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wesstars · 7 months

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hot on your lips

tara carpenter x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: her hands are on your shoulders, and the next thing you know, your back is pressed to the bed, and tara’s rocking her weight on top of you. she leans in close, breath as soft as her skin against your lips, breathing out a quiet ‘yes.’ wc: 3.0k tags: explicit, minors DNI!! no-ghostface au bc i didn’t feel like fitting it in. bad dirty talk, top!reader and bottom!tara, needy!tara, D/s dynamics, reader is a little tiny bit of a sadist (as a treat,) sex on camera, exhibitionism and voyeurism, mild restraint, mild degradation, horribly excessive use of italics a/n: am I back?? idk how i feel about this. thank you to @evilwednesday for helping me out w the cover image & the title :)

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Tara’s in your arms before her bag even hits the floor.

You’re so, so glad the hallway is empty as she nearly bowls you over in the doorway of your shared apartment, peppering your face with kisses. You lift her up and give her a spin, pressing your lips to hers—it’s pure comfort, after so many long months of Tara’s school semester. Long distance was a real bitch sometimes, but Tara reminded you every day of how it was all worth it. In fact, you’d felt as if what you had with her was made more real by the distance so often between you. But now, she’s in your arms, finally, and you nudge her suitcase inside with your foot, bending to grab the backpack she’d discarded.

Pulling back, she speaks, so soft and shy it nearly makes your heart burst. “Hi.”

“Tara,” you breathe, “I thought—I wasn’t supposed to go pick you up from ORD until—”

“There was a change of plans,” she interrupts, palms on your cheeks to pull you into a bruising kiss. You feel yourself practically melt into her, like a docile dog in a firm hand. You set her bag down, just managing to not drop it. “I took an earlier flight-” her lips are on yours again- “Couldn’t wait.”

“Couldn’t wait… for what?”

“This.” She slips her tongue into your mouth, all hot and velvet on your teeth. God, the way it felt to miss her was addictive, but this was a million times better. Grabbing blindly, you miss the door handle a few times as you’re distracted by her soft lips, finally managing to slam the door shut. Shifting your strong hands to the soft crease of her ass and thigh, you bump your teeth into hers in your eagerness, but she doesn’t seem to mind. You walk her into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind you.

Tara smells like the airport and outside wind, something uniquely New York caught in her hair. She pulls back for only a second to reach around, drop her jacket and shoes, leaving her in just a shirt and comfy sweats. Her palms are sun-warm on your cheek and your neck; any place that she could touch was fair game for her. Your mind feels hazy already—it makes it hard to focus as you try to maneuver around furniture you could navigate in the dark, Tara’s presence more than disarming. Part of you wants to slow down, ask her how her semester went, but the smarter, Tara-influenced majority of you knows that with the way she was pulling at you and your heart, she would straight up kill you if you did that. You’re all too happy to oblige her, kissing her back for every day that she’d been gone.

“I missed you,” she whispers as she pulls on the collar of your shirt, even though you’re pressed so close already. She’s feather-light in your arms as you carry her down the hallway, nearly stumbling through the bedroom door. You let her down to stand between your feet, freeing your hands to cup her jaw. The curve of Tara’s face is as familiar as the way her nose brushes against yours, soft. It only takes a second, really, but with just her scraping her nails on the back of your neck, you’re wanting, enough to hold her tight and feel her melt against you.

Tara nearly topples the both of you when she grabs your shirt again and pulls. You just barely catch yourself from crushing her against the bed—but as always, she takes you by surprise, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and slanting her mouth against yours to deepen the kiss. The look in her half-lidded eyes as you peek down at her tells you all you need to know about her intentions. With the way you were kissing up on her, anyone would think that you’d been apart for years, not months, but god knows you couldn’t get enough.

It’s near obscene, the press of your tongue against hers, but with all of the urgency built from the past few months, it only serves to split you open. As quick as it began, your kiss, broken by barely a gasp for air, turns heated and hungry. It’s filthy, and the urge to spit in her mouth and make her swallow is more than a fleeting thought. Instead, you force her thighs open with your hips, grabbing her ass and pulling her close.

Under her sweats, you can feel the edges of fabric underneath, and you grin, skimming your hands lower. You furrow your brow when you feel a telltale band of elastic, and your hands tighten on her thighs.

“Tara-” your voice comes out a rasp- “are you wearing thigh highs?” You’re nearly dizzy with how much blood rushes from your head to your stomach, pooling low and hot.

“I know you like them.” Tara smiles a little, impishly, but she looks down to your hands instead of your eyes. You know her—she’s looking for confirmation that she’s right, that she hadn’t overstepped in wearing something for you. In your mind, it’s absurd of her to even entertain this sort of thing, the way it sends a tingle up your spine. But Tara needs it, and you’re more than eager to please. You trail your fingers to her waistband, pulling her sweats down and off to expose her. Your grip on her hips is tight and squeezing, holding her in a way that’s unmistakable as want.

You cock your head, ignoring how loud your heart runs. “Oh, yeah? Is that why you’re matching again?” You take her hand, slide your thumb over her fingernails, in gel black. The sheer fabric is the same shade, soft as sin against your palms. Briefly, you consider tearing them apart, seeing the ruin of tatters against her skin—but her little whimper as you trace your fingers where her thighs spill out over the top makes you change your mind.

She’s breathing hard from just the kissing, and when she sighs into your mouth, you’re reminded of the way she’d boldly suggested, your blushing cheeks visible even on FaceTime, that you let her take a souvenir back to her apartment. Tara had complained that she was bored, in a way that homework couldn’t solve, her wide eyes telling you that was as true as could be. You never could back down from a challenge, no matter how warm it made you feel—that was why there was currently an old camera sitting on the bedroom table. You smile, biting your tongue.

“Remember what you said that night, baby?”

You point to the other end of the room, to the camera there, mocking. You expect her to laugh, to shake her head with an exasperated fondness, and push her lips back on yours. Instead, she freezes, swallowing. Her grip on your biceps tightens.

“Tara?”

She turns her gaze to you, and in the half-light you see that her pupils are blown, wide in a sort of disbelieving arousal. It hooks you in, a tug in your stomach, as your mind fills with only Tara.

“Tara…” you repeat, “do you remember?” She’s quiet, a blush rising steadily to her cheeks. “‘Don’t you wish you could see what you do to me,’” you tease, leaning in close. “You want me to watch you, right? Well, doll, there’s a camera right there.”

“I—” Tara nearly protests, but oh, her flush, the way her hips move so subtly, is telling enough for you. Not letting her hesitate anymore, you grab her shoulders, flipping her so she’s under you. She fits perfectly, holding you up just as much as you’re holding her down.

“You’re gonna watch this when you’re alone, right?” You tease, trailing a hand down her arm to push her wrists above her head with one hand. In your daze, you know her tells as well as you know that drag of desire in your stomach, and so you already know that she’s— “You’re gonna watch this and rut that needy pussy on your hand, is that it?”

It’s your turn to look for confirmation—distantly, it rings in your mind that you must’ve lost your mind, to be talking to Tara like this, but what’s more apparent to you is the moan that escapes from her mouth, the way her eyes slide shut.

“Yeah,” she breathes, something shameless in the twist of her brow as she arches her back. Her nipples press into your chest, hard through her thin shirt, her knees falling open even more. She’s warm, underwear just clinging to her and leaving nothing to imagination. “I’ll watch it whenever you want me to.”

“You will,” you laugh, something deep and dark. “But when you touch, you’ll let me know when you’re gonna come, okay? So I know that you’ve stopped, like a good girl.” You grind your hips between her thighs, watching her breath catch. It’s a soft, bated moment, but something cracks in the air, nearly audible. The shift between the two of you is a familiar one, apparent in the way that she clings harder to you, presenting her chest, the column of her throat, the tilt of her jaw.

“I will,” she says obediently, her pleading gaze making you grin. “I’ll stop, I’ll touch myself, whatever you want—”

Just as quick, you’re pushing yourself off of her. The room is quiet, save for your footsteps and Tara’s breaths, adorably shaky. The camera is easy to set up, even if you do chance a look at her one too many times. You’re back by her side, and you both watch the red light, winking back at you.

You sit down next to Tara, trailing your hand up and down her stomach. “I’ll tell you every dirty little thing I’d like to do to you, if you’re patient,” you whisper in her ear, something meant for only her to hear.

Her hands are on your shoulders, and the next thing you know, your back is pressed to the bed, and Tara’s rocking her weight on top of you. She leans in close, breath as soft as her skin against your lips, breathing out a quiet ‘yes.’ Giving a little twist that not-so-accidentally presses her heat against the seam of your jeans, she pulls her shirt and bra off in one miraculous motion. You touch her skin, smooth and warm and hot, and you just know she enjoys how your eyes can’t help but drop lower, your hands nearly following. She leans in to kiss you again, the ends of her hair tickling your collar. You both pull back, and you take a second to just look at her, and you can see how she’s been. School was long and difficult, it’s in the set of her eyes, and you want to know more, despite the burn in your stomach.

But with the way she’s looking back at you, white little teeth worrying at her lip, you all but smile.

“Alright, pretty girl,” you tease, “what is it, now?” She whines when your hands meet her chest, rolling her nipples between your fingers. “C’mon, tell me.”

It comes more easily than you expect, and it drops molten heat into your chest. “I wanna ride your face,” she whispers. You grab for her hips, tight. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Glancing over at the red light, you bite down a groan. “Do you think you deserve it?”

“Yes, yes—” she’s already straining against your grip, trying to crawl her way up your body.

“That’s for me to decide, Tara.”

She keens, but she drops her head to watch your hands on her—she’s sensitive—as she pants. You shush her, sliding your thigh between hers. It must catch on her in just the right way, because she’s tensing up in your arms, fingers digging into your shoulders.

“You’re looking so desperate,” you laugh, glad she can’t see the flush on your cheeks.

“I am.” Her bold declaration stops your heart in your chest; you know she’s telling the truth.

“So say ‘please,’” you murmur, head spinning.

Her eyes are glossy when she finally looks at you. “Please…”

“Very good,” you say patiently. You lean up to kiss her, sucking her bottom lip none too gently. “Why don’t you beg a little?”

You see how the false hope makes her tears so willing to spill out. Her hips rut on your thigh, with no rhyme or rhythm—you’re practically begging yourself to help her, but you hold back.

“Please,” she says again, taking a ragged breath. “Please, want your tongue in me—”

“Louder, Tara,” you snap, threading a hand in her hair and pulling her head up, none too gently. You force her to look in the camera, watching her pupils dilate as she stares down the lens. “I want you to be reminded of what a whiny bitch you are.”

“Want you to eat me out,” she whines to the camera, closing her eyes against the redness in her cheeks. “Want…” The next time she says it, it's louder—you release Tara’s hips to pull her panties off, nearly tearing them when she shifts up the bed at the same moment.

It makes you ache, being so close to touching Tara, her scent heady and thick, ensconcing your every sense. Her hands grab the headboard as you wrap your arms around her thighs to pull her closer to your lips. She’s practically shaking in her anticipation, and truthfully, it’s hard for you to wait any longer. You trace your tongue across the stretch marks on her inner thighs, and then straight to her cunt. She’s all velvet and honey against you, as you eagerly run your tongue up and down, savoring what you’ve missed. It’s so intoxicatingly good that you nearly miss the way she cries out, your name a shameless prayer.

You miss her weight on your chest as her back arches, and immediately you’re tracing the dip in her spine. Irrevocably, you’re watching her every move as you tease at her clit, making her rut her hips against your face, chasing friction.

“Fuck,” she says on an exhale, breaking the word into two damning syllables, just like the ba-dum of your heart. Tara tears her hand from the headboard, threading her fingers into your hair to pull you closer. It’s a gesture that you should chastise her for, but you can’t bring yourself to resist her.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” You wrap your lips around her clit and ease two fingers in at the same time—she’s so wet it doesn’t take much to get them in. When you look up at her, the glazed expression on her face is something sated and satisfied, like chocolate wouldn’t ever melt in her mouth. A lazy grin graces her lips, a dusty pink rising up on her cheeks as she squirms against you, adjusting easily to the familiar stretch.

Somehow, you can feel in your gut that she’s being good for the camera, and you can’t bring yourself to take your time. You want everything at once, to make her come over and over again into your waiting mouth, greed your only sin since you were so far past lust, falling into adoration and something dangerously like—

“Please.” It spills out of Tara’s mouth, golden and warm.

“You’ve been saying ‘please’ an awful lot, Tara.”

You wrap your hand, the one not knuckle deep in Tara’s cunt, around her thigh. Squeezing, you felt the soft stockings against your palm as you guided her hips to rock into you, your fingers and your tongue. You wanted her to feel whenever she’d play the video back, for her to be able to memorize fucking your mouth, so no matter the distance, she’d remember. As if on cue, her moan echoes around the walls, in your mind.

“The camera’s gonna pick that up, you know.” Your voice is rough, out of breath with how warm it is to be under Tara.

Her voice is tight, choked. “I know, baby.”

You don’t stop, only shifting slightly to get your thumb on her clit, so you can lean back. You swipe your tongue on your bottom lip, tasting her so sweet, and you watch her eyes, fading in and out of focus, tracking your motion.

“Gonna—”

“Tara,” you laugh, but it’s a warning. She whines, hips twitching, and you can see her lip between her teeth.

“Gonna—oh god—it’s—”

“Gonna what?” You mock, flexing your fingers. “You can do better than that.”

“Please, let me come?” Something warm unfurls in your chest at Tara knowing you want her to ask, your perfect girl, even when she’s so far gone.

“Why?” Your question makes Tara still her hips, which is saying something. “Why should I let you, baby?”

She’s quiet, and since you’ve always been weak for her, you take pity. Your heart’s racing, and the heat in your stomach craves to just see her.

“You’re so good for me, my love… why should I let you come?”

“Because—” Tara breaks off with a lovely little whine, and then it hits her. It breaks up into a floaty feeling in her stomach, like a plume of sparks. Her thighs are trembling around your head, and you lean up to smear her slick on your lips, nudging her clit. “Because I’m your good girl.”

“That’s it, doll,” you murmur. “Come for me, Tara.”

And Tara comes, white hot and tense against you, and in that moment, you think you believe in magic. You want to invent something new just to eternalize her with more than the camera, something more than memory. She’s breathing hard, and you wiggle yourself out from under her. Pliant in your arms, she’s quiet as you help her lay down gently on the covers. For you, your mind was anything but quiet. You think you could run anywhere just to feel Tara, and you can’t resist smiling. Crawling over to give her a peck on the lips, you think Tara’s done—she’s blinking sleepily, eyes flicking between you and the camera, so you move between her knees to shuffle her stockings off, skin against skin. You hear her clear her throat, breaking your trance of fondness.

You look up—you see Tara look to the camera again, and your eyes helplessly follow. She’s got a mischievous little quirk to her lips, like she just knows how bad you wanted to see her come, and…

“You’re gonna tell me those dirty things now, aren’t you?”

a/n cont'd: 🌝

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

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coolprettyleo · 2 months

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so american - juraj slafkovsky ☆

wc: 1.8k

tw: mentions of sex. fluff? kinda mentions and ED. lmk if there's more!

juraj slafkovsky x reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

being nineteen living in new york city is a scary thing for any teenager. if you could even still call yourself that, but you got by.

instead of going the route that most of your friends did, attending the university of michigan, joining a sorority, and marrying a retired frat guy; you did the complete opposite.

you skipped college and moved to nyc to be a model. it had been going very well for you, seeing as your face was all over times square and you began to become the newest it girl, and you thankfully made enough to pay for your high rise apartment and live a luxaric life that you've always dreamed about.

so why on earth would you be standing in montreal on a tuesday night?

your boyfriend would be the cause of that. he lived in montreal and a love began to grow for the city seeing as its the place you've fallen in love with him.

is it too soon to say that? im sorry, but it's no doubt love; the feelings you've felt.

he was the most perfect boyfriend, treating you like a princess and you couldn't be happier.

you were currently standing at the airport searching for his tall frame. being a long distance couple is not easy but you two made it work. seeing as during the season he's basically glued to montreal, it was up to you to come and see him in the beautiful city, which is why you were here now.

"im outside gate forty six" his thick accent came through the phone. his accent was something that could turn your face red, in a millisecond.

"no your not. im standing directly under it" you said searching for him.

"turn around" you heard his voice come from behind you.

and behold and beyond there stood your boyfriend, standing there in all his glory smiling ear to ear and your excitement to see him, flooded in.

you squealed so loud and dropped your bag to run up to him and hug him. one thing you liked about juraj was his height and the fact you were still able to be shorter than him being 5'11 and all.

"how was your flight" he said giving you a sweet kiss, before picking up your bags and still managing to hold your hand through the crowd of people.

"it was okay, im a little jet lagged though" you said as you saw his car.

"have you eaten yet?, I made us dinner at home" he said opening your door for you.

he knew you hadn't been eating. you had been so wrapped up in growing your name, this was the first break you had in months and juraj was quick to see that. he really worried for you and you've never had someone other than your parents care like that. if he kept up with all this shit, you were going to marry him.

"no, im sorry" you said looking down, as you got in. you felt bad how much he spent worrying for you and you still not eating anything past nine thirty pm was not going to eaze his worries.

"dont apoligize, i got you know" your heart beated at his words.

"I literally love you juraj slafkovsky" you said as he got into the drivers side.

"you literally?" he teased.

"stop it!' you said smiling. you knew already what he was about to tease you about.

"you are so american pretty"

"HOW?!?"

-----

you and juraj were at a bar with his teammates and you were feeling tipsy early on to the night. he was wearing a fit that had you in shambles. god he looked handsome. you were sitting on his lap leaning your face into the crook of his neck.

"Y/N!!!" you heard cole yell over the loud music. you lifted your head from jurajs soft neck to see his teammate, happy to see you in montreal.

"hi cole" you giggled at his excitement.

"sing 22 with me. I just put it into the karaoke machine."

"oh my gosh! yes!!" you said standing up from juraj. right away realizing you were way to drunk to stand, and losing balance.

"woah," juraj said grabbing a hold of your hips and helping you stand straight.

"okay, i think its time to head home" he says smiling at her, holding her up.

"but cole-"

"but she-

"we'll see you tomorrow cole" juraj said cutting both cole and his girlfriend off.

"okay then" cole said looking like a kicked puppy and waving goodbye to you.

"what are you trying to take me home so fast for? hmm" you said to your boyfriend seductively grabbing the collar of his shirt.

"to get you in bed pretty" he said walking you out. you blushed right away thinking the other thing and loved how forward he was being right now even though he meant far from that.

___

you guys arrive to jurajs apartment and all you wanted was your boyfriend.

he opened the door and you didnt waste time to attach your lips to his and push him against the door. his hands still on holding your hips from walking you in, squeezed your sides as he pulled away.

"what are you doing baby" he said giggling at your forwardness.

"I want you. now." you said to him attaching your lips to his sweet spot on his neck.

you knew his weaknesses and even though it hurt him to push you away, you were drunk.

"we cant pretty, your drunk"

"no im not" you said as he guided you to his room.

"yes you are. come on lets get these cloths off"

"sex time?" you said, face lighting up taking off your top.

"no. sleep time" he said helping you pull your boots off.

you groaned and threw yourself starfish back onto his bed.

"come here" he said pulling you up and putting his hoodie over your frame. he put some boxers on you and reached into his drawer for you that had some makeup wipes as you starred at him.

"im sobering up" you said to him as he wiped your makeup off.

"y/n" he said pointly.

you rolled your eyes as you laid back onto the bed watching him begin to change.

"you look pretty in my cloths" he said smiling at how big his hoodie fit you.

"you think I look pretty in everything" you said rolling your eyes at your boyfriends cheesiness.

"so, you are pretty" he said pulling the covers over the both of you and wrapping his arm around you as you cuddled into him.

you traced a finger over his features, seeing as it always helped him fall asleep.

"your pretty" you whispered to him, giggling.

"im pretty?" he said lightly smiling, eyes still close.

"mhm" you said to him.

"goodnight baby. I love you" he said after a while.

"I love you. goodnight" you answered feeling, restless. how were you supposed to sleep when he's with you? and you loved sleeping. you sucked it up, and decided to make sure to be completely sober for tomorrow.

____

you were currently hitting the hottest nyc bars with your best friends, after being dragged out against your will by them and you just wanted to be home in bed. you couldn't believe you used to love going out.

"come on y/n!" your friend yelled over the loud music pulling you along.

you were miserable.

you sat on the booth, when a guy came up to sit next to you.

"hey, im Logan" the man said to you, probably hoping to go home with you tonight.

"y/n" you said uninterested looking around hoping to find somewhere to go off too.

"you like-" he was cutoff by the next song and you couldn't help but think about juraj.

"my boyfriend likes this song!" you said to the guy.

"you have a boyfriend?" he said standing up.

"yeah, it was nice meeting you" you said walking away.

you saw your friend with her newest eye candy and you walked up to them.

"y/n! this is... omg I already forgot. but he said he plays hockey!"

"uhm no, I said I liked it"

"its okay. I know your secret" she said whispering and pushing herself right after.

"what's your favorite team?" you said hoping the conversation would bring up juraj. its like you couldn't go a conversation without talking about him.

"the maple leafs"

you cringed.

"my boyfriend hates that team"

"he a montreal fan or what"' the guy said with his arm still around your best friend.

"no hes a playe-"

"are you talking about juraj again!?!" a voice comes from behind you.

"what do you mean again. I don't talk about him THAT much."

your friends shared a look before they both let out,

"yes you do"

____

you were currently at a photoshoot for the cover of times magazine when you got a FaceTime call coming from your boyfriend.

"hi" you said answering.'

"hello, how is the shoot going"

"really good! we're doing the last outfit, and im so happy because im spent" you said exhaustedly.

"dont tire yourself too much" he said seeing her eye bags hiding under the makeup she was wearing.

"I won't, anyways what happened?" you knew he wanted to ask you something because he knew not to interrupt your shoot time.

"my mom wants to know if you would join us for christmas, and im looking at tickets rights now, did you want to join us?" he said with a hopeful look.

you wanted to squeal. he was taking you home to his native land, and for some reason that felt so sacred to you. doesn't this man know that you would go anywhere he goes?

"that sounds like fun, I'd think l'd enjoy that" you said smiling at him. he let out what seemed to be a breath he'd been holding.

"okay, love. im booking our flights right now then. thank you for doing this"

"thank you for inviting me"

"oh! that means you have to spend thanksgiving with my family!" you added.

"okay. is that actually something you guys celebrate?" juraj asked. he thought the holiday was something he saw in movies seeing as they didnt celebrate the holiday, from where he was from .

"obviously! its only the best holiday!!!"

"yeah? what's your favorite thing about it?"

"well I like the food, obviously. I like spending time with everyone and watching the parade in nyc- oh! and the football game is always so much fun to watch, omg! and we have to put on the game for christmas at your families" you said to him.

"that seems..." he said trailing off, smiling at your excitement.

"spit it out slaf" you said, knowing he was about to make fun of you. he hesitated because he didnt know if he wanted to keep teasing you over this.

"so american"

___

hi guys! im sorry about the inactivity. I've had so much work and school work but, I will be writing more though, because im currently in the hospital, getting treated for a spider bite... so ill have ALOT of time. send in au thoughts lol.

#nhl imagines #hockey fic #nhl imagine #juraj slafkovsky smut #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky #cole caufield #nhl hockey #montreal canadiens x reader #cole caufield x reader

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afreakingdork · 1 month

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Spring Break

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, POV Second Person, Friends to Lovers, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Yearning, Romance, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, One-Shot

Synopsis: You're on your first spring break of college and returning back home to NYC. Donnie has agreed to pick you up from the airport and the season of change is ready to exercise its rights upon your friendship with him.

Also available on Ao3

I cannot thank @tmntxthings enough! She took my half formed plot bunny and helped me finish it up and embellish it with the cutest ideas!! This fic would not exist without her and she gets my endless affection! 💞

Plane descent, it was the one part of flying that really felt like a roller coaster. With its little dips and adjustments, your stomach would rise in turn. It made some sick, but you found it exciting. It was a manifestation of coming home. With each drop in altitude you were a little bit closer and, no matter how people felt about plane rides, the excitement was palpable. Even those tired and exhausted, ready for their changeovers, were glad for a moment on the ground.

This was your stop and you were especially excited for what waited for you.

Clinging to your phone, there was a final announcement and you looked out the window. Watching fields and houses grow closer and closer, your heart alternatively soared. Ants took on definition and eventually you were doing the careful careen through buildings to land in LaGuardia. With a squeaky landing that jarred your body, people stood through the taxiing process which prompted fights with flight attendants.

You were back in New York City.

A fervor running throughout the plane, there was still the docking process and each second ticked by through syrup until you got a text.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I am at the appropriate baggage claim.

It was a new entry in a sea of others that had you momentarily closing your eyes. You then typed out a response about what you’d endured since landing and Donnie kept you occupied with messages right up until it was time to deboard. Bumping and jostling and giving appropriate glares back, you were soon just shy of running down a tunnel. Just like descent, you were closing in by the moment and once you broke free from a certain pair of doors, you paused only to take stock. It was fate, you thought, that people parted and there he was.

Donatello stood bundled up both for some kind of anonymity and the early spring weather. A balmy cool outside, trees were clinging for a bit more warmth before they burst with color. You were going to miss the blossoms this time around, but you had a lifetime of watching the petals dot the otherwise dirty streets before. You always liked this season. There was a sense of change in the air. A metamorphosis, you saw not just the growth between your youth and now, but everything from the last half year.

You were offered a full ride to a school all the way across the country.

You accepted and left behind everything.

The long days of your first semester would have been lonely if not for a certain purple coded turtle offering to marathon shows with you online.

You texted in the cafeteria until you found your crowd.

You continued to message him because he had to know the latest gossip.

A webcam was sent to you as a gift so you could better work on projects together across multiple state lines.

You clung to Donnie as a virtual lifeline through your first set of finals.

The Christmas holdover in California due to a lab opportunity had been a daunting choice.

It was made all the better as you were given a digital spot at the Hamato family table during Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Then came another bout of studying for midterms.

All to now, where he’d offered to pick you up after something had come up with your parents and you had complained of the taxi fare on your spring break budget.

You were in motion.

In fact, you were barreling towards him. He heard the footsteps, but didn’t connect them to your person as he looked up. Now knowing the source, he jammed his phone in his pocket and took on a sort of prepared alarm. Then, at the last second, he pivoted a foot out. A careful rotation, he lowered his stance into a readied one. It was all the confirmation you needed as you leapt.

He caught you at the same time for the hug and you crushed yourself to him. Momentum should have knocked the air out of you, but he swung. Your body twirled up with your heart and, by the time you were set down, you were groping to get more of him. This was new, you remembered. His scent wasn’t like coming home. You’d never been close enough to really get a whiff. Clinging to his worn hoodie didn’t crop up memories of softness because you had at most brushed it in passing.

You’d known this mutant for seven months and this was your first hug.

You wanted more.

Your only saving grace was he appeared to feel the same. For each tug, to get your arms tighter around his neck, he gave equal pressure around your waist. As you butted your head to his, he clawed into your own jacket, trying to get you that much closer.

It was warm.

It was overwhelming.

You didn’t want to let go.

“Hey.” You murmured against him.

“Greetings.” His voice responded. “How was your flight?”

“Good. Boring. Long.” You nuzzled closer.

“A full work day’s flight.” Donnie hummed, amused.

“Thanks for picking me up. It’s good to see you.”

Finally, after what must have been too long, Donnie pulled back enough to view you with a chide. “You as well.”

A little shy, your arms slipped to rest against his plastron and an announcement interrupted citing luggage. A quick check found you were at the right carousel and you sent Donnie a wry look. “We’re in the right place.”

“I was clear about my location.” He playfully rolled his eyes and reluctantly relinquished you to approach the long luggage circle.

You followed close behind and bumped arms with him. “Oh, there was this lady who would not stop yaking about the toast squares she got in that plane snack mix.”

“Ah, yes, the snack gacha.” Donnie chuckled and bags began to drift down the line.

He explained the odds and you walked him backwards through your trip. There was a gap from when you’d set off for your flight until arrival. He’d been on a video call when you’d packed your suitcase so when said luggage came winding down the metal slide, you didn’t need to say a thing. He knew it and hoisted it up where you shouldered your backpack. You’d returned with mostly things to wash, but you figured that was part of coming home.

You soon drifted away from the building. Working through the bustling drop offs zone, you headed to where Donnie had sequestered one of his vehicles. Parking cost too much for the tank, he settled on something visually low key though the interior was just as technologically stacked as the others. It was a resistance in temptation to press buttons on the dash you had never seen. They felt familiar as he’d taken you on a phone tour when he completed retrofitting the van, but it felt different in person.

Conversation took you home and, before you realized it, you were idling on the street.

Time had slipped through your fingers like water and you hadn’t cupped enough to drink. There’d even been traffic, you’d sat through it, but it hadn’t prolonged the journey. You were due inside. Your parents were waiting. You also would need to leave Donnie. He’d only ever been here to give you this ride. Heart sinking regardless, you moved to give Donnie your regards with a forlorn tilt of your head.

“Let me help you with your bag.” He rushed the statement.

Your eyes met.

You were both a little too eager to delay the inevitable.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate it.” You told him though your heart wanted to ask him over for dinner.

You’d already skipped coming home for winter break and there was no way your parents would allow an interloper to impede on catching up with their child.

You were required to spend time with them first, then friends.

Duty was a strange thing. It brought you home to mom even though you were an adult with a supposed choice. It had your friend hoisting your stuffed suitcase out of the back of a van where you had created the burden of the heft. You clicked up stairs, your luggage wheels hopping steps and Donnie felt the need to fill the space as if he were required to keep from giving you a moment of quiet.

You were thankful.

You didn’t want to think of how you’d miss him.

Again, he’d felt the same.

You liked that about him.

Reaching your door, you knew you hadn’t messaged your parents for this same reason.

It was your own coveted surprise amongst what you had to do.

Donnie was careful in carting your suitcase up silently.

It felt like a stolen moment. “We still on for Wednesday?”

“Yes.” He nodded and pulled up a ninpo calendar for the sake of it. “Mikey has forewarned Señor Hueso and if you make April wait a moment more, I think she will strangle whoever is closest.”

“Of course.” You bobbed your head and felt the reminder of the knob.

You needed to go home.

You needed to see your parents.

You hadn’t seen them in so long.

You hugged Donnie.

Slower this time, you still moved quick enough that you avoided the awkward shuffle. It was an instant threading of bodies where you had to stave off a sigh. You fit so well without practice and his toned arms slung so comfortably around your waist. You bumped your head to his for the sake of closeness. He stilled and you thought it too much until he turned his beak to nuzzle the side of your head. From his inhale, he was catching your smell so you openly breathed him in the same.

Then you came apart, heads down, unable to bear to see the other leave as you mumbled out promises of seeing each other soon.

Donnie left by the sound of stairs and you unearthed your key to head inside.

Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

The rest of your Saturday had been a flurry of catching up with your folks. You were pelted with every question under the sun and the few phone calls with them you’d had throughout the school year seemed to have never happened. Your parents remembered none of the details no matter how much you whined about how you’d already told them about your class load. You were struck with backhanded comments about missing the holidays and how this cousin had proposed and that nephew had gone skiing and would you believe the tan your aunt got?

Then came sleeping in your old bed which was now a foreign one.

You called Donnie with your headphones on and he answered after only one ring.

Unable to stand the odd sheets, you curled up beside your window for faint outdoor light and watched Donnie on screen eat snacks as you unloaded about how annoying it all was. You loved your parents, but it was always something. He took his time in the conversation after your most heated complaints were air cooled and then subjected you to his own. His family’s separation anxiety was on another level, but he never made it a competition. You instead felt commiseration, even if the comparisons were outlandish.

Exhaustion took you to bed and the old smell of you drifted up like one you didn’t recognize. You were just tired enough to mention the discrepancy and Donnie made a comment on how you’d changed. You weren’t sure you had as you hadn’t felt like it, but you guessed of anyone, he would know best.

How had that come to be?

Your best friend was here and someone you’d known since elementary school. You still loved them, but they’d fallen to a certain wayside once Donnie appeared. Meeting him had been an accident at best. From senior year finals, you’d picked up a local coffee shop as your own. During summer, you switched to drinks for fun instead of necessity and a new barista started that you liked. She was great at conversation and better at upsizing drinks with a wink so you always made sure to tip. There came a day when you forgot to have cash on hand and you promised to come back by to fork it over. Now on a first name basis, April had scoffed it off, but you still returned after making change at a nearby bodega. It hadn’t been more than 20 minutes and yet she had disappeared. You waited for her to return from break only to notice a mutant was similarly off to the side and one you’d come to find was waiting for the same April.

That was early August.

You’d gone to UC Berkeley in early September.

That was less than a month knowing the turtle in person.

Now you were drifting off to Donnie complaining about how he’d been found sneaking into East Laird’s lab yet again.

He just needed access to one chemical.

They wouldn’t miss it.

He’d doctored the supply sheets himself.

The janitor was paranoid.

You giggled and it must have come too late because he ordered you to sleep.

You told him you missed him.

In truth, you did.

He murmured the same along with a mention of Wednesday.

It wasn’t here yet.

Texting helped as Sunday led straight to a family meal with whoever was in town. You rehashed the exact same stories about school more times than you could count. Your scholarship was both held up like a heavyweight champ’s belt while others spoke to you like you were some Hollywood convert. It didn’t matter that there were six driving hours between the two places. You’d betrayed some inane state pride by going to a far flung college and whether that was a success or pompous choice was your family’s to debate.

You went to bed so angry afterward that you broke your 125 day streak of saying goodnight to Donnie.

You woke up under your old ceiling.

Breakfast reminded you of high school.

Dad had work.

Mom had lunch.

She talked and you listened.

You saw your best friend in the 3 o’clock doldrums.

It was awkward until it wasn’t.

It took about an hour, but you fell in line to your old pattern.

You meant to message your bestie more, but college had taken both of you in different directions.

Who’s this guy you keep mentioning?

Donatello, was it?

Did you meet someone?

What a story that was and it came with a growing smile from your best friend. Each passing word felt like guilt off your lips and you were teased mercilessly.

No, stop that! We aren’t dating!

Why would you ask?

It’s perfectly normal to help a friend out like he did.

Yes, we’re close.

Not that close.

He’s a nice guy.

Yes, really nice, what are you insinuating?

It wasn’t like that.

You wanted to call Donnie on your way home.

Your best friend’s words kept you from it.

Tuesday your dad had off from work and, though they took you, you ended up showing your parents around Prospect Park. Where they’d only heard it was nice, you had seen enough from social media to actually maneuver it. You picked a restaurant they hated and then a bakery they loved. You were nagged incessantly and then pestered.

Tell us about your new college friends!

You don’t sound like you have many, what happened?

Oh, whos’ that?

Tell me more!

Are they nice?

Go to any crazy parties? We won’t judge.

They did.

They judged everything.

You kept Donatello’s name out of your mouth, though he appeared with each question.

He kept you sane.

He had been there for you.

He made things better.

You texted him as you ran to a bathroom stall for a moment of peace.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Hard to go back after your taste of freedom?

It was such a him response.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Tomorrow, you’ll have us.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Don’t worry.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Until then, say the word and I can call you away with a lab emergency.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I know the codes for several. Do not ask why.

It helped as you rejoined your parents.

One more day.

Wednesday morning and afternoon were tedious affairs with little to do outside of the dreaded laundry. You aired and disinfected your suitcase and ended up cleaning for the sake of it. It made your mom happy and you prepped ingredients for your parent’s dinner even though you wouldn’t be partaking. It would be another nicety in hopes that they wouldn’t say a word when you stayed out late.

It wasn’t like you had a curfew, but you knew the biting remark would be there.

You left just before your parents got home so you sent messages to both of them to cover your bases. Their sent confirmation was like a final school bell and you were running down stairs at an alarming pace. Donnie’s text window appeared next and you shot out a message about your imminent arrival. You felt a buzz in response and wound an oddly familiar path to the necessary sewer grate. One prepped for access to the turtle’s tunnel, you climbed down and only then brought up a map. Above was one thing as you knew your local streets, but the journey below was one you’d never had time to memorize. Donnie’s map was clear and as you switched from sewer to subway lines, you soon came to the brighter lights of the lair.

The Hamato were piled in the living room and you saw Donnie amongst the bale.

He smiled, but it was Mikey who wrapped around you.

Your name was shouted and it summoned the others who hadn’t been paying as much attention. You got friendly pats, several more squeezes from Mikey, one bear hug from April, and a litany of pelted words from the others. Leo’s Hollywood comment didn’t sting as much because he pulled it out in a reference to Son in Law. He did a pretty good Pauly Shore impression and your praise had him pulling out more impersonations. As the chides and jokes flew, you thought about how they hadn’t pelted you with a million and one questions about your college life. They cared little about class and only if you’d had time to catch any local movies or shows.

You nearly wept at not having to talk about only the studious side of your life and you got to share a movie you recently streamed with Donnie. The others hadn’t known either of you watched it and you both excitedly regaled them on reasons not to without spoiling anything. You laughed about a plot line of having been plucked from their environment and joked about red squirrels. Donnie responded in kind about grey and you both laughed until you realized you were the only ones.

“What’s that about?” April asked where she was folded over a couch beside Raph.

“O-oh, it’s-!” You choked on giggles and held onto Donnie’s arm since he was close.

“You see, there was this inane test question that kept coming up.” Donnie filled in for you.

“Non-native grey squirrels have basically put native red ones on the endangered list!” You spoke with too much levity for the topic.

“Now this is a known ecological issue, but the way the professor framed the question…?” Donnie shook his head with a smile.

“He made it out to be like a gang war! So-so Donnie made this joke because they always, freaking always run out of breakfast in the caf when I get out of my morning class about my territory being disrupted!” You giggled.

Donnie bumped you to chastise. “Wait, you’re leaving out your classmate who runs to beat you there, your grey squirrel!”

“Omigosh! I don’t even know her name!” You cracked up.

“You’ve yet to mention the actual campus grey squirrel!” Donnie pressed.

You laughed harder. “Omigosh, he hates me and anyone that goes near his door on South Hall!!”

You both hurled more examples that fit into your branching squirrel joke and you thought everyone was having a good time until Raph’s voice cut through. “Sounds like a good inside joke.”

You weren’t immediately sobered, but your giggles grew strange.

“Yeah, I’m not getting it, but hey that happens.” Leo shrugged. “Squirrels aren’t my first comedy punching bag.”

“They’re cute! What do you mean they kill each other!?” Mikey had a watery expression. “To extinction!? How could they!?”

April patted his back. “It’s a dog eat dog world.”

“Is that why we were the Mad Dogz?” Leo looked to Raph.

“No, but I’m going to say yes.” Raph shined back a snaggletoothed grin.

With that the others moved on.

Suddenly feeling painfully self-conscious, you shirked and felt that Donnie’s hand behind your back.

You looked up at him and he had a grin and whisper waiting for you. “These dum-dums don’t know good comedy.”

“You are the funny one.” You softened up and, in an instant, felt reassured.

He pressed lightly for you to join the room and you jumped back into the conversation which had moved onto pigeons. A hotly debated topic, you took sides and spouted facts you had learned in class. Memes were then shared and eventually you went to Hueso’s. The rowdiest table for what was a comical argument about whether they were his favorite customers, the skeleton yokai refused to answer and only spoke of cash spent and tabs to be paid. Leo chased the man into the kitchen to be his usual intrusive self and you stayed present in table conversation the best you could.

It was difficult when Donnie kept sending you reaction images based on said speech and you found it impossible not to reach right for your phone so each joke would land fresh. It eventually meant both of you were side by side texting on another and it was only when the food came did you jar out of it.

“Can’t leave your significant others for even a second?” Mikey jeered before he tapered off. “Though I kind of thought it was you that Donnie was texting… But that’d be weird right!? You’re literally sitting together, why text?” He laughed.

Others laughed.

You and Donnie didn’t.

It spurned April to steal Donnie’s phone.

Some kind of betrayal, Donnie nearly flipped the table to get it back, but the flash of screen April had seen was enough.

You two were outed and ruthlessly drilled.

This was supposed to be fun, you thought to yourself as you tried to field lobs. They weren’t supposed to be rude like your family and yet you were back to fending vultures off.

Yes, you spent hours talking.

No, you weren’t dating.

Yes, you texted.

No, it wasn’t because it was a secret conversation.

Yes, you were just friends.

No, you weren’t more.

It was only when Leo reappeared and saw the distress mounting on you and Donnie did he step up in his leader position and caught the table’s attention by the throat. He laid out a new topic in the form of recent battles and that conversation took the heat off. You sighed into the booth, feeling particularly drained and when Leo shoved in to have more seat, it bumped you right into Donnie.

Donnie made room, but his hand stayed on the seat, close to yours.

You tapped a questioning finger to his.

Your heart was heavy.

Were you wrong?

Was your friendship weird?

Donnie had gotten you through moving across the country.

Donnie had done so much.

You really, really liked him.

His finger curled around yours for reassurance.

You’d asked once hadn’t you?

Something about if you bothered him early on since you talked just about constantly.

Donnie had scoffed by saying the word itself and told you that he put forth as much effort as he cared to.

You’d be the first to know if he was displeased.

He’d been honest.

When you complained about a science he liked, he didn’t care how hard the class was, you got an earful.

One of the few times you’d tried to use him as an excuse not to study, he’d hung right up and temporarily blocked you so you’d be forced to.

Your hands moved and, with a rush of your pulse, you tucked your other fingers up and over his.

He held your hand with one and ate pizza with his other as if nothing strange had occurred.

You did the same and spoke more normality by responding to something Mikey said.

It was taken with its own retort and everything felt right.

“I’m stuffed!” April flopped back and her jacket slunk down lazily on her shoulders.

“Can’t… move…” Raph groaned.

“That’s what happens when you are here for four hours and thirty seven minutes ordering non-stop.” Hueso commented as he picked up several empty pizza trays.

“One for the road?” Leo burped.

“Depends…” Hueso cracked a brow and slid over the check.

Leo flicked his eyes down once and then over to his tablemates where everyone dodged the question.

“Maybe next time.” Leo spoke guilt and Hueso hummed knowingly as he departed. “Split time! Cough it up!”

Complaints were loud as all sorts of money was deposited on the table.

“I love and hate catching up!” Leo crooned once an appropriate amount was placed.

“We were literally here four days ago.” Raph didn’t have the energy to eye his brother.

“Bah!” Leo swung a lethargic arm and it flopped on the table.

“No more pizza for… four more days…” Mikey grunted.

“Heh, you guys’s diet sucks.” April chuckled and fell over into Mikey on purpose.

The youngest squeaked and dominoed into Raph who shouldered the weight without moving.

“We’ll see you again, what? Friday, right?” Leo craned his head toward you.

Leo was dismissing you.

It was late.

This had been the plan.

Two days.

Donnie squeezed your hand.

You had never let go.

“Well…” You tried to respond.

“You know!” Donnie cut through conversation as if he hadn’t heard how it was coming to a close. “Remember how we weren’t able to find Jupiter Jim and His Majesty Cromslor anywhere online?”

The table quieted and you looked to Donnie curiously. “Oh yeah… We missed it in our marathon.”

“I purchased a copy then, but it only came in a few days ago.”

“That took…” You flicked up a few fingers to count. “Months!?”

“Oversees. Probably a boot leg, but it does indeed work.” Donnie smiled at you.

You felt a flutter in your gut. “We should-”

“Watch it now?” His brows bobbed. “Well everyone?” Donnie looked out, carefree to his inebriated brethren. “Movie night?”

“I’m sleeping!” Raph announced. “Don’t wake me and we’re good.”

“But Don…!” Leo’s head fell onto where his arm was still on the table.

“I could watch.” Mikey’s shoulders bobbed beneath April.

“I’m out. Got work.” April yawned.

“Then it’s settled.” Donnie turned back to you. “Not that we needed permission.”

You chewed on a giggle. “Can’t wait.”

Everyone else dragged themselves back to the lair, but you and Donnie took up the rear as you discussed some lab work. Delving into the study you’d monitored over winter break and what came of it, you were soon sat around the projector where Splinter was asleep in his chair. Raph used the last of his energy carting his dad off to bed and Mikey settled into a bean bag with commands to turn his head towards the screen. Leo helped in that matter and set himself up with his phone in hand to hang out more than watch. You and April said your goodbyes and then Donnie joined you on the couch. Raph didn’t return until well past the first quarter of the movie, but didn’t seem to mind as he flopped down to watch a film presumably the family had seen many times before.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of the movie until Donnie leaned into you. Your shoulders brushing, he whispered to you a fun fact about the movie that gave way to more. With your head turned against the cushion, you eventually stopped watching the film to instead stare at him. He was enthralling. His lips moved with specific enunciation that you knew came from his love of pizzazz. He topped it off with eloquence from IQ and his flair was infectious no matter how emotionless he tried to present himself.

You adored him.

The credits rolled and there was light after movie discussion where you all found Raph had fallen asleep as promised. Donnie regaled you in his theories on how this movie affected the larger Jupiter Jim universe while he threw a blanket over his older brother. Leo pitched in a few notes about his comic knowledge, but no matter how obsessed the Hamatos’ were in this film series, there was still a limit of how much conversation could be shared.

“Welp!” Leo announced, coming down from a stretch.

That was the second final call of the night.

You had already overstayed your welcome.

You pulled out your phone to text your parents.

Donnie touched your wrist. “Before I forget, I finished my latest project. That targeted hearing device.”

You slowed. “Oh yeah, were you able to work out that model on how it decides what to filter?”

“Yes, in fact, I had a breakthrough-!”

“You finished that two nights ago right? When you were pacing in that fit?” Leo interrupted.

Mikey perked up. “Oh yeah, you were so upset, but you wouldn’t say why! If it was just because you were doing your usual tech walk things, then why not tell us?”

Donnie had obvious guilt and raised his hands.

You stared.

Two nights ago was when you hadn’t been able to text him goodnight.

You were in motion and interjected yourself with force into the fray. “Show us!”

Leo and Mikey looked at you curiously.

You tried not to balk. “It was for you guys too! It will help you gather intel on missions!”

“I thought it was just for your goggles or business people who never take their Bluetooth out, even at dinner parties?” Leo quizzed Donnie.

“The applications are wide ranging! Why do you think I patented it?” Donnie held his head haughtily and headed toward his lab.

The line there went first Donnie and Leo paired where Donie was putting his all into convincing Leo of his inventions use and then you and Mikey who trailed behind in a conversation of your own.

You weren’t sure, but you thought the blue brother glanced at you twice.

Mikey regaled you on a video game he had recently beat and, by the time you entered the lab, Donnie was in full presentation mode. A space you had only been in virtually, Donnie walked everyone to where the buds were and tried them on Leo first since he was the naysayer. They proved to work nicely as you and Mikey played examples by moving around the lab to make noise for the technology to hone in on.

You remembered locations from your guided tour, but definition had been sparse over the phone. Now here and moving about, gadgets kept catching your eye. Donnie explained them with quips from his brothers about use or malfunction. You heard all manner of stories and saw a part of Donnie you had yet to see. Donnie was quick to hang up if his brothers tried to intervene, but he was no stranger to complaining about them. You felt like you knew them better than you did because of it, but seeing the brothers in action was something else entirely.

They carried through, soon fatiguing of reminiscing and giving space for Donnie to show off his more successful tech. He shined, putting his best foot forward in a way you assumed he prepared for investor meetings. He eventually let you examine his bo staff and demonstrated how it could be reformed within his ninpo. He was detailing how his schematics process had changed since acquiring his mystic powers when Leo suddenly yelled up to the ceiling.

“Nope! Beep, beep, beep! Hear that? That’s my brain at full capacity! No more! No more science for Leon! Honk-shoo! Bedtime alarm.” Leo threw his arms up and seemed ready to spin around to leave before he caught sight of you. “Great seeing you, by the way. We’ll be seeing you, but not again tonight! Later, losers!”

You all watched Leo walk out.

Mikey saw his own chance to pull away.

The youngest did nothing distinctly, but you could tell he was ready to head to bed himself.

You had been together for hours now and it was definitely the AM of the next day.

You needed to text your parents.

You needed to go home.

You’d see Donnie again.

You had one last time before you flew back across the country.

You got your phone in hand and messaged your parents to check in.

“Michael.” Donnie held his own anxiety.

That meant both remaining brothers were ready for you to go.

Having already proved to your parents you were alive, you moved to next pen a message about how you’d be home soon.

“Huh?” A bubble popped on Mikey’s attention.

“Have you checked the time?” Donnie moved away from you.

Looking up your screen found the time at 2:47am.

“Oh ho!” Mikey sang with scandalous purpose.

You paused and looked up to see him sporting a huge grin.

“I get what you’re putting down, brotha! It is the one and only reserved time for my most exclusive dish!” Mikey moved fluidly through a few poses.

“Yes.” Donnie looked pointedly at you. “You might have heard of it.”

You blinked a few times not realizing some kind of ploy was in motion. “Special time…?”

Sliding to the right, Mikey’s whole body dipped below his raised arms. “It is time for my unmatched, out of control, unparalleled 3am dump nachos!”

A memory slapped you across the hippocampus.

You did remember.

Mikey had sprung them on Donnie when he was helping you study for finals last year.

The Mikey of the present then snapped to attention in a business-like manner. “Proprietary reserved and guaranteed to eradicate night munchies.”

Your phone buzzed and beckoned with annoyed responses from your mom.

You’d thankfully never sent that message about heading back.

She knew you were doing alright, that was enough.

You closed your phone. “Who am I to say no to the clock!?”

“Nacho time!?” Mikey turned to confirm with the last party. “That was what you wanted, right?”

“Yes.” Donnie tried to stave off a certain amount of joy. “Nacho time.”

“Woo!” Mikey started to holler but caught himself off to whisper. “Quieter woo because people are sleeping!”

You all filed down to the kitchen where Mikey took point in commanding his own cooking show. Talking about all his past chip and cheese related mishaps, he walked through pantry staples and what wasn’t for good nachos. Donnie settled in by your side and eventually grabbed a few drinks. The pair of you mingled together, sharing little glances amongst Mikey’s display until the nachos were in the oven for a quick melt session.

“Oh man, this was a great idea.” Mikey looked at Donnie approvingly. “I can’t remember the last time we did 3am nachos.”

You did, but you kept quiet.

“Probably after April’s midnight launch at that movie theater.” There was an air to Donnie that said he was purposefully making something up.

“Eugh, was it one of those ones where they watch like six movies back to back?” Mikey made a face.

“Are those marathons bad?” You asked.

“They are when you can’t pause and do stuff like this.” Mikey gestured around the kitchen.

“Helps to be allowed an oven.” Donnie cocked a brow at you.

“It’s not my fault someone started a fire in the dorms a few years ago.” You shot a smarmy look back.

“Finesse.” Donnie’s fingers came up to floss the word.

“This again!” You rolled your eyes.

“The rules are in place to protect! As long as you don’t violate them obviously, then I don’t see the problem.”

“Your homemade oven thing was way sketchier!”

“You could make it out of all the materials you had on hand! It’s completely safe!”

“Just because one can, doesn’t mean one should!”

“Look! I can recreate it now! You never tried.” Donnie went for a junk drawing and came back with supplies. “The most you needed was wire, then a containment unit, easy enough to build…”

Donnie nearly pressed to your side as he cut and created a wire and then spliced it with a battery. Showing you how to then encase the coils, he asked for your help holding something in place. You did so and he eventually came around with electrical tape to bind his creation. He complained about how soldering should be allowed if hot glue guns were. You spoke against that point and your hands brushed. He scoffed at live flames and slipped his arm through yours in lieu of reaching for a piece of plastic that had rolled away. You pressed into him and told him that with that logic you could simply weld.

“Couldn’t you?” Donnie’s face was near yours.

“I’d need…” You reached up and his cheek tipped into your hand as you activated the release on his goggles as you’d seen him do on video.

His lenses came down and you were close enough to see through them to his eyes beneath.

“… something like this.”

“I see… Safety first…” Donnie murmured, leaning in.

“Mhm…” You mirrored him.

A timer dinged and you jolted apart.

“3am nachos!” Mikey came around with oven mitts as if oblivious. “After hearing both your arguments, I’m gonna go with no homebrewing ovens in the dorms. It looks like you’re building a bomb.” He set the tray down and the smell was undeniably delicious.

You might have enjoyed it more had your heart not been pounding out your ears.

“To the uneducated, perhaps!” Donnie grumbled and looked over the spread.

You moved to better reach and heard Mikey talk about the best constructed bite.

What were you doing?

You had almost kissed Donnie.

If that was what just happened.

Donnie.

You had a nacho in hand.

Donnie.

What you had to label as your newest best friend.

Donnie.

Not a replacement, but an embellishment.

Donnie.

Next to you, the man in question said something about guacamole.

He helped you through your semesters.

You still had 10 more after the current one.

Four total years.

That didn’t include masters which you aimed on getting.

On the other side of the states.

As far as possible in the continental US.

That was only the grand scale.

On a minor one, you’d be back there in only four days time.

You’d barely seen Donnie.

You’d also arguably spent more time with him in just seven months then you had lifetimes with some of the people you still happily called friends, but 90% of that time had been through an internet connection.

Donnie.

A chip entered your mouth and it tasted so good you wanted to weep.

It certainly wasn’t for any other reason.

Mikey’s cooking was that good.

Eating.

Eating was happening.

You tried to tune into what Donnie and Mikey were discussing.

Donnie had put his goggles back up on his head.

His eyes looked pretty as he talked to his brother.

They always seemed lazy in expression, but they caught so much.

They also took in nothing if he didn’t care to look.

He’d been looking at you.

Right through that red and blue glass.

The make-up of purple.

Mikey hummed an exhausted note. “Oh man… 5am already? Sun’s gonna be up soon…”

“That late?” Donnie asked absently.

At least your parents had gone to bed and wouldn’t hassle you.

They might because you were absolutely going to get home after they woke up for the day.

That was less than ideal.

You also had lunch plans.

What were you doing?

“I’m hitting the hay!” Mikey announced even though you were sure he’d said other things. “Hug for the road!”

Mikey hugged you and you were sure you hugged back.

“Finish those off or whatever. They don’t keep so toss ‘em! Night, D!”

“Night.” Donnie spoke.

Alone.

You were alone with Donnie.

You’d been avoiding this hadn’t you?

Both of you had.

“Still hungry?” Donnie spoke timidly.

“Sure.” You had barely had any.

You worked through building that perfect bite Mikey talked about and then went for some salsa Mikey had whipped up.

Donnie was right there with his own chip and your knuckles brushed.

You both froze and looked at each other.

You saw it all there.

The budding feelings.

The long distance.

The fear.

The longing.

“It’s too soon…?” Donnie broke away to look at the sheet pan. “Don’t you think?”

You did.

You know you did.

You were weepy as you nodded and ate more than necessary just because the taste helped abate the sadness.

Donnie offered to take you home in his own melancholy.

You’d barely experienced college.

You were so young.

In spite of knowing him so well, it wasn’t enough.

When he pulled over on the empty morning curb outside your apartment, sunlight was peering in on your exchange.

What would you do?

How would you say goodbye?

“Walk me to the door?” You asked.

“Of course.” He put the van into park and turned it off.

You walked side by side in silence up the stoop.

The moment you were both on the same level, you hugged him. Hard into his middle you squeezed him for all he was worth. Not to be outshined, you were similarly scooped. Donnie created a protective outer layer where his face buried down into the top of your head. You both siphoned as much of each other off as you could feeling like it would be the last.

Was that right?

It didn’t feel like it, but for right now it was hard to parse anything.

It was exciting to be close to him.

You hadn’t known when he offered to give you a ride that you’d tackle him right out of your airport gate.

You’d never hugged before that.

You’d never touched at all as far as you could remember.

All of this was sudden.

Too soon.

You rooted your face into Donnie’s plastron. “I’ll still see you Friday?”

“You’ll see me tomorrow if available.”

You blinked up wide right out of his chest.

“You’re on break. I want to make the most of it.”

This time you threw your arms around his neck and he hoisted you up into the hug. You laughed into it until he set you back down and your heads bumped together. Sting moving to cradle, you lingered against one another. You felt more then, how you were rushing. You were jumping to conclusions. You were deciding years down the line before being present in your own moment.

Too soon.

“Dinner.”

“It’s a date.”

You entered your apartment on a cloud nine bubble that even your parents couldn’t pop. It prevailed through your mother’s nagging and you finally catching blissful shut eye. You barely made your lunch appointment with your friend and were disheveled for it. They laughed at you and joked about a rough night. The unsuspecting victim who just happened to ask the wrong question at the right time, you unloaded on them. Not usually the type of friend for long talks, they took it in stride and came out like an MVP.

They gave you advice on how to proceed and shared how they themselves were doing long distance.

It wasn’t for everyone.

You were young.

You needed to prioritize you.

There was also a certain amount of trusting your gut.

All a tricky balance, you came away feeling optimistic and closer to your friend than before.

You also crashed as soon as you got home and had a screaming match with your mom when she returned from work to find you in bed. It was enhanced by you not telling her about your dinner plans, but it all felt like a certain amount of stride. It was par for the course with growing pains of your adulthood and you got yourself gussied up amongst it. Donnie came to get you and you felt whisked away where your dad sent you off in good humor.

You wished he fielded your mom, but you guessed you could only ask so much.

Your date was a romantic one. Dictated by closeness, you counted in touch. There were brushes to the hands that morphed to holds. He’d pressed your back to indicate he wanted to pull your chair out and would eventually pull you to his side when some drunk adults stormed by on the sidewalk. You snuggled close to him during a concession selection and later would rest your head on his shoulder during a movie. Afterwards when you lingered for a walk in twinkling night lights you spoke your feelings into reality and what to do.

You’d wait.

It was too soon.

There was so much more to see.

You didn’t feel sad about anything other than not being able to kiss him when he brought you home.

Those hugs were hard enough to break apart from.

Friday then came and went and this time you felt fully present amongst the Hamato. Sunita and Casey joined for a rowdy bunch and you felt strong enough to take over the entire city. You also were always placed by Donnie’s side whether it be by both your conscious choices or simply your draw to one another which earned some ire. Unlike the last hang out, you were validated and both breezily brushed it off with knowing smiles. That brought more confusion, but any and all were left guessing what your relationship was.

Your family and a huge friend group hangout took Saturday.

Then you packed with Donnie on a video call.

It was just like a week ago, but wholly new.

You wished him a somber goodnight and right before hanging up he asked to drop you off.

You would have to fend off your parents, but you decided you could oblige.

There was little complaint as the next morning your mom asked you point blank who the boy was. You admitted to them the events of the last seven months, mutation and all, which they took in various stages. What your dad heard mostly was your loneliness and how this guy had gone above and beyond to make you feel less so. That was enough for him and in a stern decision, he refused to be moved. It left your mom high and dry outside the marriage unit and she eventually sighed to dreamily say that was why she loved your father.

Comparisons were then made between them and your relationship with Donnie and you shut that down as quickly as you could.

Donnie was then there and in an impromptu parents meeting.

He was surprisingly adept at it and you had a feeling he was aware this would happen. You ended up drilling him on the way to the airport where he admitted he prepared for at least seven possible scenarios regarding him butting in on the airport drop off. He regaled you in them all until you were sick of his preparations and you were at the airport.

He walked you as far as he could.

You hugged.

It should have been scented with desperation, you thought.

Instead, it felt like a promise.

With the same clingy digging, he gave equal pressure to your waist as you gave his head. He clawed your back and you pulled at his mask tails. It caught puffs of laughter from both of you as you drank each other in. You knew his scent now, a specific one you wished to curl up in. You’d remember prolonging time together even when you talked to him on the phone, presumably as soon as you landed. You’d be exhausted and want to shower, but you’d make time. You liked to give it just as he’d do the same.

You parted.

With smiles that were plump with tears unshed, you waved to him and he lingered as long as he could. You thought he even might have continued past that and used his goggles for some x-ray business. In case he did, you metered your steps and kept looking back to send him more grins to log. He probably had a thousand already from the calls or even this week, but you’d give more. You boarded a plane and spring break ended.

Across the country you flew.

Back to school.

Back to work.

Through summer and an internship.

Opportunity and papers.

Talk of job and studies galore.

Late night calls and walls of text.

A flurry of messages.

Arguments.

Cold shoulders.

Apologies.

Fall Semester.

Winter break.

Spring Semester.

Spring break.

Rinse and repeat.

Donnie became your only airport ride. No matter when you came, everyone knew he was designated. It became common knowledge as much as anything else. As much as your friendship, everyone knew that was to be expected.

You grew.

Four years passed.

You found yourself yet again coming into LaGuardia on the cusp of spring. You had plans for furthering education on this side of the country. California had been nice, but Donnie had mentioned a study once that stuck with you. Eight in ten adults lived within 100 miles of where they grew up. It seemed like such a silly statistic four years ago when you’d made your college choice. You weren’t sure if you necessarily understood now, but there was a certain comfort in knowing you’d be in New York for the foreseeable future.

It helped that you grew up in such an amazing city.

What a town, Donnie would say reverent regardless of whether it was bad or good.

Shouldering your bag, you walked out to baggage claim. While the spot may have changed and the man was still growing like a weed, Donnie would still always appear to you between crowd waves. A sort of fate, he’d part pedestrians like the sea and he looked up from where he was tinkering with something on his gauntlet.

A smile spread on his face and he was in motion.

You had to keep up.

A hop and a skip and you collided in a spin. Twirling out for the sake of it, you both murmured affections until he rooted your face out from his shoulder. There he dipped you first for the sake of flair, but brought you up to properly execute what came next.

Your hands tucked behind his neck.

He locked his arms around your waist.

His gaze poured over you.

You tugged him lightly as he was taking his time.

He was hovering, no doubt committing all of this to memory.

You didn’t fault him; you had started dating a few weeks ago.

He’d blurted out the question saying he was unable to wait until spring break or even until you graduated with your undergrad.

You were long past first kiss territory, but this would be the first with the label.

“Donatello.”

“Not to be confused with the famous Italian sculptor.” He staunchly said the same thing he had since the moment he’d first introduced himself.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He jeered.

“Kiss me, dum-dum.” You pulled him as hard as he’d allow and he snuck in a laugh before your lips met.

You would always appreciate this time of year for its change.

💜Follow me or my Ao3 for more fanfiction! Behind the scenes deep dive for this fic and others along with in-depth writing discussions, plot bunnies, and more are available for only 1$ over on my patreon~ 💜

My betas are such champs, they follow me for any type of work! All the love to @tmntxthings (look familiar 😒) and @thepinkpanther83

#me #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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missjomarch · 11 months

Text

catching flights

luca fantilli x reader word count: 1.5k warnings: none :) just fluff a/n: unedited and first writing in a while. I needed something to force the writers block out of me :')

You anxiously drummed your fingers against your arm rest as you glanced out the window for what felt like the millionth time. It had been about 10 minutes since the flight attendant announced that the plane would be landing soon, instructing everyone to fasten their seatbelts. However, it wasn't the landing that had your heart pounding.

You hadn't seen your family or your boyfriend, Luca, in 5 months. Originally, you had been ecstatic to embark on your study abroad trip to France. But you had been entirely unprepared for how much you would miss the people back home, Luca especially.

Having moved from your home in New York to Michigan for college, you were accustomed to being distanced from your family. However, you'd been with Luca almost everyday for the past year and a half. While you two had never navigated a long distance relationship, you were both confident your relationship could survive the trip.

You had planned the whole thing out, scheduling FaceTime dates often and promising to update each other pictures throughout the week (yours were admittedly a lot more interesting). Luca even had flowers delivered to you from a local florist in France on multiple occasions. Your love didn't dwindle with the distance, but it was the smaller things the two of you didn't account for prior to the trip.

Both of you struggled with the time difference, of course, but being without each others support on the hard days was the most difficult part. You couldn't go curl up in Luca's bed after a bad day, or meet him for coffee during your class break. There were no pregame naps or post win parties to be had. But the absolute worst part was missing hockey playoffs.

Luca was always incredibly hard on himself after a loss, and the playoffs only amplified this. You had to watch through your phone screen as he broke down after losing in the championship. You didn't think it could get worse than the lose to Quinnipiac the year before, but somehow it had. You did your best to comfort him from afar, but it shattered your heart seeing his pain and being unable to just be there. Not only did it pain you to see Luca's defeat, but the rest of the boys as well. The team had become your family, most of the boys even referred to you as 'mom', and you hated being unable to comfort them.

After that night in April, time seemed to go by a little quicker, and you were now finally headed home. You had begun counting down the days until your return the second your plane landed in France. And, despite him chastising you for this, so had Luca. But the day had finally come, and Luca would be waiting to pick you up and the airport.

He had texted you that morning to let you know he'd be picking you up instead of your mom. To say you were excited would be a drastic understatement. Originally, he wasn't going to be able to come see you in New York until 2 weeks after your arrival because of a golf trip with 'the boys'. But, in his words, he "missed you too much". So he skipped the trip to come welcome you home instead.

The plane landed at the airport right on schedule, and you quickly grabbed your carry-on before making your way to baggage claim. After you told Luca you had landed, he sent you the location of where he'd be waiting. You were about to burst with excitement, entirely prepared to grab your bag and haul ass to the airport lobby.

However, as you descended on the escalator you noticed a familiar blond smiling up at you. Luca had already grabbed your bags, and was waiting for you near a bench in the corner.

You couldn't stop the wide grin that formed, and you had to refrain from toppling over the people in front of you on the escalator. As soon as you reached the bottom, you were sprinting towards him.

"Lu!" you shouted, dropping your bags and practically tackling your boyfriend. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your legs found his waist, and you were finally reunited. You had promised yourself that you wouldn't get overly emotional, but you could feel the tears that were beginning to well. Luca chuckled as you clung to him, wrapping his arms around you to return the tight embrace.

"There's my girl," Luca mumbled into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume for the first time in months.

You couldn't care less about the attention you had attracted with your dramatic display. It was just you and Luca in the world right now, that's all that mattered. You basked in his embrace for what felt like hours. He didn't release his hold until he heard your sniffles, only then did he pull away to look at your tear streaked face.

A look of concern crossed his face, "Hey, no tears. What's that all about?"

"I just really missed you," you mumbled, slightly embarrassed by your level of emotion.

Luca had set you down now, and his hands came up to brush your hair from your face before resting on your cheeks. A small smile played at his lips.

"I missed you too, love. But there's no need for tears. You're back with me now, yeah?" You nodded in response, sending a small smile back. "And you're literally not going to be able to get rid of me for the entire summer. You're gonna be tired of me before the month is over."

You shook your head at this, "I could never get tired of you, Lu."

Luca didn't respond, instead leaning down to give you a long overdue kiss. Your hands made their way to grab where his wrists rested by your face. You pulled away before the kiss could get too intense, but you both still pulled away breathing heavily.

Luca rested his forehead against yours, "God, I missed that so much."

"Really?" You scoff, playfully shoving his shoulder, "Is that all I'm good for Fantilli?"

"Well I definitely didn't miss your attitude," Luca rolled his eyes, only to be met with you smacking him across the head. He quickly corrected himself.

"Ouch. I mean of course not, baby. I love everything about you."

"That's what I thought." You were about to place another kiss to your boyfriend's lips when an all too familiar voice sounded to your left.

"You guys can't seriously be fighting already."

"Come on Fants, she just got back."

You look to find none other than Seamus and Rutger approaching you. You gasp, quickly wiggling out of Luca's hold to throw your arms around the boys.

"MY BABIES!!" You exclaim, practically jumping with excitement. Luca stands to the side, jaw dropped as he watches the interaction.

"Damn, Fantilli. We've done stole your woman," Rutger pokes at Luca, giggling at the scowl on your boyfriend's face.

"You two were supposed to wait in the car," Luca grumbles, voice exposing his mild jealousy.

"And miss this reaction? Not a chance, bro."

Luca only glares at Seamus, turning to wrap his arm around your waist. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple before mumbling a "surprise" in your ear.

"Careful, Lu. You're looking a bit green." You whisper back to your boyfriend.

Luca groans, "The least they could do is give me 15 minutes alone with my girlfriend. Who I haven't seen in 5 months, in case you forgot." Luca sends a pointed look to the two boys standing before you.

They both just shrug, throwing their hands up in mock surrender.

"Neither have we, bro. That's our mom. It's on you for bringing us along," Rutger says.

"And I'm sure you guys will get plenty of alone time tonight," Seamus suggests, winking at you.

"Okayyyy, that's enough of that," You joke, "I'm going to guess this means the boys trip wasn't actually canceled on my account."

"More like relocated," Luca responds with an innocent smile. You just roll your eyes, nodding in acceptance.

"We promise not to steal him away too much, y/n. Don't you worry."

You let out a small laugh, "thanks shea."

Turning to Luca, you yawn slightly. "I am incredibly jet lagged though, so can we go home?" Luca nodded, turning to grab your bags. You stop him, and he looks back at you confused.

You jerk your head to the two idiots behind you, "let them get it."

"I think your thinking," Luca smiles at you before intertwining his hand with yours. The boys grumble, but pick up your luggage nonetheless. They complain the entire way to the car, only to be met with your apathy.

"You two are the ones who decided to come inside. You could've been sitting pretty in the car instead," you smarted back. This shut them up quickly, and you looked up to find Luca grinning at you.

"What?"

"I missed you so much."

#luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #umich hockey #hockey #seamus casey #rutger mcgroarty

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folkvangr-seidr · 4 months

Text

Runaway

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Summary: you end up in a city you hate but maybe the company makes it worth the while.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: none?

a/n: this is my first time writting for Jenna and english is not my first language so keep that in mind <3

It was 4am and you were stranded at the airport. your flight was delayed due to a raging storm and you decided to stay the night instead of booking a room. you were used to airports by now anyway.

Your job required you to travel a lot. You were a firefighter and you also worked as a volunteer with the IFRA (International Fire and Rescue Association) so yes, you spent a lot of time wandering around airports.

You were training some mexican units and the weather was horribly hot, so as soon as the job was finished you found yourself desperate to find a way back home. You knew there would be no direct flights from Mexico to Iceland in fucking November so you settled for a connecting flight via New York.

That's how you ended up slouched over a small table questioning every decision you ever made.

You knew the weather in Iceland, you weren't born there but it was the place you proudly called home. So you knew this storm could either be over in a few hours or block all the flights for at least a week. You didn't like that thought though.

You looked around and saw a large group of people walking towards some free seats near you so you made the smart decision of getting up and gathering your small suitcase and the book you were reading. You were not in the mood for chatting with strangers and you felt the need to move your legs anyway so you plugged your headphones in and started walking with no direction in mind. You found a much quieter and less crowded corner and you unconsciously sped up in hopes to get there before someone could spot the couple of empty chairs under some burnt lights. You were lost in your thoughts and inmersed in the music until someone bumped into your side, throwing you off balance and making you drop your book. You turned around to see a small figure crouching over and picking up your book.

"I'm sorry" it was a beautiful voice.

She looked at you and smiled and you just froze.

"Sylvia Plath, huh?" she smiled and your eyes became fixated in the small dimples on her cheeks.

You just nodded, somehow keeping a sense of calmness in your words when you spoke.

"Would say it's my toxic trait but I like to think it's more like my biggest flex."

She laughed and you found yourself unable to look away from her.

"I'm Jenna" she simply said, extending her hand.

"I know" you answered meeting her hand in a soft handshake. "I'm Y/N."

She just smiled, not breaking eye contact.

"It's a beautiful name" she said, disentangling your hands. "Now, Y/N, please tell me we can share that secluded corner for awhile?" she sounded a little desperate despite the playful tone and the lingering smile.

You motioned for her to go ahead and she took a couple steps forward before looking back at you.

"You coming?" her smile made you feel warm inside.

You followed her and sat in one of the chairs, ready to pull your phone out and go back to your playlist.

"There you go" Jenna said handing you the book. "Did you get here too soon too?"

You frowned at her shaking your head.

"My flight was delayed" you answered. "When's yours supposed to take off?"

"In a couple of hours" she said tiredly.

You couldn't help but laugh, earning a fierce glare from Jenna. "She looks cute" you thought.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" you said, still laughing a little.

"No, you're not" she retorted with a smile. "So… Where are you flying, Y/N?" She asked curious.

"Iceland" you said with a happy sigh. " But seems like the weather doesn't like my plans."

"Sure" she snorted. "Iceland seems like an amazing destination, though. Business or pleasure?"

"Neither" you said "well, for pleasure I guess."

She looked at you with a weird look, like she was trying to decipher some kind of mystery.

You cleared your throat and tried to explain.

"I live there. Well, at least when I'm not working or on a mission. I usually go visit whenever I have a few days off."

"A mission?" she said, as if it was the only thing she heard.

"Yeah, well" you touched the back of your neck, unsure. "I'm a firefighter so sometimes we volunteer to go on training or rescue missions."

"Really?" she said, her eyes shinning with a strange glimmer in them.

You nodded, not knowing what to say.

"And you live in Iceland? Whoah" she gestured with her hands while mouting the word "mindblowing".

You had to laugh at that.

"Yeah, but I spend most of the year working on England or traveling, you know" you explained.

She nodded at that.

"Seems like your full of surprises, Y/N" she smiled at you.

You checked the time on your phone only to be met with a notification saying "CANCELLED FLIGHT 18-705".

"Fuck" you cursed under your breath. "They cancelled my flight."

Jenna looked at you serious but didn't say anything until she saw you getting up from the chair.

"Where are you going?" she asked scrunching her face.

"It's almost 6am, I'm getting you to your boarding gate and then I'm calling a friend to see if I can crash at her place" you explained with a smile.

Without saying anything she got up aswell and checked her phone for the info she needed then she started walking toward the gate without much thought.

Until some guy grabbed her arm and started screaming about how he got so lucky to run into THE Jenna Ortega. Her face was showing clear signs of discomfort and… pain? Was the guy hurting her? You inmediately stepped toward them and took his wrist in your hand and with just enough force you made him let go of her.

He wasn't happy, the looks he was giving you made it clear but he wouldn't try anything by the slight fear in his eyes.

"Maybe you should try asking first next time" you said coldly before leading Jenna away from him.

She was quiet and wouldn't look at you and you wondered if she was maybe angry because of what you did?

"I'm sorry, I was out of place but he seemed like a bit too much" you started, smiling tentatively. "I'm really so…"

"Don't be" she cut you off, still not looking at you. "He took me by surprise" she admitted. "Thank you" she continued lifting her face to look at you with some sense of… fondness?

She seemed genuinely grateful and you couldn't shake the feeling that accompained the thought of this kind of situation happening to her everyday.

"It was nothing" you said shrugging it off.

You continued walking toward her boarding gate in a comfortable silence.

"This is me" she said with a nervous smile.

"Be safe" you said. "Have a nice flight, Jenna."

You turned to leave but her voice made you stop.

"Wait" you turned again, now facing her. "Thank you, Y/N."

You smiled at her starting to walk backwards as people you assumed wanted to board the very same plane started filling the space and when you could no longer see her you turned fully determined to find the exit and then call Gio to ask for a ride and a couch to crash on.

Meanwhile, Jenna got seated on the plane when a thought came into her mind.

She forgot to ask for your phone number!!

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x female reader #tara carpenter x female reader #wednesday addams x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x y/n

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c-e-d-dreamer · 14 days

Text

Top Shelf Love: Chapter One

A/N: yeah, yeah, I know! This is super exposition-y, but we have to set it all up, besties! I promise Cassian and Nesta actually interact again in the next chapter 🫡 Also, for anyone who's nerdy like me, the Athletic has a really great article about just how complicated things get when a player gets traded. It's a fun read!

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Cassian

Cassian groans, tossing his phone on the coffee table, the device skittering across the wood without a care. He drops his head against the back of the sofa, digging his hands into his hair and dragging his fingers against the curly strands. He still can’t quite wrap his mind around it, and he half wonders if he’s imagining this entire phone call, but the tinny voice continues through the speaker even if he’s no longer listening.

Seattle.

He got traded to the Seattle Kraken.

The words continue to crash and echo in his mind, even as his agent goes through the usual spiel when trades happen. Expect a call from the coach, maybe even a few players will reach out once the news breaks. The Kraken’s director of team services will reach out with the finer details for a smooth transition. Reminders of the CBA mandates. Meetings with the trainers, the equipment team, and the coaching staff to look forward to. Practice schedule. It’s like information overload, a hurricane swirling through his head with hundred mile per hour winds.

It doesn’t help that his phone has already started to vibrate against the table, almost excessively. With a quiet huff that thankfully his agent doesn’t pick up on, already plowing forward into the exciting potential for re-signing with Seattle, Cassian snatches his phone back up. He minimizes the call screen and looks at his notifications. Of course. The news has already broken on Twitter. Damn ‘insiders.’

“Any questions for me, Cassian? Anything I can do for you?”

Cassian has to shake his head, clearing his still spiraling thoughts, before he finds his voice. “All good, Eris. That’s how the off season goes, right?”

Eris is quiet for a moment. “I’ll send a car to take you to the airport. A nicer one than the team would send.”

With that, the line clicks, and Cassian tosses his phone away again, this time face down. He doesn’t even want to look at what’s being said, at the speculation. Sure, the Rangers hadn’t had the best season, the ending more heartbreak than anything else. Sure, he only has one year left on his contract. Sure, the front office wants draft picks to help build up the farm system with young blood.

But still, Cassian never expected this. Never expected this was how his time with the team would end. Never expected this was how his time in New York City would end.

Sighing softly, he glances around his apartment. The high ceilings, the modern, open kitchen, the tall windows and the amazing skyline view that the thirty-first floor offers. He really did love this place, a far cry from the streets he’d grown up on, and a reminder of how far he'd come from those very streets. He supposes he’ll have to sell it now. Is it worth keeping just for the off season?

The sound of Cassian’s phone ringing is loud in his otherwise quiet apartment. It seems to echo off the walls as though taunting him. He’s half tempted to ignore it all together, but despite the unknown number displayed on the screen when he checks, the location is listed as Seattle. Not the best first impression to send his new team to voicemail. Another sigh and Cassian squares his shoulders, sliding his thumb across the screen to answer.

The man on the other end of the line introduces himself and exchanges a few pleasantries, but then he’s diving right in to more specifics. The nitty gritty of a trade. Flight details. Financials and reimbursements. Rental car when he lands. Taxes.

Cassian only half listens, making sure he makes the affirmative sounds at the appropriate breaks in conversation. This isn’t his first rodeo. Although, he had still been in the farm system when his last trade happened. This is certainly different, but Cassian knows he thankfully won’t have to deal with most of this. He’ll give the director of team services Eris’s number, and let him deal with all the numbers and everything. It’s why he pays him the big bucks after all.

As soon as the call ends, Cassian’s phone lights up and starts ringing again. He wants to pull his own hair out as that incessant sound fills his apartment. He knows how this goes, but he’d give anything for just a moment of peace, a moment to really sit with his thoughts and everything that’s just happened. He considers turning his phone off, letting all the calls go to voicemail, at least for a few hours, but then he sees the name displayed on the screen.

“I take it you saw the news?” Cassian says by way of greeting.

“Need a drink?” Rhysand’s voice carries down the line.

Cassian chuckles, already pushing up to his feet. “You have no idea. But you better be breaking out the good shit from your fancy cellar.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get your ass over here.”

Just the short conversation, the teasing tone of his chosen brother, has Cassian feeling lighter already. He grabs his wallet and shoves it into his pocket, tugging a ball cap down over his curls. Summer still clings to the city despite the first day of fall barely a few days away, but the breeze that dances between the buildings promises cooler temperatures to come. Cassian takes the subway up toward Central Park, the rocking of the car over the tracks strangely a lulling balm over his nerves.

The doorman offers Cassian a nod and a friendly hello in greeting when he arrives at the building, holding the door open for him to stroll inside. The receptionist at the front desk does the same, barely casting Cassian a cursory glance as he heads for the elevators. He quickly punches in the code and steps inside, riding up and up and up, all the way to the penthouse.

Feyre is waiting for Cassian as soon as the elevator doors open, stepping forward and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian chuckles but he wraps his own arms around Feyre’s shoulders nonetheless. “I’m not dying, Fey. I just got traded.”

“I know, but traded across the country,” Feyre continues, pulling back enough that she can peer up at Cassian with an overdramatic pout. “I’m losing my partner in crime. Who will join me in bullying Rhys now?”

“You’re right,” Cassian tells her, nodding his head with faux solemness. “I’m so sorry you’ll be stuck on the east coast all alone with Rhys’s stupid face.”

“Stupid face? And here I broke out the good wine for your sorry ass.”

Cassian tosses his head back and laughs. He steps away from Feyre and walks over to Rhys, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “I expect nothing less.”

Rhys rolls his eyes, but he leads the way into the kitchen, three wine glasses and a bottle already arranged on the large kitchen island. He pours the wine into each glass, but Cassian grabs the bottle, examining the label with an appreciative hum.

“I don’t know why you’re making that sound,” Rhys comments dryly, taking a sip of his drink.

“Who cares about that?” Feyre cuts in, waving a dismissive hand at her fiancé and leaning against the kitchen island, her attention solely on Cassian. “Are you excited for Seattle?”

Cassian hums, swirling his wine around the glass. “They’re definitely building a good team out there. Strong top line. And I’ve heard good things about playing under Miller.”

“But…?”

“There’s no but, it’s just…” Cassian sighs softly, pulling his cap off to run his fingers through his hair. “It just sucks because everyone’s here, out east. You guys are always here or in Montreal. Mor’s here in New York. Even Az isn’t that far in Nashville. I won’t know anyone out west.”

“Yeah, but you’ll have the guys on the team. You know they’ll have all the best spots in town to recommend,” Rhys reminds him.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“My sister lives out in Seattle!” Feyre jumps in to add, blue eyes bright.

Cassian frowns. “Doesn’t Elain live in Toronto with Lucien?”

“Not Elain. My other sister. Nesta. You’ve met her.”

Nesta.

Cassian is sure he’d remember if he met Nesta Archeron. He still remembers when Feyre had posted the photos from Elain’s wedding last month to her Instagram, the way his mouth had slackened at the sight of who he was sure was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. With the purple, silky fabric of the bridesmaid dress clinging perfectly to her every curve, golden brown strands of hair swept away from her face in an intricate updo, she was breathtaking.

But it was her expression in the photos that had really drawn Cassian in. There was something about it. Something about her. Something about the way that even though she was smiling in the photo, there was still a challenge, a dare, burning in her stormy blue eyes and the pinch of her brow. And Cassian had never backed down from a dare. He was sure one look from her had sent many men to their knees, sent them fleeing for the hills before she could cut them down where they stood, but Cassian? Cassian wanted to drive head first into that fire.

“I don’t think I’ve met her,” Cassian offers, but he doesn’t tell Feyre just how much he wishes he had.

“But she was at our engagement party in May,” Feyre continues, but when Cassian only shrugs in response, she merely sighs. “Whatever. The point is that she lives in Seattle. I can give you her number if you want. Then, you’ll at least know someone out there when you get there. And I’m sure she’d be more than happy to show you around.”

Cassian thinks about it. He thinks back to those photos on Feyre’s Instagram, thinks about the photos he had seen when he stalked Nesta’s own Instagram after he clicked the tagged account. Thinks of those stormy blue eyes and the tilt of her lips in a smirk behind the rim of a wine glass. Thinks of the stories Feyre has told him, of the stubborn and fierce older sister who all but eviscerated Feyre’s ex, Tamlin.

“Yeah… yeah, that’d be good. Just so I know someone out there.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta

Nesta sighs softly, but she reaches down, fingers curling beneath cardboard. Her arms protest at the weight, but she hefts the box up, shuffling the few steps to add it to the organized chaos that’s their backroom. For a moment, her attention dances back toward her phone where she left it on another box, but she pointedly left it face down for a reason. She doesn’t need to look at the text messages waiting for her again.

Feyre 1:18pm Remember Cassian? Rhys’ brother that I told you all about? 😉 He’s coming to Seattle! I gave him your number. Show him around for me? Please?

Unknown number 4:43pm Hey, Nesta. This is Cassian. Feyre gave me your number. I’m moving out to Seattle soon. Maybe we can meet up?

“So, let me get this straight. The Cassian is moving to Seattle?”

Nesta snorts softly, peering toward where Gwyn is sprawled across the floor, iPad balanced against her knees. “We’re calling him the Cassian now?”

“I prefer to call him the douchey hockey player,” Emerie comments idly, placing the box in her own arms down. She swipes up the box cutter from the metal shelf to her left, making quick, efficient work of the tape keeping the box closed.

“And are you imagining douchey hockey player’s balls there?” Gwyn teases, looking meaningfully toward the box cutter in Emerie’s grip.

“So what if I am?” Emerie fires back, leaning forward to open Nesta’s box too. “He’d deserve it.”

“I never said he didn’t,” Gwyn laughs, turning her attention back to Nesta. “So, what are you going to do?”

Nesta sighs softly. “I don’t know. Feyre asked me to show him around the city.”

“Doesn’t he have teammates to do that?”

“Ignore him and the request,” Emerie suggests dryly.

Nesta snorts quietly but it quickly turns into a sigh, even as she keeps her hands busy pulling books out of her box. “I didn’t exactly tell Feyre what happened that night.”

She hadn’t told anyone about that night, save her two best friends. She still cringes sometimes when she thinks back to it, the embarrassment burning bright low in her gut, twisting and squeezing between her ribs uncomfortably. She’d sworn that night that she would never give a single thought about Cassian Valdarez ever again, and until today, she’d kept true to that.

She’d spent her remaining days in New York City solely with her sisters, even doing one of the touristy bus tours with Elain to see all the classic sights. And thankfully, Feyre had been more interested in excitedly talking about wedding plans and ideas than continuing her busybody meddling. If either of her sisters noticed anything different with Nesta, they didn’t say anything.

After Nesta had flown back home to Seattle, Emerie and Gwyn came over to her apartment. Drinking a bottle of wine between the three of them, it all had come spilling out of her. Her friends had allowed her to pace and rage, and then that was that. Nesta had washed her hands of the whole thing. Never again did she dare to check the sports news out of curiosity. Never again did she dare to stalk his Instagram. Never again did she think of the stupid face and the stupid smirk of a smile of that hockey player.

“What if you give him a tour of all the worst places in the city?” Emerie suggests, brown eyes practically lighting up at the idea. “Then, maybe he’ll want to leave the city.”

Gwyn’s laugh is bright, red hair tumbling down her back when she tosses her head back. “That is definitely not how sports teams operate.”

“Worth a shot,” Emerie mutters, tossing aside the box packaging in her hands and reaching back in for the books hiding beneath. “Holy shit. We got the new Sellyn Drake novel already?”

Emerie holds up the book in her hand excitedly, showing off the cover. Like so many romance novels these days, it features a faceless, cartoon style couple. The man is shirtless, though, rocking a kilt, while the woman is drawn with a yellow sundress. Looping script above the cartoon characters declares the title, The Scottish High Lord and Me.

“It’s official release date is…” Gwyn starts, squinting down at the iPad and scrolling through whatever is on the screen. “Tuesday, so we’ll want to put them out Monday night after we close.”

Gwyn reaches over toward the metal shelves, swiping up the sticky notes and sharpie sitting there. She scrawls out a note, a reminder of when they’ll need to stock the books, and peels the sticky note free. She slaps it right over the cover of the book in Emerie’s hands, but Emerie is quick to peel it right back off, placing it instead on one of the other copies still in the box.

“Hey!” Gwyn chastises, narrowing her eyes.

“What?” Emerie asks, her tone overly innocent. “This is my copy.”

“Gwyn just said the book doesn’t technically release until Tuesday,” Nesta points out, snorting softly.

“What’s the point of owning a bookstore if we don’t get to read all the best releases early? Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be posting all the spoilers online or anything.”

“Good point,” Nesta agrees, reaching forward as well to grab another of the Sellyn Drake books.

“You both are terrible.”

“Oh, come on,” Emerie teases with a roll of her eyes. “You know you want to read it too.”

“Seriously, Gwyn,” Nesta adds, not even bothering to bite back her smirk as she points to the cover. “It’s a Scottish love interest.”

Gwyn huffs, seemingly determined to hold her ground with her crossed arms and narrowed gaze, but it barely lasts a few seconds. Not quite meeting either of her friends' eyes, the barest hint of a blush beginning to pool in her cheeks, she reaches forward into the box, plucking out another of the books.

Nesta and Emerie glance toward each other, sharing a knowing look, before they both burst out laughing. It feels good to laugh, to have that lightness twining around her limbs and swelling through her chest. It feels good to be squeezed back in this tiny stockroom with her best friends, her chosen sisters. She doesn’t know what she’d do without them.

They were there for her when she hit the lowest point of her life, when she well and truly felt like she hit rock bottom. They were right there beside her in the trenches, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to rage and scream at, a voice of reason and comfort. They didn’t flinch when Nesta snapped and released that swirling storm of emotion within her. They didn’t balk from her every scar, every dark crevice of her soul.

And when Nesta was ready, they helped pull her out.

“And what books are in your box?” Gwyn asks Nesta, pulling her out of her thoughts and back into the present.

Nesta shakes her head before peering into the box at her feet, pushing aside the packaging. “It looks like it’s our restock of that baseball romance that went viral.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Gwyn comments, tapping away at the iPad screen. “We should definitely put those out tonight so they’re ready for tomorrow.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta slumps back against the blankets and pillows of her bed with a soft sigh. She sinks back into the mattress, letting her arm fall over her eyes. There’s definitely a soreness lingering in her biceps from lifting all those boxes, but it was worth it.

When they finished inventory of the latest deliveries, the three of them had moved back into the main shop. Emerie had taken to restocking the shelves while Gwyn took to rearranging the table displays at the front. Nesta had taken to the registers. Math had always been a strong point for her, even when she was back in school, so it was always her job to balance their books. They all worked in perfect tandem until everything was good to go, finally closing up the shop and heading their separate ways back to their respective apartments.

Nesta allows herself another moment to simply lay in bed before hauling herself back up. She grabs the newest Sellyn Drake novel, resituating her pillows and settling back comfortably against them. Her fingers skate along the cover, down over the spine. There’s always been something about holding a fresh book in her hands. The crisp pages, the scent of parchment and ink.

Sliding her palm down the cover once more, Nesta turns to the first page, but her gaze dances away from the words and over to her nightstand. To her phone sitting there. She knows she shouldn’t, but her fingers itch with the urge all the same. With an annoyed huff, Nesta snatches up the device, navigating to her message app and the unread texts there.

Unknown number 7:12pm Did I type in the wrong number? This is Nesta, right?

Unknown number 7:37pm Feyre says this is the right number. Did she tell you I’m moving to the Seattle area? It would be really great if we could meet up!

Unknown number 9:21pm I guess you’re just really busy. My flight gets in Saturday morning, but the team is picking me up to show me around the practice facilities and locker rooms and introduce me to everyone. Maybe we could meet up in the afternoon? I’d be more than happy to buy you dinner 😏

The last message has Nesta rolling her eyes hard. It’s exactly the sort of response she expects from someone like Cassian. All the arrogance and presumptuousness that comes from being a professional athlete. She half wonders how he even fits his ego inside the locker rooms.

Nesta tosses her phone aside and returns to her book. She hasn’t broken her promise yet, and she has no intention of breaking it now. Besides, who needs a hockey player when she has a fictional Scotsman, anyways?

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #top shelf love #hockey Cassian #my fic

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hellfirenacht · 6 months

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Wing Man Part 6

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie. (1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: What DID he mean by five? The second meeting.

5.1k words

A/N: How are we feeling in a post-"Flight of Icarus" world, y'all? I knew from the beginning that I'd want to add some of the lore in and let me tell you, I LOVE Ronnie Ecker. For those of you who did not read the book, or haven't had a chance to, Ronnie is Eddie's best friend who ended up with a full scholarship to NYU. They're siblings, your honor.

Also if anyone can show me on this map where the plot is going, I'd really appreciate it.

This late at night, the only sounds in the trailer park came from the occasional dog barking and the echoes of Eddie’s tapes blasting as he pulled up to Wayne’s trailer. His uncle was working tonight as usual, which would normally allow Eddie time to hog the tv before passing out for a few precious hours before he had to get up for school.

Tonight however, his mind was buzzing with what had just happened less than an hour ago. He liked you, he wasn’t sure how much yet but he did. You were sharp and knew your stuff about metal. It helped that you were cute. Really cute.

He liked seeing you in the passenger seat of his car, matching wits with his friends and ranting about Ozzy. He liked seeing you laughing and the way you watched him play. He really liked the way you had fiddled with the pick he’d thrown at you at the end of the set.

Eddie had never done that before. He’d wanted to, but never had anyone’s attention like that before- no. That wasn’t true. There had been one other person who’d listened to him play like that, two years ago.

Was he always gonna fold to the site of a pretty girl actually paying attention to his music?

“Of course you are.” Ronnie’s voice echoed on the phone. “And I’m gonna laugh every time you do.”

Eddie groaned, holding the receiver to his ear as his forehead pressed against the front of the fridge. He hadn’t planned on running to her with this, but he was nowhere near able to wind down. He hadn’t even expected Ronnie to pick up the phone this late at night with the time zone difference and the fact that it was a school night. He’d have to push his stash a bit harder to pay Wayne back for the long distance call.

The past two years had been a slow crawl of building back trust up with Veronica Ecker. The two had gone almost a whole summer without talking before Eddie had basically groveled for forgiveness outside of Granny Ecker’s trailer before Ronnie left for New York. She had forgiven him enough to let him give her a ride to the airport.

“Last time?” He’d asked.

“Last time.” She’d repeated.

“So why didn’t you shack up with her tonight?” Ronnie asked. “You got her into your van, and you dropped her off like a gentleman.”

“I don’t know, I panicked.” Eddie sighed, bonking his head against the fridge a few times. “She was right there, and she was leaning in and all I saw was Paige leaning in-”

“You know not every girl who shares your taste in music is Paige, right?” Eddie could practically see Ronnie rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

“Any girl that shares my taste in music ends up fucking off to the opposite end of the country.”

This made Ronnie laugh. “You’re an idiot. Paige fucked off back to her job and I fucked off to college.”

“Fucking off is fucking off.”

“Maybe you need to fuck off.”

“I tried, remember?”

She remembered. Both of them remembered.

“Look, stop being a dipshit.” Ronnie said after a moment of awkward silence. “You’re graduating this year, right?”

“Uhhh...”

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m working on it. I just need those last stupid two classes and then I’m home free.” Eddie confirmed.

“You can’t stay in high school forever.” Ronnie said. “And you’re gonna realize that there’s life outside of Hawkins. Have you even talked to Paige since then?”

He hadn’t, and they both knew it. Eddie gave up two months after she’d bailed him out of jail. Two months of dead air silence. He got the hint.

“No.”

“Then stop worrying about one girl from over two years ago!” Eddie could feel the phantom pain of Ronnie punching him in the arm like she always used to. “Get laid and graduate, Munson. You earned it.”

Eddie snorted, sliding down the fridge to sit on the cool floor. “Is that the only advice you got for me, Ecker?”

“It’s the only advice you need. Did you pass that test last week?” Ronnie asked.

“By the skin of my teeth.” Eddie sighed, leaning his head back against the fridge.

“Your new girl graduated, maybe she can help you study.”

“She’s not my girl. She’s a girl that I’ve met a handful of times-”

“That’s turning your brain to mush.”

“She doesn’t even know who I am, Ronnie.” He fiddled with the chord in his hand, watching the spiral wind and unwind around his fingers. It was already stretched out pretty bad, with a few spirals already tangled beyond repair like his old slinky from when he was a kid.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ronnie asked. “She doesn’t know you, that means she doesn’t feed into the bullshit of the rumor mill.”

Ronnie had a point and he hated it, but that’s why he called her to begin with. Ronnie was the only person who could cut through his Munson bullshit and give it to him straight. He missed it. As much as he enjoyed the power he had to protect his little lost sheepies, they were all too intimidated to actually stand up to him and call him out the way that Ronnie would.

“Yeah, you’re right. As usual.” Eddie could hear her snort and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “So why the hell are you even awake right now? Up til 2 am on a school night, Ecker?”

“It’s barely past midnight, the time zone isn’t that off. I was studying for a test, but hearing you complain about your love life is a far more productive use of my time.”

“You’re using me to slack off, aren’t you?”

“If I have to look at my flashcards one more time tonight my eyes are gonna go square. How’s Granny doing?”

“She’s an empty nester and is determined to turn me into her replacement grandson until you visit again.” Eddie shook his head. “She threatened to give me a haircut the last time she dropped off a plate for Wayne.”

Ronnie had come back to visit a grand total of five times since she’d left, returning for holidays and summers to visit Granny Ecker and by extension Eddie. Each time she’d come back with stories of law school and how different New York is.

It seemed impossible, everything that Ronnie had told him about going to college and about life outside their small town. She was playing Dungeons and Dragons still, having found a group that would play with her. According to her, being a rules lawyer for the game at a law school hit way different than it had their small Hellfire group in high school. No one even cared that they played outside of a few students who had better things to do than enact violence against a few nerds.

Then again, in law school everyone was some sort of nerd. Eddie wondered if even a freak would be accepted there. Well, socially at least. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d be able to be accepted into law school with his grades. Ronnie had invited him up to visit a few times, but there was never time or money to do it.

The two continued talking for another hour, catching up until Ronnie was scolding him for staying up so late on a school night.

“Yeah? And what’s your excuse?” Eddie said. “It’s almost 4:20 am there.”

“Ha. Ha. Again, ha.” Ronnie said. “Still not how timezones work. And my first class doesn’t start until noon.”

Right. In college you didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day.

“Night, Ecker.”

“Night, Munson. Graduate and get laid.”

“Does it matter the order?”

“Good night, Eddie.”

Talking to Ronnie had eased his nerves, but there was still something inside that wouldn’t let him lay down and go to sleep. It was late now, way later than he intended to stay up tonight. The night he played at the Hideout always had him up late, and his teacher already considered him more useless than usual on Wednesdays. It’s not like anyone would care if he slept in class, unless they were in a particularly foul mood.

He made his way to a stack of books in his room rummaging through a pile or two until he found what he was looking for. Eddie’s copy of Lord of the RIngs was well loved at best, and completely trashed at worst. The cover of the paperback was nearly torn off, taped back together haphazardly over the years. Pages were dogeared, the spine was cracked, notes were scribbled in the margins, and his name was scribbled in messy cursive on the front page declaring that this book belonged to Eddie Munson and that he was in third grade.

Eddie stripped out of most of his clothes, tossing his jewelry on his nightstand, and hopped into bed. He turned on a small lamp and opened the book. He could probably recite the first chapter from memory if he tried, the words on the page a comfortable lullabye for his wound up mind. But tonight he flipped to a page near the end where his bookmark was. The flower made out of blue construction paper wasn’t nearly as old as the book, and only in better shape because it never left the safe pages of Tolkein’s writing.

His eyes glanced at his arm again, your phone number a temporary tattoo on his skin until it washed off. Shit, it was going to wash off eventually. Eddie grabbed a pen from under his bed and added another scribble to the inside of the book before copying your number carefully onto the paper flower. At least this way he’d always know where it was.

With that aside, Eddie didn’t make it through three pages of his book before he passed out with the light still on.

Fall Semester, 1984

The PrinciPAL’s office was just as interesting and inviting as it always was, which is to say not at all. Eddie was slumped back on a chair, watching as Janice sorted through paperwork, pretending to look busy so that she could avoid any small talk with ‘that Munson boy’. He had been waiting for Higgin’s to show up for almost fifteen minutes now, because why shouldn’t he waste Eddie’s time at this point? The worst that was going to happen today is that they’d do their little song and dance, Eddie would plead his case that the flyers were absolutely serious and that Chris Morrison had every intent to run for student council, and that it was all of the club that had made the posters, Higgins would shake his head and not believe Eddie for a second (which to be fair, this would be the first time that Eddie would admit privately that it was his fault), they’d go back and forth until Eddie got some form of detention or Saturday school.

Honestly, the worst part would be rescheduling Hellfire if he wound up in detention.

Eddie had counted out 13 paper clips that Janice had used in her papershifting before the door to the front office opened up again. He looked up, expecting to see Higgins walk in, ignore him for another five minutes, before Janice would let Eddie go in.

He didn’t expect to see you, pale and shaken, clutching a teacher’s note in your hand. Eddie watched as you handed the note over to Janice who read it, shook her head, and pointed at the chair next to himself. Your eyes never left the floor as you sat next to him, staring at the cheap carpet as if you could somehow burn a hole in it and disappear.

Trouble was no stranger to Eddie, and Eddie was no stranger to trouble. In Hawkins the name ‘Munson’ might as well be in the thesaurus next to the word. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and it would be far from his last as long as Higgins stayed the princiPAL. He’d walk away with a lecture and a sigh and then it would be business as normal.

The look on your face though, that was far from the mild annoyance he felt. You look downright traumatized at the idea of having been sent here. Eddie glanced up at Janice who deigned to make eye contact with him now. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, a disapproving look behind her purple frames as if this was somehow Eddie’s fault that you had ended up here as well. But then, as far as any of the faculty from the office was concerned, even him being enrolled at this school was a death sentence to the rest of the poor student body. Eddie was a disease that they would try to contain until they had the cure to remove him.

The shaking of your knee made your chair (and his chair by proxy) rattle slightly. The quiet of the office and the mundane shuffling of Janice’s papers only added to the tension that was radiating off you.

“Janice, is Higgin’s gonna be long?” Eddie finally asked, and your bouncing knee stopped for just a moment before going back to its nervous movement.

“He’s in a very important meeting.” Came the reply over a stack of papers, still not looking at Eddie.

He sighed again and looked over at you, trying to place where he knew your face. Your eyes were a bit red, and you looked like you were on the verge of crying. Shit, he needed to do something before he had to ask Janice for the tissue box.

“First time?” Eddie asked, and when you didn’t respond he nudged your knee with his.

You jumped slightly, head snapping up. It was a wonder you didn’t give yourself whiplash and it would have been almost funny to Eddie had you not looked like a deer in the headlights looking at him.

“I... Huh?” your voice cracked slightly.

“What are ya in for?” Eddie did his best to give you a smile which he was sure made him look more like a serial killer than a comfort. It was rare he wished that he had his dad’s smile, but in cases like this he’d make an exception.

You looked at the paper in your hand and swallowed. “Uh... skipped.”

“Skipped school or just class?” Eddie prompted, trying to get you to talk more. If you were talking, then you weren’t crying. That’s what he hoped at least.

“Class.” He didn’t think you’d say anymore but you surprised him. “US History.” Eddie caught the way your eyes darted to Janice again as if to make sure she wasn’t listening in, but Janice had better things to do than to eavesdrop on two delinquents. “I wasn’t... I had a bad day. I'm having a bad day. I felt like I was going to explode and I went to the library.”

Eddie nodded, wondering what had happened today that made you need to duck out. It wasn’t his business, and frankly Higgin’s was going to grill you enough as it was.

“Rookie mistake.” He said instead.

“Rookie...?”

Eddie kept his voice low and leaned in closer to you as if telling you a secret. “If you’re gonna skip, you can’t go to the library. You might as well have walked into the teacher’s lounge and announced that you were cutting class.”

You let out a sharp breath that he swore counted for a laugh. “Thanks for the heads up, can you tell me that a few hours ago?”

There was color returning to your face now and Eddie kept going. His brown eyes scanned your face, trying to place where he knew you from. Hawkins was a small town, and there was nothing about you that screamed ‘I’m new!’.

He liked your sarcasm though, and his ‘comforting’ grin shifted into a genuine smile. “If you’re gonna ditch, you need to go to the bathroom or go outside.” He said. “Especially for last period. Go hide outside in the woods and you can slip into the parking lot seamlessly without anyone noticing. By the end of the day the teachers are barely taking attendance anyway.”

“Have you been in the girls rooms here?” you asked, shaking your head. “I think I’d rather take my chances here than stay in there longer than I’d have to.” Eddie wasn’t sure if you were trying to make a joke or if you were serious.

“Would you rather hide in the boys room?” he asked. “I swear it only smells like piss almost all of the time and you’d end up in the splash zone even if you were in a stall.”

That got a laugh out of you, a genuine one. Your shoulders were relaxing and you looked down at the paper again and took a deep breath that you exhaled with a sigh.

“I’ve never been in trouble before.” you said, your hands starting to bend and fold the paper on your lap absently. “I’m not good at being in trouble.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m here.” Eddie nudged your knee again with his. “Being in trouble is kind of my job here at Hawkin’s High. I’m a professional, you know. If I wasn’t here taking up all of Principal Higgin’s time he might have to actually do his job.”

That last part was louder, as he directed it to Janice who refused to take the bait and only reached for her lilac stapler instead.

A small smack on his arm drew his attention back to you, you were smiling at him looking astonished. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!” you whispered at him.

“We’re already in trouble.” Eddie reminded you, his smile never fading. “Look, you’ve never been in trouble before, right? You’re gonna be fine. Just give him a good sob story about being overwhelmed with school, or about a sick pet. If you can squeeze out some tears that’s even better. The worst that he’s gonna do is give you a slap on the wrist and maybe detention if he’s in a shit mood”

You take in his words, listening to him carefully and taking in every word he was saying as if this was life or death. Eddie admittedly, had purposefully slipped into his Dungeon Master voice. It was a skill that normally only worked on his little sheepies in his club, and that was after semesters of training his players to listen and pay attention to his words or else it would be life or death for their characters.

Having someone else listen to him like that? It felt really good.

Your mouth started to open to say something but then the office door opened again and Higgin’s stepped in, nodding to Janice and then looking at the two of you. There was an accusatory look in his eyes as he made eye contact with Eddie again, and it was clear what that look said. Leave her alone, don’t make things worse for her than they already are.

“Munson.” Higgins said and it took everything in him to stay still and not flinch at his last name. He was used to the weight that came with his name, but he hadn’t wanted you to know who he was. Not after he just remembered where he knew you from, glancing down at the note that you had folded into a flower in a fit of nerves.

“I heard you missed me, Sir.” Eddie forced his eyes to meet Higgin’s. “You really should just start saying hi in the hallways instead of inviting me to these little chats every week. You’re taking away valuable learning time from me, you know.”

If the two of them had been alone, Higgins would have snapped back at Eddie about being a smartass. But you were there, and the color had drained from your face again, and there was a shine to your eyes that was threatening to spill over your waterline. Higgins looked at you and motioned for you to follow him into his office.

Eddie wished that you would turn and look at him before disappearing into the PrincePAL’s office. He could imagine you turning to look at him for comfort, he’d give you a smile that would put you at ease and a thumbs up. You’d give him another smile and walk in feeling brave.

Instead it was like you forgot he was there as your figure disappeared behind the heavy wood door that shut with a heavy click.

Of course Higgins had you come in first, even though Eddie had already been sitting here since the beginning of the period when he’d been called in.

He was tempted to go over to the door and press his ear up against it to listen in on what he was saying to you but even Janice would scold him for that. So there Eddie sat for another ten minutes as he waited for you to step out again.

Higgin’s was the one to open the door and let you out of the office, as if he were some gentleman instead of Eddie’s own personal warden five days a week. You walked out and to Eddie’s surprise you gave him a nod and mouthed thank you as you slipped back out the door and into the hallway.

Eddie’s eyes followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore and it took Higgin’s standing in front of him with folded arms and saying his full government name for Eddie to snap back to reality.

“Munson. A word about your little flyers?”

“Well, I’d say a picture is worth a thousand words-”

“In my office.”

Eddie didn’t remember much else about that talk, only remembering the white paper flower that had been carelessly tossed into the trash next to Higgin’s desk.

“He still hasn’t called you?” Steve asked as you, him, and Robin continued your closing routine. The day had been busy, with almost everyone in Hawkins coming to rent a movie for the weekend. Robin was stocking the candy while you wiped down the sticky counter where children had been touching all day. Who’s idea was it to leave out free suckers on the counter anyway?

Oh right, that was your idea because you loved Halloween.

“Nope.” you said, your voice a little tense. It had been almost two weeks since that night at the Hideout. You hadn’t returned to the dive bar, hoping that Eddie would call you and make the next move. Each passing day you had stayed as close to the phone as possible when you were home and you’d checked your voicemail every day when you got home for any sign that he’d attempted to reach out.

Nothing.

You shouldn’t feel this rejected but you did. It was far too early to tell if you had any feelings beyond initial attraction to the guy, but... you’d felt something. An enjoyment of bantering with him and an ease that came as naturally as your friendship with Robin and Steve.

Plus, you had to admit it, he was really fucking hot. Seeing him play guitar two weeks ago had haunted your dreams and slipped into a few of your fantasies when you were alone.

You kept that part to yourself though, that was the last thing that Steve or Robin needed to hear. Besides, that was Steve’s job to go far too into detail about his sex life. Steve had tried ribbing you about going home with Eddie but you’d told him that you were a complete gentleman with him.

That night had left you feeling electrified, almost high as you danced around your room as you got ready for bed. Even as his odd parting rattled around your brain, you couldn’t help but to feel excited at the idea of seeing him again.

Then a few days went by. Then a week. And now two weeks later you hadn’t heard from him. The kids hadn’t stopped by either so you couldn’t hassle them about Eddie either. Even if they had, you weren’t sure if you could ask about him, you didn’t want to come across as desperate.

“Did you ever figure out what he meant by ‘five times?’” Robin asked, opening up a squished package of Reese's Cups. “Like, didn’t you say you didn’t know him?”

You threw your hands up before tossing the paper towels you were using to clean in the trash can.

“I have no idea.” you said. “Either I’m bad at math, he’s bad at math, or maybe we’re both stupid.”

“He did get held back a few times.” Steve muttered to himself.

“There’s a chance that you two have met before though.” said Robin, “I mean think about it, you’re both weirdos who went to the same school. Shouldn’t you both have bumped into each other before?”

“You’d think so, but my group kind of kept to ourselves.” you said with a sigh. “We were private weirdos. When I DID try and make other friends-”

“Yeah, yeah, Chris Morrison shot you down.” Steve said, waving his hand.

“Oh, you heard that story?” you laughed. “I didn’t think I mentioned it to you before.”

Steve gave you a blank stare that only made you laugh more. “I swear you keep talking about that guy more than Eddie. Maybe I should track him down and set you up on a blind date with him instead.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Hey, that could be fun!” Robin added. “We’ll dress you up super hot, set you up with Chris, and then you can turn him down instead!”

“Excuse you, Robin. I am always super hot.” you declared, straightening out your unflattering Family Video vest. “Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”

You hadn’t done laundry in a week, and your hair had seen better days. The green polyester vest was wrinkled and if Keith saw you looking sloppy he’d probably have words about it. Not big words or even intimidating words, but words nonetheless. It was night and day compared to how you’d looked at the Hideout and the arcade earlier in the month. But it wasn’t like you had anyone to impress while you were at work anyway.

“Hey, nerdy chicks can be hot.” Steve said. “I mean, Nancy’s an academic nerd and I was crazy about her.”

You hummed thoughtfully and turned to Robin. “How about we get married instead?” you asked. “You, me, a fuck ton of cats, and a tax break. What do you say?”

Robin laughed and shook her head. “You aren’t my type.” Her eyes darted nervously to Steve for a split second and you sighed dramatically.

“Guess it’s just me and the cats I’ll eventually adopt.” you said. “Not even a tax break.”

“You know, Keith thinks you’re cute-”

“I am going to pretend that you did not just say that, Harrington.” you said firmly. “Nope, not happening. Uh-uh. Absolutely not.”

“He’s not... that bad?” Robin said, but you could hear the pain in her voice through the laughter. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“The lady is trying not to think actually.” you laugh. “We’re closed, I’m actually done thinking. I just wanna finish cleaning up and go home. What’s left?”

“Rewinding the returns,-”

“Ugh.”

“Cleaning up the kids movies,-”

“Ugh.”

“And cleaning the bathroom.”

“UGHHHHHH.”

“Would you rather clean up the porn room?” asked Robin.

“Yes actually, I would.” You said. “Whatever they think about doing in that room is what they do end up doing in the bathroom.”

“Gross.”

Steve sighed “Okay, I’ll be the hero and save you ladies from cleaning the bathroom. Robin, you fix the kids section, and you can rewind the tapes.”

“I thought I was in charge here.” You crossed your arms.

“Okay, did you have a better way to divide and conquer?”

“...No.”

“Then let’s hurry up and-”

Ding!

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” you asked.

“It was Steve’s job to-” Robin started.

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was staring at the person who had just walked in. You turned around and your heart jumped in your chest and your stomach dropped.

“Cursing in front of customers, Harrington?” Eddie said. “Now that’s not very professional of you.”

Robin’s eyes were darting so fast between you and Eddie that you were surprised she wasn’t giving herself vertigo. You tried to give her a pointed glare but your friend either didn’t get the hint or refused to.

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips.

Eddie looked away from Steve and made eye contact with you. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him, and you glazed at his arm for a second, trying to see if the faded remains of your phone number were still stamped on his arm. Unfortunately for you he was wearing a heavy leather jacket and you had not yet developed x ray vision. Perhaps in another genre.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie asked and you, ignoring Steve who looked mildly offended.

You stood there in shock for a second before Robin nudged you in the rib.

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, snapping out of it.

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Robin grabbed Steve and shook his shoulder.

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, already reaching for your bag under the counter.

“We can handle it!” Steve said.

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You could trust Robin, and as long as Steve didn’t knock down any displays then it wouldn’t take them more than another ten minutes to finish up. You were so tempted to turn them down, make Eddie wait as you had waited for him for the past two weeks.

But you were already stepping behind the counter towards Eddie and tossing the keys to lock up to Robin. Keith would murder you and write you up (in that order) if he knew what you were doing but looking up at the roundest pair of brown eyes you’d ever seen had you in the mood to make questionable choices.

You shrugged off your vest and tossed it at Steve, in an attempt to make yourself look like you hadn’t spent the whole day dealing with unruly customers and screaming kids. Part of you almost wished that you had agreed to bathroom duty, if only to give you an excuse to look in a mirror and straighten yourself out.

“Thanks, guys.” you gave them a quick nod, catching sight of Robin’s knowing smirk and Steve shaking his head before walking out the door that Eddie was holding open for you.

The last thing you heard was the scrambling of the entrance to Family Video being locked.

Part 7

Dividers by @strangergraphics

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#nacht fic #wing man #eddie munson x reader

277 notes · View notes

probably-writing-x · 1 year

Text

Well Rested

Summary:

Warnings: Fluffy as heck, maybe some tiny tiny sexual reference if you’re squinting

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy <3 Thank you for your request, my requests are always open if you fancy giving me suggestions xoxo

~~~

It was a surprise to all of you that you’d managed to organise this trip and actually find time to do it - two weeks where all of you were free, and all of you up for a trip away. You’d flown out from New York in the early hours of this morning and had landed in the Dominican Republic an hour or so ago. Your flight had been a little delayed, the aeroplane was packed full and you were waiting at the airport now for your transport to the villa you’d be staying in. It was a lodge on the beach, overlooking the water, a spot where you’d be certain to get the best views and a couple of weeks of blissful break.

Drew had been groggy since you’d woken up this morning. He hadn’t slept last night because he was certain all of you were going to miss your flight, or one of you would be stranded at the airport. He hadn’t been able to rest at the airport because he had to make sure you all had your boarding passes and your passports and the information for your trip. He was like the holiday Dad of the group - keeping everything in check. He never slept on flights - his long legs were too cramped in the seat and he couldn’t settle for long enough to ever let him properly rest. So, by the time you landed in your location, he was overtired and yet to relax.

“Okay, car’s here!” Madelyn smiles, standing up from where you’d all been sat on the pavement outside of the airport.

She stretches in the heat and grabs her suitcase as a minivan pulls into the space in front of you all.

“Thank god!” Chase lets out a sigh of relief and follows after her, the rest of them following too.

Drew pokes open an eye and groans, stretching a little from where he was laying on his big backpack, “It’s here?”

“Were you sleeping?” You smile lightly at him, picking up your own bag.

“No, trying to, but no,” He sighs, pushing himself up to sit, “Wait wait wait.”

You stop in your tracks and turn around to face him as he forces himself to stand, taking your bag from you, “I got it.”

“Ugh, adorable,” Madison grins at the two of you, her head sticking out the window of the car, “But please god just get in the van.”

Drew throws your bag next to his in the trunk and holds the door open for the two of you to climb into the back row of the van. Jonathan, Rudy and Madelyn were sat in the row in front of you, Madison, Chase and Carlacia sat in the seats in front of them, and you and Drew at the back, with Austin on the other side of you. Drew crosses his arms over his chest and leans his head onto your shoulder, snuggling into you like he was some sort of golden retriever.

“Woah, woah, woah, none of that,” Austin wiggles his finger in Drew’s direction, “We’re in holiday mode now! We need energy!”

“Shut up,” Drew grumbles, shuffling closer to you in his seat so that it urges you to wrap an arm around him.

He stretches out one of his hands and moves your hand up to his hair, waiting for you to run your fingers through it before he drops his arm back down.

“He’ll have energy once he’s napped, but you’re currently dealing with a very sleep-deprived Drew Starkey,” You comment, running your hand through his hair aimlessly.

Jonathan and Rudy look at each other and then turn in their seats, both poking above the height of the chair so that you can see them like floating heads.

“Do you need us to sing to you?”

“No,” Drew states.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Wait you do want us to sing to you?”

“No.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“So you do?”

Drew opens his eyes, “Please shut up.”

You laugh and wrap your other arm around him, running your fingers along the length of his forearm, “Leave the poor boy alone.”

Drew wraps his arms around one of your arms and buries his head into your neck, breathing in your scent as he wished for sleep to overcome him.

“Oooh I think we’re here!” Madelyn points out of the window, “That’s the villas, right?”

You glance up as the car is indicating to turn into the complex, where a row of separate villas are just visible across the sand. They’re bigger than you had imagined, which is a little bit of a relief considering how many of you there were.

“Come on baby, we’re here now,” You comment, nudging your shoulder up a little to move Drew’s head.

He grumbles and reluctantly pulls his head away from you, keeping his arms wrapped around one of yours.

“We can go straight to bed,” You encourage him quietly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He closes his eyes and hums at the contact, releasing a little sigh of relief.

“Come on lovebirds!” Austin grins, holding the door open, “No time to waste.”

~~~

The group of you all pile through into your villa once you’ve been checked in, all of you dragging bags through the door. It’s got a wide open plan lounge and kitchen, and a wall of glass windows and doors that go out onto the terrace. There, it’s decorated with two hammocks on either side, and a fire pit with a big couch before the floor dips and an infinity pool appears to spill down into the sea beyond it.

As the only couple on the trip, you and Drew take the master bedroom and the rest of the group split between the remaining rooms. They all tell you to be out at the pool as soon as possible, the group seemingly injected with energy now that you were finally here.

You follow behind Drew who’s carrying your bags into the room, dropping them down beside each other in front of the closet. Your room has a large window on one wall stretching down to the floor, giving you a view of the bay, quiet and tranquil. Your boyfriend instantly goes over to the bed and flops himself down, spreading out his arms either side as his legs dangle off the edge, bent at the knee as his feet rest on the floor.

“We need to meet the others,” You giggle, rummaging through your bag to find a bikini.

Drew pokes one eye open at you as you start to change out of your airport clothes, folding them on top of your suitcase as you pull your bikini on.

“Oi!” You wiggle a finger at him, “Stop looking.”

He laughs and rests one arm under his head to angle his head up a little, “Can we just sleep here?”

“No,” You raise your eyebrows at him, “Tie this up please.”

He pushes himself up to sit on the edge of the bed as you move to stand between his legs and his fingers come up to tie up the top of your bikini, fitting it neatly in a bow around your neck. When he’s done, he drags his hands down your sides until they’re at your hips and he guides you around to face him.

You lift up your hands into his hair and run your hands over it, watching him lean into your touch, “You can catch up on your sleep later.”

He wraps his arms tighter around you and rests his head against your stomach, pressing a soft kiss just above your belly button.

“I want to catch up on sleep now,” He mumbles, looking up at you with the closest thing to puppy eyes that he could give you, a pout on his lips.

You lean down until your lips are just an inch away from his, pulling away slightly before he can make any contact, “Then what’s the fun in me putting on my sexiest bikini if you don’t even get to enjoy it?”

He groans, from deep in his chest, as you kiss his lips quickly and pull away from his grip, glancing over your shoulder for just long enough to see him looking desperately after you, defeat hanging on his shoulders.

~~~

You’re out by the pool with everyone for no more than ten minutes when you hear the door of the villa slide open again and shut soon after. You’d managed to steal one of the netted hammocks in the sun, lounging back on it and basking in the relief of having the sun on your skin.

“Well look who decided to show!” Rudy grins from where he was in the pool with Jonathan, the two of them playing a makeshift game of water basketball.

Madelyn and Carlacia look up from where they’re sat with their legs dangling in the water, and Madison, Austin and Chase all look up from where they were squashed beside each other sitting on the other hammock.

You poke an eye open to see Drew closing the villa door, a pair of his new swimming shorts on and a navy baseball cap on his head. His torso looks even more defined and his skin looks desperate to catch a tan. He makes a beeline for you and grips the net of the hammock to stop it from swinging beneath you, towering over you to block the sun from above.

“Hi,”

“Hello,” You grin, “What made you change your mind?”

He rolls his eyes sarcastically at you before shifting himself to lay down on the hammock beside you, stretching out an arm so that you can rest on his chest.

“What you’re not going to join us? We’ve just set up a game!” Jonathan exclaims, splashing water in your direction that fails to catch you.

“Shut up,” You mumble in response and feel Drew’s chest shake with his laugh beneath you.

He draws lazy patterns up and down your arm as you rest on the rise and fall of his chest, and he moves his other hand up to knock down the cap from his head to cover his face.

“Good night,” He grumbles, his other arm wrapping around you to tighten his hold on you, making it certain you weren’t going anywhere.

You draw circles around his chest and torso as he starts to doze off, sleep overcoming him soon under the comfort of your touch.

The sleep deprivation felt worth it to fall asleep exactly like this, the rowdy noise of the rest of the group feeling forgotten when he had you in his arms.

926 notes · View notes

shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 7 months

Text

most people

Tony Stark x F!Reader

Prompt: “i can't believe you don't like hugs."

Summary: you come home to the tower to hear that your teammate tony has been awake for days. you take it upon yourself to get to complete some much-needed self-care.

Warnings: fluff.

Word Count: 1,741

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The door sounded with a quiet, welcoming ding as the elevator arrived on your floor, the lights of your suite already on and pleasantly dimmed to accommodate to the tenderness of your eyes this late at night. It was a little before three in the morning, and while your flight had had no major issues and the traffic between the airport and Avengers Tower had been blessedly in your favor, it was still agonizing to be getting home so late.

Home.

It still surprised you how quickly you’d come to think of this place as more than just a place to sleep, more than what had originally felt like a ridiculously over-sized hotel room. It had been only six months since Loki’s attack on New York, and while the renovations to the Tower were not yet finished, your suite had been one of the first floors to be completed. And now it somehow felt far more familiar to you than any of the countless beds you had claimed over the last twenty-seven years.

“Welcome back, Ms. Y/L/N,” the cool, friendly voice of Tony’s personal assistant sounded from the invisible speakers above you. “I trust your journey was pleasant.”

“It was, for a nine-hour flight in a broken seat,” you replied with a sigh, stretching out the lingering kink in your lower back. You set your suitcase down by the elevator doors. “And how many times do I have to tell you; it’s just Y/N.”

“I’m sure only once more,” he replied. “As always.”

You chuckled, a small, tired smile lingering on your lips. “Are the others here?”

“Only Mr. Stark is in residence at the moment,” the A.I. informed you as you made your way further into your suite. You toed off your shoes, shedding your jacket and tossing it onto the nearby sofa. “Shall I inform him of your arrival?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to wake him.”

There was a slight pause. “Mr. Stark is not asleep, Ms. Y/L/N.”

How an A.I. could have a variation in tone, you weren’t sure, but you stopped halfway to unbuttoning your jeans. “And how long exactly has Tony been awake?”

“…Almost eighty-three hours, ma’am.”

“I think I hate ‘ma’am’ even more than my last name.” you sighed, casting a glance towards the room to your left. The door was ajar, and you swore your bed was calling to you. “Where is he?”

“In the lab.”

“…Okay.”

***

A wall of sound greeted you as you stepped into the lab, and you flinched. It lowered immediately to a more bearable level, and you silently praised whatever part of JARVIS’ programming it was that could pick up on your discomfort like that.

“JARVIS,” Tony said without looking up from his work. “Don’t mess with my music.”

He was at the far end of the lab, moving between a couple of workbenches and the hologram of his latest designs with the disorganized, staccato rhythm you had begun to recognize as being a sign of sleep deprivation. There was a half-empty coffee pot on the bench closest to you, the scent of it gone stale. Tony’s clothes were rumpled, as was his hair, and you frowned when you noticed the shadows under his eyes. They were made darker by the blue light of the hologram between the two of you.

“I think we can do better on these reflector panels, J.,” he continued as though he hadn’t noticed you enter. “If this suit is going to work for stealth, I’m going to need the change to be instantaneous.” He waved a hand, and parts of the suit projected in front of him dropped away. “Scrap ‘em. Take it from the top.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hello to you, too, Stark.” you said snidely despite your concern. “Or am I expected to call you ‘sir’ in here, too?”

“Only if you want me to get all tingly over it,” he retorted teasingly, finally pausing long enough to meet your eye. He gave you a genuine, if distracted and exhausted, smile.

“Most people just say ‘welcome home’.”

Tony returned to one of the benches, eyes fixating on a tablet screen. “Are you implying that I could possibly be ‘most people’?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, sidestepping an abandoned helmet prototype. There was an empty coffee mug sitting inside it. The crockery was stained with dark brown rings. You made you way around to his workbench, pushing yourself up to sit on the edge of it beside him. “Tony, when was the last time you got some sleep?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said, pointedly avoiding your eye and focusing his gaze on the work in front of him. “Or did you come all the way down here just for a hug?”

“A hug? Hardly,” you said with a scoff.

Tony met your eye, raising a brow. There was a teasing tilt to his lips, a challenge in his expression. “I don’t accept that.”

“Accept what?”

“I can’t believe that you don’t like hugs.” he said, straightening. He moved to stand in front of you, his hands claiming your knees. You felt a warmth spread up from where he touched you to heat your belly, and you straightened slightly, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue. “I refuse to accept it. I mean, for a woman completely capable of breaking every bone in my body with her bare hands, you’re downright cuddly.”

As he said the last words he reached up and touched the tip of his finger to your nose tauntingly, and you wrinkled it in response. He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes at him. Something about sleep deprivation always made him lighter, more teasing. While his usual jokes were witty and occasionally flirty, when you found him like this, he was… softer. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a massive dork?”

Tony’s grin widened, and he stepped back, holding up his hands as though you’d just proved his point. “See, anyone else would call me an asshole, but you – sweet, innocent thing that you are – go with ‘dork’.”

“Oh, Stark. Trust me,” you snickered, pushing yourself up off the edge of the table. It closed much of the distance between the two of you, your chest almost meeting his. You made a show of casting your eyes down over him before meeting his eye with a smirk. “If you actually knew me, the last word you’d be using to describe me is ‘innocent’.”

Intrigue flashed in his eyes, a curve to his parted lips sending an unexpected thrill up your spine. He made move to speak, but you pressed a finger to his lips. His smile widened against your skin.

“I’m sure whatever you were about to say would have been rife with innuendo, Tony,” you said. “But honestly, you kind of stink. How long’s it been since you had a shower?”

***

“Y’know, I’m not really sure why I had to stick around for this.” you called out over the sound of rushing water, folding your arms over your chest. You were standing outside the penthouse bathroom, your back against the wall beside the door. Steam billowed out of the open doorway, clinging to your bare arms.

The water shut off, and Tony’s reply came a few moments later, his voice echoing off the tile. “And here I thought you were worried about my wellbeing, sweetheart.”

“You’re not exactly at risk of drowning in the shower, Tony,” you pointed out. You heard his answering chuckle and the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing. There was a long silence, punctuated only by the quiet sounds of shaving cream being sprayed and a razor against skin. “And you survived it. So, can I go to bed now?”

“And miss out on this quality team-bonding time?” he called out. “Shudder to think.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a smile. “‘Team-bonding’? We’re missing a couple of key members here. Unless you’ve got Rogers stashed in your shower caddy.”

“Not exactly the member I’d pick for that,” he replied as he stepped through the doorway, wiping at his jaw with a towel. Another was slung securely around his hips. Rivulets of water marked his bare torso, droplets clinging to his chest. There was a teasing smirk on his lips, and you swallowed. “Now, Romanoff on the other hand—”

“I’m going to stop you there before this conversation devolves into casual misogyny,” you eye-rolled, holding up a hand.

“I’ll have you know I’m an equal opportunity lech.” Tony shot back, amused. “I just didn’t think Thor would fit in the caddy.”

You snorted a laugh.

“Right…” you said. He’d missed a tiny patch of shaving cream on the corner of his jaw, and you reached up to wipe it away with two fingers. Tony’s smile widened as you wiped it on his bare chest. You cleared your throat as you realized the intimacy of your actions. “Well, you’ve managed to navigate the perils of a penthouse bathroom, Iron Man. Congrats.”

“So, what’s your excuse now?”

Confusion creased the skin between your brows. “For what?”

Tony’s smirk twitched, and you recognized the challenge in his eyes. Something in the pit of your stomach fluttered. “For turning down a hug.”

You laughed, shaking your head disbelieving. “God, Stark, you are such a—”

Tony took hold of your arm, surprising you by pulling you toward him and bringing his lips to yours. They were soft and warm, teasing with the taste of spearmint. The clean scent of his body wash enveloped you, his fingers gentle but firm on your arm. The warmth of his body – still bolstered by the heat of the shower – leached into your skin, wrapping you in a ghost of an embrace that made you lean into him. The kiss lasted only a moment before he pulled back again, that expression of taunting flirtation still in place.

You pressed your lips together, your skin tingling. “What was that for?”

He shrugged a shoulder, tightening the towel around his waist. There was an annoying note of nonchalance in his expression, and self-assuredness that told you he knew exactly what kind of effect he’d just had on you. “Call it a thank you.”

“I—” you swallowed, forcing your breath to steady. “Most people just say ‘thank you’.”

He grinned, his teeth grazing his bottom lip. “Didn’t we agree that I’m not ‘most people’?”

tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @ccbsrms @lina-mar@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13@lol-you-thought@sebbystanlover-vk@mikariell95@csigeoblue@abrunettefangirlnerd@babyblues915@aar-journey@moistpotatobear @capsironunderoos @bellamyblakemorley@diesinspanishbcimhispanic@sentimentalalien@agustdowney@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@patheticallysentimental@loki-is-loved

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newlimoexpres · 9 days

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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still into you | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: sunday

summary: after returning home from new york, carmy has a surprise & a very important question for you.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language.

word count: 4.3k

listen to: sympathy - the goo goo dolls | still into you (cover) - julia sheer | let's get married - bleachers | (playlist here)

a/n: this chapter has me screaming internally and externally. i'm not well. now who's ready for some early carmy x reader angst?! thank you to all who reblogged, commented, liked. i will keep writing and annoying everyone w my obsession for this man.

read: chapter three

Sunday

It’s early-Sunday morning by the time you arrive at JFK. You, Sydney, Marcus, and Carmy wait in the hellishly long Starbucks line because it’s the only fuckin’ thing available at the airport this morning.

Fuckin’ monopolies, you think to yourself, begrudgingly.

After ordering all at once, the four of you wait for your coffees. Your order isn’t the most unique – just a cafe au lait with oat milk, no sugar. The hard at work barista quickly makes their way through all four coffee orders, glad that they’re simple. As the order’s up, you watch the barista add the four cups – three hot, one iced – to the pick up station.

“Christ, I need this,” Sydney grumbles, her head throbbing from a few too many drinks the night before.

She’s exhausted from the weekend and knows she stayed out a little too late last night. This morning’s wake up call for the airport was less than pleasant, and she’s just glad that she can sleep on the plane.

“Someone’s hungover,” you chide playfully.

“Shut up,” she shoots back, earning a laugh from you.

You look down at your coffee cup, immediately noticing that the name on the coffee cup is not yours.

“Oh shit. I think I took the wrong coffee by accident,” you say, your face twisting a confused look.

Carmy’s eager to rush to your side, taking the coffee from you, “Huh. Looks like you got switched up with… some guy named Sam?”

He takes your cup of coffee, walking back over to the pick up station. There’s a man picking up a coffee cup with your name written on it in bold letters. Carmy chuckles realizing that you have almost the exact same order as this ‘Sam’ guy.

“Excuse me. I think my fiance accidentally took your coffee. Are you Sam?” Carmy asks, holding out the coffee cup to the stranger.

“Oh! I wondered why my extra double shot of espresso was missing from the-,” he starts, checking the label. “Yeah, this is it. Thanks for lookin’ out!”

Carmy gives the man a half smile, before jumping at the sound of Sydney’s voice, pitched louder and higher than normal.

“Carmen Berzatto, something you want to share with the class? Did you just say FIANCE!?” Sydney practically shrieks, garnering the attention of the long Starbucks line adjacent to where you stand.

“No fucking way!” Marcus exclaims, his voice booming as he grabs your left hand. “You guys are engaged?! Since when!!”

The four of you look around, noticing that your little outburst has earned an assortment of reactions from the various people in line. You’re blushing and Carmy’s face has turned a shade of pink that seems to spread all the way underneath the neckline of his white t-shirt. Suddenly, he feels overwhelmingly shy, as he focuses on not dropping either of your coffee cups.

“I’m so sorry. We did not mean to disturb or alarm-. You know… what you guys got goin’ on this morning,” Sydney apologizes, her eyes scanning the coffee line.

“But our best friends literally just got engaged!”

A few people in line are clapping, a few others turn to each other, whispering excitedly, while a few ‘congratulations’ are uttered in the direction of you and Carmy.

“Fiance, huh?” you ask, under your breath.

“Tryin’ it out,” he answers with a shrug.

You can tell it brings him more satisfaction than he’ll ever admit – getting to call you his fiance – and Carmy can’t wait to be out of the spotlight as he quickly ushers you, Syd, and Marcus away from the airport Starbucks. As you head towards your gate, Syd and Marcus continue the berating for not telling them sooner.

“So you guys were just gonna get engaged all privately and shit and not tell us?” Marcus teases. “Shit, man. That’s fucked up.”

“It just happened last night,” you defend yourself, before shooting Carmy a look. “And I didn’t know we were telling anyone yet.”

The blush that runs across his cheeks turns a shade darker, and you can tell that he’s completely and utterly embarrassed by all of this attention.

“But where’s the ring? I thought you-?!” Sydney exclaims, earning a strong glare from Carmy that says ‘stop talking right now.’

“This is why we didn’t say anything,” he grumbles, cutting her off so that she can’t say anymore. As Sydney realizes she’s almost spoiled the surprise, she’s quick to course correct by laughing it off.

“Ha! Yes, right, that’s uh-. Who needs a ring anyways?” she pivots, earning a laugh from you in response to her rather strange behavior.

“The ring’s… a secondhand thought at this point,” you placate them, making sure your casual tone communicates your lack of expectation.

Even though you feel like both Carmy and Sydney are being weird right now, you move right past it. You’ve never been one to need something physical to understand how much Carmy loves you. With your coffee in one hand, and Carmy’s hand in the other, you give him a reassuring squeeze.

Ring or no ring, you were going to marry the love of your life.

By the time you make it home, you’re exhausted and so grateful that you had the foresight to take tomorrow off. You knew you’d wanted an extra day to prepare for the week ahead and a day to spend with Carmy on his day off.

Carmy, your fiance.

You get butterflies just thinking about it.

After a long weekend of cooking, exploring – not to mention casually getting engaged – you’re ready to do fuckall for a day and a half before your work week starts. You figure out what you can push to tomorrow: grocery shopping, a few chores here and there. You find yourself curled up on the couch with Aioli, who seems like she’s genuinely missed you as she cuddles up to you. She bumps her soft head against your shoulder, before curling up into the sweetest little croissant next to you on the couch.

You flip through your phone, scrolling through some social media app as you hear a chaotic rustling sound coming from your bedroom. Seconds later, Carmy comes bursting back into the living room, phone in hand. He looks worried, prompting you to ask:

“Everything alright?”

“Ffffffffuck!” he exclaims, frustratedly. “Just got a text from Fak. Emergency at the restaurant, babe.”

“Shit,” you swear.

“I gotta take care of this,” he admits with a huff.

“Right now?” you ask, unable to hide your disappointment that after fifteen minutes of being home, he’s already rushing back to work.

He shoots you a remorseful look before saying, “Yeah.”

“Can’t leave for the fuckin’ weekend without something going to shit,” he mutters under his breath.

He knows he’s laying it on thick.

“Okay,” you resign yourself.

“Will you be home for dinner?”

“Think so,” he says, almost as a consolation. “I’ll shoot you a text when I work this shit out.”

You nod in understanding.

“I don’t have the energy to go to the store today. Thought I’d pick something up from the Thai place across the street we like,” you suggest.

“Sure,” he nods in agreement, urgently.

You know he’s in a hurry, noticing as his eyes flicker from you to the door, then back to his phone.

“Okay, last thing: I uh-, before you go,” you begin.

You watch as Carmy’s face softens. He knows how much you were looking forward to spending the afternoon with him. He only feels a little bad about the fact that he’s totally pulling one over on you.

“I’m gonna meet up with Natalie for a walk later. Are you… cool if I tell her?” you ask, checking in.

He waits a beat before nodding, “Uh. Yeah. She’ll probably kill me if we don’t.”

“Right, and, our friends kind of told an entire Starbucks line at an airport so…” you reply playfully.

He gives you a half smile and you can see he’s preoccupied with whatever emergency is happening at the restaurant.

“Okay, that’s all I have. Love you, Bear,” you say, letting him know he can go.

“Love you,” he replies, before leaving the softest goodbye kiss on your lips.

And he’s off, hurrying out of your apartment like a bat out of hell.

Only there’s no emergency at the restaurant.

He just needed an excuse to get out of the house and get the ring. Your ring. He’s been blowing Richie’s phone up all day, every chance he had. Every moment he thought you weren’t looking, he’d send a string of texts to Richie: asking him where he’d be, if he could grab it at home, bring it to the restaurant.

Carmy walks briskly towards The Bear. He wonders if his quick pace is a symptom of his nerves. Last night’s conversation had been so casual, and it’s not like you were going to change your mind. But there was something about doing it again – doing this properly – that made him feel antsy.

When he arrives at The Bear, he enters through the back of the restaurant, marching right into the kitchen. He knows that the staff on shift should be prepping for dinner service, ready to reopen for dinner within the hour.

“What’s goin’ on, Carmy? Thought you wouldn’t be in till Tuesday,” Angel says as soon as he sees Carmy.

“No, yeah, we just got back,” Carmy says back, sending Angel a half smile as a greeting. “Just uh, pickin’ up something from Richie.”

“He left for a few earlier, but… think he’s back? Think he’s out there,” Angel nods towards the front of house, before returning to what he was doing previously.

Carmy’s eyes scan the back of house before calling out, “Yo, cousin!”

Moments later, the taller, pure pain-in-the-ass of a man’s bursting through the double doors that lead to the dining area.

“There he is! The man that’s been blowin’ up my phone all day!” Richie shouts back, making his way into the kitchen. “Thought I’d have to get a restraining order, ya fuckin’ lizard.”

“Do you have it or what?” Carmy snaps, getting right to the point.

“Hello to you too, Carmen,” Richie replies.

Carmy rolls his eyes as Richie glares at him.

Richie’s face falls with a sigh. He’s not going to give his cousin a hard time – not today.

“Yeah, ‘course I do,” Richie says, pulling the small box he’s been holding onto all weekend out of his pocket.

“Jeff! How was New York, baby?” Tina asks, as she approaches the both of them. Her eyes widen as soon as she sees what Richie’s holding.

“Oh shit.”

“Right?” Richie exclaims, with a rousing laugh. “Carmen’s finally lockin’ it down, T! Just like ya told him.”

“Watcha guys lookin’ at? Hey! Welcome back, Bear!” Fak greets, interrupting the conversation by joining in.

“This son of a bitch is about to be the luckiest man alive. Can’t believe the broad hasn’t left your ass yet,” Richie says, encouraging Carmen in the only way he knows how to.

“Ooh let me see,” Fak says, reaching out to grab the ring box.

Fak opens the box, seeing the shiny engagement ring, his eyes widening as soon as he realizes what’s going on.

“Wow, Bear. You think she’ll say yes?” Fak asks, excitedly, as he hands the box back to Carmy.

Tina glares at him while Richie shouts something along the lines of, “You really wanna put that in his fuckin’ head, you fuckin’ stroke?”

“First of all, I’m not a fuckin’ stroke. And second of all-!” Fak shrugs.

“Uh, first of all. You are. And second of all, of course she’s gonna say yes you fuckin’ waste of space,” Richie interjects, protectively shutting any notion that you’d say ‘no’ down.

“Very nice, Jeff,” Tina compliments, admiring the ring. She exchanges glances with Carmy. “Very nice. I think she’s really gonna like that.”

Carmy smiles at the sound of Tina’s approval. As much as he’d like to take credit for picking out a beautiful engagement ring all by himself, he’d asked Sugar to go with him a few weeks ago. She’d been surprised he asked in the first place, but he’d wanted to get it right, and knew he’d want a second opinion. It wasn’t till Sydney caught wind of his plans that she insisted she join in, adding a third opinion to the mix.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t been a ‘too many cooks in the kitchen’ scenario – both his sister and his work-wife acting as his biggest cheerleaders.

“Alright you fuckin’ replicants. Let’s get back to work,” Richie orders, shooing Tina and, especially Fak, away.

He makes sure no one else is listening before he leans in, patting Carmy on the back a few times while he says:

“You got yourself a good thing. Proud of you..”

“Thank you, cuz,” Carmy replies, with a shake of his head. “And thanks. For holding onto this for me.

Richie starts to back away, pointing a finger at Carmy, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Carmy shakes his head.

He’s really going to try not to.

While Carmy makes a quick trip to the grocery store before heading home to set up his surprise for you, you’re across town with Natalie. Not a bad alternative, you think to yourself. You’ve picked up a coffee for you, and a matcha latte for her, as the two of you wander alongside the River Walk.

“I’m dying for a cup of coffee,” she whines, dissatisfied with the grassy green liquid in her cup. “This whole tea thing really isn't doing it for me and I can’t decide if I like or hate matcha so I just keep drinking them to see.”

“Yeah I-, I do not envy you. While I do really enjoy matcha, no amount of matcha lattes will ever hit like coffee,” you commiserate with your soon-to-be sister in law. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Like garbage,” she exhales an exasperated sigh, woefully. “Don’t get me wrong. Pete and I have been trying to get pregnant for a while now, and I’m so happy…!”

“But I’m also exhausted and my boobs feel huge,” Sugar continues, and you can hear how tired she is in her voice. “The whole first trimester, I don’t think I slept through the night and I spent every single morning just emptying any contents of my stomach into the toilet. My clothes are starting to fit differently which is… well, it is what it is… and on top of it all, I’m seriously craving the strangest things.”

You chuckle, “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“Yeah it’s… it’s super weird. But enough about me and my swollen boobs…” she agrees. “How was New York? I saw some of the pictures on your instagram… it looks like you guys had a great time!”

It’s the perfect segway for you to tell her the news, so you take a sip of your coffee, suddenly feeling a little nervous and also excited to tell her.

“Yeah, so uh, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” you start, some of the nerves trickling into the way your voice sounds.

“Oh god. What’d he do?” Sugar asks back, instantly.

You laugh, quick to reassure her, “No, it’s not like that! New York was… really great.”

You take a beat before continuing.

“It was kinda weird too. I think… just because we have so many memories there, yknow?” you begin, a small hesitancy in your voice that Natalie instantly detects. She listens as you both continue your walk, coffee cups in hand. “And I think it made us both think… about what we want… from our relationship…”

“Okay…” she trails off, her ears practically perking up as soon as she knows where this conversation could be going.

You stop your walk, turning to face her.

“And we talked… and… decided that….”

“Carmy and I… are getting married,” you say, unsure of how you’re so cool and level-headed as you say it.

“Shut up!” she exclaims, grabbing for your left hand almost instantly.

“We’re not-, we don’t have a ring yet,” you’re quick to explain, as she shoots you a look. Her eyes flicker from your ring finger, then back to your face. She knows he has the ring, and the fact that you’re not wearing it right now means he didn’t bring it to New York with him.

She’ll let him off the hook. Just this once.

“That soft shitty bitch,” she sighs, with an eye roll. “I could kill him for not doing it for real but… I know it’s your style.”

“Right.”

“Oh my god! You and Carmy are getting married!!” she squeals. This may be the best news she’s gotten since she and Pete found out they were pregnant. “I mean. Took him long enough.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Sounds like we’re finally gonna be sisters-in-law.”

“Finally!” she repeats with a laugh.

You spend a little more time with Nat at the River Walk, before the both of you stop to get a snack. Sugar’s totally honest with how strange her cravings have been as you stop at a convenience store for pickle chips, a pop, and a pack of twizzlers. You decide to try her very strange combination of snacks, just to hold you over before dinner.

As you make your way home, you notice that the days are getting longer. The sun is still high in the sky and it reminds you that summer is almost here. It’s wild to think about. Your trip to New York hadn’t just gotten into Carmy’s head. It’s had you in yours too. It’s strange to think that, this time three years ago, Carmy was but a painful memory: your best friend who’d just left town, your best friend who couldn’t bother to call you back, your best friend who had broken your heart because maybe, just maybe, you were in love with him.

And now, thanks to a one week trip to Chicago that set it all in motion, you’re marrying him.

You thank your lucky stars that he managed to work up the nerve to call you that Fall – that he managed to swallow his pride and ask you to come help out with this new restaurant he was working on.

You take the long way home, enjoying your own company too much. You figure you’ll take a shower when you get home, change into your comfiest clothes, then head across the street to order dinner before Carmy gets home. You hadn’t heard from yet, which only told you that the emergency at the restaurant was most likely a big one. You expect for him to be gone most of the night, crawling into bed while you’re half asleep after scarfing down reheated leftovers. You weigh your options – how you’d like to spend the night by yourself:

Trash TV. Snuggling up with Aioli. Maybe even doing a load of laundry.

As you turn your key in the door, you hear a clamoring of pots and pans.

But Carmy hadn’t texted you.

He wasn’t home already, was he?

You push the door open, pulling your keys out of the door, before placing them into the dish that sits on the end table right by the front door.

“Carm?” you question, as you hear movement in the apartment.

You can smell the scent of boiling water, cured pork, and soon enough, you spot one of your clear, glass bowls filled with a tomato passata. The sight stops you in your tracks. He’s got his french-laundry-blue apron on, because, of course, he’d wanted some for the house too. You watch as he moves around the kitchen, his attention focused on chopping up half of a red onion. Carmy must’ve lit every single candle that he could find in the apartment and scattered them around your living space before you’d gotten here.

Aioli seems transfixed by the revolutions of the vinyl Carmy’s put on as the record, perched on the windowsill next to your record player. The turntable slows to a halt, signaling that it’s time to flip it over.

You’re speechless.

“Carmy, what’s going on?” you ask, looking around the room.

“Babe, can you flip the record over?” he asks, motioning towards the windowsill.

“Uh…” you manage to get out, setting your bag down by the entryway. You make your way over to alcove, moving the needle back to its place, before flipping over the record. As you glide the needle back onto Side B, the sounds of Louis Armstrong boom throughout your living room.

“I thought-, what happened at the restaurant?” you stammer through, watching him in your open kitchen. “I hadn’t heard from you I just thought-.”

But you don’t have the words, feeling caught off guard, because whatever’s happening in your apartment right now feels big.

Carmy reaches a stopping point, setting his knife down, and making his way to the sink to wash his hands. He’s not going to propose to you (again) while his hands smell like onions. Your eyes are glued to him as he removes his apron, before setting it down on the counter.

“Surprise?” he says, almost apologetically.

“Oh,” you say back, as if you’ve forgotten the entire English language.

You’re not sure why tonight feels big, but it does. Maybe it’s because you got engaged last night.

Yeah, maybe it’s that.

But Carmy’s not one to make a big romantic gesture, so you’re not sure what’s going on.

“Good ‘oh?’” he asks, his eyes wide as he stares at you.

“Uh. Yeah,” you say, your words finally coming back to you. “I thought you weren’t going to be home till late. I-, I hadn’t heard from you so I guess I wasn’t expecting you to be home.”

He smiles sheepishly.

“There wasn’t actually an emergency at the restaurant,” he states, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

He’s not sure why he’s nervous. He’d asked you last night and you’d said yes.

But nonetheless, this feels different.

“Oh,” you repeat.

At this point, you’re not sure you’re supposed to be saying anything, so you wait. You examine the face of your very nervous boyfriend – fiance – as he looks down at the floor, his hands fumbling for something in his pocket.

“You’re my best friend and the love of my life,” he starts, and he hopes you can’t hear that his voice is shaking. “And I-, well, I wanna do this for real.”

Carmy pulls a small box out of his pocket.

“Woah,” you say, your eyes widening as soon as you see it. .

“I know you already said yes, but… I didn’t have this with me. So,” he continues, his face red as he drops to one knee.

“Holy shit, Carmy.”

You swallow because the way that he looks at you takes your breath away.

“Marry me?”

You can’t help it as tears spring to your eyes. He opens the ring box, and you gasp, seeing the most ‘you’ ring possible. This feels so different than his ask last night, and both proposals feel equally true to both your relationship. You reach for him, pulling him back up to you as you say:

“Yes, Carmen. And yes, again. Let’s fucking get married.”

And Carmy’s leaping to his feet, pulling you into the warmest, passionate embrace. You pull away, just far enough to grab his head and kiss him, pressing your lips to his even through your smiles and giggles.

“Thank God,” he sighs, causing you to laugh as you pull away from him.

“Did you think I’d say no after I said ‘yes’ last night?” you ask with a laugh.

He shakes his head, looking at the floor, “It just feels more real with the ring, you know? Speaking of.”

And finally, he pulls the ring out of the box he holds in his hands. With your hand in his, he slides the delicate engagement ring on your ring finger, and you shake your head in total disbelief.

“Carmy this is beautiful. Did you pick this out yourself?” you ask, holding out your hand to admire the ring.

“I… had some help. Syd and Sugar actually…,”

You nod in response. Of course Sydney and Natalie had helped. And it explains the weird comments all day long about him not having a ring.

“You did good, babe. So good,” you compliment, admiring the ring that sits so perfectly on your ring finger.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Oh yeah,” you reassure him, grinning ear to ear.

And finally, he leans in and kisses you, crashing his lips against yours. It’s then that you realize how nervous he is, his face hot with excitement. His lips move against yours, leaving a few long, passionate kisses before he pulls away slowly. His forehead is pressed against yours as he whispers:

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Taking a more playful approach you giggle:

“And I can’t wait to be Mrs. Carmen Berzatto.”

“Shut up,” he smirks.

“You love it,” you say back.

“I do,” he declares. “I love you.”

Carmy sits you down, and you watch as he makes you an amatriciana. You know that food is the way he shows you love – the way he knows how to communicate. You’re practically blushing as you watch him create the sauce for the pasta, your eyes admiring your very hot fiance, and the stunning ring he’s just put on your finger. He smiles to himself, hearing you type away on your phone as he moves around the kitchen. You’ve, of course, gotta spread the word and let Sydney and Sugar know that you’re grateful for their help.

As Carmy continues to make dinner, you find a good place to pause your ‘we just got engaged’ PR campaign. You turn your phone ‘do not disturb’ so that you can focus on just being here with him. It’s then that it dawns on you: you get to watch him do this for the rest of your life. Carmy, your best friend, with all of his little neuroses, all of his quirky tattoos, those brilliant blue eyes of his, and his tender heart that you’d protect at all costs… he’s yours forever.

And you, his.

And you think to yourself, that maybe, this was always how it was supposed to be.

fin.

a/n: while the story is done, there is a lovely bonus smut scene called 'it's perfect, chef' that picks up right where this chapter left off.

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #make my heart surrender #still into you

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kryptonitejelly · 2 years

Text

Flyboy (Part 1) | Jake Seresin x Reader Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader Genre: romance; fluff; angst; best friends to lovers Warnings: general hangman being hangman; sexual tension; general cursing; will contain mentions of a break up / previous relationship; general use of pet names; fem!reader; pining; general naval / flying inaccuracies. Length: Mini-series, chaptered - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

Summary: Jake gets called back to TOPGUN the same time you’ve been granted a sabbatical from work. He invites you, his purely platonic best friend of years, to live with him for 6 months and you accept. Just two best friends kicking it back for 6 months in San Diego, Fightertown USA, right?

Flyboy | Mini-Series Masterlist

(If you haven’t already seen them - blurbs and asks (one-shots coming soon) are also listed on the Flyboy masterlist!)

Flyboy - Part 1

Approximately 3.2k words

A/N: I know, the pacing for this is a bit slow, but I felt a little scene setting was necessary, we’ll get faster with pacing I promise.

I am taking a sabbatical

You had sent the text off without much thought before chucking your personal phone onto the corner of your desk. It was just a part of the usual routine you had with Jake where you each shot off the regular text update amidst each of your own busy lives, you with corporate America and he with the VFA-151 Vigilantes, the name of the squadron being something you remembered because he had made you memorise it the day he had been assigned.

“Yeah Jane?” You pick up the handset of your desk phone, silencing it after the second ring, your hands dropping from the keyboard of your computer.

“Jake Seresin on the line for you, shall I patch him through?” You eyebrows shoot up slightly in surprise, as you lean back in your chair.

“Yeah go ahead. Thanks Jane.” The dial tone is brief, before the familiar drawl crackles over your line.

“How long?”

“Why are you calling me on my office line Seresin.”

“You weren’t answering your mobile,” a reach for and flip of your personal phone reveals he is right, “how long?”

“6 months.” You exhale out as your fingers tug at the phone cord, attempting to untangle a knot that had formed.

“Any plans?”

“Not yet, thought I would get to planning after it got approved.”

“How does a trip to San Diego sound?”

It had taken a total of two minutes for him to persuade you over the phone to come out with him to San Diego for 6 months, but you had let him think it had been fifteen minutes on the phone plus a day. He had explained to you that TOPGUN had called him, along with the entire batch of aviators from the uranium mission, back to help run a 6 month programme during which they would help out with training a new batch of recruits. He had told you that it was orders from the Admiral after the near disaster of a success they had with the uranium mission. You wouldn’t admit, but you had felt your shoulders sag with tension you hadn’t even known you had been holding once you had learned that his role at TOPGUN this round, was far less dangerous than the usual role he played when TOPGUN came knocking.

The summer heat greets you in full force as you exit the airport, your feet stepping through the automated double doors. You raise a hand to shield your eyes from the glare as you roll your suitcases forward, eyes searching for the familiar light brown, almost blonde head of hair.

“Darlin did you bring the whole of New York here?” His voice cuts through the heat, and you can’t help the smile that slips onto your face as you drop your hand from above your eyes to meet the shaded eyes of Jake Seresin. The last time you had seen him in the flesh had been 5 months ago when he had appeared at your door, bottle of tequila and greasy fast food in hand, after your update that you had broken up with Dan, your boyfriend of three years.

“Thought you weren’t going to show.” You joke as he reaches forward for you, tugging you into a hug. His hands engulfing your shoulders, folding you into his body with ease, your hands twisting themselves around his midsection, your cheek pressed into his chest.

“Missed me?” You can hear the rumble of his voice through his chest, as he teases you, but squeezes tighter.

“Not that much.” You counter, as you breathe in, taking in the familiar scent that is Jake.

You had met Jake in high school, long before he had become Jake “Hangman” Seresin. Jake had always been Jake, confident, hot-headed, and sure of himself, but Jake was also well, Jake - your version of Jake, sweet, caring, and goofy. Your friendship had been an unlikely one, you the new transfer student who had moved during the middle of the school year, and Jake Seresin, the popular brown hair, almost blonde kid with the green eyes.

Your family had moved in next door to the Seresin household, and you, as an uprooted teenager, mad about having to move in the middle of the school year when you only had a year and a half more to go, had spent the late afternoons coming home from school pounding the pavement, running laps around the neighbourhood to take out your frustration. It was, as you had thought, better than sitting at home listening to your mother talk to you about “smiling more, trying to make friends, and make the best of the rest of high school”.

Jake had seen you running each afternoon since you had moved in. You didn’t look it, but you were fast, and getting faster. It had been a sweltering Thursday afternoon when he had laced up his running shoes, and fallen into step beside you as you whizzed past his house, on the third lap of your run around the neighbourhood. He hadn’t know what had possessed him, but he had to know if you were any faster than him. You remember throwing him the side eye, and picking up your pace, music pounding in your ears as you both ran laps around the neighbourhood, him matching your pace, and you keeping his.

You were both winded and drenched in sweat at the end of that run, with you ripping off your headphones to him introducing himself in between pants, with a “I’m Jake. You’re fast.”, and the rest well, the rest was history. You both had gone on to become inseparable throughout high school, even going on to graduate from the same college, before you went your separate ways, him to the Navy, and you falling into your life in corporate America. But you always kept in touch, him flying out to see you in New York, you to him, or both of you back home, when you had the time.

“Lying isn’t a good look for you.” He finally breaks away from you, smirk on his face as he takes over both your suitcases from you.

“I think this is a good look for me.” You reach over, plucking his aviators off his face with ease to slip them onto your face as he squints at the sudden glare of sunlight on his face, his hair - sans gel - flopping across his forehead.

“Not a chance.” He snorts as he tugs your suitcases along with ease, navigating both your way through the crowds and towards his truck where you bend, ready to hoist and load your luggage into the back of his truck, when he cuts in, hand over yours, halting you.

“These aren’t only for show you know.” He says as he flexes an arm in front of you, causing his bicep to bunch beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

“Ever the southern gentleman.” You drawl as you bat your lashes at him. You do it in jest, and he knows, but it still earns you a grin before he loads your suitcases onto his truck.

“Ready?” He asks you as you both shut yourselves into his truck.

“As I’ll ever be.” You nod as you buckle yourself into the seat, a nod of your head lining up with the click of the seatbelt into the clasp. “Fightertown USA, here we come.”

You keep your eyes trained on the road in front of you as you settle back into the seat, your gaze still shielded by the aviators you had earlier stolen. It causes you to miss the look on Jake’s expression before he pulls the car out of park. Soft, a mixture of peace, promise, yearning, excitement and wonderment. He manages to quickly wipe it off his face, replacing the look with his trademark smirk as you turn to glance at him for a second.

“It’s cute.” You say as you step through the threshold of the house, pushing Jake’s aviators to rest on the top of your head.

“It isn’t what you are used to.” He follows behind, your luggages in tow. “No shiny glass and sleek corners.”

“Everything I need a break from.” You say as you peer out of a window that offers you a view into the back of the house which boasts grass and a boundary of white picket fence.

“The rest have houses around too.” He closes the door behind him. “I’ll introduce you tonight.”

Bringing the group back as instructors for 6 months came with perks. The Navy had offered them each a choice of accommodation between staying in dorms on base, or in a Navy owned house situated in a closed off Navy gated community a 20 minute drive away from base, which was another 25 minutes away from town. Needless to say, they had all picked the house.

“Tonight?” You echo, as you dump your purse down on the sofa before collapsing back onto it. “I could have plans.”

The sofa sinks as Jake settles in, throwing himself onto the space beside you. He turns his head, cheek smushed against the back of the sofa as he looks at you, brow raised.

“Oh yeah?” You nod and he continues. “Got a hot date lined up that I don’t know about?”

You place a hand on your chest, pretend gasp coming out of your mouth.

“Are you doubting my pull Seresin?”

“No need to doubt darlin,” he pauses, “I’m not sure you even have pull.” He throws out and reaches forward to pluck his shades off the top of your head to place them on their rightful place, the top of his head.

“No pull?” You huff as you sit up to glare at him. “You aren’t the only only one with pull Seresin.” You roll your eyes as you reach out, to deliver a swat to his chest. “You’ll see, I’ll have muscled flyboy on my arm soon enough.”

You hand connects with hard muscle, and just as you are about to retract your arm, his hand is on yours, a warm palm engulfing your four fingers in a lazy hold.

“Muscled flyboy?”

“Tanned, nice body, flies a plane, you know. We are in Fightertown USA after all.” You let your hand, which is still against his chest, engulfed in his grip, sag. “You know, one of you, but not you.”

It is his turn to let his mouth drop open, fake gasp not dissimilar to yours earlier, falling from his lips.

“An imitation me? How dare you settle for less.”

His reaction makes you laugh, the sound which makes him smile. You attempt to pull your hand out of your his grip, only to be met with resistance as he holds it steady against his chest.

“What would the alternative be Jakey?” You play on his dreaded childhood nickname, one that only his mother used, emphasising the word as the name as it rolls of your tongue. It makes him groan, his nose wrinkling. He didn’t particularly enjoy the nickname - but always relented when it was you who used it. “You?” You ask jokingly, as your eyes narrow in effort as you continue to attempt to tug your hand out of his.

He lifts your hand off his chest, his grip fully wrapping around your fingers as he tugs both your hands sideways. It makes you lurch forward in surprise, your body stumbling forward from the sudden force, body crashing into his. He releases your hand, his hands steadying you by the waist as you stretch your hands out to find balance - one landing on shoulder, the other on his chest.

“What’s wrong with me?” He breathes out, his voice quiet. You take in his features, his hair, eyes, nose, lips, your face inches from him as your breath catches in your throat at the proximity.

“You’re - you’re..” you stammer, your voice barely a murmur as his body, hard and muscled beneath your hands, becomes painfully obvious, his hands on your waist, feeling as if they could burn through your top.

“You’re an asshole.” You manage to wrangle out, voice suddenly loud as you tear yourself away from him, using his body as leverage to push yourself off, twisting out of his grasp. He lets his hands fall away as you stumble to a straightened position, your face burning from the interaction.

“And that,” he winks, “is pull, both literally and figuratively.”

It makes you curse as you flip him off, before quickly spinning on your heel. You dart over to grab one of your suitcases before wheeling it down the short hallway towards the rooms, determined to find yours. His laughter rings out after you and you glorify it with a shout back of “asshole”, but you don’t fail to note, funnily enough, your heart pounding hard in your chest against your ribs.

“What if they all hate me.” You trudge towards The Hard Deck, your sandals crunching over a mixture of gravel and sand.

“They won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then we’ll ditch them. Boring bunch anyway.” He says dismissively, as he waves a hand in the air.

It makes you chuckle, because if the loud shouts and music coming from the bar a distance away was anything to go buy, boring was something you were sure they were most definitely not.

“Can’t have you ditching the friends you just mended fences with now can we.” You muse, clearly aware that the uranium mission had repaired and made Jake’s relationship with the group of pilots in the bar. It wasn’t hard for you to understand why he hadn’t been the most well liked by the group - Jake had a tendency to be cocky, not the best team player, something he took pride in projecting, but you knew that when push came to shove, when the situation called for it, he would never put himself before the team - something the others had come to realise with the last mission.

“S’alright, why also do you think I brought you along to San Diego?” He slings an arm around your shoulders and it takes all of you not to tense up, the memory from earlier in the day, the proximity of your face to his, and dare you say, the tension, ringing fresh in your mind. His skin is warm against your bare shoulders, the sundress you have on held up by two thin straps.

“I see you wanted me for a stand-in friend.” You hum as he pulls you against him, his laughter now something you can feel with your body against his.

“Got that much right, c’mon stand-in.” He drops his arm from your shoulders as he pulls open the door of The Hard Deck for you, gesturing you in.

As you had predicted, the aviators were most definitely not a boring bunch, and as Jake had predicted, they most certainly did not hate you. You were already informed of their names and call signs, thanks to Jake’s regular updates, and all it had taken was for you to match names and call signs to face, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Robert “Bob” Floyd, Reuben “Payback” Fitch, Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia, Javy “Coyote” Machado, Natasha “Pheonix” Trace, and Pete “Maverick” Mitchell.

They had welcomed you into the fold as one of their own easily, and even more so after Payback had declared that you were “sweet”, and “didn’t know how you put up with Hangman”. It earned you a round of cheers, and a shot shoved into your hand, which you happily threw down your throat along with the rest of them.

“Oh shut up Bagman.” Phoenix shouts from across the pool table, and it makes you snort with laughter as you echo her words.

“Yeah, Bagman, shut up.” Your echo earns you a hoot from Rooster, and cheers from the rest of the team. You grin, and Jake rolls his eyes, smile on his face.

“Wait till we get in the air Trace. We’ll see who is the one shutting up.” It earns him a boo from Phoenix and you take a swig of beer, shaking your head in amusement. Aviators - they were just like overgrown children when they were together.

“You’re rude Bagman.” You say to Jake as you put your bottle down, the rest of the group’s attention now on Rooster and Fanboy who decided to have an impromptu arm wrestling contest hosted by Maverick, their attention falling off you and Jake who are seated on bar stools, towards the side of the pool table.

“Jake.” He corrects as he looks down at you while casually leaning back against the wall behind him.

“I like Bagman.” You say and you see the small furrow that creases between his brows.

“Jake.” He asserts again and you move to take another swig of beer, only to find your bottle empty.

“You’re so bossy, Bagman.” You slide off your stool into a stand, your intention to retrieve another beer from the bar, when a hand encircles your waist, coming to rest on your front, pulling you into the space between his legs, your back connecting with his front his lips just millimeters away from your ear.

“It’s Jake to you.” His voice rumbles, deep, and you can feel his lips graze your earlobe as he speaks. It raises goosebumps on your flesh immediately and you can’t help the involuntary shudder that runs down your body. The hand that he has pressed against your midsection creates a pressure that goes straight down to your core.

“Jake.” You utter, struggling to keep your voice steady, and he releases you, allowing you to step out from in between his legs.

“Good girl.” He smirks, taking a swig of his own beer, acting as if nothing had happened. You pull on a scowl, to disguise the beating of your heart in your ears, and the thrumming in your core.

“I’m going to get another beer, Jake,” you emphasise his name on purpose, to which he only winks, “want anything?”

“I’m good, still gotta drive you home.”

“Another beer please.”

The bartender, Penny, pops open a bottle before sliding it across the counter to you. You hand over your card, but she shakes her head.

“It’s on the house. Heard from Mav that you’ll be here the whole 6 months?”

“That’s me.” You hum as you offer her a smile of thanks.

“Penny.” She introduces herself, and you return the favour, introducing yourself back to her.

“I also hear you are here with Hangman.” She says, her eyes floating across your head over to Jake, whose gaze, unbeknownst to you, has been trained firmly on you since you walked away from him. “You two got a thing going on?”

Her ask makes the heat rise on your face, the two earlier incidents of the day floating to mind. Jake had always been flirty throughout your friendship, it was just in your character, but this time, something felt different. You shake your head, quickly and furiously, as if to dispel your own thoughts.

“We’re friends,” you assert, half for your own benefit, and half for hers, “been friends since high school.”

“I see.” She takes you in, her gaze kind, as she nods slowly in response. Penny doesn’t comment more, but chooses instead to offer you a warm smile. “Stop by more often will you? I get sick of being around these aviators all the time.”

It earns her a laugh from you, both of you looking to the group you had left as cheers erupt, with Maverick holding up Fanboy’s fist in the air.

“Well I guess we know who won the arm wrestle.” You mumble, and Penny chuckles, ending with a long suffering sigh.

“I guess we do.”

>> PART 2

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seiya-starsniper · 11 months

Note

2. Eye contact across a crowded room

From blossoming romance writing prompts!

Friend I've been waffling on this ask for days because I had way too many ideas and couldn't settle on just one ahahha. I hope you enjoy the one I did eventually pick! blossoming romance writing prompts

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Morpheus absolutely hates flying.

The seats are too small for his long, spindly legs to comfortably stretch, the food options are limited and often terrible, and there is almost always a crying child somewhere on the plane.

But flying is a necessary evil for a popular book author, especially when he goes on tour promoting his latest novel across the US. His agent tries her best to book as many trains as possible for his trips across various cities, but the Amtrak only goes so far, and for some cities, it is even more expensive and longer than a flight.

So Morpheus grumbles and complains, but ultimately goes where he’s told.

He is on his last flight, the one that will take him home to New York City, and he is miserable. His initial flight was too early, and then later delayed, which caused him to miss his connecting flight. It is hours before he is able to board the next one home.

When Morpheus finally lands, he is itching to leave the plane. The itch grows and grows until he is finally in the terminal, bleary eyed and under caffeinated, wanting nothing more than to drop dead in the passenger seat of his agent’s Prius and slumber until she drops him off at his condo.

But as Morpheus exits the terminal, he does not see Lucienne anywhere. He looks left, then right, then out past the areas where she would normally be.

Panic flares in Morpheus’s mind. Where is she? Is she all right? Is it possible she got held up in traffic? But no, even on the worst of days, Lucienne has never once been late to meet him in his arrival home. Morpheus frantically scans the airport lounge once more, anxiety building as he continues to fail to see her.

But then his eyes land on Hob Gadling, and Morpheus’s entire world halts to grinding stop.

Hob is another agent at Lucienne’s agency, and Morpheus knows that he and Lucienne are close. Morpheus and Hob have spoken a total of six times, all at publishing events at Lucienne’s behest, and Morpheus guards the memory of each interaction like a dragon jealously guarding its hoard of gold.

Hob does not see Morpheus right away, but it is clear that he is looking for someone. Morpheus tries to remember if there were other authors on his flight, wonders who it is Hob is waiting for, fighting back the urge to fantasize that Hob is here for him.

When their eyes finally meet from across the terminal, Morpheus feels as if a live wire has run through his whole body.

Hob has always been an expressive person, and even from more than 20 feet away, Morpheus can see the other man’s surprise slowly morph to recognition and then finally into unrestrained delight. He raises a hand to wave at Morpheus, clearly trying to get his attention, as if Morpheus hadn’t already spotted him. As if Morpheus could possibly ever miss the most brilliant and shining man he’s ever met.

The rest of the airport fades to background static as Morpheus glides through the crowds of people, determined to move his feet to get to Hob, to reassure himself that this is real and not a dream.

When they finally reach one another, Morpheus practically folds himself into Hob’s open arms. The other man smells like aftershave and coffee, and it’s only then that Morpheus realizes Hob has a to go cup clutched in one hand.

“Car service for Mr. Endless?” Hob asks cheekily, handing Morpheus the to-go cup. Morpheus takes a cursory sniff before sipping cautiously. The coffee is hot, but not so hot that it burns his tongue, and it has just the right amount of milk and sugar in it.

“You are not Lucienne,” Morpheus notes, his own lips quirking upwards, not quite into a smile, because he is still exhausted and miserable, but somehow, Hob’s smile is keeping the worst of it at bay.

“Yeah, about that…” Hob trails off, then sighs. “Her sister went into labor about 3 hours ago. Bit earlier than expected so she had to leave suddenly. She was trying to arrange a car to get you, but well, I happened to be around and I remember you hate getting in strange cars so, here I am.”

“Here you are,” Morpheus says, voice full of wonder.

Hob’s returning smile is brighter than the sun. “Let’s get your bags sorted then, shall we?” he asks. “I’ll take you to breakfast too, if you’re up for it.”

“I would like that,” Morpheus answers, already planning for how he can convince Hob to take breakfast at his condo instead.

#dreamling #dream x hob #the sandman #seiya writes #seiya drabbles #seiya writes dreamling

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queen-haq · 1 year

Text

Fic: A Woman Reborn - Part 25 (final chapter)

Pairing: Billy Russo X Reader (from A Woman Scorned)

Rating: R / 18+ only

A/N: This is a sequel to A Woman Scorned and takes place a few years after the events of AWS.

MasterList (includes links to AWS and previous chapters here)

Summary: You and Billy are happily married when tragedy strikes, jeopardizing your relationship and everything you two have built together. Can the two of you find your way back to each other or is the special bond you once shared broken forever?

Chapter 25

It had been two weeks since you returned home, and there had not been any contact with Billy during that time. Every night you read his letter, and all it did was confuse you and leave you with conflicting feelings. You appreciated his apology for the immense pain he caused, and there were moments when you wished you could get past everything and give into your feelings - but those feelings subsided and you longed for space again.

You scanned your empty apartment, looking so vast now that all of your stuff had been removed. Not that you’d ever been attached to the kitchen, but it made you uneasy every time you remembered that bitch Dumont attacking you in it. This place was home for only a short time, but now it was tainted and you didn’t want to be here any longer. You needed a fresh start, and that’s why leaving the city was important.

You asked for time and space… I’ll give it to you.

Billy had promised that in the letter, and kept his word. Which made your last two days at the cabin with him even more significant. But then reality had reared its ugly head, and he decided it was safe to return to New York City. Fisk wasn’t after them, Dumont was dead, and Frank didn’t know about Billy’s part in Cerberus - there was no longer any reason to hide from the world.

Lights flickered on and off at the various apartments in the building across from yours. Taking a sip from your plastic solo cup, you wondered if he was out there watching you right now. He may have promised time and space but all that meant was that he’d keep his distance. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep tabs on you. It’s who Billy was, it was part of his obsessive nature, and a facet of him you loved.

“Are you okay?”

Davina’s voice cut through the haze of uncertainty clouding your mind. “I’m fine.”

“Are you excited about the trip?”

You turned around to face your friend. “Kinda.”

“I think some time away will do you good.”

“I know, me too.”

“If you still have left anything in the office, I can go pick it up.”

“No, it’s fine. I got everything I needed.”

“Can’t have been easy,” Davina remarked.

You bit your cheek, sighing. “It wasn’t, but it was time. Frank and Curtis have a good handle on things.”

“And did you see Billy there?”

Your stomach twisted into knots at the mention of his name. “No. He knew I was coming so he stayed away.”

“He knows you’re leaving the country?”

“I texted him after. Told him to meet me at the airport.”

Davina looked concerned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

You shrugged your shoulders, your gaze wandering over to where your suitcases were packed. “I’m not going to let him change my mind.”

“I kinda wish he would. I hate that you’re leaving, I’m going to miss you so much.”

You sent Davina a grateful smile. “Me too. But I need to get away and just leave-”

“-all this behind,” she finished for you. “I get it, you’ve been through a lot of shit in the past few years. You need a break.”

“I need a new life.”

“Hey, you might end up meeting some hottie on your new adventures that’ll change your life.”

You chuckled. That was Davina, eternal optimist. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you finished your drinks and started doing a final check of the apartment before returning the keys.

***

You glanced down at your phone. An hour and a half hour before your flight. You were already checked in and your luggage dropped off, but you still had to go through security and it was a madhouse at the airport. Would Billy come? You didn’t know, but it was time to stop stalling. You scanned the area one last time before heading towards the security gate. It was only when you were close to the entrance that you spotted Billy. He was staring at you, watching you intently like he had a habit of doing. Your heart drummed, your stomach quivering. A part of you wanted to run to him, to abandon your plans and just lose yourself in his arms – but you couldn’t.

As you drew closer, you noted his heated glance. The scars on his face should have marred his good looks but instead he looked rugged, his imperfections making him even hotter. Billy was dressed in a charcoal grey suit with a crisp blue shirt underneath, his hands tucked into his pockets. Finally you came to a stop in front of him, ensuring there was enough distance between you two. Jaw clenched, he studied you with a burning intensity.

“So this is it. You’re leaving,” he finally spoke.

“I need to.”

“You want to,” he argued.

To anyone else his current tone would have reeked of contempt and hate, but you saw right through the façade and into the heart of a man who was hurt and afraid, a man desperate to love you. His body was taut with tension, anger screaming in his eyes, demanding your full attention.

“You don’t have to run to the other side of the world to get away from me. I promised you I’d leave you alone. I meant it.”

“Not sure I could stay away,” you confessed.

Hope flashed in his eyes for a fleeting moment. “You don’t have to.”

The lump in your throat hurt, your heart aching. “I do, Billy, I need to put space between us. I need to know that I can live in this world without you, that I can be happy.”

“You want to forget me,” he accused, his voice cracking. “Move on like I mean nothing to you.”

Unable to take the pain in his gaze, you lowered your eyes. “Maybe this could be a good thing for you too. Maybe you can-”

“What? Be the guy I was before I met you? The same guy who used to fuck everything that moved?”

It made you sick to your stomach to think of him with someone else. You gritted your teeth instinctively, glaring up at him.

Suddenly he stepped forward, narrowing the distance between you. His dark, molten eyes swept over your face, inhaling you in and consuming every inch of you with every breath. “You don’t like that, do you? Pisses you off, right? Me fucking other women?”

“Do whatever you want.”

“You’re who I want.” The intensity in his voice was intoxicating, his words tugging you towards him just as much as his hand that wrapped around your waist. “There’s no one else for me. Only you. And it’s fucking selfish of me, I know, but I don’t wanna be who I was before you.”

“You were happy then. Things were easier.”

“Fuck that!” He bent forward to lower himself to your height. “I was numb before you. You made me strong, you made me fucking feel. You’re in my blood and I’m never giving that up!”

“The last few years have been hell, Billy.” Tears stung the back of your eyes, you sniffled. “For both of us.”

“And we’re still here!” he said ferociously. “We still love each other even if you can’t say it. I’d destroy the fucking world for you and you’d do the same.”

“Too much has happened,” you whispered. “I need space-”

“I kept my distance, didn’t I? I fucking hate it but I’ve been staying away.” His other hand cradled your face, thumb swiping over your bottom lip as his gaze bore into you. “Don’t leave. Stay here. We don’t have to be together, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“I can still feel you around me, Billy. You’re always watching me and I can sense it, even though you’re good at hiding yourself.” You exhaled a short breath, your fingers quivering as you traced the scars on his face. “I’m weak when it comes to you. If you’re close by, I’ll run to you.”

Hurt flitted across his face. “And you don’t want that.”

“I’m still getting over everything that happened,” you admitted. “It’s too raw, that pain is still fresh. And ignoring it isn’t gonna help me, I know that. It’ll just make me hate myself more.”

Vibrating with emotion, he leaned closer to rest his forehead on your temple. “I don’t want that for you.”

“I know,” you signed, closing your eyes. You breathed him in, noting the new subtleties of the cologne he was wearing. You were familiar with his favourites but this was something new, not associated with notes that triggered memories of happier times.

There was chaos all around, crowds of people mulling around the airport but it didn’t seem to touch you and Billy. The two of you were in your own world, isolated from others.

“When I was in college I’d hear stories about people travelling through Europe, or going to Thailand and sleeping on the beach. Just getting away and having meaningful experiences, you know? I always wanted to go try something like that but back then I could never afford to travel.”

His fingers glided through your hair before fisting the strands, holding you tightly against him.

“I missed out on so many things because I was always too busy hustling.”

“Me too,” Billy admitted. “Growing up poor does that to you.”

“Now I actually have time to do this, and I want to take advantage of it. I want to do things I’ve never done before.”

“I could go with you,” he offered hesitantly.

“Then this whole trip would be about us, not me. I need this for myself, Billy.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh, hugging you. For a long time the two of you remained in each other’s arms, clinging to each other.

“You’ll come back to me?” he asked after a long while.

You didn’t want to give him false hope, you loved him too much for that. “I don’t know.”

His arms tensed, you felt his internal struggle to let you leave whilst growing desperate to hold on to you. He was in agony, his soul crying out to you.

“I love you. I always will.” His words weren’t tender nor gentle. No, they were immersed in rage and grief and loss and complete despair. He pulled away from you, his eyes red with tears while he reached into his pocket to retrieve something. You stared down at his palm, staring at the familiar jewelry box, one you thought was still locked away in your dresser. He snapped it open. You hadn’t realized it was missing yet there used to be a time when the engagement ring and wedding band were gilded around your finger. He gripped your hand with his own, thrusting the box into your palm, squeezing your joined hands together. “We own each other and that’s never gonna change. Doesn’t matter if you’re here or a million fucking miles away.” Lips pursed into a thin, angry line, he glowered at you. “Do whatever you have to, but next time I see you I’m putting this back on your finger whether you want it or not.” Eyes fixed on you, he shut the lid close and returned the jewelry case back into his pocket.

Without another word he turned around and stormed away, leaving you with your heart lurching and your stomach in coils.

After he disappeared from your line of sight, you took a deep breath and headed for security.

*****

It wasn’t easy at first. You were a woman traveling alone, going to places that weren’t necessarily the safest. But eventually you managed to navigate your way through unfamiliar surroundings, be cautious and blend into crowds so that you didn’t stand out as a tourist. You learned to listen to your instincts but also put your guard down a little so you could enjoy yourself. You were always great at schmoozing so that skill came in handy when you met people from various sectors of life. You hung out with locals and tourists alike, and immersed yourself in the art and culture each country had to offer.

Days went by in a whirl; you were enraptured by the beauty of it all. Despite that, there was a hollow ache in your chest that never seemed to subside. It pricked at you when you were admiring Ophelia at the museum, or surrounded by stunning elegance of the Blue Mosque, or even when you were sitting with a group of people laughing and chatting. You even volunteered in some places, more to keep yourself busy than necessity. You were comfortable with your everyday life, maybe even happy, but your heart yearned for something more.

The days turned to weeks turned to months. In the blink of an eye, six months passed by. Maybe it was the wariness from long days of travel or simple stupidity on your part, but you grew complacent about safety when you were walking back to your hotel one night and were attacked.

The man tried to grab your purse, you put up a fight, and he started kicking you when suddenly a large dog came out of nowhere and jumped up at him. You stumbled onto the ground, dazed, watching after the robber while he fled. You glanced at the dog. Seconds ago he was a growling predator and now he was sniffing your feet. He only had one eye and was ugly as hell but the damn mutt had just saved your life so the least you could do was feed him. As if reading your mind, the beast followed you back to your hotel.

A month after that night, you started the paperwork required to adopt the animal. It was a difficult and expensive process, and for the first time in recent weeks you started worrying about finances. The money you’d allocated for the trip had been carefully budgeted, but spending so much on vet bills and administrative costs wasn’t something you had accounted for.

A week ago your bank balance was half of where it should have been before the beast came into your life. Tonight, your balance had been restored to its original amount. Someone had deposited a lot of money, and you knew exactly who it was.

Billy. The missing piece of your soul. Yet you hadn’t reached out to him in months, your fear stronger than your desire. But there was no way you could ignore this kind gesture.

Your heart was pounding in your chest when you dialed Billy’s number. There was a seven hour difference between your time zone and his. You were disappointed when he didn’t pick up, he was probably at work, you consoled yourself with the idea that this was probably for the best.

Later that night you were in bed with the beast sleeping on the floor when the phone rang. You picked it up haphazardly, half-asleep. “Hmm?” you mumbled.

“You called?”

Billy’s voice was a sudden jolt to your system, knocking you awake. Anxiety surged through you. You felt shy all of a sudden, almost embarrassed to speak to him. “Hi.”

There was a pause on his end. “Hi.”

“You deposited money into my account.”

“I did.”

“Thanks.” You bit down on your bottom lip. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“I guess this means you have someone keeping track of my account?”

His tone took on a defensive edge. “I have to, don’t I? Not like you’d call me when you need something.”

The silence was palpable, filled with tension. It saddened you, knowing there was a time the two of you could talk for hours on end and now you could barely exchange a word with civility.

Minutes passed, the stillness grew. Yet you didn’t hang up, neither did he, the sound of your breaths supplementing the static in the call.

Billy was the first to break the silence. “I went on a date.”

It was the last thing you wanted to hear. His words were so rage inducing you wanted to scream, to stomp on your phone over and over again. You reminded yourself there was nothing wrong with what he was doing, he had every right to see other people. You hadn’t even promised to come back to New York. For all intents and purposes the two of you were done, but-

-but there was that potent jealousy rushing through your fucking nerves, ready to destroy Billy and his other bitch. “Fuck you!”

He sounded smug when he spoke next, even happy. “She reminded me of you, so I asked her out.” Billy was needling you on purpose. “Wanna know how it went?”

“You fucked her,” you seethed, gritting your teeth.

“No. I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

The vulnerability in his voice took you by surprise considering he was acting so smug mere seconds ago. “Because I didn’t want her. I wanted to want her, but I fucking didn’t.”

“Because I’ve never been your type.”

“Because she wasn’t you.”

Billy had never been one to wax poetic about love or romance, but it was these rare moments when he was completely earnest that made your heart melt.

“You’re the only fucking woman I want.”

“I miss you.” You hadn’t intended to say it, not to him. Because admitting that meant exposing yourself, opening up your heart again, to him. Having hope when you should have known better. But now those carefully guarded emotions were out there and you couldn’t pretend they weren’t.

His voice was hoarse, ensconced in pain. “Say it again.”

You took a deep breath. “I miss you.”

“You sound fucking terrified.”

“Because I am.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes,” you confessed.

There was a pregnant pause. “You’ll come back to me?”

There was that question again. The answer he wanted meant trusting him and risk getting your heart broken again, something you were still terrified of a few months ago when he’d asked you at the airport.

The fear was still there, that was undeniable, but there was also something else that was just as intense – hope, and a desire to make things work that hadn’t existed before. “Yes.”

“For good.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Filled with so much joy and relief and pure happiness, the strain gone. “When?”

“Not yet,” you answered. “But soon.”

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But I need something from you, babe.” With no need to restrain himself any longer his voice grew velvety, reverberating with sexual energy. “I need to see that pretty pussy of yours.”

Immediately your body responded to his words, aching to have his mouth between your legs and going down on you. “Billy-”

“I get so hard just thinking of you. And I’ll probably get too excited when I see your sweet wet cunt but I need to, sweetheart, I need to look at you and taste you and smell you. I want to be inside you so badly… fuck… see you take my cock in, feel you squeeze me so tight…”

You moaned, you couldn’t help it, and so did he – the sound of his guttural groan so hot and sexy it instantly drove you wild.

Oh god. You could hear him, the throaty growls of pleasure from him jerking off to your voice. He was a vocal man during sex, always had been. And you fucking loved it. You missed it. You missed him.

And it was a huge relief to finally give yourself permission to admit that. Yeah he hurt you badly, and you did what you always did and hurt him back. Despite all that there were real feelings there, a true bond that connected the two of you intimately. No doubt you could be content without him but with him you could be happy. There was so much joy and wonder in the world and you wanted to share that with him.

“You have any idea what you fucking do to me?” he rasped.

“No. Tell me.”

There was a slight pause on his end, like your words took him by surprise. “You’re a goddamn tease, sugar.”

You smiled. “But you like that, don’t you? You like it when I’m on top and in full control. When I’m grinding down on your cock, Billy, teasing you with my pussy-”

There was that groan again, a raw sound of pleasure and frustration that hit just right.

“You remember the first time we had sex, Billy?”

“In the alley next to Piatti’s.”

You rolled your eyes. “That wasn’t our first time.”

“I remember it like it happened yesterday. I crashed your date with Roger and you were pissed at me.”

“It wasn’t a date-” You stopped yourself, refusing to argue with him about this. “It was the night you took me to the ballet.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“It was before the gala.”

“So?”

“I didn’t know the real you then.”

That was the thing with Billy. One minute he would frustrate you so much and the next he would say something so tender that you fell in love all over again. “It still counts,” you murmured.

“It doesn’t.”

“It was like our third or fourth date, I figured it was time we slept together. I was more nervous than excited-”

“Gee, thanks,” he muttered sarcastically.

“We went to the ballet but I couldn’t figure out why you even took me there. You looked so bored during it.”

“I hated that shit, thought you’d be into it.”

“Liar. You took all your dates there, I checked your credit card transactions the next morning.”

“Oh, that’s when you started hacking into my shit?”

You chuckled. “Wasn’t planning to. Just didn’t expect the sex to be so great.”

“Yeah?” You could practically see the arrogant grin on his face. “I got you all cock-crazy, huh?”

“Something like that.” You bit down on your lip, recalling the memories so clearly in your mind. Before then no guy had ever made you come, and Billy had done it multiple times that night. He had blown your mind in every way imaginable, marking the beginning of your obsession with him.

“Is that why you fell for me? ‘cause I fucked you good?”

While a ‘yes’ would’ve been an ego boost, you also saw through the façade of his seemingly casual tone. He wouldn’t like the foundation of your relationship to be a sexual one. Besides, it wasn’t true. “No, it was when I realized how alike you and I were. There was a side you showed to the world, then there was the real you, and they were polar opposites. I used to think I was the only one who acted that way.”

“You saw me for who I really was.”

You nodded your head instinctively. “Yeah.”

“And I saw you. I knew I was fucked from that night of the gala.”

“Bullshit,” you retorted.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“You didn’t like me until way after.”

“Wrong,” he countered dryly. “That night was definitely the first time I caught feelings. And then every day after that I got sucked in more and more. Every time I thought I had you all figured out you surprised me. And I fell harder every time.”

You didn’t speak, simply digesting his words.

“My mother’s funeral, you remember that?” he prodded.

“Yeah.”

“I was all kinds of messed up that day and you were there for me, you didn’t leave. I thought that was it, you know. How I felt that day, that would be the extent of it. I was already head over heels. It couldn’t get more serious than that. Then I found you with Adam Preston.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “I had no fucking idea what I was in for.”

“You had your chance to leave. I told you not to get involved.”

Billy snickered. “Like I was gonna walk away after that.”

You pondered how major milestones in your relationship were built on a path of blood and violence. Adam. Roger. Even fucking Krista. Destroying them was what propelled the two of you closer. Would it always be like that? Or would you both grow out of it?

“What are you thinking about?” he probed.

“A normal life. You think that’s possible for us?”

“Is that what you want?”

You turned to your side. “I want you.”

There was a long bout of silence that followed. “Haven’t heard that from you in a long time,” Billy said.

“I know.”

“You left, Y/N. It’s been months!” His voice took on a harsh edge. “I haven’t seen you, haven’t talked to you. You have any idea what it’s been like without you? You’re out there living your goddamn life and I can’t even fucking breathe without you! Do you give a fuck about that?”

You reminded yourself to be patient. “I get that you’re pissed off-”

“You’re goddamn right I am!”

“But I’m not going to fucking apologize, Billy.” You stayed calm, refusing to let him rile you up. “I needed space, away from you, away from New York, away from everything that happened in the last few years.” You exhaled a deep sigh. “It’s been peaceful. I’m content. I’ve done things and travelled to places I never thought I’d get a chance to. And you know what doing that made me realize?” Your tone softened. “That I want to be with you. Billy, you make me happy.”

It was impossible to know but you sensed him trembling, as if your confession had expelled a rush of relief over him. He didn’t speak for a long time. Neither did you.

“When you come home to me, it’ll be for good. I’m never letting you go,” he declared.

“I know.”

There was a lull in the conversation again, a comfortable one this time.

“So? What’s been the best thing you’ve seen so far?” Billy asked. “What’s the shittiest?”

You smiled fondly, getting ready to tell him about your adventures.

***

Two Months Later

The elevator doors opened right into Billy’s apartment. You entered his place, greeted by the sleek, sparse aesthetic of the place. His design preferences clashed with yours and that hadn’t changed. The beast was next to you, tugging at his leash as he was eager to discover his new surroundings. You dropped your overnight bag on the ground before undoing his leash.

Sonia had given you the code to Billy’s apartment but had warned you that he wasn’t expected home for a few days. You weren’t supposed to be back in New York for at least a few more weeks, but you were feeling homesick and both you and the beast were exhausted so you decided to return early. Unfortunately your plan to surprise Billy didn’t work out as expected as he was off somewhere doing recon work for a lucrative client along with Frank and some other team members.

You had landed yesterday and gone straight to Davina’s, spending it resting and catching up with your best friend. Still, you were exhausted and the beast was acting up – maybe it was a good thing Billy wasn’t here. But that didn’t stop you from being utterly disappointed at missing him. Over the past few months you and he spoke practically every day despite the time differences, and the connection between you had grown stronger, more intense. The need to see him was overwhelming, the desire to touch him so desperate that you dreamt about him every day.

The beast ran around while you took a tour of the penthouse suite, familiarizing yourself with Billy’s new home. You rummaged through his closet, running your fingers through his clothes, admiring his wardrobe. You always loved how much pride he took in dressing well, and he was just as appreciative about your efforts.

Your attention was drawn to the watches laid out in a bougie cabinet that was new to you. The vintage Rolex you’d gifted him for your second anniversary was prominently displayed, a centerpiece amongst his collection. A part of you had worried that Billy had sold the piece after the divorce but that didn’t appear to be the case. You opened the bottom drawer and found a familiar velvet jewelry box in there.

“Next time I see you I’m putting this back on your finger whether you want it or not.”

Billy’s words echoed in your mind like it was yesterday. Your stomach fluttered when you opened the box to find your engagement ring and wedding band in there. Smiling, you slid them onto your finger. The fit was a little snug, you had gained a few pounds during the trip, but the rings still looked beautiful on your hand.

You noted the empty side of the walk-in closet, along with a large built-in cabinet designed specifically for shoes. This was meant for you, no doubt, and it made you feel soft and warm inside.

Home. That was what Billy was to you, and it felt right.

***

Billy dried himself with a towel before getting dressed in a t-shirt and sweats. All the while the mutt simply watched him, idly chewing on a recent pair of shoes Billy had bought. He took a deep breath, reminding himself he could get another pair. When he’d come home sooner than expected, the last thing he’d expected to find was you sleeping on the couch and a giant monster snoring on the floor beside you. The dog eventually woke up while he took a shower and now there they were, playing a game of who could stare at each other the longest.

Billy knelt down to meet the mutt at eye-level. “You know she’s mine, right? You can’t have her.”

The dumb dog stared back with its one eye, wearing an insolent expression, and then it yawned, completely unfazed by the warning. Billy pet the dog’s head before standing up and exiting the room, shutting the door behind him.

You were still sleeping soundly on the couch. Dressed in one of his t-shirts, the hem twisted around your hips, your gorgeous legs were naked and begging to be touched. And then there was the flash of your black lace panties. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed the whole thing before taking a seat next to you.

It was almost eight months since he saw you last, since he touched you. His fingers wrapped around your bare calf and squeezed lightly. You moaned a little, the sound turning him on even more. Billy told himself to be patient but all rational thoughts left his head when you shifted and the t-shirt rose even higher. Mesmerized, his hand travelled up your thigh, dancing along your soft, supple skin, sneaking higher and higher until his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your panties and he pulled the fabric down the length of your legs. Yeah he wanted to fuck you senseless, but more than that he just wanted to hold you and revere you.

And so he did, with his gaze, inhaling you in.

Your beautiful body, your pretty pussy, your glorious tits.

He committed every inch of your sweet cunt to his brain, inhaling you in. He didn’t even have to touch you for you to get wet, you were turned on already when he bent down to kiss your delicate skin. You trembled against him, your body quivered. You weren’t fully awake yet, your eyes still closed, but your breathed out a moan when he swiped his tongue along your folds.

God, he missed you. Your scent, your taste.

Pushing your t-shirt up above your chest, he sunk his face into the soft curves of your stomach, his tongue delving into your belly button. Your hip arched up, causing his face to smash against your skin. He chuckled, continuing to lick his way up your body until he came to your breasts.

Fuck.

The sheer hotness of your breasts stole his breath. They were bigger than he remembered, softer, as he cupped them together. Your puffy nipples stared back at him defiantly, daring him to fuck them, and he couldn’t stop himself anymore. His mouth dragged over the hardened nubs, going back and forth between, sucking on them like a man dying for water.

You were awake now, your moans growing louder, your body writhing under him while your legs tightened around his waist.

“Billy…”

Your voice. It was the only thing that could draw him back from the brink of madness he was in. Pulling his mouth away from your right nipple, he finally met your gaze. And the expression on your face melted his heart.

Overwhelmed with feelings that rushed through him, he stared at you blankly. He couldn’t think.

You were here. You came back to him.

You were his.

The emotions on your face, the way your eyes lit up so brightly - it made his insides ache.

For months he was a dead man walking, going through life without any hope or excitement. He’d always known losing you would ruin him but even he couldn’t have predicted how alone and hopeless it would feel without you. The ambitious drive in him dissipated, because what was the fucking point of money if he couldn’t spend it with you. The first month after you left all he did was get wasted. Alcohol was supposed to numb the pain but it didn’t. After weeks of fucking around Frank and Curtis had enough and ordered him back to work. Sick of the fights and waking up with hangovers, he decided work would be a better distraction. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with Frank bitching at him.

Shortly after that you guys started talking, and the world came alive for him. Life was beautiful again, and he had a reason to wake up every morning. His drive to make Anvil an industry leader returned with a vengeance along with the desire to destroy anyone who stood in his way. All because of you.

Your index finger traced the scars on his face, your every touch a thorough reminder of how much you meant to him.

And then he saw the rings around your finger.

The engagement ring he’d scoured for months before he finally found the right one. The wedding bands you guys exchanged. His own was destroyed when his fucking world fell apart, but he’d held onto yours, resolute in his determination to put them on you again.

And now you were wearing them, on your own, without any kind of cajoling from him.

Because you were ready to be his finally.

Every night he pondered what he’d say when he saw you again. In his imagination he was a fucking poet, ready to impress with heartfelt declarations about how much you meant to him. Except now when you were actually in front of him, he was speechless. The only thing running through his head was fear. Fear that this was just a fucking dream. And instead of coming at you from a place of love, it was his fucking insecurity that drove his words.

“You’re never leaving me again.”

He expected you to be irritated or angry by his threat, instead you sent him an affectionate smile. Your hand brushed through his hair strands in a placating gesture. “Don’t be an asshole again.”

Heart full, he fisted the back of your head and pulled you close.

A heartbeat, that’s all it fucking took for the both of you to lose control. Your mouth closed over his, and he gave into the fucking whirlwind of craziness only you made him feel.

***

You felt Billy slide onto the couch behind you, scooting closer so he could resume touching you. As his hand trailed down your back, your body tingled again with excitement. He’d fucked you multiple times yet the two of you couldn’t get enough, your body wasn’t sated despite being utterly exhausted. Even now when you were in the brink of sleep, his close proximity was playing havoc with your thoughts, especially when you felt him caressing your ass. The weight you had gained during your vacation seemed to have gone to your butt, and apparently Billy loved it.

He dropped playful kisses on both cheeks, squeezing one and then the other with his palm.

“You were never an ass man before,” you remarked lazily, yawning.

“Yeah, but this ass is fucking piece of art.” The playful tap he gave your cheeks made you giggle. “And so is the rest of this gorgeous body.” His tongue trailed a path up. “Like the small of your back.” His beard scratched your skin as his mouth followed up the length of your spine. “And your spine.”

You chuckled. “Spine too?”

More kisses peppered the back of your neck before he turned you around. “And these shoulders… this neck…” His face sunk into your chest as he cupped your breasts together.

“Nothing to say about my boobs?” you teased.

“Hmm…”

Already mesmerized, his fingers danced across your nipples.

As he stared at your breasts, you stared at him, studying him. He was on his side, balanced on his elbow, and looked so deliriously happy that it made your heart explode. You hadn’t seen him like this in a long time, years actually. Before you left he was always agitated and in a constant state of turmoil, but now there was a look of contentment on his face, a calmness in him that was only present before the accident.

“Checking me out?” he teased, winking at you.

“Always.” You smiled, reaching up to palm his face. “You look happy.”

He placed a tender kiss on the flesh of your palm. “Cause you’re here.” He kissed your wedding band. “Back with me, where you belong.” Closing his eyes, he stilled for a few seconds. “I can breathe again.”

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, like it always did when he regarded you with so much love and tenderness. “I didn’t think we’d ever be like this again. I was ready to walk away forever.”

His gaze darkened, like the thought of you even verbalizing those words angered him. “You’re mine. And if you think I’m gonna let you--”

You placed your palm over his mouth to shut him up. “I’m here for good.”

Billy didn’t respond, his piercing eyes holding you hostage. Sensing his anxiety, you pulled him close to your chest so his head was pressed in the crook of your neck. With his body settled atop, the two of you clung to each other in a tight embrace for a long while. “I have a gift for you. It’s in the other room.”

“Yeah,” he replied in a wry tone. “I met the gift. It was eating my shoes.”

You chuckled. “He has good taste.”

“It can’t live with us, babe.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m moving in.”

“Bold of you to think you have a choice.”

You smiled, languidly playing with his hair. “I’m not moving in without the beast. He goes where I go.”

“Beast? That’s what you named him?”

“No, he has an actual name. He just won’t respond to it.”

“What is it?”

“Ludacris.”

“Like the rapper?”

“Yeah, I like his music.”

Billy snickered. “No wonder he likes beast better.” He pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat. “You’re not allowed to love that mutt more than me,” he drawled, his tone unconcerned and lazy.

“Even though he saved my life?” you teased.

“Even then.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “I need to go walk him.”

“No,” Billy groaned, burrowing his head into your chest so his facial hair tickled you.

“Stop!” you giggled.

“Can’t go,” he insisted, ticking you harder. “Not gonna let you.”

Your squealing must have woken up the beast because he came running into the room. Except instead of attacking Billy, he started licking him, especially when Billy started scratching his sweet spot. You watched the two of them bond, and your heart swelled with happiness. Dogs weren’t exactly Billy’s thing and you expected him to protest against keeping him, but there he was, playing with him.

“I need to get food for this one,” you said, sitting up.

Billy turned back to look at you. “I bought some a few weeks ago. Wasn’t sure what he’d like so I got a few different kinds.”

Your smile grew soft. Some of your conversations with Billy in the past month did involve the beast but you’d never mentioned you were planning to bring him home. Obviously he recognized you wouldn’t be leaving the dog behind.

You pushed yourself off the couch when he grabbed your hand.

“I’ll take Beast for a walk,” Billy offered. “You get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Good. ‘cause I’m not done with that ass yet.”

You laughed, reaching down to give him a kiss.

***

A while after you took a shower and put a slip on, you sifted through your overnight bag to retrieve your gift for him. When you sauntered into the kitchen, you found Beast on the floor, wolfing down his food, while Billy made grilled cheese sandwiches on the stove. It smelled delicious and your stomach growled in hunger. Smiling, you crept up and hugged him from behind. “Have something for you.”

His free hand snaked around your waist to grab your ass. “Besides this?” He turned off the stove before turning around in your arms. “Why the fuck are you dressed?”

“Because I’m hungry.” Retreating until your back hit the cabinet, you jumped up to sit on the counter. You set his gift behind your back, smiling at him.

He plated the sandwich and handed it to you before making a quick stop at the fridge to grab himself and you a beer. Your cooking skills had somehow grown worse, but his seemed to have excelled, especially his version of a grilled-cheese sandwich. Pleased that he remembered this was one of your favourite late-night snacks, you happily bit into the sandwich while he drank his beer and watched you eat. There were many a nights like this during your marriage, where you’d be sharing a bottle of wine or drinks in the kitchen, Billy cooking, you perched up on the counter and keeping him company. It felt like home, being here, even though it was a new place, and everything was so different, and Beast was making a ruckus in one corner of the kitchen.

Billy’s eyes were fixated on you as he took a sip of the beer, his gaze trailing from your lips to your breasts, down the length of your body before drifting up to your face again. “You don’t need clothes to eat,” he finally responded, eyes darkening again.

“So you want me to sit here, naked, just ready to do your bidding?” you taunted. You straightened your leg to reach across and touch Billy’s groin, teasing your foot along the fabric of his jeans.

Molten eyes burned with intensity, his gaze bore into you.

He was hard, you felt it, could see it, wet heat pooling between your legs at the sexual magnetism vibrating off of him right now.

“Take off your goddamn clothes, sweetheart.”

You smirked, setting the empty plate aside. A few months ago, you would have hesitated to get naked in front of him. The deterioration of your relationship had left you emotionally scarred, broken, and too insecure to let yourself be vulnerable with him. But now, you felt strong and healthy. Like yourself, though even more powerful. And so, despite the additional pounds you gained that once would have made you shirk and cringe, you took off your top and threw it aside. No bra, no intentional maneuvering to highlight your assets and minimize your flaws. None of that. You were simply naked and exposed in front of the only man who could break you. Except he was admiring you in all your glory, sheer desire on his face, his eyes glazing over at your full breasts.

“Come here, Billy.”

That seemed to snap him out of his daze. He closed the distance instantly, pulling your legs forward to wrap them around his thighs. All thoughts of provoking him left your brain as his mouth closed over yours, ravaging you, while you pulled at his clothes to undress him.

And soon he was thrusting inside of you, pounding you on the counter as your moans filled the room.

You forgot how utterly emotional and transfixing it was to have Billy inside of you. Your walls clenched around his cock while he thrust hard, every part of your body inhabited by him so that there was no you or him, just one body linked together while the two of you fucked each other into oblivion.

Your nails clawed his back, his teeth sunk into your shoulder, wounds marking each other’s bodies with reminders of what the two of you meant to each other. Pain and pleasure, forever entwined.

The harder he fucked you, the more vocal you became. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew Beast was barking loudly but you were too entrenched in Billy to pay any attention to reality. It was only after you reached your frenzied climax that Beast’s howls finally registered.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed at Beast, breathless and panting, still perched on the counter, your body limber and fluid in Billy’s grip.

“No, absolutely fucking not,” Billy muttered, his head buried in your neck. “You only call me baby. No one else.”

“You can’t be jealous over a dog.”

“Can’t I?”

You chuckled, amused, and then murmured sweet terms of affections to cajole him.

It took a while for your hearts to return to normal pace, both of you spent, his body weight pressed onto you while you clung to him. Still a bit dazed, you dropped a kiss on his temple. “We can’t fuck in front of Beast.”

Billy shifted slightly to look at the dog, who was staring back with a hungry expression even though he just ate. “He needs to get used to this.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” you mused. “Having sex in front of a dog?”

“We fucked at a sex club in front of an audience. This is fine.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was different.”

“Yeah, the dog can’t talk.”

Smiling, you pulled on his earlobe. “Jerk.”

“Still waiting for my gift, babe.”

You twisted around to see where it had shifted to. Snuggled behind the bottle of olive oil, you retrieved the sachet.

“What is it?” Billy asked, eyeing the small bag.

You loosened the opening and dropped the ring on your palm.

Billy’s wedding band, a brilliant silver band that matched your own, had to be cut from his fingers before the life-saving operation he received. Since the two of you reconnected over the phone he’d mentioned how much the loss of it troubled him. While the two of you were certainly not ready for marriage, you still wanted to give him something that showed how far you’d come. It took you a while to find the perfect ring, in the end it was a two-toned black titanium ring in a jewelry shop in Turkey that captured your attention. The design was a black ring, contrasted with a silver bevelled edge, representing the history you shared and the future that was to come. Although it certainly wasn’t as expensive as the original, you liked its sleek, sexy design and you hoped Billy would too.

“You like it?” you asked hesitantly, feeling suddenly nervous. You reminded yourself the ring didn’t have to symbolize anything. It could just be a gift, if that’s what Billy wanted, and not mean anything. “If you don’t, it’s okay.”

He picked it up, his face devoid of emotion. “You proposing?”

“No, it’s just a gift.”

His gaze shifted to focus on you. “I want a fucking proposal, sugar.”

You rolled your eyes in exasperation. “It’s too soon. We’re not even fully back together.”

Eyebrow quirked up, he leveled you with a heated stare. “You’re not getting out of this.” He removed your wedding band and handed back the ring you gifted him. “We’re gonna put these on each other.” And he did just that, sliding the wedding band back onto your finger. “Your turn.” He splayed his hand in front of you.

Smiling, you took his hand and caressed his palm. His fingers trembled, surprising you, and you looked up to meet his eyes. The gravity of emotions in them made your heart flutter. Swallowing the unexpected lump in your throat, you slid the band onto his left ring finger.

Interlacing his fingers through yours, he pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re mine. I’m yours. Nothing ever comes between us.”

Just then Beast barked, as if offended by the words, and you burst into laughter. “Think he feels left out?”

“That’s his problem.”

You chuckled, turning your attention back to Billy. “You love him already. Admit it.”

He shook his head ‘no’. “I’ll tolerate him for you.” His lips grazed your forehead. “Because I love you.”

For the first time since the accident, those words didn’t incite anger or disbelief or any insecurity in you. Instead, you believed him wholeheartedly and felt it with every fiber in your being. “I love you too, Billy.”

“You haven’t said that in a long time.”

“I couldn’t. Not until now.”

His eyes glimmered with hope, with love, with all kinds of emotions that made your heart want to explode. “I’m never letting you go, babe.”

Overwhelmed with feelings, your eyes watered. This was the man you loved - insanely jealous and madly possessive, invading your entire life and crushing through every walls you’d built around your heart. The same man who bought groceries because you hated doing it, took space out of his beloved closet so it could hold your precious shoes, and was now even willing to take care of your dog even though he didn’t like animals.

Billy loved you, protected you. Killed for you. And you did the same for him.

What the two of you shared wasn’t normal or healthy. Loving each other didn’t make you better people, but it gave you both purpose, a reason to fight for something more substantial than simply survival. You filled each other’s lives with hope and happiness, a rarity for the both of you.

Cradling his face, you kissed him gently. Even after everything, you found your way back to each other.

That was never going to change, and you had no regrets.

He was yours. You were his.

Forever.

The End.

A/N - Thank you to all those who stuck around and to those who recently discovered the fic. I can’t believe I finished them both - lol - but I was so genuinely attached to Billy/Reader that I couldn’t let them go. But it’s time now, I think.

Billy and Reader will always have a complicated relationship, but they have each other’s back and will never feel as strongly about anyone else as they do each other. I sincerely believe that and I hope the writing showed that as well.

There are some scenes deliberately vague or I’ve glossed over, mostly because it allows me to delve into them in the future if I choose :)

Anyway, thank you again. I really appreciate and am grateful to every one of you.

If you’d be so inclined, I’d love to read any comments you want to share :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #a woman reborn #a woman scorned universe #my fics

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