly, eyes on Bob as he hovered near Andie’s bed, whispering softly in her ear.

“Another nurse will come and take her down in a minute,” you said gently.

Bob looked up. “Can I go with?”

You shook your head and his face fell. “I’m sorry. But you’ll get to see her before she goes into surgery.”

“Is there anything you can give her for the pain?” he pleaded. “I just, I don't know what to do.”

You nodded. “We’ll give her some medicine before the procedure and after.”

A knock on the door stole both of your attention. “Mr. Floyd? I’m here to take Andie down to radiology.” A short nurse with her hair tied back smiled at the door. “Are we all set?”

“Yes.” You looked at Bob and Andie. “It’ll only be twenty minutes, I promise.”

He nodded, leaning over and kissing Andie’s head. “I’ll be right here, baby, I promise. Be good for me, Sugar.”

“Daddy!” she cried and you saw how it gutted him.

He swallowed the pain. “It’s OK, honey. You’ll feel better soon.”

And then they were wheeling Andie’s bed out of the room and Bob collapsed onto the chair near the wall, head in his hands. You waited a moment before walking over, squatting down and pressing one hand to his knee gently. “Hey. She’s going to be OK, I promise.”

Bob looked up and you saw tears in his blue eyes. He wiped at them. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing scarier as a parent than rushing your kid to the ER in the middle of the night.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you said softly. “I can’t even imagine.”

“Do you have kids?”

You shook your head. “I don’t.”

Bob sighed. “I never thought I wanted kids,” he whispered, like a confession. “And then Andie came along and she changed everything.” He paused. “She’s my entire world. I can’t explain how helpless I feel watching her in pain knowing it’s out of my control.”

Your hand was still pressed against his knee. “She’s going to be alright,” you said. “I promise, nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Thank you.” The two of you hovered there for a moment, eyes locked on each other. And then the door swung open and you stood up quickly.

“It’s a ruptured appy,” the nurse said. “We’re taking her down to OR two.”

“You have to let him talk to her first,” you said and Bob looked at you, surprised. “He has to tell her it’s going to be OK. She’s scared.”

The nurse nodded hastily. “Fine, but do it quickly. Dr. Roberts is already scrubbing in.”

The three of you trailed down the hallway to where Andie laid in a bed near the elevator, another nurse speaking with her quietly. Her eyes flicked to Bob immediately, widening with recognition and comfort. He reached out, stroking her hair. “Hi Sugar,” he whispered and you could hear in the pits of his voice how much he was holding back. “Listen, the doctors are going to make you better and when you’re done with your nap, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“With a toy?” she asked, her voice light and soft.

Bob smiled. “Yeah, honey, with a toy.”

“Promise, daddy?”

Bob nodded. “I promise. Be right here when you’re done, OK?”

Andie smiled and Bob pressed a kiss to her forehead before she was wheeled down the corridor, through the double doors at the end of the hallway. He turned to you with sad, wide eyes. You were an ER nurse – technically, you needed to hand over Andie as your patient to the surgical team. You would go to the nurses station and finish the chart, have it signed off by the attendings who completed her surgery after it was done. But something about the frazzled way that Bob looked and how his leg had felt beneath your palm made you throw everything else to the side.

“Come on,” you said, putting one hand on his arm gently. “Let’s get a coffee. It’ll be an hour or two.”

He frowned. “You don’t need to see more patients?”

You shrugged. It was three in the morning on a Tuesday. Only one bed was filled. “It’s quiet. They’ll cover for me.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. You didn’t want him to be alone. “Besides, I know where the good coffee is.”

That’s how you and Bob ended up on the third floor doctor’s lounge sipping out of mismatched mugs, the sun still asleep beneath the blanket of the horizon.

“So a pilot, huh?” you asked. “That must be exciting.”

Bob smiled but it was quick. Tight. “Yeah.” He took a sip of coffee and looked up. “Actually, can I tell you the truth?”

“Of course.”

“People always say that and I always respond the same. Yeah, it’s exciting. Yeah, it’s cool. But the truth is, it’s fucking terrifying. Going up in jets every day not knowing if I’m going to be able to pick my daughter up from daycare later or not.”

“So why do you do it?”

“Only thing I’ve ever been good at,” he replied.

“That can’t be true.” Your eyes wandered over Bob’s strong hands, the way the coffee mug was engulfed by them. The wire glasses slipping down his nose. The way he carried himself. Like he was too much of a burden to compete for space in the room, even though there was no one in there besides the two of you.

“Being a dad,” he said softly. “I’m good at that. I think.”

“You are.” He lit up. “The way Andie looks at you? You’re her hero.”

Bob put his coffee cup down. “You’re just saying that.”

“You don’t know me,” you said, “but I don’t really make a habit of lying just to make people feel good about themselves.”

He laughed. “So that’s why you became a nurse, huh?”

“That and an oppressive need for academic validation. Plus I look cute in the uniform.”

Bob smiled at you. “True.”

You blushed. In the dim light of the lounge, you could see Bob’s profile and he was even more beautiful than you had made him to be in your head. “So, Andie’s mom?”

He shook his head. “She’s not in the picture.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I am, too,” he said quietly. “For Andie, not for me. We were never good together. Right now, I’m just trying to be enough. I’m doing everything I can, but I know that one day she’s going to grow up. And I am going to be useless when she comes home asking me to buy her a miniskirt or what dress to wear to prom or how to put her hair in French braids for some costume party.” He smiled at you sadly. “I just know that I won’t be enough.”

“The fact that you’re already thinking of that tells me you’re more than enough,” you replied. “She’s lucky. And I’m not just saying that.”

Bob chuckled lightly. His voice was deep and silky. “Do you give all your patient’s parents the VIP treatment?”

“Nope,” you said, setting down your coffee cup and turning to where he sat in the leather chair next to you. “You’re special.”

“Oh yeah?” Bob murmured, leaning forward over the arm of his chair, his face dangerously close to yours. “Why is that?”

“Because–” Just then, your pager beeped. You leaned back and pulled it off your waistband. “It’s Andie’s surgery. She’s in recovery.”

Bob jumped up, cheeks flushed. “And?”

You smiled. “No warnings. It must have gone perfectly.”

“Oh, thank God.” The relief coming from his voice could sooth a thousand wounds.

You grinned. “I’ll take you down to her room.”

As you turned to head out toward the hallway, Bob stopped you, his hand on your wrist, fingers circling yours. “Y/N, I–”

“I know,” you said softly, letting his hand slide into your own. “We should go, Andie’s waiting.”

You understood what people meant when they said their ovaries were going to explode the second you saw Andie and Bob reunite in the post-op room. Her tiny face lit up as she watched Bob walk through the door, her little arms reaching for him instinctively. The way he cradled her head to his chest, patting her back softly, kissing her temple. There was a warmth spilling out into the room, radiating off of the two of them like an aura. You stood in the doorway as the sun crawled over the horizon and watched father and daughter reunite.

After a while, you stepped up to the bed. “Hi sweetheart, heard you did great in there,” you said softly and Andie beamed. “I’m going to let you and your daddy get some rest, OK? Someone will be back in a bit to check on you.”

“Bye!” Her small voice was like a thousand little violins.

Bob turned to you, one hand still touching Andie, making sure she was there. She was safe. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said quietly. “Is this the end of your shift?”

You checked your watch. It was six thirty. You had been off for thirty minutes. “Yeah, it is.”

“I, um.” He looked down at Andie, her baby blue eyes tracking him. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow if we’re still here.”

You smiled. “You two will be released by then, I’m sure.”

“Oh.” There was something dejected about the way he said it. You shuffled from foot to foot. “It was nice seeing you again. Bob.” The way his name felt on your tongue. It was fuzzy and soft and you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could.

“You too, Y/N,” he said softly.

You turned, heading for the door, before spinning back around, digging in your pocket, pulling out a tiny stuffed penguin on a keychain. Your niece had given it to you a few months ago for your thirty-first birthday and you had almost forgotten it was still in your pocket from where you had scooped it up earlier after it fell out of your bag onto the locker room floor as you were rushing for a code. “Bob,” you said quietly and he turned, eyes bright. You slipped the toy into his hand quietly so Andie wouldn’t see. He looked down then back up in surprise. You grinned. “You promised her a toy, remember?”

His fingers lingered over yours before finally you pulled away, the heat of Bob’s stare warming you from your core like lava. “Thank you.”

You smiled. “Bye again.”

This time you did leave, your chest tight as you shut the door softly, turning down the hallway, putting as much space between you and Bob Floyd as you could. Because you knew that if you didn’t, you’d embarrass yourself. You’d run back into the room and beg him to take you out. To kiss you. To talk to you with a fraction of the love that he spoke to Andie with. That would be enough.

It would be more than enough.

***

It was the end of a long day. You sat down at the nurse’s station with a sigh, kicking your feet up on the desk, closing your eyes. Only a few seconds passed before someone was tapping your shoulder incessantly.

Your eyes snapped open and you groaned. “What?”

“You’re going to want to see this,” Kirsten said. She had one hand on her hip, head tipped toward the lobby area.

“Bloody?” you asked excitedly.

She shook her head. “You’re nasty. No, it’s better.”

“If it’s not a bloody accident I don’t want it.”

Kirsten rolled her eyes. “It’s better so just shut up, put a smile on that face and maybe puff out your boobs a little, you’re looking saggy.”

“What?”

She laughed as you stood up, fiddling with your scrub top, frowning as Kirsten pushed you around the corner toward the lobby doors. You stopped dead in your tracks.

Bob Floyd stood in the atrium of the hospital, still wearing his green flight suit, blond hair perfectly combed back, wire glasses slightly askew. He had a bouquet of pink roses in his hands and a brilliant white smile when he spotted you.

“Hi.” His voice wobbled a bit as you approached.

“Hi back,” you said quietly. “I hope those are for me,” you said, gesturing to the flowers, “because you really need to stop showing up with emergencies, Bob Floyd.”

He laughed, a throaty sound that eclipsed all other laughs in your memory. Now, anytime you ever thought of a laugh it would be like what Bob Floyd sounded like on a random Thursday evening. “Well it is the ER. Besides, how else would I be able to see you?”

“You'd see me if you ever asked me on a date.”

Bob flushed. “Well, that’s why I’m here.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded, thrusting the flowers out to you. “I, um, I wanted to ask you out the first time we met. But that didn’t really turn out like I planned. Practically fainting in front of you wasn’t what I had in mind.”

You smelled the flowers. They were clean and crisp and you couldn’t remember the last time a man bought you flowers, let alone went out of his way to see you. You stepped closer. “It was kind of charming,” you admitted.

Bob laughed again, that sweet chuckle that was quickly imprinting itself in your mind. “I’ll take it. So what do you say, will you go on a date with me?”

“I don’t know, what can beat stale coffee in a doctor’s break room?”

“What if I cook you dinner?” Bob offered and your eyebrows shot up. “What’s your favorite dish?”

“Eggplant parmesan,” you said automatically. It tumbled out of your mouth.

“Done.”

“So you can cook?”

“No,” he said and you laughed. “But I can Google it.”

“You’d go to all that trouble just for me?”

Bob stepped in closer, reaching out one hand, tucking a chunk of hair behind your ear. His touch was warm and it practically electrocuted you with the fervor that started to course through your veins as his skin brushed against yours. Bob let his hand linger on the side of your neck, cupping you gently. “It’s no trouble,” he murmured. “Besides, Andie keeps asking about the pretty nurse who gave her the penguin doll.”

You grinned. “Did she like it?”

“She sleeps with it every night. But apparently, Mr. Penguin has requested that you come by the house to read him a bedtime story. So what do you say? Dinner and a book reading?” he asked.

You locked eyes with Bob, nodding. “Is it weird to say I’m glad you got a hook in your foot and ended up in my ER?”

Bob chuckled. “Is it weird to say I’d do it again every day if it meant I got to see you?”

“Honey,” you whispered. “No need to stab your foot again. I’ll be at dinner any night of the week. Just say the word.”

He held out one hand. You slipped your fingers into his. It was enough. It was more than enough.

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letterstotheflre · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄 || 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

summary: tonight was supposed to be the night you finally fed, only somehow eddie munson manages to satiate your appetite without losing his life. [eddie munson x succubus!reader || jennifer's body au]

cw: smut || 18+ only [ft. oral sex (f receiver), virgin!eddie, switch!reader, switch!eddie, lots of biting/teeth,], there's some mentions about not eating for a long time but it's not ed related (you just haven't killed anyone in a month okay?), general mentions of killing (no gore), lmk if i missed any

a/n: this was born out of a conversation w @ringpop-poppy who asked me to tag her lol. thank her for getting me out of my writer's block <3

For someone who’s been obsessed with you since middle school, Eddie doesn’t notice you’re standing next to him until he closes his locker.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims in surprise, bumping his side against the row of lockers. The metal boxes clank at the impact.

“Hi, Eddie,” you say blankly, leaning your shoulder against the wall.

He frowns at the tone of your voice– dry and monotonous and devoid of the snark he’s so used to hearing. He scans your figure, the dip between his eyebrows deepening when he notices the sheen of sweat on your forehead and the dullness of your skin.

You look sick– your cheeks are sunken in, cheekbones protruding abnormally and dark circles under your eyes looking more like bruises. Strangest of all, you’ve switched your beloved dresses for a pair of baggy jeans and a purple sweatshirt that looks 2 sizes too big.

Actually, the strangest thing is that you’re talking to him. In public.

“Heeey,” he greets back, dragging the ‘e’ as he looks around the hallway. There’s a couple of people giving the pair of you strange looks, some jocks narrowing their eyes menacingly at him, but everyone seems to move on pretty quickly from this peculiar interaction.

He doesn’t even hear a gaggle of cheerleaders giggling behind manicured hands as they watch you talk to him. There’s only Chrissy Cunningham, standing alone a couple of feet away from you and giving him a small wave. He relaxes ever so slightly. “You okay?”

“I’m fantastic,” you say with a lack of excitement.

Eddie snorts. “You don’t sound very believable.”

“Oh.” You run a long finger nail down the plastic spiral of the notebook you’re cradling against your chest, raising an eyebrow when Eddie shivers at the sound. You stop. “Just hungry. I haven’t eaten in…” you blow some air as you pretend to think, cheeks puffing out. “I can’t even remember.”

“Oh, um, I got some pretzels. If you want. Here.” He unhooks one of the straps of his bag from around his shoulder and struggles to open the zipper, pulling at it with as much strength as he can muster without risking it breaking.

He almost jumps out of his skin when you place a cold hand on his forearm. He stares at it, confused. Why are you so cold? It’s almost spring break.

“It’s okay, Eddie.” He fights back the shiver that threatens to go down his spine at how softly you say his name. “I’m working on it, don’t worry. Besides, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask me something,” he echoes back. “Uh, sure. What do you need?”

You kick your foot against the dirty school floor, biting your lower lip. Eddie notices how chapped they are– what’s usually a pair of very smooth and glossy lips is now covered in dried, cracking skin. He frowns in concern even more.

“D’you wanna come over tonight?” You twirl a strand of hair between two fingers and smile at him. “I could rent A Nightmare on Elm Street and make some popcorn. Or The Shining, whichever you want.”

Eddie blinks owlishly at you, chuckling awkwardly and gesturing between your bodies with his index finger. His heavy cross metal ring glints under the fluorescent lights. “Us. Watch a movie. At your house. Uh…” He fleets his gaze back around the hallway and notices a significant lack of students walking around.

He leans closer to you, trying to be as quiet as possible when he asks, “Is this some sort of joke?”

“No,” you shake your head, tilting it to the side when you see a thin chain around his neck. Your smile is more natural as you grab it and bring it out from under his shirt, the corners of your mouth tilting up minisculely when the guitar pick dangles in the air. “Cute,” you say airily.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off you. He’s pretty sure he’s going crossed eyed as he watches you play with his necklace. “So you’re serious,” he pushes.

“As a heart attack,” you deadpan, still staring at the small plastic triangle and poking it with your middle finger. If you felt like your normal self, you’d be giggling at the sound of your nail hitting the guitar pick. “So?”

“Sure.” Eddie nods enthusiastically. This has to be a dream come true. “Sure, yeah.”

“Great.” Some of your usual brightness comes back to your face at his answer. You open your notebook and quickly write down your address, rip the paper and offer it to him with a sweet smile. The kind that Eddie never thought would be directed at him. “My parents leave on vacation at seven, so come around eight.”

“Ookay,” he slowly plucks the paper from between your fingers, almost dropping it when you press a kiss on his cheek.

You wink at him, walking backwards. “Can’t wait.”

He presses his fingers to the spot your lips touched, skin feeling hot, and stares dumbstruck as you walk back to Chrissy and hook your arm around hers, giggling at each other as you make your way to class.

–

Eddie slaps one hand on the steering wheel as he drives down the street, head banging in the air to the rhythm of Black Sabbath’s Evil Woman.

His heart beats a thousand miles per hour, blood pumping through his veins at a speed it never has before. He can’t stop the giddy smile from spreading on his lips, shaking his head in disbelief– he’s driving to the house of the girl of his dreams to watch a movie and… other stuff.

He hopes other stuff happens. You had said it so suggestively, making sure to mention your parents leaving you home alone and– and you had kissed his cheek! That had to be a sign, right?

He covers his mouth with his hand and exhales a breath out, sniffing the air. He grimaces and leans to the side, the van swerving with him as he struggles to keep control of the wheel at the same time as he looks for the pack of gum he kept in the back pocket of his jeans.

He manages to get it out right before he has to turn the corner on the right, hooraying loudly and the wheels screeching as he maneuvers wildly. Keeping his foot on the pedal, he quickly unwraps the gum and throws the paper on the backseat, popping it into his mouth. He chews it through his deafening singing, the fresh minty flavour exploding on his taste buds.

His singing turns into a quiet mumble when he notices that the streets get progressively darker until there are no lamp posts turned on. The hairs on the back of his head stand in alert and he turns down the music completely, his chewing slowing along with the van as he reaches the address written on the paper.

He picks it up from where he tucked in inside the overhead visor, his finger gracing over the smooth letter you wrote. He’s sick with love as he traces the tiny heart dotting the ‘i’.

He looks outside his window and to the row of identical houses across from where he’s parked. There’s only one house with a single light turned on and, effectively, it’s the right address.

Putting the paper back where it belongs, Eddie takes a deep breath and fixes his hair. He gets out of the car and stands facing the houses, adjusting his leather jacket and spitting out the gum. With a reassuring nod to himself he walks forward.

Everything is eerily quiet. He fastens his steps when he gets the feeling that someone is watching him, taking the short porch steps two at a time and comes to a sudden stop when he sees a plank of wood over the front door. Uselessly, he tries the doorknob anyway, jiggling it until it becomes obvious that the door isn’t going to open.

He takes a couple steps back and looks to both windows on either side of the door, noticing a sheet of plastic hanging over the glass like a makeshift protective curtain. His eyebrows scrunch down in confusion– something isn’t right.

There’s no way that the Queen of Hawkins High, resident Mean Girl, lived in a house like this. He had heard through the grapevine how lavish her house was, how big and deep the pool in her backyard was and how she had a room designated to store all the alcohol you could imagine. Everyone raved about how handy it came for the parties he had never been invited to and how they always ended in someone being thrown into the water.

His curiosity is piqued, though. He heads to the left side of the house, jumping off the porch and stepping on the narrow bit of grass between your supposed house and your neighbour’s. He looks up to the sky and notices a ladder out of the corner of his eye, right below an open window.

Making sure it’s sturdy enough, he climbs it, slapping the plastic curtain back and throwing himself inside the house. He groans in pain when he hits the floor with a lack of grace, holding his shoulder and rubbing the sore spot.

Even inside, everything is still pitch black.

“Hello?” He calls out your name, taking a hesitant step forward. “Anyone home?”

No one answers him.

He walks out of the room, quietly moving another plastic curtain to the side and starts navigating the house curiously. He thinks he’s in the living room when he finally hears something, a low and sugary sweet beat coming from up the stairs.

The steps creak under his Reebooks. He’s almost on the landing when a crow appears out of nowhere and flies past him like he isn’t even there, its wings flapping noisily. “Holy mother of God,” he curses, resting his back against the wall and clutching his chest.

When his heart rate is back to normal he keeps climbing, finally reaching the first floor. There’s a crack of warm light coming from the room the farthest away from where he’s standing, the music growing louder as he follows it.

His lips pull up when he sees the many lit up candles around the room, placed between planks of wood and construction tools. There’s a radio on a workshop table playing a song he wouldn’t be caught dead listening to but it fits his fair maiden to perfection.

“You made it,” your voice comes from behind him unexpectedly. He jumps in the air and screams, eyes wide when he turns around and sees how sick you look now. Even worse than you look at school.

Eddie twists one of his rings around his finger as you saunter towards him, hips swaying hypnotically. He gulps, “This– this isn’t really your house, is it?”

Eddie is hit with a wave of your perfume– dark, smelling of chocolates and wild berries– as you stand in front of him.

“No, baby,” you pout, shaking your head softly. You take his hand and place it over your chest. “This is our home. Just for us.”

Eddie chuckles, sounding uncomfortable. His eyes are glued to the chain that dips between your breasts and the heart locket that hangs from it. “What would we need a house for?”

Your giggle is sweet, your touch soft as you caress his chest and squeeze his shoulders. Eddie holds his breath as you lean forward and whisper in his ear, “To play mommy and daddy.”

Oh shit, he thinks. When did the air become so stuffy?

Your hands go to the back of his neck, long nails scratching his nape and almost making him purr. There’s goosebumps on the skin of his throat as you run your nose against it, bump his jaw up with it and nip gently at his earlobe. “Do you wanna play with me, Eddie?”

He’d do anything you asked of him. “Yes, fuck, yes.”

You pull him towards you by the hair and press your lips together, not bothering with taking it slow, slipping your tongue inside his mouth. He tastes good– minty and smokey and something else… something sweet. Not like the other boys you’ve kissed before to feed on them. They were salty with lust, greedy as they tried to control the kiss. Control you.

But not Eddie. No, he molds himself to you, lets you take whatever you want from his and is grateful for it.

You don’t like it.

Determined to forget about… whatever it was that made your heart skip a beat, you pull away and drift your kisses down his neck, biting him harshly while your hands work on the belt around his hips. You can hear his heavy pants as you stroke his cock over his jeans, adding pressure and feeling the hard and heavy bulge under your palm twitch as you run your tongue over the teeth marks imprinted on his skin.

“Fuck, fuck, wait.” He reaches for your wrists to stop you from lowering his jeans. “Jesus– that was… so fucking hot. Need a minute.”

You huff out an irritated breath, snarking, “I don’t have a minute.”

Being so close to feeding, to sinking your teeth into fresh meat and warm blood, and then having it stripped away from you has made you lose some of your charm. “Just let me suck your cock or something, Jesus,” you roll your eyes in annoyance.

Eddie laughs, holding your cheeks and kissing your still chapped lips that are now shiny with spit. “That’d defeat the whole purpose of taking a minute.”

God, why does he have to be so sweet? It’d be easier if he were an asshole that couldn’t wait to get his dicks wet and didn’t care about making it last. You can’t stand it. Can’t stand him.

“How about I eat you out, hm? To pass the time?”

You really don’t mean to, but it’s impossible to stop yourself from blurting out in surprise, “Eat me out?”

“Yeah.” Your stunned face shocks him. “Wait, you’ve never…”

You shake your head, mouth parted. Strictly speaking, you’re not being 100% truthful. Some of your victims have attempted to eat you out, giving you a couple of licks that did nothing for you just to get you wet enough so they could sink their greedy cocks into you without your body rejecting them. Like that would happen.

Still, it’s not like any of those boys managed to get you off with their mouths, so there’s no point in explaining all that to Eddie.

“Oh, baby,” he sighs. His hands that were cradling your face go down the sides of your body, stroking your curves and settling on your hips. He pushes you forward so your pussy can grind on his bulge. You gasp. “Baby, baby, baby, baby. You have no idea what you’ve been missing.”

You don’t like him having the upper hand. Forcing yourself back into character, you grip the roots of his hair until he hisses. “Show me, then.”

Eddie’s grin is wolfish. “As my fair lady wishes.”

He’s the one who pulls you into a bruising kiss this time, his tongue playing with yours as he deepens it. You traipse back towards the wooden table together, stumbling over each other’s feet.

Your hips reach the table first, the tools on it clattering to the floor and the radio shaking as it struggles to keep itself balanced. Eddie chuckles against your lips and helps you get on the edge of the table, pushing you backwards until you’re laying flat on the hard surface.

He trails kisses down your throat and chest, kissing the swells of your breasts that your tank top exposes, sucking on the skin until colourful splotches appear. You arch your back into his face, mumble a curse when his teeth graze your hardened nipple over the thin fabric of your top.

He peppers more wet kisses down your stomach, dampening your shirt with his spit. He laves his tongue his tongue over the exposed bit of skin of your tummy and flips your skirt up, mouth jumping from your hip bone to your inner thigh, completely neglecting your core in favour of feverishly biting marks into the softness of your thighs.

The closer he gets to your panties, the softer his nips become, turning into soft pecks that make you warm where his lips touch you. When he reaches your mound, he presses the gentlest kiss over the little bow stuck to your cotton panties, stealing a glance up at you.

You don’t think you’ve ever been looked at with such tenderness. Not even before you were turned into this monster. It makes you shiver, hips raising to help him lower your underwear.

Eddie’s dimples show when he sees the glistening threads sticking to the fabric, spreading thinner and thinner as he separates it from your pussy.

An involuntary moan comes out from deep within your chest when he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking it between his teeth and licking wet stripes up your clit, his warm tongue slipping between your folds eagerly. He chances another look up at you, watches you raise yourself on your elbows and brush back his bangs before tangling your fingers in his messy waves.

Your chest is already panting as you watch him swirl your little nub with the tip of his tongue, rising and falling in rapid succession with the quick, short breaths you take. There’s a thin layer of sweat forming on your hairline, Eddie inadvertently melting away the coldness that had taken over your body at the lack of nutrients and raising your temperature until it feels like there’s wildfire coursing through your veins.

“Eddie,” you whine when he pushes you into his mouth, forcing you to grind against his face. A whimper falls from your parted lips when he forces his tongue into your hole, tasting the deepest parts of you that have never been explored by any man. “S-so good.”

It feels more than good. It is more than good and you’re not used to it ever feeling this good. You tighten your grip on his hair and Eddie moans filthily against you, finally allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he makes out with your pussy like he’s been fantasizing about for years. You taste sweeter than he imagined– unnaturally so. He’s drunk on your taste, his mind becoming foggy, all and any thoughts he had other than you disappearing from his mind as he focuses on the feast in front of him.

You don’t understand what’s happening– your legs spam around his head and your body jerks up, muscles tensing then relaxing immediately as a tsunami of pleasure crashes over you and leaves you breathless.

You fall onto your back as you gush all over him, filling his mouth with your slick. With trembling hands, you force him away from you, hazy eyes blinking up at him.

He looks… messy. Hair mussed up from your fingers gripping it, lips red and swollen from eating you out like a starved prisoner, chin shiny and dripping with your release, pupils dilated and eyes glazed over just the same as yours.

He’s unfairly pretty.

“Are you okay?” He asks, crowding your body as he leans down and examines your face closely. Your skin returned to it’s usual glow, your hair no longer looking oily and thin. Somehow, your lips aren’t dry anymore– they’re plump and soft.

“I feel– I feel weird,” you slur. You had expected to return to normal after feeding on Eddie, but you haven’t even punctured an artery and the immeasurable hunger you’ve been feeling all of last month is almost completely gone.

Something isn’t right.

Eddie’s heart skips a beat at your confession. “Shit, did I hurt you? Was that too much?”

“Too much? That was… Where the hell did you learn that, Munson?”

He shrugs one shoulder bashfully, his cheeks growing pink at your disbelief. “College girls have a thing for struggling rockstars, apparently.”

Something ugly grows in your chest at the thought of Eddie fucking other people, of another girl keeping his cock warm. You’ve always liked the virgins– they were sweet like candy and desperate and let you take whatever you wanted from them. You milked their souls dry before they could even stutter out a “thank you”.

You had chosen Eddie on purpose and had been so very careful before approaching him earlier today. You had smelled him and sensed that honeyed aura virgin boys always had around them. And you knew he liked you, poor boy wasn’t very good at hiding it.

So you started being nicer to him: lending him your book in English class when he forgot his copy, whispering to him the answer to a problem in Miss O’Donell’s class when her back was turned to you, smiling at him when you passed each other in the hallway. You even stopped Jason from mocking him and his nerd group a couple of times.

It had almost cost you your reputation. But you were so hungry, and he was so pretty and smelled so delicious. To have him not be a virgin, have all of your hard work mean nothing, it makes you angry.

Your previously shining doe eyes grow dark and narrow into thin slits. Your canines elongate and you do your best to cover them as you say, “So you’re not a virgin?”

Eddie’s startled by your sudden change of mood. “Uh…” he swallows awkwardly, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the motion. “Uh, not– not completely. Couple of blowjobs here and there but– but I’ve never…”

“Fucked a girl?” you guess. He nods shyly and you relax your tense shoulders, returning to your mellow self from 3 minutes ago. You’re giving Eddie whiplash.

You wrap a leg around his hips and push them forward, pressing his hard cock against your wet pussy and gasping at the scratch of the denim. “You wanna fuck me, Eddie?”

His breath catches as you grind your hips against his, eyes rolling at the feel of the heat of your cunt seeping through his jeans. He’s pretty sure there’s a damp spot on his boxers caused by his leaky slit. “Y-yes, God, yes.”

You raise a hand to cradle his cheek, stroking his skin with your thumb. “Yeah? Want my pussy to be the first one you ever feel?”

“Uh huh.” He makes a broken sound, nodding repeatedly. Your voice is hypnotizing, your touch so gentle. “Wanna– wana fuck you. Need it. Please.”

You let go of his cheek and his head falls forward, forehead resting against yours and his hot breath fanning over your face. You reach forward and unzip his pants, lowering them enough so that his cock and his balls fall out.

“Shit,” he swears as you lick your hand, maintaining eye contact, and grip him, pumping your fist up and down his length. Eddie’s hips jerk forward.

You kiss along his jawline and whisper in his ear, “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“Fuck, wanna spread your pussy with my cock,” he whines. You press his cock down to your mound and glide your pussy along his dick, puffy and wet folds spreading around his thick girth and bumping your swollen clit with his pretty pink tip. “Aw, shit. J-just like that. So fucking good.”

You kiss behind his earlobe. “What else?”

“Want to m-make you cum,” he stutters when you cradle his heavy sack in your palm, gently squeezing it. “Want to– to fill you up and watch it drip out.”

You giggle mischievously in his ear and Eddie’s mind short circuits. “You want to make me messy?”

“So messy– oh!” he moans when you push his cock into your weeping cunt. Only his mushroom shaped head is inside but that’s almost enough to push him over the edge. He bites his lip until he draws blood.

You lean forward to lick it up and hum dreamily as you get your first taste of him. He’s so nice and tastes so good, it’s a pity that you have to kill him.

“Holy shit.” Eddie stares at you with eyes as wide as saucers, then glances down to where your tight heat is welcoming his cock home, spread wide around it. If he thought he had been drunk on your taste before, he feels like he’s just chugged three bottles of the moonshine the older teens at the trailer park drank when he was younger. “Holy shit.”

“Come on, Eddie,” you encourage him, “Fuck me.”

“Y-yeah.” He draws back then forward again, slowly finding a strong rhythm. His hips slaps against yours with wet slaps of skin, his balls hitting your ass with every thrust. “Gonna fuck you. Been dreaming about it for years… thinking of– of making you cum all over me… putting my cum inside you… goddamn it.”

The table creaks as he fucks you, the radio tumbling to the floor with a loud clatter but Eddie can’t focus on any of it when he’s burying himself so deep inside you he can feel your throat contracting around him every time you moan. He wants to record your every sound, every little “uh uh” you make so he can listen to them at night while he touches himself to this memory.

His stomach burns and twists, fingers digging into your skin with bruising strength as he forces you back and forth on his cock. You can tell he’s getting close. Can smell his scent get sweeter and sweeter the closer the coil in his stomach gets to snapping in half.

This is your chance.

Your hands frame his scrunched up face as you force him to look at you. “It’s okay,” your tone is soft, gentle. “You can cum now Eddie, it’s okay.”

Eddie looks pained as he shakes his head, cheeks red from embarrassment. “Want you to cum, too.”

You kiss from his cheek down to his jawline, smiling into his skin. “I already did remember? Now I want you to cum. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay. Okay.”

Your back scratches against the wood with every thrust, splinters digging into the skin between your shoulder blades and making you moan at the pleasurable pain. You graze your teeth over his straining neck, allowing them to grow sharper and longer. You open your mouth wide but, right before you can sink your fangs into the vein that’s popping out, calloused fingers grip your chin and pull you into a desperate kiss.

You’re wide eyed as Eddie licks into your mouth, groans of pleasure mixing with whimpers as he spills all of his cum inside you. He loses his rhythm, rutting into you like a dog, cock twitching and painting your insides white.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t– you felt so good–”

You don’t know why you do it, really. You should just kick him off you and tear a piece of his side. But he did something to you, somehow managed to satiate your appetite without losing his life, so instead of twisting his arm and pushing him to the floor, you pet the back of his hair and repeat your previous words. “It’s okay.”

Eddie’s chuckle is muffled. “That’s the last thing a guy wants to hear after sex, you know. Or during.”

“W-well, it’s the truth,” you fumble. You’ve never comforted someone besides Chrissy, but she just cried and complained, not expecting any reassurances from you. “You can just make it up to me next time.”

Eddie wonders if you’ve always been this sweet deep down. There had to be a reason why Cunnigham liked you, after all. “Next time?” he asks, hoping his hearing was working correctly.

You’re going to grow hungry eventually. If you can’t eat him then you’ll have him do whatever he did to you tonight to keep you full.

“Yeah, next time.”

You’re going to keep him forever.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine

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