#the way he made me drive ten hours in one day when it was like less than a week after my fathers funeral like bro hello
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Birdsongs
Chapter 7
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Summary: The Life Pilgrimage is the biggest music festival of the century, set to take place all across the continent. Small-time rock band, GIST, and the up-and-coming alternative band, Empire, are both lucky to be among the hundreds set to make appearances, but there's just one problem. Neither can afford the travel expenses on their own. For better or worse, they're stuck with each other for the next five weeks as they try to make their dreams come true.
And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...
Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)
Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, verbal fights, theft, divorce talk
Jimmy was driver for the second day in a row.
Not that he minded. Actually, he’d discovered so far he quite liked driving, especially the trailer. It felt satisfying, the movements the vehicles made when he turned the wheel or pressed on the brakes. He caught a lot more of the scenery when he had to concentrate, also. Time just passed by faster, more peaceful. One of the few times of this trip he could stop thinking.
It was a bit funny really, because he’d waffled on acquiring his license until college, so he hadn’t gotten to drive much as a teen. Then he’d gotten together with Scott. It wasn’t something they talked about, but even when they drove Jimmy’s car the keys always ended up in Scott’s hands. After moving back in with Lizzie he’d sold his car to cushion himself. Joel was the sort of guy who refused to let anyone touch his baby, so more often than not he was driven around or carpooled. Really, the fact that Jimmy was even allowed to drive the trailer seemed wild to him, but he was glad he was.
Especially now, with everyone so quiet.
The trailer bounced on the uneven country road. There was a whistle-like squeak and a thunk. Joel groaned. Between the lights being off and the shade of the forest outside Jimmy didn’t bother trying to check on him. He took a deep breath of the morning air as it rushed past the open window, letting his hand hang against the outside of the door. There was a hum on his tongue, but he kept his mouth shut to avoid fratricide.
Another bounce, another whistle, another groan.
Shuffling footsteps slowly approached, and this time Jimmy did check the mirror. It was Tango, eyes still shut and using the walls to navigate his way up until he flopped down into the passenger seat. Jimmy smiled, “Mornin’, sunshine.”
Tango let out a grunt, head reclined and face pulled tight around his nose as he tried to adjust to the bright window. He flicked his red sunglasses out of his pocket before even daring to try opening his eyes. “What sort of mutant are you to be so perky this early?” He muttered, eyes squinted. They scanned about until they landed on the half-folded map across the dash, and snatched it up.
“One who had seven AM classes and never readjusted.” He shrugged.
“That’s such a lie.” Wheezed Lizzie from somewhere in the back. Jimmy could picture her wagging finger. “You’ve always gotten up at unholy hours and I know you know it.”
“Hey! You would have never made it to band practice all of grade eleven and twelve if it weren’t for me!”
“Twas you whom sealed my fate, oh retched inhuman beast.”
“A thank you would be fine, you know!”
Thump, whistle, groan.
Tango snickered. “Alright, so where’s the hospital?”
“Should be a few miles up the road in another town.” He reached over, tapping a red H located on the map. “Another ten minutes probably. There’s a Ricky’s across the street from it so we can meet there for breakfast and sort all our stuff back into the right vehicles.”
The mention of food elicited a happy chorus from the zombie horde. Jimmy smiled and reached over the console for his water bottle before pushing it into Tango’s face. “I refilled all the ones I could find before disconnecting the water.”
Tango blinked, eyes dilating at the speed of molasses as his brain clicked back into reality. “Look at you, thinkin’ of everything. What’d we do without you?” He grinned and took the bottle. Jimmy felt his cheeks warm, back straightening up as he turned his attention onto the road.
Thump, whistle, groan.
His hold on the wheel tightened. “Well, all the responsible people are at the hospital, so someone has to do it.”
“I’m not sure going to the ER ‘cause of a bar brawl screams responsible.”
The bottle clunked back into the console, Tango scooting forward in his seat to lean his head back. Not on Jimmy’s watch. “Says the man without a seatbelt on.” He said, then cringed. It sounded so much more obnoxious when he said it aloud. If it bothered Tango he didn’t show it, fumbling for the belt with one hand and eyes closed.
“Ah well, stuff like this is gonna happen.” Tango said. “Better to get it out of our systems early, right? It’s all smooth sailing now.”
“Are you trying to dare the devil or something?” Joel interjected from his seat, giving voice to Jimmy’s thoughts.
But Tango waved him off, “What? That’s how you’re supposed to do it. Go wild the first little bit so everything after feels like a walk in the park! That’s how we’ve always done things, shakes off the nerves.”
Jimmy wasn’t so sure that’s how it worked, but he certainly hoped it was. As much fun as last night had been, it was probably for the best it was behind them.
A sign flashed by, almost too fast, telling Jimmy it was finally their turn off the freeway. Trees gave way to a town that was more of a giant truck stop, uncomfortably sparse with everything paved over, and enormous signs advertising fast food joints and gas prices heads above the tallest building. Actual homes were scattered further out in the hills or awkwardly dotted among the half-empty parking lots, their picket fences and old shingles all that was left of when the town must have been much quainter.
Their bandmates were already waiting for them outside the hospital, and five minutes later they were piling into Ricky’s for brunch. Judging from its proximity to the hospital and the fact that Jimmy could recognize several faces at the other tables, it probably wasn’t a surprised the waitress didn’t question why they all smelled worse than they looked. Scott managed to escape with only a split lip and bruise under his eye, his stitches being for a long cut up his forearm. Fwhip was not as lucky. Gem was already busy making fun of the man who looked like he’d been one with the bar floor mid-brawl. She was one to talk, given the black eye she sported. Jimmy was pretty sure he saw her nearly bite someone’s ear off, though, so he abstained from interrupting her.
With ten people their orders came in rounds. First came Pearl’s omelette with the works alongside Scott’s bennies and Skizz’s ridiculously huge grand breakfast that seemed to be three of everything. It was less ridiculous when Jimmy realized he was sharing with Impulse. Then came Gem’s clubhouse, Fwhip’s chicken tenders, and Lizzie’s fish and chips. After that was Joel’s bacon cheddar burger, and finally-
“Here you are, buttermilk pancakes.” The waitress announce cheerfully as she slipped one plate in front of Jimmy and another in front of Tango, placing a single plate with butter, strawberries, and maple syrup between them. Or, rather, directly in front of Joel, who was sat in the middle of them and giving Jimmy the most unimpressed look. It was his fault for insisting on sitting across from Lizzie instead of beside her.
Tango snatched up the butter, seemingly unsatisfied with the single square already atop it. In the process he all but pushed the strawberries onto Jimmy’s plate. More than fine by Jimmy. “So, Miss Manager, what’s the verdict on getting to the venue today?” He asked, giving Jimmy a thankful grin when he was passed the syrup that made Joel pretend to shove his knife down his throat to gag. Jimmy knocked his leg.
Pearl hummed until she could swallow. “Should still be able to make it if we just keep going, maybe ten or eleven?”
Just shy of twelve hours with breaks and dinner. “Y’okay to drive that long on your own?” Piped up Impulse, the only other person without a headache or head wound.
Jimmy nodded, “Think so.” He frowned, looking the man up and down. “Um, would you prefer to switch?” It may have been Impulse’s car, but it was still cramped compared to the trailer. Impulse waved him off, though.
“We need more buns and salad before we go.” Chimed Gem.
Skizz balked. “What? What happened to the tub of macaroni salad?”
“Someone left it out.”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I hate that stuff!”
“Sounds exactly like something someone who left it out would say.”
“Why does it matter? You didn’t have to throw it out, one night wouldn’t hurt it.”
“Um, ew? It absolutely would!”
“Yeah, I gotta agree, it’s pretty nasty...”
Joel smacked the syrup right out of Tango’s hand as he passed it over the shorter man’s head. It clattered to the table, rolling off into Jimmy’s lap. “Joel!” He shrieked, pushing up out of his chair. The case hooked over the back of his chair clattered loudly to the ground, wringing winces from those around him. Both his shirt and jeans were coated in sugar. Everyone paused in their arguments to watch Jimmy squirm in his own skin. The whole restaurant was, actually. Jimmy’s face turned beet red, grabbing a napkin to try and at least wipe down his arms, but the thin paper just curled and tore and created a worse mess. Joel just laughed.
“Here, dampen it.” At the very least Pearl tried to help, dabbing another napkin into an untouched glass of water, but it didn’t help much.
He sighed in resignation, and began to pick up his poor guitar. It was a delicate process not to get it coated as well. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
“We should find somewhere to do laundry, too.” He heard Scott say behind him. “Some of you have been wearing the same clothes for a few days now and you can smell it.”
Several individuals protest, all people Jimmy knew for certain qualified for that statement. He hurried along before he could get caught in the crossfire.
-
The dryers were taking their damn time.
Tango chalked it up to the things looking about thirty years old and beaten to crap by who-knows-who.
The washers rumbled under him, eyes glued to the ever spinning clothes. Goosebumps ran up his arms from the air conditioning, a constant reminder he was stuck in his undershirts and shorts. His own fault for throwing all his clothes into simultaneous loads. There was the softest tune under the hum of machines emanating from a portable radio in the staff booth echoed by his bass. He’d taken a page out of Jimmy’s book and brought it in with him. Of course, he wasn’t about to plug the thing in, lest the ancient temple’s Edwardian era wiring explodificate and leave them with nothing but wet clothes and sadness. That didn’t mean he couldn’t strum along to the Steve Miller Band while longingly watching the concrete outside bake.
“How does he do that?”
Tango let out a screech like a shot seagull, almost falling off the washer. When had Jimmy and Gem gotten here? How long had he spaced out? The two weren’t even paying Tango any attention while Jimmy slipped his case off his shoulder and popped it open. Gem dropped a grocery bag and hopped up on the washer beside him, enclosing the tallest between her and Tango, while he organized his fingers along the strings. “What?” Tango finally asked, grabbing the two’s attention.
“That little- like, the cat call.” He muttered, mimicking the whistle. Hands absently adjusted to what he thought might be the proper notes.
Gem reached out and adjusted his ring finger. “I’m pretty sure it’s that, then you just sorta...” She pulled away, air-guitaring the motion for him to copy. He did so, but without being plugged in it was hard to tell if he’d gotten it for certain.
Tango’s eyes followed the movement of his left hand. Theoretical tones played along in his brain. Too stiff. He scooted around until he was facing them. “Here.” He called for their attention. When Jimmy’s curios gaze shifted from Tango to his bass Tango showed his own attempt at the segment. One he’d done long ago but not since. Both guitarists had their eyes glued to his hands, making him second guess every single choice he’d ever made in life that put him here, thinking he could teach other people how to play their own instruments while in his skivvies in public.
They foolishly mimicked him anyways, pleased with whatever popped up in their own mind’s eye. Tango went back to strumming along with the actual bass. Gem happily jumped in as well. “I’m a joker, I’m a smoker, I’m a midnight toker, I get my lovin’ on the run,” she sang, too pretty. Jimmy quickly picked up after them on the guitar after a stumble in the first notes. Something Tango was beginning to suspect he was incapable of not doing. For someone who spent his time on stage just setting the beat, Tango thought Jimmy handled the solo better than expected. The lazy guitar was well out of his comfort zone, though, his movements still stiff.
Both men half-heartedly joined Gem’s singing as the song came to an end, her hands slapping the lid of the machines as some type of drum. Tango’s nose began to itch. The song faded out and the channel host piped up. At the same moment the machine Tango sat on ended its cycle, buzzing at him. All of it was drowned out by the loudest sneeze Tango had ever suffered, the force of which was enough to knock him right off his precarious perch. Enough to scare his companions.
“I think Skizz’s grandma heard that!” Gem laughed.
But Jimmy frowned, “Do you need a sweater?”
“S’in the dryer still.” He sniffled, trying to keep his eyes from watering.
That didn’t deter the guitarist, who went for their laundry bag, then stumbled outside towards the trailer when he didn’t find what he was looking for. Tango wondered if he even noticed he still had his guitar around his neck, case abandoned. Another machine buzzed, this time a dryer.
“He’s definitely going to bump off the doorway.” Gem whispered. On cue, Both ends of Jimmy’s poor guitar slammed into either side of the trailer, almost throwing Jimmy to the ground. He stood there, confused, before he hugged his guitar to his shoulder and went in sideways. Tango raised an amused eyebrow towards Gem, who was trying not to laugh too loud. “Oh, silly Jimmy.”
“Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.” Tango tried to defend even as he also began to giggle. He absently grabbed for the laundry bag and yanked open the dryer. The warmth soaked into his skin.
Gem rolled her eyes and sent him a pointed, unimpressed look. “That’s ‘cause you’re also a silly goose.”
“Guilty as charged.” He couldn’t exactly defend himself on that one. So, he changed the subject. “You two play well together.”
There was a hum Tango thought might have been agreement. “We picked up guitar around the same time, so we learned together from my mum.”
He’d heard it before. How Gem had gone from only wanting to sing as a kid to feeling embarrassed it was all she could do in her teens. Nothing wrong with expanding your horizons, he had told her. As often as Tango experimented with new instruments he always wandered back to his bass.
“You were part of Empire, then?” He asked.
Gem shrugged, “Not really? I mean, we played together and Lizzie and Scott were writing some songs, but the band didn’t really exist yet. They talked about it a lot but I don’t know, guess I knew from the start I wouldn’t end up playing with them.” She grinned, “I have way more fun with you guys, anyways!”
Maybe it was just his imagination guilt tripping him, but it felt like there was something almost determined and a bit desperate in her last statement. He looked away. “It’s been fun playing with you too, Glitter Girl.”
The door creaked open, and Jimmy tripped through it. One hand held his guitar flush to his chest, while the other was wrangling a familiar blanket that had been rapidly unfolding itself. “I couldn’t- Scott wouldn’t let me mess with the clothes he already folded, but...”
“Thanks, partner.” Tango smiled, letting the man throw it over Tango’s shoulders like a cape. He didn’t bother to mention that he now had access to several pieces of his own clothes. It couldn’t hurt to wait for the second load. What was he going to do, suddenly be even more embarrassed than he already was? Besides, the blanket had trapped its fair share of warmth from the dryer, and Tango was very quickly sinking deeper into it.
Jimmy’s smile was shy, cheeks just slightly rosy, before he turned towards his guitar case. Leaned out of the way, Tango got a clear view of Gem once more, who had her clasped hands to her cheek and was making kissy faces at Tango. Like the responsible adult he was he stuck his tongue out at her. She giggled. Well, at least he had company now.
-
It was ten to eleven when they rolled into the next venue. They were lucky to do so, as check in would close for the day after eleven. The very grumpy and tired staffer was particularly adamant on reminding them of that fact through the entire process. They made it, though, and they parked in their place. A gravel lot used for parking, with no room for much else between vehicles. Worse yet, there was separate designated spaces for cars and trailers, so the car wound up a quarter of a mile away. It all sucked, to be frank, but it also didn’t matter. Everyone was too tired and too excited to care. Everyone except Scott, at least, who was already preparing a speech that would make whatever poor worker he would confront tomorrow morning about these inconveniences wish they were never born.
For the rest of them, though, it was bed time.
By this point in their journey, Jimmy had become used to waking up wrapped around Tango. It was cold at night and the man was practically a furnace, sue him. The sun had yet to rise, but there was a subtle thumping from the bathroom before Scott walked out, sans makeup or patience. His exhausted glare landed on Jimmy and warped into a raised eyebrow. Jimmy’s face turned pink, rolling over and burying it into Tango’s hair. No confrontation came of it, only a snort. Still, he waited until the door rattled close. Someone else in the trailer groaned, but no one got up.
After a long moment of debate, Jimmy decided to begrudgingly get up. Someone should make breakfast, and he was on a usefulness streak lately. When he sat up, though, Tango’s face scrunched and he was pulled in tighter. Jimmy muffled a snort, “I’m not your teddybear, you know.” he murmured to the sleeping man. A pillow seemed to suffice as a replacement for Tango. It did not do so for Jimmy himself, who was now surrounded by freezing morning air and clinging to his equally cold guitar. Right, sweater first, then teeth.
Ten minutes later Jimmy made it out of the trailer without waking anyone else. Scott was, predictably, nowhere to be seen. Whoever their neighbour was to be had yet to arrive, so Jimmy got to work pulling out the folding table.
The smell of coffee woke someone up. Jimmy was halfway through setting up chairs when something inside slammed against the wall. That, or someone went face first into the bathroom door. Pearl’s face poked out the door, hair still twirled up in a braid and a sheepish smile on her face. “How’s it going out here?” She half-whispered.
“Was about to mix up scrambled eggs.” He explained, motioning towards the table. Milk, cheese, and the whole carton of eggs patiently waited next to an unopened tray of breakfast sausages and bag of hash browns. “We got some miniwheats if you want something now, though.”
“I can wait.” She flopped down into one of the folding chairs, next to the one Jimmy’s guitar was leaned in. He threw her an orange juice at the very least. “So, where’d Scott run off to?”
Jimmy tilted his head, frowning. Not that he was an expert, but that was most certainly not Pearl’s usual tone. She was focused on getting the straw into her juice box when he looked to her, though. Was he still half asleep? “He’s-”
“Right here.”
Now that tone Jimmy was an expert in. Tired, cranky, and done with everything, but, like, while still covered in glitter and a spotlight. There was no way to tell if he was actually enraged or just wanted to put on a show. Either way, Jimmy counted down with perfect timing to Scott’s hand slamming against the table and letting out the world’s longest sigh. “The organizers at this venue are absolutely incompetent.” He whined, head lulling dramatically as though he’d been shot. A show it was.
“Oh really? How so?” Pearl indulged.
“Well, by not even being awake yet, for one.”
“It’s six AM, mate. Give ‘em at least until eight, there’s like five people here at this point.”
Scott pouted, glancing off into the distance as if he was really considering it until he huffed. “I’m awake now, though, and I want to give them a piece of my mind.”
“A piece, or the whole pie.” Jimmy teased, pointing the whisk at him before turning towards the eggs.
There was a gasp, “Jimmy! Of course not.” There was an odd quiet moment that followed. One that had Jimmy worried until he heard the hash brown bag shake. His head shot up in time to watch Scott place the frozen bag back into the cooler.
“Hey!”
“They’ll thaw.” Was his only explanation before he went to sit down.
Jimmy’s nose scrunched up in annoyance. “They’re just hash browns, it’s not a big deal.”
“I don’t want to have to buy a whole new bag like the salad.”
Another protest almost left his lips, but they clamped shut as he watched Scott run his hands over his face. Bags under his eyes and bruises all over his arms still. You said it yourself, it’s just hash browns, not a big deal. He went back to preparing the egg mixture and setting the table, waiting for more folks to awaken. If Scott needed to stick his nose in things to get over his mood it wasn’t his business.
Pearl had much stronger words for him from what Jimmy could make out from her tone, though too quiet to catch much of what it was. Given he heard something about punching Jimmy guessed it was about the bar still. He snorted, good luck with that. Scott had always been a messy drunk, like one of those toy cars. The tighter he wound during the day the worse it was when he let go. Something people had to learn on their own, he supposed.
Some time later Impulse and skizz tumbled out of the trailer, perkier than any of them, and Jimmy was finally allowed to pull the hash browns out of the cooler.
Jimmy was sitting with his chin up on his guitar when Tango stumbled out, last of the whole bunch and clinging to the pillow Jimmy had left him with like a lost child. He caught sight of Jimmy and beamed a toothy grin his way even as he shivered like a leaf in the cold morning air. Whatever was left of Jimmy’s earlier sour mood flew away. “Anything left for me?” He asked.
Skizz answered, putting sombre hands on the sleepy man’s shoulders. “You know what they say, Top. Early bird gets the worm. I’m afraid you’ll have to starve.”
“I made you a plate already.” Jimmy announced, pulling the pot lid off the plate sat behind him and holding it out. “You’ll have to make the toast, though, if you want any.”
A smug little noise left Tango along with a matching look towards Skizz, “Thank you, and that I do.” He then turned to the toaster and spun the dial all the way up to charcoal levels. That, Jimmy mused, was a practice he could never get behind. But to each their own, he supposed.
Then something whistled.
There was no thump.
And others paused.
“Okay, what is that?” Joel hissed as he approached the tires. “There a leak?”
“Never heard a leak sound like that.” Impulse chimed in with concern and joined him. Jimmy pulled his case closer.
Another whistle. Another no thump.
That one had Pearl, Scott, and Skizz all joining in the search for the defect. Lizzie worried the hem of her shirt. “Oh gosh we only just got to the second venue. I hope nothing’s broken.”
“You okay?” Tango asked, and it took Jimmy a moment to realize it was directed at him. He shrugged back and buried his face in his case.
“It’s from in here!” Skizz called out. The storage lock clicked open. “Kinda sounds like- WOAH, HEY!”
The whistle turned into a frantic flurry of chirps and rattles. Someone nearby gasped.
“What in the world-”
“Is that a bloody bird?”
“Oh my god!”
“Stop! Don’t open it!”
“Who would...”
“Put it down, put it down!”
Metal clanged against the gravel lot. Jimmy finally peeled himself apart enough to peek out at the scene. Most of the two bands were surrounding a painted cage, where a little yellow bird was flitting about in a panic. Instantly three sets of eyes turned onto him instead. Lizzie, Joel, and Scott.
“Jimmy.” Scott said with great strain.
Jimmy shrunk away, face twisted. “What?”
“I couldn’t help notice you don’t seem all that surprised.”
“Wait a minute, I’ve seen this before.” Skizz interrupted them both, kneeling down next to the cage. “There was something just like this in a house next to the park.”
Lizzie’s hands went to her hips. “James Solidarity, did you steal a bird? Don’t you lie to me!”
“No!” He lied.
Joel’s hands went to his hair, a humourless laugh escaping. “Dude, what the heck, you didn’t even drink! Why did you steal a bird?”
“I don’t know!” He curled his whole body around his guitar. “I was just- everything was really exciting and- look, I’m not the one who got stabbed with a broken bottle!”
“Uh, this ain’t about me right now, dude.” Fwhip muttered, though he nudged out of the circle to hide behind his bandmates.
While his own bandmates continued shouting GIST stood to their own side, caught between shock and amusement. At least Impulse and Gem seemed shocked. Tango was doubled over, cackling like a madman, while Skizz tried to hide his giggles and failed miserably. “Oh this is too good.” He said. Pearl had her own hand over her mouth, impossible to tell what his emotions were except from the wrinkles in the corner of her eyes. None seemed angry. It made Jimmy feel much better, if he could only block out the yelling from his peers.
He launched forward, spurred on by a new wave of confidence, “Look, I know it was stupid-”
“Stupid barely begins to cover it.” Scott drawled, rolling his eyes. “What are we supposed to do, now? We can’t just bring it back, we’re on a schedule. And what if someone saw you? Did you think this through at all?” His foot was going against the gravel, letting Jimmy know how close he was to the end of the fiddler’s nerves. For once it only put more coals on the fire. It was Scott’s fault in the first place for his own stress, he had no right to put it on Jimmy like he was the only one who did something stupid in the last few days.
No, it was entirely unfair. “Everyone’s made a fool of themselves, why are you singling me out?”
Scott gaped. Wrong answer. “Because there is currently a fucking bird in our trailer right now! That you stole and that I’m going to have to clean up!” He snapped, throwing his hands at the cage and then at Jimmy. “Why are you always like this!”
Everyone quieted. GIST’s giggles died while Empire’s various reactions all settled into concern. The indignation had fizzled out from Jimmy’s heart as well, leaving him stubbornly silent as his face heated. Scott’s chest heaved, glaring Jimmy down and oh, if looks could kill he’d be nothing but minced meat ground deep into the mud. It’s about what he felt like in that moment.
Fwhip was the first to dare break the silence, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder that was promptly thrown off. “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll just take the car and bring the bird back.”
“No, you won’t.” Scott hissed. He tore a lighter out of his pocket. “You need to be here to sell our CDs and manage contacts while we’re performing, and you can’t do that if you’re busy a day’s drive away searching for the owner on your own, because Skizz and Jimmy are not going back with you.” As he rambled his grip shook and the cigarette he fumbled with snapped in half. It was thrown to the ground, “Fuck’s sakes...”
“Hey, buddy, calm down.” Tango interjected. He was silenced with a single side eye, but Pearl took his place.
“Look, this is entirely fixable. If Fwhip can’t go then I will, and if not we’ll find another solution. It’s not the end of the world.”
If Scott heard her he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he stomped off towards a neon green trailer down the way, leaving the group caught in the awkward atmosphere. When some of the eyes turned to Jimmy he took up examining the gravel under his own feet.
“Well, that... was a lot.” Impulse chuckled.
Tango snorted. “A lot of bullshit.”
“Tango!”
“What? It’s true!”
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over him.” So started Fwhip’s apologizing, rambling on explanations to avoid their bands’ collective embarrassment. Jimmy could still feel his blood simultaneously boiling and frozen in his veins and did not bother to contribute.
A delicate hand landed on his arm, Lizzie’s eyes wide and glossy. “Are you okay, Jim?”
He shook off the touch and went to grab the cage, and bolted for the door. The moment it shuttered behind him muffled conversation picked up outside, audibly tense. Instead, he put the bird down on the counter, crawled into the safety of bed, and pulled his case into his lap. The leather was cold against his forehead, cooling his quick breaths before they buffeted back against his throat.
This was inevitable. They all knew it, it wasn’t like five whole adults were completely oblivious to the winding key that had been tightening since the start of this trip. Since the divorce, really. Or maybe before. Probably before. It still hurt.
Free from the dark the bird began to chatter. What seemed so soothing days ago grated against the last shreds of Jimmy’s composure. “Shut up.” He tried to snap but it came out more like begging. Of course, he canary had no idea. The chirps continued on. He thought he might be able to feel them scraping against his brain. It was probably thirsty and hungry, the kinder part of him reminded. He didn’t want to be kind right now, though. It was all he could do not to find something to throw at the cage.
The door shook. Jimmy didn’t look up, but he recognized the sound of heavy steel-toe boots by now. There was the smallest sound of a breath catching, but no words followed. Instead the bird cage rattled, agitating both the canary and Jimmy. “Here, find some food for it or something.” The bassist whispered to someone before the canary’s cries became distant. Jimmy knew from the way the trailer tipped that Tango had not left with it, but nor had he entered further than needed to close the door. He was probably waiting for some sign from Jimmy, whether to go away or not. Not a question Jimmy was sure he had an answer to quite yet.
“You want breakfast?” Tango asked instead.
Jimmy wanted to say no, but his stomach protest. He shrugged. The trailer shook and a box thunked against the counter. At first he assumed Tango was pouring cereal until he heard the faucet and something scraping. That was apparently enough to get Jimmy to peek. Butter hit the frying pan, and he watched half-baffled, half-fascinated, as Tango poured batter into it soon after.
Cooking took only a few minutes. Really, with the instant mix it was amazing how quickly it could go. Inevitably, the fire alarm went off, startling both of them. Tango grumbled and hissed while waving a towel around. It didn’t take long, but just long enough for Jimmy to loosen the tight ball he’d pulled himself into. Giant boots still on, Tango sat down on the bed next to Jimmy and handed him the pancakes past his guitar.
They sat in silence through the first half, Jimmy slowly shovelling bites that were a bit too big into his mouth while Tango looked at everything but him. Eventually, though, the guitarist remembered his manners. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Tango assured, even though it certainly was.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He said instead.
It got a shrug and a shift to a more comfortable position on the bed, accepting the silent invitation. “Every bands’ been there. Can’t tell you how many times me and Skizz have yelled at each other.”
“But not like that.” Guessed Jimmy, which from the look on Tango’s face he was right. He sighed and set his plate aside. “He’s never yelled at me before.”
“Really?” There was a skeptical eyebrow raised.
“Yes.” Jimmy shut down immediately, though his full reply took another moment to gather his thoughts. “Silent treatment, passive aggressive comments, but we’ve never yelling. Not seriously. Never had a fight.”
“Nothing at all?”
He paused. In the grand scheme of things, Tango was still a stranger. All of GIST except Gem were, really. Having someone new to talk to was great, and Jimmy wasn’t clever enough to deny his growing fondness for Tango, but he was still mostly a stranger. One who didn’t need dragging into their band’s silly interpersonal drama. Maybe, though, that Pandora ’s Box was already ripped wide open, given the incident that just occurred. If they were going to be stuck with it for the next month they at least deserved to know a bit more.
Or maybe Jimmy was just looking for an excuse to let it all out on some poor guy who was a bit too nice to him. His tongue made the choice for him, beginning to spill out the story before he thought anymore about it. “You know there wasn’t a fight even at the end?”
Tango perked up, attention fully turning on him now with a sombre expression.
“I just- there never was. I remember thinking now and then about what getting a divorce might take. Scott’s the one who organized all the marriage stuff. There’s probably something poetic in there or something.” He let out a humourless laugh. “But, one day I just sort of... did it. Nothing happened. Normal day. I just called up and asked after work, and then I had the paperwork in my hands.”
He could picture the scene quite clearly, not from that specific day but from how many times he walked through that side door. The teal paint that was beginning to chip, the colourful fish themed wind chime, the tall trashcan he always caught his jacket on no matter how many times he passed it. “Scott was sitting at the table writing a song or something. I put them down beside him and asked if he could sign them. Think he already knew, not like I do much paperwork stuff. He didn’t say anything, though. Just read it like I was handing him a flyer or anything else. I don’t know if he really was fine with all it said, it was pretty heavy in his favour since I was the one with family nearby and the house and car were his to start. But he signed it. Four minutes of reading and he just signs it and hands it back.”
“After that was like the most normal conversation in the world, too. Asked when I wanted to move out, when he should call Joel and Lizzie to come over, if I had boxes yet.” And Jimmy had replied much the same back. Of course, he knew what was going on in his own head at the time. A whole lot of nothing and everything all at once that made the rest of the day pass in a blur until he was in the spare room at Lizzie’s. It took a day before he finally had his first breakdown over it, and of course it had to be at the dinner table in front of both his sister and brother-in-law. “We didn’t see each other for two weeks, and then we were back in his studio, practising for a gig that was coming up. It was like none of it ever happened. Talked about it one more time, wrote a song about it as you do, just to get it out of our system. Peachy after that.”
“That’s a lot to just sweep under the rug.” Tango finally interjected, brow pressed into a stressed line. Saying it out loud, Jimmy understood. The whole thing was ridiculous.
He leaned back, letting his guitar fall off beside him. “But we never yelled at each other.”
A particular loose thread in the blanket had captured Tango’s attention at some point, long enough for his finger to have gotten under the weave and pulled it further. He’d turned his full awareness onto it now, unlooping his finger and trying to smooth it out despite how long gone it was. Jimmy began to think maybe Tango wasn’t the person he should be talking to about this, that it should be Lizzie, or maybe some random person in a bar. Someone who wasn’t straddling the line, unquestionably on Jimmy’s side of things.
He had the sudden urge to assure that Scott was a great guy, it was both their fault things fell apart, that he was normally kind and funny. Anything that might leave Tango with a better impression than yelling and binning a seven year relationship and three year marriage without a fuss. It didn’t make it out of his head though, past the fog of annoyance that stubbornly clung to him. Deep down he knew he wanted Tango to join him in being spiteful and angry, some sort of external assurance it was okay. Either side being validated would make him just feel like crap.
Yeah, he definitely shouldn’t have chosen Tango to talk to. He was going to blame the pancakes, who wouldn’t blab after that?
It took him a moment to register Tango was speaking again, after an eternity of silence. “You wrote a song about it?”
Jimmy shrugged, patted his case. “Quick thing in like twenty minutes. Fixed it up here and there, but it’s still pretty awful. Bunch of self-indulgent metaphors and stuff.” Scott had joked, once, that it was an example of why he and Lizzie were the lyricists and Jimmy just played guitar.
“Do you play it?”
“Just with each other.” In fact, he could count on his hands the number of times they’d played it. “Whenever things get a bit tense. Don’t think either of us brought our copy along.”
“Does it help?”
At that Jimmy had to pause. Did it? Sometimes. It helped them get back into the groove of working together in the band, reminded Jimmy they weren’t just husbands, but friends and bandmates. It probably wasn’t what they needed specifically, but it did something. So, he replied, “Yeah.”
“That’s good.” Tango said genuinely. “Maybe you guys should do that then? I don’t know, sorry, I’m not very good at this sorta thing.”
He laughed. “No, you aren’t. I thought you were going somewhere with that.”
“Listen, I’m trying!” Tango threw his hands up. “I mean if I were you I woulda knocked the guys’ teeth out, got the daylights knocked outta me back, and never showed my face again. I might still do that anyways, who knows.”
“Aw, don’t do that, I’d miss you.” Jimmy bumped his shoulder into the others, trying hard not to keep giggling.
A smirk stretched across Tango’s face, eyebrows jumping up to where Jimmy worried about the piercings in them pulling at the skin. “Oh is that the part wrong with that? Maybe you aren’t as forgiving a guy as you seem.”
“Nope, I’m an angel.”
“I’d believe it.” Tango got up. “Point is, I talk a lot and don’t say much. You two seem to have a lot to say, though, that you don’t like talking about. Can’t be to good for your noggins. Or your music.”
Jimmy sighed, and accepted the hand held out towards him that pulled him up out of bed. “No, probably not. I wouldn’t know where to start, though.”
“That one is definitely outta my pay grade. You’ll have to upgrade to Skizz or something. I’m just bozo over here.”
As he said it he reached up and squeezed his own nose, making a strange noise that took Jimmy far too long to realize was supposed to be honking. He barked, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Oh my gosh, what was that?”
“Hey! Don’t laugh at my joke!”
Jimmy burst, doubling over.
The door opened, interrupting their laughter. Joel poked his head in, looking wary only for a moment before he got a good look at Jimmy and his shoulders visibly dropped. “You guys okay in here?” He asked anyways.
“Think so?” Tango replied, gaze darting back to Jimmy, who nodded.
“That’s good. Couple of us were going to go get a look at the stages while Pearl talked to the organizers. You feeling up to coming along, Jim?”
He suddenly became painfully aware of how cramped and stuffy the trailer was, now that everything seemed lighter. “Yeah, okay.”
They were filing out when, “Oh, hey, Jimmy?”
Jimmy turned, watching as Tango’s hand hooked around the strap of Jimmy’s guitar case and lifted it up off the bed, holding it out towards him in question. A hand flew to Jimmy’s shoulder, and he blinked. “Thanks.” He muttered, taking the guitar and throwing it back into its usual place. It never felt so light.
Tango grinned, and slapped him on the back. “Alright, let’s go!”
#solidaritek#team rancher#jimmy solidarity#tangotek#scott smajor#geminitay#mcyt#trafficshipping#traffic series#fanfic#fanfiction#modern au#hurt/comfort#sharing a slice of cake
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Just remembered how one of my dedicated to people last roadtrip literally was like “oh actually I don’t think you can stay here tonight I have work early tomorrow :(“ after driving like seven and a half hours to him (and he texted me this when I was an hour away from his house and we had literally talked about my plans to stay there all day) like hello red flag red flag red flag
#the way he made me drive ten hours in one day when it was like less than a week after my fathers funeral like bro hello#he really was like idk you should be able to just drive three hours to your next person idk ur gonna figure it out#insane insane insane#not to be that guy but literally to be that guy I am so glad I am making my own plans to sleep in random places on the road and not staying#at anyone’s house besides Millie and direct family#it was literally snowing in the mountains of West Virginia he was like yeah just drive three extra hours at night thru the mountains while#it snows#GRAH MAKES ME SO UPSET STILL#AM I THAT SHITTY OF A PERSON THAT HE DIDNT REALIZE THAT WAS A SHITTY THING TO DO#me willing to wake up at four in the morning to get out of his hair before work just for a bed to sleep in and not drive#I literally stopped and napped in his bed while the he smoked weed with our West Virginia friends before driving the extra three hours#he should’ve just let me crash if he was willing to have me and three other ppl over that night#god. angry. okay. gonna go shower and try to stop thinking about dedicated to people. I think I’ve also decided I’m not even gonna try to#talk to my Chattanooga almost friend at least not on the way up maybe on the way back I’ll shoot him a text#it only cuts like half an hour off of my trip but like whatever I’ll take that time over an awkward hang out with someone I haven’t talked#to in six months#ugh having friends is hard I hate it#Millie I love you. I know you don’t really tumblr often and don’t even follow this blog but Millie forever#gives me as much space as I need but then we randomly call each other and talk for hours and then go mute for a week again#send each other random pictures or texts or videos and then call in another week or two#and then we meet up in person and just absolutely love the vibes and then go back to being low key distant#I love it she is so awesome Millie ily forever and ever dude ur so good and so cool I am so excited to visit again even tho it’s only been#a couple months#okay I’m back to ranting I’m still thinking about it. we literally fucked and then he (dedicated to…) rolled over and tweeted abojt thinking#about someone else during sex LIKE I WAS LAYING NEXT TO HIM#AND HE TWEETED THAT. LIKE WHAT THE FUCK. Not to mention all the just so so clearly ignoring me and talking to dudes on grindr while I was#sitting in his living room trying to hang out with him#still mad but I don’t want to be mad but I am still so mad he treated me like shit and I just was like yeah this is how having friends works#I was so dumb but I wanted attention and when he gave me attention it was incredible but so fucking rare but I actually cared about him and#he just didn’t care at all about hurting me while I was literally going thru the worst shit in my personal life like god I was so dumb
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i'm so tired of fucking dealing with people today. i'm the only one awake in my house rn and somehow i'm still dealing with people
#not sure why my dad. a grown ass man. is unable to put shit away properly. i had to tupperware a random fucking container of beans in the#fridge#and when i open the garbage i discover he's fucking tossed a large amount (possibly all the rest. i didn't want to check cuz i'm already#upset) of my special meal that i have as very reliable and something i enjoy a lot that got made literally yesterday night#just thrown away for no discernible reason except that he didn't feel like putting it away#and my partner just won't tell me when the fuck they're free and hey let's just change plans last minute also my mom can't drive me EVER an#i won't bring this up til last minute meanwhile I'M the one going 'heyyyy mom i'm really sorry but could you pick up M on your way home fro#work even though it's way out of the way i'm sorry i didn't know until literally right now that their mom isn't even home'#and we see each other weekly if we're LUCKY but when i try and fucking arrange anything they don't know their plans at ALL somehow#and they never reach out when they do! but they'll text me 'i miss you :(( it's so unfair we never see each other we should just be witches#in a little cabin in the woods' like NO. WE SHOULD FUCKING COMMUNICATE ABOUT WHEN WE CAN ACTUALLY SPEND TIME TOGETHER#maybe spend less time talking about my ass with your bestie who you see ten times more than me and more time idk asking your mom when she#has plans???!?#kiwifae says shit#god sorry i'm fucking done tonight#bad sleep + shitty day + humoring my driving teacher for two hours + hungry practically all day + broken headphones#are not. a great combo#and it's only wednesday somehow. christ.
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you shook me all night long
sex on fire chapter one
requested by @whore-4-pedro (hope u enjoy lovely)
lived all my succession fantasies out writing this one icl. enjoy 🖤 check out my masterlist for more joel fun ‼️
pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader
summary: as joel miller's assistant, you're expected to meet all his needs. some are a little more personal than others
warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) creepy dude at the beginning, lotta teasing and touching, mentions of female masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, semi-public sex, daddy kink, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), alcohol and drug use, cursing, low-key inappropriate work relationship (if bad then why sexy?)
word count: 7.8k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist
You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more.
You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin.
“I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?”
“Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”
It’s Friday night.
You only got home from work an hour and a half ago. Tired, hungry, sore eyes from staring at a screen all night, sore back from sitting hunched over all day. Dumped your bags at the door, ripped your clothes off by your bed, dove straight into the shower. You’d picked an outfit, curled your hair in record time, and even done your makeup before Deb called to say she was out front.
It was a ten-minute drive from your place to the hotel – it’s only a couple blocks from work. The cab driver made light conversation, talked about his daughter and her new puppy, and you both nodded and uhuhed in all the breaks in his sentences. Deb made some comment about it being easier if you’d just stayed at the office until the party, and you’d hummed in agreement, looking out the window at the regal hotel.
Truth be told, you’d rather be doing anything other than attending a work function. You’ve had a long week. A lot of meetings, paperwork, emails to be answered, and most of all, running around after your boss. It’s not all fun and games being Joel Miller’s assistant, regardless of the pay, or the view from your desk over to his.
Your head’s elsewhere when you waltz through the revolving door, heels clicking along the marble floor. The elevator – gold, by the way – slides open and you both step inside, hitting the highest button before you’re swept up twenty floors to the penthouse.
“Did you send those documents over to us yet?” Deb asks.
“Nope,” you reply, slipping out when the elevator dings. “Had to sit in on a meeting with Joel and take the fucking minutes, spent all night writing them up.”
“He won’t be pissed at you?”
“If he hadn’t insisted I was in there with him, you’d have your reports, wouldn’t you?”
She shrugs, agreeing.
“Anyway,” you continue, “I can take angry Joel. He doesn’t scare me.”
Deb chuckles as you shoulder the doors to the penthouse open.
It’s a moody dull, lit only by the lights lining the bar and small lamps decorating mahogany tables, sat next to deep green velvet couches. There are clusters of people everywhere you look; stood near shelves filled with leather-bound books, examining the view from the floor to ceiling windows, sprawled out over luxurious chairs with champagne flutes in their hands. There’s a tree in the middle of the room, branches decorated in blinking string lights reaching to a glass dome in the ceiling.
It's, like, sickeningly pretentious. You know it. Hell, you all know it. Still, in your little black dress, you strut over and take a champagne of your own, sipping on the fizzing drink with one elbow resting on the wooden bar.
“There’s my girl,” his voice coos over your shoulder. “Been watchin’ for you all night, took your time.”
You lean back, bored expression on your face.
Joel’s broad chest pulls on the white shirt he’s wearing, same one you just saw him in little over three hours ago, only without a tie; the top couple of buttons are undone to reveal his chest hair peeking through. You try not to let your eyes linger on him too long.
“You look fuckin’ ecstatic to be here.”
He leans against the bar next to you, arms crossed. When you don’t reply, he nudges you. Your champagne jolts in its glass.
“I always look like this. I’m always ecstatic to be everywhere.”
He smiles. “Why aren’t you mingling?”
“Don’t wanna.”
“’s a work event. That’s the whole point.”
“Then why are you over here talkin’ to me?”
His eyes flash across your lips, and you swear they drop for a nanosecond to your chest.
“Come on,” he says, taking your wrist in his huge hand, “some people you oughta meet.”
Joel ignores your sigh and leads you over onto a plush rug, sidling between knees to sit you down on the soft couch between himself and some bald dude in a jet blue suit, whose shirt is also undone, though much further than Joel’s. He has a chest like a hairless cat.
Cue Ball snakes an arm over the back of the couch; his fingers dance across your back. You shimmy a little closer to Joel and he notices instantly, jaw turning slowly to glance over. When he sees your knees angled toward him, seeking protection, he leans back and wraps his left arm around your shoulders, his right coming down to cup your knee.
“This,” he shakes your leg, left arm pulling you tighter against him, “is my wonderful assistant. My right-hand lady. Couldn’t do anything without her, could I?”
“Could wipe your own ass, that’s about it,” you mumble into your glass, and a roar of laughter sounds from your audience.
Joel, still leaning back, pulls his arm from you but keeps his shoulder firmly behind yours, making sure whatever the creep on your left tries, he’ll feel first. Your elbow rests in the crook of his, and you keep it there, quietly enjoying the intimacy of his body caging yours.
His left hand is settled on your thigh. You realize it after a swig of champagne, and start counting in your head how many seconds his fingers stay gripped on your skin.
He talks with his hands – always has. Walks around his office, ranting and raving sometimes, arms swinging around in the air while you take notes, or file your nails, or just watch until he’s done. For the next half hour, though, he only talks with his right hand. Only sips his beer with his right hand. Only scratches his beard, or pulls his phone from his pocket, or reaches up and passes you a second drink, and then a third, with his right hand.
You stay rigid, legs unmoving, eyes barely leaving his knuckles, locked tight around your thigh. There’s heat from his touch siphoning from his palm down through your skin, rippling like waves all through your body and pooling somewhere south of your belly button. No matter how hard you try, you can’t shake it. Can’t stop thinking about it. You barely notice when Cue Ball’s hand ghosts across your back a second time.
But Joel notices, straight away. He flashes the guy a look, and you swear he’s baring his teeth. Eyes locked on the blue suit like it’s a target, never blinking. He doesn’t say anything when his prey excuses himself to the bathroom, and you don’t turn to watch him go, but you do notice three other sharp-suited pricks stand and wander off in that direction after him.
Probably not a coincidence.
Joel still has a hold on your leg. Your flute is empty, and you lean forward to place it on the wooden table at your knees, beginning to stand.
His grip loosens, but he looks up at you as you tower over him.
“Cocktail,” you tell him with a sweet smile, and he nods, letting you go.
You know he’s watching you as you slink away. Is it the alcohol in your system, or something darker, that makes you sway your hips a little more for his benefit?
Deb’s over at the bar with Martha, another of Joel’s assistants. She’s around his age, worked for him much longer than you have, but when he hired you, you took on most of the groundwork. Following Joel’s orders– sorry, requests, organizing meetings, filing paperwork for him. Martha sits at a desk outside Joel’s office, answers the phone and directs anyone who happens to wander up to the top floor of the building.
Did I say directs? I meant strikes coldblooded fear within them and sends them back running the way they came, with just one look and a nod in the opposite direction.
Unless they’re there for a meeting with Joel, that is. And if they are, that’s where you come in. Good morning, Mr. Salazar, Mr. Miller will be right with you. This way, he’s just finishing up a call.
Martha’s a tough nut. But she likes you enough, so she smiles warmly as you approach.
“I’m hearing all about your note-taking this afternoon,” she hums when you hop up onto a barstool, catching the bartender’s eye. He trots over.
You sigh to Martha, eyes wide. “I didn’t leave until, like, eight. What the fuck’s that about? Can I just get a cosmopolitan, please?” you ask, and the bartender nods. He looks about fifteen.
Martha shakes her head, laughing. “He did it to me when I was first startin’ out, too. Told him to stick his minutes where the sun don’t shine.”
“I’ve been here three years,” you mutter, and Deb snorts.
“You’d think Joel would’ve changed his ways in the, what, seven decades since you started, Martha?”
It earns her a slap across the shoulder. You stifle your laugh behind your glass, thanking the teenager who served you it with a nod.
“Twenty years next March, actually,” Martha says.
“That so? D’you think he’ll get you anything for it?”
“If I’m lucky,” she sighs, eyes travelling up to the ceiling in thought, “a lunch break where he doesn’t bother me once.”
“Knowing Joel, that means a lunch break where he bothers you twice.”
You smile, glancing past the pretentious tree to where Joel is, and notice he’s already staring right back. A swarm of butterflies flutter around your stomach, dancing over the heat his handprint left within you. They only grow more violent when he stands and walks over, broad shoulders swaying, eyes flitting up and down your body.
You lean back, sitting up straight, eyeing him right back as he joins the three of you.
“Speak of the devil,” Martha says, and Joel chuckles in response, but his eyes never leave you.
“We were just talkin’ about Martha’s twenty years,” says Deb, winking.
He finally turns to answer her. “Oh, yeah? When’s that, then, old-timer?”
“Dirtball!” Martha yells, and Joel smirks. It goes straight to your core.
“How many Manhattans tonight, then, Deb?”
Deb holds her glass up. “I am on my second, and I will not be exceeding three. We don’t need a repeat of Christmas.”
“Aw,” Joel complains, tutting, “I liked hammered Deb.”
“That’s ‘cause you didn’t have to deal with hungover Deb,” you mutter, and she shoots you a look.
Joel smiles at you, takes a step closer as Deb and Martha begin comparing past hangovers. He leans forward, waves the fifteen-year-old down, and asks for a beer. As he leans back, you notice the weight of his wrist on your right hip. Nicely done.
“You know there are four guys in the bathroom doing coke?”
“I hope to God that’s all they’re doin’. I don’t need another orgyhappenin’ at one of these things.”
You giggle like a fucking schoolgirl. He looks pleased with himself, and you instantly regret it. You try to play it off by lifting your glass back to your lips.
Joel’s studying you, though, mapping every inch of your face. Watching your mouth as it curves around the shape of the glass, your tongue licking your lips after your sip. He tracks the glass as you set it back down on the bar, then his eyes trail along your arm to your dress, and your stomach leaps.
He looks so fucking good, it sends another wave of energy through your body. Dark hair lined with grey, beard much the same. Strong jaw, lips wetting with every sip of beer he takes, dark eyes flitting across yours, holding your stare long enough to melt you a little, and then dipping just before you can read the thoughts behind them.
His skin a little tanned, his neck thick with muscle. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, you’re so close. Close enough that you could lean up, part your lips and sink your teeth under his ear, suck a mark there, taste him on your tongue.
Your head cocks after a few minutes silence, just the two of you enjoying the fucking look of each other. You lean a little against his arm, steady around your back.
“I hate work parties,” you sigh.
Joel scoffs. “Free alcohol, nice penthouse. Cocaine, if you want it. What’s not to like?”
You narrow your eyes and he laughs for real.
“I hate ‘em, too, baby. Gotta keep up appearances, though, don’t we?”
Baby. This fucker.
“Do we?” you squeak, after a few seconds dazed.
He shrugs. “’s what I hear.”
He’s so close you can smell the beer on his tongue. It makes your heart quicken, your body hum with energy. That could just be the alcohol in your system, though, right?
Who are you kidding? It’s fucking Joel doing it to you.
You have no idea how long he was here before you arrived. He left the office around six, and you presumed he’d come straight here to check everything was in order before guests started arriving. How many beers has he had? Is he just drunk, feeling up on you with liquid courage?
You’re mulling over the thought when a pair of hands clamp down on Joel’s shoulders and his hold on your waist loosens. He mumbles an apology as he’s dragged away by a couple of loose-collared, baggy-suit drunks. You shake your head in response, trying to be cool – It’s all good, man. I’m good. I’m not totally fawning over you right now, no way.
Deb swings her barstool around when she notices you’re on your own, inviting you back into their conversation. Thirty seconds into talking about childhood pets, you’re wishing Joel was back around you, igniting your skin and peaking your adrenaline. Max the Pomeranian is a nice picture; Joel’s nicer.
Martha says something with a hand motion, and Deb nods, elbow knocking into yours.
“What?”
She nods toward the balcony. “We’re headin’ out for a smoke, you comin’?”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll save your seats.”
They nod and wander off between a crowd, swallowed up by bodies in the direction of the open sliding doors, the blinking lights of the skyline ahead.
You’re twirling the base of your empty glass around on its napkin when you feel that same heat behind you again, and a hand rests on the small of your back.
“Coat,” Joel mutters, pulling his suit jacket on.
“Huh?”
“Get your coat. Everyone’s headin’ across the street.”
“Why is everyone heading across the street?”
He shrugs. “Afterparty, I guess.”
“It’s a work function. It’s like–” you check your phone, “–oh, fuck, it’s almost midnight.” You screw your face up, watching as the small crowd slowly melts away through the suite doors.
“I know. I throw a good party, right?”
“So good, people are leaving it.”
He tuts. “Coat. Now.”
“I didn’t bring one.”
“You didn’t bring a coat?”
“You told me the party was here. I didn’t think we’d be walking all over town.”
“’s not all over town, baby,” Joel murmurs with a sigh. “Here.”
He peels the jacket off his shoulders and you hold a hand out to stop him.
“Joel, it’s fine, it’s–”
“Quit moanin’,” he groans as he throws it over your shoulders. He scoops your hair and pulls it softly out from under the collar. “Alright? C’mon.”
He takes your hand and leads you past some stragglers down the hall toward the elevator, where a group are waiting for the doors to open.
“Tight squeeze, Miller,” some dude chuckles as you follow Joel in, his hand still gripping yours.
He turns, backing into the corner, pulling you with him until your back is flush against his chest.
His hands drop to your hips. You swallow back a scream.
One of the accountants is stood in front of your – Harriet? Helen? Something beginning with H – anyway, she keeps knocking back into you, pushed by the sway of the packed elevator. It means you knock a little into Joel, and feel his chin on the crown of your head.
You turn ever so slightly to mumble an apology to him, but when you feel his breath on the shell of your ear, your words die in your throat.
“Hazel?” – That’s her fucking name – Joel reaches around you to tap her shoulder, and her bobbed haircut swings when she turns. “Did you get those balance sheets yet?”
“Not yet, Joel,” she tells him, and your face prickles with heat.
“No? That’s weird.” Joel’s grip tightens on your hips, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. In a low whisper, only to you, he says, “Thought I asked to have ‘em sent over by this afternoon.”
You muster up the courage to reply with a deep breath. From the corner of your mouth, through gritted teeth, you tell him, “That was before you forced me to sit in on a buyers’ meeting.”
You feel his chest rumble between your shoulder blades as he laughs. The elevator shudders to a stop and the doors slide open; the crowd spills out.
You step forward, ahead of Joel, and make it maybe three steps before he’s back on you, an arm draped over your shoulders. You reach up and take his hand, leaning against his strong torso to let him guide you toward the exit.
No idea what makes you do it. Maybe you’re drunk. Maybe not only on alcohol.
You’re the last of the pack, stumbling over air across the gleaming floor toward the revolving door, which Joel pushes open for you. The cool night breeze hits you as you slip out.
The crowd ahead are rushing across the street, yelling and whooping as they go. It’s juvenile, a little cringe. A bunch of rich corporates skipping across the street toward cheap alcohol and peanuts. You’d care more about the way it looks if you were sober.
Joel’s hand finds yours again and he’s leading you down the steps, cutting between parked cars toward the dive bar. You link your other arm around his elbow and he glances down, noting it. You wish the walk was longer.
A flickering fluorescent light drowns you both in a red glow, and Joel pushes the doors open. The place is flooded with half of your party, drowning booths, leaning against the bar, dancing in any open floorspace.
The floor is sticky, the bar dim. Joel takes you over to the same crowd he introduced you to earlier, and makes space for you to sit. You slide along the booth to the wall and he follows, squeezing up to you to let two more in after him.
“Beers?” a guy with a loose tie asks, to a chorus of yeses and a show of thumbs up. Mitch? Mark?
You tug Joel’s jacket from your shoulders – the movement nudges him and he turns to lift it from your back and tuck it behind you, brushing the hair off your shoulders. You smile in thanks, and his hand falls back onto your leg.
It takes you a few minutes to notice it this time. The gentle squeeze of his fingers around your thigh, the way it slowly bumps up each time he adjusts in his seat or shifts to allow space for someone else to join the booth.
His hand moves slowly, dangerously close to pulling your skirt up with it. Mitch or Mark returns with your beers and you take a massive swig, nerves and anticipation and fucking need for Joel to keep doing what he’s doing, taking over.
Under lights blurred by the alcohol in your system, the table buzzes with energy and chatter and laughter. There are posters and stickers all over the walls, graffiti of names and initials, numbers and dates scored into the walls. Joel traces them with his finger and you laugh at some of the messages.
“Lydia and Jack,” you mumble, “12-24-19. Wonder what happened then.”
“Bathroom sex,” Joel replies, eyes scanning the wall.
You scoff, beer to your lips. “On Christmas Eve?”
He nods, like it’s obvious. “Magical time ‘n all.”
You look past him with a smile to the opposite side of the bar where, through silhouetted bodies, you notice a jukebox.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your eyes widen, your mouth agape.
Joel follows your eyeline and then twists back around. “C’mon,” he says, taking your hand and motioning for the others to let you by. He drags you over to the machine, lighting your faces up in yellow light, and your drunk eyes scan the screen.
“Nope." You swipe Joel’s hand away right before he can pick some Pet Shop Boys song.
“Really?”
“Good, but not the vibe,” you tell him, and budge him out of the way with your hip. He sways off, laughing, and leans a palm against the jukebox, his chest on your back for the second time tonight. As your tired eyes scan the songs, Joel’s chin rests on your shoulder.
He’s judging every fucking song you linger on. “Queen? Little before your time.”
“Dick.”
“Fleetwood Mac. Definitely before your time.”
“The entire fucking jukebox is before my time, dude. Shut up. These are good songs.”
You settle on a track and turn to face him. He has you almost fucking pressed against the box.
“Change, please.”
“Oh, I’m payin’, am I?”
“Mhm. Your work party, your wallet.”
He sighs and pushes a fist into his pocket for coins, tossing a quarter into your outstretched palm. You turn back and select your song, put the money in, and the old machine barks out the intro.
Joel sighs, shaking his head. “AC/DC? That’s your thing?”
“It’s not yours?” You’re taking him by the hand between bodies, swaying as you go.
He’s laughing, following you until you’re in the middle of the cramped bar, chest to chest, moving together. His hands find your waist again and this time you don’t even flinch; your fingers trail up his shirt, across his chest, settle on his collar.
You fucking swear he’s leaning in, each beat of the song drawing his jaw closer to yours. If you weren’t in a room full of co-workers, you’d probably let him kiss you.
I mean, what you’re doing right now is hardly innocent anyway. His hands are splayed on your lower back, your hips flat against his, rubbing, dancing. Your head rolls back and your lips are under his chin, smiling up at him and singing along. Joel sings the words straight back, your breath meeting and mingling in the tiny gap between your lips.
As the song ends, it fades into another. And another, and another. It’s two in the morning before your group of partiers begin to call taxis. You stumble out of the sweaty bar with an arm linked through Deb’s, still singing along to Whitney as you catch your breath.
She staggers off to a quieter part of the street to call a cab, and you hang around under the red light waiting for her. Joel’s stood at the curb; the back door of his sleek black Rolls-Royce open.
“Where you goin’?” he asks.
“Deb’s callin’ a cab,” you reply, arms folded, shoulders hunched.
Joel shakes his head. “Get in.”
“It’s cool, I’m jumping in with those guys. Thanks, though–”
“Baby,” Joel holds a hand out, “get in.”
Your eyes trace from his palm all the way up his sleeve, to his tired, handsome face. You’re sobering up. He looks clearer. Maybe that’s just the streetlights.
“Get you home in five minutes. C’mon.”
You swivel around to look for Martha and Deb, but they’re nowhere to be seen. The cab will come, they’ll assume you’re staying a while, and get in. No big deal, right?
Well. Stepping into your boss’s car after a night of highly inappropriate touching is kind of a big fucking deal.
That’s why you do it. Waddle over to him, take his hand, let him guide you to the car. You swing a leg in and slip across the seats, admiring the ceiling dotted with hundreds of tiny white lights, like you’re staring straight up at the night sky.
They blur through your drunken gaze, which doesn’t pull from them until you feel the weight of Joel on your right and hear the door slam shut.
“Mind puttin’ the partition up, Rand?” Joel’s voice says, though you mostly hear the vibrations through his chest, where your head is lying. His arm slips around your back, pulling you closer into him as the two of you are granted privacy by the quiet whir of the screen closing.
“Good night?” Joel asks, lips on your hair.
You nod. “You?”
“Mhm.”
His fingers are drawing shapes on your left hip. His right hand intertwines with yours. Your left hand starts to wander.
You liked his hand on you. Liked feeling his grip there. Wanted him to keep moving it up, wanted to see how far he’d take it. So, you put your own hand on the inside of his thigh, just like he did. Starting at the knee, and slowly sliding north. Joel’s breath tightens, his chest lifts, his jaw ticks.
The movement knocks you sober for a couple seconds. You realize what you’re doing. You draw your hand back.
“Sorry,” you mutter.
He unlinks your hands and places a steady palm over your withdrawn fist.
“’s okay, baby. You can do that if you want to.”
The drawl of his voice makes your eyes roll back, your heart leap. Your fucking legs clench.
You let him replace your hand where it was, and his legs widen a little. His crotch more available. You’re watching what you’re doing like you’re not even in your own body; watching it how Joel must be, thinking Higher, higher, keep going, keep doing that.
You lift your heavy head, resting it on his shoulder, and look up into his brown eyes. He’s framed by the starlit ceiling of the car. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, face lined with his expression.
“You okay?” he asks.
You nod lazily. “Tired.”
Just then his hand takes yours again and shifts it softly, stopping what was probably about to happen but still holding onto you, still wanting your fingers locked in his. Not halting the train, just switching tracks.
It’s not a long journey, certainly not as long as you’d like, until you’re parked on your street. Rand lowers the partition to call back, and Joel thanks him.
“You okay gettin’ to your apartment?”
“Yup,” you groan, hoisting yourself out of the comfortable car.
“Sure? I can walk you up if you want.”
You bend down, one arm on the roof of the car. “I’m good, thanks. Thanks for the ride, Miller.”
“Be safe, baby.”
“You be safe, too. Bye.”
You throw the door closed and meander off up the steps toward your building. Joel’s car doesn’t roll off until your elevator arrives and you disappear inside.
You spend all weekend in bed, recovering not only from the party but from the week of work you’d endured. You keep yourself busy, though. There’s a Desperate Housewives marathon on TV. And when you’re not watching that, your hand is stuffed down your pants, Joel on your mind.
All. Fucking. Weekend.
In the shower, you’re picturing him on his knees in front of you, lapping you up. Hands gripping your thighs, draped over his shoulders. Your hand plants firmly against the wet tile when you cum, your orgasm threatening to collapse you in a heap.
In bed, you’re on top of him, knees either side of his waist, letting him buck his hips up until you’re screaming, covering him in your wet. Your vibrator battery dies by Saturday night.
Monday morning, you’re getting ready to leave for the office, and need to take ten minutes out to relieve the ache between your legs again. This time, he has you pressed against your bedroom wall, fucking you quick and messy, cumming deep inside you before he’ll let you head out.
It’s just a crush, right? It’s just because of how touchy you guys were on Friday. When you were drunk. And in a cramped, dark dive bar. Everybody gets crushes. And who wouldn’t, on a six-foot-whatever man with a jawline that could cut glass, hands that take a grip of you with minimal effort, a cock probably the size of…
No. Nope. That’s enough. Cut that the fuck out.
It’s just a crush. That’s what you keep telling yourself in the elevator, lights counting down the floors until you’re going to see Joel again. Is the sparkling feeling in your chest fear, anticipation, or excitement?
And is your cunt beginning to throb again?
You give a curt nod to Martha as you arrive, hauling your bag a little further up your shoulder and adjusting the folders in your arms on your hips.
“Where’d you go?” she asks, eyes still on the computer in front of her. Her chin propped on her elbow, face inches from the screen, reading something intently.
“Huh?”
“On Friday. We couldn’t find you when the cab arrived.”
“Oh, I, uh,” you clear your throat, “Joel gave me a ride. Yeah.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Generous of ‘im.”
“Yup.”
“He’s in the conference room waitin’ for you.”
“Cool, thanks.”
You hover for a few seconds, then take your cue to leave. You hurry over to the conference room door, knocking twice before pushing it open.
Joel’s sat at the top of the table, leant back in his chair, feet up on the wood in front of him. You feel like you could collapse.
“Mornin’,” he says, over the dull droning from the phone. Your eyes flit down to it, a question, and he answers, “weekend update.”
“Anything good?”
He shakes his head, leaning forward to hit the unmute button, affirm whatever the hell the other dude had been saying, say his goodbyes, and then hang up.
“Feelin’ fresh?” he asks when he’s sat back.
You take a deep breath and wobble your head as an answer, laying files and folders out on the table in preparation for the meeting Joel has this morning.
“That bad, huh?”
“I was fine by Saturday afternoon. How were you?”
He shrugs. “Wasn’t that drunk.”
Yeah. Sure, Joel. Your fingers took the brunt of the alcohol.
He stands up, wanders around the table to join you. Your fingers begin to tremble at the thought of him so close. Your thighs heat.
“This all of it?” he asks. He’s closer than you thought.
“Y-yep. Some copies there, too, if anyone needs a spare.”
His hand slips up between your shoulder blades, patting you gently at the base of your neck.
“Good job, baby.”
You almost fucking shudder. Your stomach jolts, your chest tightens. The ache between your legs pangs, reminding you it’s there, even though you can’t fucking do anything about it.
You spin around, settling back against the table, ankles crossed. Tense.
“How long do you reckon it’ll go on?”
“No idea. Why? Somewhere you gotta be?”
You shake your head. “Just organizing lunch ‘n stuff for you.”
“That can wait until after.”
“I’ll have it ready for you comin’ out. Be easier.”
He steps forward. Your heart stutters.
“You’ll be in here with me.”
You cock your head. “Again? What– Why?”
“I need you in here. To take–”
“–minutes? Yeah, figured as much. You gonna have me up here all night again writing ‘em up?”
He smirks, dimples in his cheeks. There are two options here: either smack him, or jump his bones – he deserves the first and you deserve the latter.
“I like having you in my meetings, darlin’,” he says, as the door handle turns, “stops me wanting to blow my brains out.”
Martha enters and Joel slots in alongside you on the table. She sets a tray with a coffee pot and packets of sugar and milk on the sideboard.
Your head is fucking dizzy. There’s a ringing in your ears. Energy sparkling in waves from the tops of your thighs all through you. Joel’s shoulder brushing against yours, his eyes boring into the side of your face.
You won’t look at him. Won’t take your eyes off of Martha, laying paper coffee cups out in rows, her back to you guys.
Joel lays a palm flat on your thigh, rounding the curve until his hand is firm between your legs, threatening to push your skirt up. You feel his breath hot on your neck, his voice like honey in your ear.
“Makes for a nice view, too.”
You whip around to glare at him. He leans back, chuckling to himself.
Through gritted teeth, you whisper, “Can I talk to you? In private?”
Joel shrugs, excuses you both to Martha, and then follows at your heels out of the conference room and over to his office door. You waltz in without permission, shoving the door open and waiting for him to close it behind himself.
Joel’s office is bright, clean. Giant windows lining three walls, huge desk with an even bigger bookcase behind. Two black leather couches opposite, facing one another with a glass coffee table between. Soft white rugs, obnoxiously huge lampshades, small fern plants dotted here and there. You found and booked the interior designer for him, and not a day’s gone by since that you don’t remind him of how nice a job you did.
Today, though, you break that streak. You round on him as soon as he closes the tall, wooden door behind him.
“Will you fucking quit it?”
“Fucking quit what, baby?” He’s almost laughing, strolling around his desk and settling into his leather chair, leaning back. Casual. Fucking – arrogant.
You stammer, holding up a shaky finger. “Okay, first of all – that. Don’t call me baby, that’s not appropriate. Second – the teasing?”
“I don’t get it, you liked me callin’ you baby on Friday night.”
You take your bottom lip between your teeth and give him a furious stare. He holds his hands up.
“My mistake.”
You stalk over to the windows separating Joel’s office from the reception area. Martha’s still in the conference room, the door ajar. You haul the shades shut to give yourselves some privacy.
“Stop – fucking with me. Stop it. We were drunk on Friday night. It wasn’t– Stop.”
“’m not fucking with you.” He leans his head to scratch his eyebrow. He repeats it when you turn away, hands flying up in the air. “I’m not.”
“Let’s just forget Friday happened, can we do that?”
Wandering around Joel’s office isn’t doing anything to relieve the weight between your legs. If anything, it’s making it worse. You make your way back to his desk and place your hands down on the wood, leaning over.
“Wh…what’s next on the agenda?” you ask, almost panting, your eyes closing.
You hear Joel’s chair rock when his weight leaves it. His footsteps pad across soft carpet, around the desk. Nearing you. They come to a halt and you feel the air stop short, right behind you.
For someone not trying to fuck with you, he’s doing an awfully good job at it.
You surrender, leaning back, your shoulders making contact with his chest. Then his hands find your hips, light, gentle. No pressure on them, not until your ass presses against his crotch and your head tilts, allowing Joel to hook his chin over your shoulder.
He’s hard, under his pants. Against you. You can feel it, still, steady. Rock solid beneath four layers of clothing.
His hands lift from your waist and glide up your shirt front, your stomach tensing when they brush over it. They come to rest over your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples through your shirt. And you fucking let him; lifting your right arm to hook around his jaw and pull him closer into your neck, where his lips leave soft, wet marks.
It feels like the first gasp of fresh, sea air after being underwater. The first gulp of chilled water after a hike. The first wave of aircon in the car. It’s relief. It’s desperate, borderline orgasmic relief.
You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more.
You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin.
“I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?”
“Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”
“Fuck me?” you repeat, and he nods. You take a breath. “S-sounds good.”
Joel’s hands find the hem of your skirt and start to pull it up your legs, painfully slow, revealing more and more of your bare thighs as he goes. He’s rubbing them, massaging until your skirt sits on your hips, little black panties exposed. His hand comes down to cup you, fingers gently applying pressure to your clit through the lace.
You moan, finally being touched by him again, finally feeling his hands on you where you need it most. Already, he’s doing better, making you feel better than you could ever by yourself. Than you did, by yourself. Involuntarily, you breathe out, “Daddy…”
Joel’s fingers pick up the pace. He fucking loves it.
“That feel good, baby? Like it like that? Tell me how it feels.”
“So – fucking – good,” you whisper, legs parting more to grant him better access. He dips his hand lower, thumb staying planted on your lace-covered clit, fingers shifting the fabric under your entrance aside.
He toys with you first, middle finger swaying back and forth through your folds, collecting slick, spreading it around. Then, a second finger, pushing upward, dangerously close to entering you. You’re gasping, leaning into him, letting his strong form keep you upright.
“That’s my girl,” Joel’s whispering into your ear. “You ain’t gotta do nothin’, just enjoy.”
And then he pushes up, two thick, curled fingers entering your cunt in one motion. He has you down to his knuckles, limp against his chest, mouth wide open in a silent gasp. Your head rolls to the side to watch him as he feels you for the first time, and his expression mirrors yours.
“So fuckin’ wet, babygirl,” he whispers, lips on your forehead.
“Fuck, daddy,” you whimper as his fingers press hard inside your soft pussy, starting to pump gently before picking up the pace and fucking you good.
The office is silent, save for your gasps and moans, and the wet sounds of Joel’s fingers in your cunt. He hums into your neck, thumb pressing hard against your clit, drawing tiny circles over the swollen bud.
It doesn’t take fucking long before you’re collapsing, walls clenching, teetering on the edge of your orgasm. It’s all that’s been on your mind for almost three days, all you’ve imagined, dreamt about, thought of.
Joel feels you, knows you’re close.
“Wanna cum all over daddy’s fingers, pretty girl?”
“Mhm,” you bite back a yelp, “so – close.”
“Know you are, baby. It’s okay, you can cum. Let me feel you.”
That coil, slowly winding since approximately nine-thirty on Friday night, not relieved by your hands, your toys, or your fucking pillows, snaps in one second. The tension breaks across your stomach. Your legs give; Joel’s free hand wraps around your waist to hold you upright.
You throw your head back against his shoulder again, jaw slack with a moan you know you can’t give voice to. Joel fucks you all the way through it, fingers coated in your cum only to dive straight back in, wetter and slicker than before.
There are stars in your vision. You can’t feel between your legs. The office is slowly blinking back into view, but Joel gives you no time to recover.
He pushes you face down onto his desk roughly, hastily, like someone’s about to wander through his door any second. One ear pressed to the cold wood, you hear his belt clink, feel the teeth of his zipper graze your thighs. Hear his deep breaths as he drags his pants and boxershorts down to free his cock.
You’ve never seen him, obviously. You’ve pictured it, dreamt up what it would look like with your fingers deep inside yourself. And from this angle you still don’t see it, but when the weight of it springs against your ass, when Joel lines himself up and his tip dips between your cum-covered folds, you fucking feel it.
His thick head pushing slightly into your entrance, coating him in your slick. He’s big. You moan at the time he’s taking to just shove into you; it’s probably seconds, but it feels like fucking hours.
“I hear ya, I know,” he’s saying, but your hearing’s starting to fade. Blood pumping through your head, white noise rattling against your eardrums.
He pushes in, length separating your clenched walls, entering your wet, warm cunt with a deep growl from Joel’s lips and a gasp from yours. You open up around him, swelling as he pushes deeper and deeper.
“So – fuckin’ – tight for me, baby,” he groans, hands on your hips pulling you back onto his length. “You feel that? Feel how tight you are?”
“Mhm,” you reply, the stretch of his thick cock burning and igniting you in flame. Your eyes screw shut as he keeps pushing, further than you ever thought anyone could, until his tip kisses your cervix and you whine.
“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, pausing and placing a steady hand on the small of your back. “We don’t need anyone out there knowin’ what we’re doin’.”
“So good, daddy,” you whimper quietly, and he knows. He fucking knows.
He begins to draw back, hips leaving your ass, cock pulling out of your pussy. Your eyes roll closed, missing him the more he withdraws. Before he’s fully gone, he snaps back inside, entering you harder, faster, deeper.
You gasp, knuckles whitening with the grip of your balled fists. You bend one arm, biting into your sleeve to stop your whimpers from slipping under the door.
A couple more thrusts and Joel’s fucking you. Hard. He’s fucking huge, so huge it blurs the edges of your vision every time his cock hits against your cervix. He’s almost fucking whimpering behind you, growling your name with every stroke, groaning each time he bottoms out inside you and your tight hole wraps around his length.
You can feel the edge of the table bruising your pelvis, and it feels so fucking good. Everything about this feels good. Joel’s cock stretching you out, his hands gripping you roughly, your own hands outstretched to hold onto the desk for some sort of stability.
The only thought going through your head, only words your lips can part to utter: daddy daddy daddy.
“Good girl,” Joel hums, your moans like music to his ears. “Good fuckin’ girl. Know how naughty you are for me?”
You smile. “Yeah, daddy.”
This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever fucking done. Sure, you love sex, especially when it’s rough. But nothing you’ve ever done with anyone else, nothing you’ve ever had done to you by anyone else, compares to being bent over your boss’s desk and fucked dumb by him.
Calling him daddy, corporate managers slowly filing into a conference room just outside. Only an unlocked door separating them from you, writhing and throbbing under Joel’s cock, his rough hands on your hips, your name passing his lips in breathy moans.
Is it wrong? Yes. Do you care? Fuck no.
You know he’s close; his thrusts become sloppy, hips start hammering against you.
“Where d’you want it, baby?” he grunts, skin slapping.
You’re on the pill, and if you answered honestly, you’d tell him to finish inside you. But you know that if he wanted to do that, he’d just fucking do it. Wouldn’t ask. And you’re not prepared to waste time arguing.
“My m-mouth.”
“C’mere.” Joel slips out of you with no effort, you’re so fucking soaked for him, and spins you around. A gentle hand on your shoulder, he pushes you onto your knees, free hand jacking his cock over you.
It’s the first time you see him, fist tugging up and down a thick, veiny shaft; swollen, reddened tip spilling precum which his thumb collects and drags down his length, gleaming with your wet.
On instinct, you push forward, one hand coming to rest on his thigh, the other taking over from his on his dick. You pump him a few times, and then open your mouth wide enough to take him all the way until he’s brushing the back of your throat.
With a choke, you begin bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollow, breathing deep through your nose. Joel moans, head rolling back, hand coming to hold your hair in a fist. He drags you back and forth a few times before he begins to shudder and you draw back, holding him steady on your swollen bottom lip.
He looks down at you and your eyes lock as he cums all over your tongue. You moan as your mouth fills with his warm, salty load. When his cock stills and he stops spilling all over you, you lean back and close your mouth, licking your lips and swallowing him.
“Aw, babygirl,” he coos, stroking your hair. “Good job. Such a good girl for me.”
You both take a few seconds to catch your breath before Joel’s hands hook under your arms and he pulls you back up, letting you lean against his desk.
Still in a daze, you feel him tug your skirt back down, fix your shirt. Tuck your hair behind your ears, wipe either saliva or cum from your lips.
“Good?” he asks, and you lace your fingers in his.
Your breath is still shaky, but through a sigh, you say, “Good.”
He nods. “Can hear Ken out front, must all be arrivin’.” He pulls you over to the door.
His fingers wrap around the handle, free hand coming up to cup your cheek. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. You open your mouth and let his tongue past, moaning into the wet, messy kiss.
Something in you almost wants to laugh, thinking about the fact you let him fuck you before you’d even kissed him.
When he pulls away, your hands take hold of his jaw, keeping him at your height.
“Have a good meeting,” you whisper, pecking him on the lips, “text me what you want for lunch.”
He growls, yanking the door open and passing by you, granting your wish to sit this one out. Something in you tells you not to wander far, though.
He’ll probably want to blow off some steam when he’s done.
----------
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Good News || Jake "Hangman" Seresin
Summary: So i saw somewhere where a woman got into trouble for "destruction of government property" but it's just her giving her military husband hickies, and i think this would be so hilarious with Jake Seresin.
A/N: This one came so quickly to me. It's just pure fluff. All the Jake Seresin fluff! Short but sweet. Hope you all enjoy :)
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N
Word Count: 2.3k +
Your eyes flipped back to the calendar on the wall with a big red circle around today. You’d probably looked at that calendar a thousand times over the last six months as you waited. Waited agonizingly every single day praying you wouldn’t get a knock on your door or the dreaded phone call.
Jake had been deployed on a carrier off the coast of Israel in the Mediterranean Sea for the last six months. You knew it came with the territory when you started dating him all those years ago. It terrified you every single time he came to tell you he was off on a mission or going on orders overseas. You’d never show it, only your utmost support and confidence in the man. But you knew how dangerous it was. He told you about all the men and women he’s seen gone down and some never making it home in his short span as a pilot in the Navy. It didn’t just terrify you, it rocked you all the way down to your core. What if he didn’t make it home? He was a hell of a pilot, one of the best that was flying, but things didn’t always go your way. He knew that. You knew it. Everybody seemed to know it.
But today was the day. He was coming home. After the months of shitty less than communication and trying your best to stay distracted it was here. He was safe. He was alive. You’d talked to him just a few hours ago. Waiting.
Jake’s parents picked you up from your shared home just off base that’d been eerily quiet in his absence. They didn’t want you driving in your hyper-fixated state. They never wanted you driving when it came to these kinds of events. They knew how much it tore you up when he was gone on deployment. If you didn’t fly down to Texas they made sure to fly to you. Just to keep you company. You hadn’t a clue how you’d gotten so lucky to have them in your life. And hopefully in the future as family. You never pushed it though. You didn’t want him to panic and ran. And truth be told you’d be fine never marrying him so long as he was like this in your life. Your best friend and love wrapped up in one.
“Are you excited?” His mom asked seeing you nearly bouncing out of the backseat once the car rolled onto base.
“Oh Nancy,” you could only nod your head in confirmation, “I’m more than excited.” Your cheeks were starting to burn from the big cheesy grin you were wearing.
His dad, David, spoke up, “I know Jake is just as excited.” He smiled just feeling the excitement in the air. These days were truly the best. Six months was a long time to be away. The longest deployment he’d been on in years.
The three of you made small talk as David drove to the base. Once parked, you happily led the older couple over to where the sailors would stand before they waited to be dismissed. You watched as the hundred or so men and women aboard the ship departed to their designated formation. Your eyes scanned for your loved one. Your Jake.
Finally spotting him you waited anxiously as the rest of the crew lined up. You just had to wait it out another ten minutes or so. They had to officially be dismissed before they could break for the family reunions. These last few minutes always seemed to draw on for decades trying to be as patient as possible.
You kept your eyes on him as he kept his forward. You hadn’t a clue that he already spotted you moments before you did him. But he had to keep his attention forward. No matter how anxious he was to see his favorite girl again.
They second they were dismissed Jake made a beeline right for you. Your face lit up in surprise as he headed right at you. Your body responding by moving forward you jumped right into his arms once he got close enough. He was more than ready. He wrapped his arms right around you securing you tightly to his chest while your feet locked behind him.
“Jakey.” You grinned hugging him tightly, afraid he’d be gone from your arms again you cherished every second like this. It made you realize how much you really did love the man you were holding so tightly. How much you craved him, everything about him. You’d rather not have had him gone for six months though. That was far too long for your liking. As if you had any say.
“Honey.” He cooed gently rocking you side to side. One arm snaked around your waist, one arm gently cradling your head in his hands, “You’re so fucking pretty. How’d you get even more beautiful? God I missed your face.” Jake leaned down capturing your lips in his. As gentle as he normally was with you this was hungrier. He really had missed you. Giving your hip as squeeze you felt him smile into the kiss as you squirmed away from his grasp.
Once you stopped giggling you looked right into his eyes smiling dopily, “And I missed yours, handsome man.” You gave him a wicked smirk before doing the unthinkable. Jake had warned you time and time again how he couldn’t show visible marks on the skin, or the Navy could have his ass. And maybe even yours if they were angry enough. You’d known they were empty threats, but you’d never dreamed of potentially hurting his flying in anyway. So, you’d never leave any marks.
Sliding his collar to the side you decided to throw caution to the wind seeing everybody lost in their own world with their own families. Jake’s parents were even admiring all the reunions around them instead of having their eyes fixated on the two of you. They loved watching all the joy every time. Nancy always made sure that every sailor was feeling the love. That was just one of the reasons you’d fallen in love not only with Jake but his entire family. His mom was as sweet as they came. His dad just as caring but even more tough. It was no wonder Jake was the way he was. Albeit a little more of an asshole than either of them even combined.
“Ma’am. That is abhorrent.” A vaguely familiar voice made you focus on your surroundings once more, “This is Destruction of Government Property.” You heard a cough from behind Jake drawing you away from your boyfriends neck. The look you sent could’ve killed him if it were at all possible. Bradley fucking Bradshaw. Was he actually serious right now?
You felt Jake’s laughter in his chest before you heard it. Flicking your eyes up momentarily at him you kissed him on his cheek before flipping Bradley off, “I don’t care Bradley.” You continued flipping him off while Jake held you tightly to his chest.
“Sweetheart…” Jake tried to warn you. The government really did own his ass. But his Commanding Officer was cool. He wasn’t expected to be back on base for another few weeks… what did a few hickies hurt? You knew the drill, but it didn’t seem to matter as you clung to him like he was about to vanish at any second. He looked down at your doe eyed expression, “I missed you.” He finished realizing just how hard deployment really was on you. The two of you were going on year five together. He’d been a pilot for all of them. He’d flown his hardest missions during that time. Your support never wavered. But seeing you like this? Like you’d never see him again… it hurt him. It hurt knowing you were feeling like that.
“You’ll care when there are Naval Officers on your doorstep.” Bradley tried. He really did. But you really didn’t care. You missed him more than anything. You didn’t care that his parents were there watching. You just missed him. Missed his corny ass jokes and the soft touches he always threw your way. You missed the sweet smiles and laughter that came with being around him.
“So be it. Worth it.” You giggled as Jake pinched your sides again bringing your attention back to the man you’d dreamed about every day.
“Eyes over here darling.” He made sure to flip Bradley off before holding you back in his arms once again. He wouldn’t let you drop your hold on him. He wanted you close. He didn’t care either. He’d craved you for those months. He’d forgotten just how bad deployment got. Bradley mumbled some incoherent words before disappearing off into the crowd.
Kissing his cheek once more you nodded, “Sorry Jakey.” Brushing your hands through his hair it felt like it really was just the two of you there. Like nobody else was around.
“No need to apologize.” He whispered in your ear sending immediate chills down your spine, “You didn’t answer my question though. How’d you seem to get even more beautiful while I was gone?”
You truly felt like a little schoolgirl was a nasty crush on a boy way out of your league. He was so sweet to you and only you. Not having a clue why. You loved watching him interact with everyone else. He was so different than the man who came home to you every night. But that was Jake. Tough as they come. Sweet as can be. The biggest fight the two of you had was when he came home and told you about the six month long deployment a year ago. You didn’t even fight you were just sad. Sad that he volunteered to go. Volunteered and didn’t tell you. The two of you worked through it though. You always did.
“Shush. You’ve just been trapped on a big boat for so long I’d be offended if you didn’t think I was pretty.” You wanted to kiss him so bad. You didn’t even remember the kiss you gave him once you spotted him walk off the ship. You blacked out, truly.
“Never ever.” He grinned, “I’ll never stop complementing my beautiful girl.”
You squeezed your arms around him pulling him so much closer. You’d melt into him if you could, “You’re too sweet to me Mr. Seresin.”
He shook his head, “Not enough, I’d say.” He took the lead this time leaning down to give you a soft, sweet kiss that was far too short for your liking.
“I love you.” You whispered to him feeling oh so happy. So beyond excited he was holding you in his arms once again. You tried to step away to give his parents a chance to say hello, but he only held you tighter. Shaking his head.
“Love you too, gorgeous girl.” He hummed placing a soft kiss on your forehead, “That was it, by the way.”
You scrunched your eyes together in confusion, “What?”
He nodded his head with that larger than life smile on his face, “You’re looking at Captain Jake Seresin. Command Ground Officer.” He emphasized ground with wide eyes.
“Jake! Congrats. You didn’t tell me! Does this mean you’re here? Permanently?” Looking at him expectedly. It hit you just how good it could really get once you knew he’d be sleeping by your side every night.
He nodded his head in excitement, “At least for this job. I’ll still be flying but more on the leadership side. Training. Preparing them.”
You didn’t think your heart could swell any larger in love. But there it went. Only Jake could do that. You knew it. He knew it, “You’re not kidding right? Like you’re being serious?”
“Yes sweetheart. So serious.” He kissed your nose this time. He missed you more than you could’ve imagined. It was an impossible six months. He didn’t want to do that anymore. He couldn’t be away from you anymore. Lucky for him he had options. They let him choose. He choose to ground himself from missions. It was time to grow up and move on. He’d accomplished everything he sought out to and more already in the air. Now he was on a mission to rise to the top. Admiral Jake Seresin had a ring to it.
You wanted to squeal but knew you had eyes all over you. Anybody could’ve been watching, “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while J.”
“Just you wait.” He grinned ear to ear leaning down once more, whispering into your ear, “Won’t even be the best news you’ve heard all day.” Leaning all the way down he kissed you with a little bit more but keeping it PG. His parents were standing there a little annoyed that he’d chosen to be with you for so long before he even acknowledged them. But they knew. They knew the raw power of love. How much it could sway and dissuade. How deeply Jake was in love with you and how much you were with him.
“Oh? Do tell.” You pulled away looking at him curiously.
“You’ll see.” He wiggled his eyebrows just to egg you on.
You narrowed your eyebrows in on the man you loved so dearly, “You know how much I hate surprises.”
He laughed gleefully, “Oh darling, I know.” He pulled you back into him momentarily, “Promise, it’ll be worth the wait.”
“Promise?” You knew he’d keep true to his word, but you wanted to hear him confirm it.
“I promise you darling. Just you wait.” Squeezing your hand, he finally walked over to his parents bringing you right along with him. Only dropping your hand as he went in for the hug with his mom.
Taglist: @stuffingbuttsandshit @genius2050
#top gun maverick#top gun#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#top gun imagine#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin x you#jake seresin fanfic#hangman x reader#hangman x y/n#jake seresin x oc#jake sersin#jake seresin fic#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin fluff#hangman x oc#hangman x you#hangman fic#hangman imagine#hangman#jake hangman fic#top gun hangman#jake hangman seresin#hangman fanfiction#hangman fluff#tgm#top gun fanfiction#top gun movie#top gun masterlist
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congrats on one year of your blog!!
for your one year celebration, could you write something with the prompt
“you showed up at my door of all place?”
“trust me it wasn’t my first choice either.”
with steve perhaps? maybe he’s injured (because when isn’t he) and has no one else to turn to but the reader??
tysm lovie! hope you like it :D — steve seeks comfort in you, his rival since high school, a week after fighting vecna (enemies in love, hurt/comfort, post st4, 1.7k)
bug's one year celebration ♡
Steve’s stitches start weeping a week after the brawl with Vecna — the ones you’d sewn along his ribcage when a gang of demobats made a feast of him.
He’s gotten so numb to the pain (the constant, never-ending, three years of nonstop pain) that he doesn’t realize his wound has torn open again. Not until his shirt starts sticking abnormally wet to his skin. He looks down, notices the dark red patch blooming on the gray fabric, and then feels the distant stinging of the week-old bite.
Most of them have healed or are starting to. They’ve turned pink and marred over, unlikely to fade. But there’s one gash that refuses to mend, and he’s starting to think it might be some kind of bad omen. Like the constantly knicked sutures are some kind of prophetic telling of an undone fight and not just a consequence of his restlessness.
He thinks of you first, anyhow. Before a solution or a way to dull the pain. He thinks of you and your gentle hands and how you were the only person he’d let touch him after coming back from the Upside Down.
Steve drives to Forest Hills and ascends the rickety porch of your trailer even though he knows it’s 2 a.m. He knocks at the paint-chipped entrance even though he knows Eddie only lives four doors down. Max lives across the way from Eddie, and he knows that, too. He could go just about anywhere, he figures, but he’s here — on the steps of the girl who couldn’t stand him in high school.
You answer the door much quicker than he anticipated. Ten seconds after he knocks, you stand before him with wet hair and no pants. The damp strands drip onto the oversized shirt you wear. The sleeves of the old thing hang low off your arms, the hem of it falling just above your knees.
You don’t look sleepy despite the early hours of the morning. Tired, maybe, but not sleepy. “Steve?” you say, so suddenly alert at the sight of him. Your eyes, lined with a sleep you haven’t gotten in days, go wide with distant horror. “What happened? Are you okay? Did someone die?”
You ask him all this before he’s said a single word. Good questions when you live in a town like this one, when you’ve seen the things you’ve seen.
“Nothing. Everyone’s fine,” Steve answers in a monotone, still gripping his side with his opposite hand. “My stitches just ripped.”
You blink rapidly at him, trying to clear the daze of exhaustion and the subtle shock of seeing him. “Stitches— What?”
He pulls back his hand, the palm of it now blotched pink. There’s one large circle of deep brown blood staining his shirt and two more tiny patches just below it. “I’m bleeding,” he tells you, as if it isn’t obvious now. “My stitches pulled.”
Your gaping gaze flits from his freshly opened wound to the annoyed look on his chiseled face. His pale features glow amber beneath the buzzing porch light. “And you showed up to my door, of all places?”
“Trust me. It wasn’t my first choice either.” He clutches his side again and slides past you in the doorway, walking into your trailer, mostly uninvited.
He knows your parents aren’t around. It’s the only thing you’ve ever been able to bond over. You grew up mostly alone and learned to raise yourselves accordingly. So it’s not totally surprising to find your trailer dripping with girlhood — tiny trinkets, movie posters, half-alive plants, and vibrant colors. More of a home than his empty mansion ever was.
“Why don’t you just go to the E.R.?” you ask and shut the door behind you. You have to lean your body weight against it and press really hard — or else it won’t close fully, and the wind kicks it open while you’re sleeping, and you wake up to a family of raccoons ravaging the candy bowl on your coffee table.
Steve huffs and sits on your grass-green couch, face scrunching at the distant stinging along his ribcage. “Because I don’t know how to tell people that potentially rabid demobats took a pound of flesh outta me,” he sasses.
You shake your head. “If you get blood on my sofa, Harrington, I swear to god…” you mumble and sit down beside him.
You lift the hem of his shirt to assess the damage, knuckles skimming warm along his golden side.
Most of the bites scattered along his ribs are healing now. They’re small and shallow and turning slowly pink instead of scarlet red. But there’s one still pulsing crimson, the only one deep enough to need stitches. The only one refusing to heal.
The sight of the raw, throbbing wound makes your stomach writhe. You remember pulling the stubborn demobat off of him by its tail. You feel the sting of his pain even now, like it’s your own.
Steve watches your face the whole time. He decides to base his pain on how you look at him, whether you shrug it off or grimace in disgust. You do neither. Your eyes dart over his skin, glimmering with concentration, as your fingers brush his aching side with a gentleness he didn’t think was possible.
His brows pinch at your lack of response. He tilts his chin to his chest and ducks his gaze to look at you, honey eyes eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Is it bad?”
“Well… It’s not good,” you conclude after a few moments.
“That’s such a non-answer,” he scoffs, dropping his head to the back of the couch to watch you walk into the kitchen.
You disappear behind a wall for a few moments. The distant clattering of something, muffled as you dig inside cabinets, fills the empty trailer.
You’re back in thirty seconds, tops, with the first aid kit you’ve been a stickler about keeping restocked. ‘Cause Steve isn’t your first patient since coming back home. He’s not your second, either.
It was Eddie first, for his own demobat bites, and then Lucas when the cut along his swollen cheek split open again.
You’re not cut out for any of it. Not professionally, anyway. You only know how to do sutures because of Mr. Mundy’s ninth-grade health class.
You return to Steve’s side and begin to clean up the bite, lest an infection spread and Vecna take him out from beyond the grave.
The burn of the alcohol makes him wince. “Ow,” Steve whispers under his breath, a subtle pout scrunching his features.
“Don’t be such a baby,” you laugh.
“I’m injured— You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
“You’ve been through three separate concussions and a thousand demobat bites. I think you can handle a little sting, Harrington.”
Steve tilts his cheek to his shoulder, squinting his twinkling eyes and flashing you a lopsided smile. “Has anyone ever told you how amazing your bedside manner is— ow!”
You start stitching him up without warning. You make it look easy despite having no real idea what you’re doing. Steve figures it’s because you’re a natural at taking care of people. Sometimes he thinks that’s the only reason all of you managed to make it out of the Upside Down in the first place.
“All done,” you murmur after you’ve knotted the last stitch.
“Thanks…” He tries to sit up again. The sting hasn’t yet left him. It’s less of a pain now, and more of a warning — the thin sutures screaming as they threaten to snap.
“If you don’t move around so much, they won’t pull. Again.”
“Is that the rule?” he teases.
“Yeah. That’s the rule— the don’t be stupid rule.”
Steve takes a sharp breath in and rises. He’s prepared for the ache, so it burns less this time. He sees you reach for him in the corner of his eye, hands darting out to help him and then shooting down again when you decide against it.
He wouldn’t have minded if you had. He would’ve made fun of you for it, obviously, but he wouldn’t have minded.
He’s been missing the warmth of your touch more and more since the Upside Down — back when he laid mostly limp on the arid ground of a desolate land, when you cradled his body to shield him from the bats flying overhead.
He stopped feeling scared when you held him. He thought it was because he was dying, but now he knows it was because of you. The healing in your touch. It’s like the amber glow of streetlamps in the dead of night, or sunsets that paint the whole world pink. Being touched by you is like dancing in summer rain and running through a field of wildflowers.
“Sorry, for uh— for keeping you up,” Steve apologizes and inches towards the door.
You follow close behind him, with an urgency that borders between letting him out and keeping him in. “It’s— It’s fine,” you stammer, then laugh at yourself. “It’s not like I was sleeping anyway.”
“Really?” Steve asks, an inquisitive swirl to his scruffy features.
He turns around to face you more, his sneakers melting into the plush of your rug. Your hand gets clammy and tightens around the rusted doorknob when he looks down at you — with his eyes made of velvet and his mouth made of flower petals. His face is so hardened, but he looks at you so softly anyway.
“No,” you confess with a soft shrug. “I mean— after everything, I don’t know how anyone is. I was with Eddie earlier, and the fucker was passed out before ten.”
Steve breathes a sharp laugh through his nose. His plush lips curl into a crooked smile. “He deserves the sleep, though.”
“Yeah,” you sigh.
“And so do you.”
“I know,” you grin, equal parts bitter and genuine. “But I’m not getting any.”
“Me neither,” Steve confesses, exhaling so deep it makes his chest deflate.
The two of you linger in place for a long, long time. Both of your mouths curl to say the same things — let’s grieve together, let’s wait for the sun to rise so the nightmares will pass — but neither of you is brave enough to say them out loud.
“I’ll see you around,” Steve nods, finally.
You wrench open the door for him, pulling extra hard when it jams. “The next time you pull your stitches?” you joke, smiling like you’re not grieved to watch him walk into the empty night alone.
Steve grins like he’s not mourning, too. “Probably,” he scoffs.
Maybe before that, he hopes, healed again as he walks to his car. Maybe I’ll be brave enough soon.
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things imagine#steve harrington imagine#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble#event: bug turns one
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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ first night back I iwaizumi hajime
cw: afab! reader, dirty talk, oral (receiving)
disclaimer: all characters are aged up! mdni!
wc: 521
the first night iwaizumi was back in japan for good was surprising, to say the least. it was one of the few times where he didn’t have to cram a year’s worth of dates in two weeks or soak in your presence because he wouldn’t be able to see you for the next couple of months.
the plan was for him to stay over in your new tokyo apartment for a couple of weeks. he claimed that it would be a closer drive and it’d give him time to figure out when he wanted to go back to the prefecture. the added bonus of seeing you every day, even if only for a short period, was enticing enough for someone who spent the majority of the last four years calling the love of his life. so, as any loving partner would, you had assumed that he’d be tired from his roughly ten-hour flight from california to japan based on all his planning. the sheets were just changed, his favorite scented candles were lit and you made sure to cook up a feast for when he arrived home. you went above and beyond for his trip back.
one thing you didn’t account for was that he missed you—in more ways than one.
”fucking missed this pussy,” iwaizumi groans to himself before he buries his face between your thighs. he eats you out like a starved man, your clothes strewn on the kitchen floor the moment he saw you.
”haji,” you whine, short pants escaping your soft lips as you gripped his hair. for all the things you had prepared for, you didn’t expect him to be needy as soon as he landed.
”nobody even came close to how gorgeous you are, baby,” iwaizumi says, pulling you closer to his lips as you grip the island counter. “can’t believe i was away from you for this long—god, i’m gonna fuck you every night.”
”haji,” you moan louder, throwing your head back in pleasure as he fucks you with his tongue. your body gets warmer—you’ve never seen your boyfriend this desperate and you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t turning you on.
”yeah?” he whispers, planting quick kisses on your thighs before looking up at you. “bet you missed this dick, huh? fingers just weren’t big enough for your pretty cunt.”
you nod, biting your lip as you take a proper look at him. his eyes were blown with lust, his voice husky with need and want—a tone that you haven’t heard from him in far too long. you felt yourself get wetter at the sight, squeezing your thighs together. a movement that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. iwaizumi knows that he looks good, he’s tan from the seaside sun, he’s in the best shape of his life—and there’s nothing more dangerous than a man who knows how attractive he is.
”’s okay, princess,” he replies, giving you a boyish smile that only makes your heart stutter and knees buckle. “gonna make you feel so good that you’ll feel me inside of you for days, alright? jus’ let me spoil my girl.”
✩ author's note: me when i cut it off right before they get down and dirty </3 I SWEAR A FULL FLEDGE TOE CURLING SMUT IS IN THE WORKS ... in the meantime, enjoy a (potentially) part 1 drabble on pussy starved iwa!
ⓒ prettyboytsum 2024. all works are posted under this account on tumblr.com and are protected by copyright laws. do not plagiarise these works on any other platform or account.
#₊˚⊹♡₊ luna writes#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x reader smut#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi hajime x reader#iwaizumi smut#iwaizumi x reader#hajime x reader#haikyuu fic#haikyuu smut#haikyuu#haikyuu drabbles
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A family Thanksgiving
This was supposed to be up yesterday, but it took on a mind of its own and instead of the few hundred words it was supposed to be, its nearly 3k. Happy belated Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates!
rated: t | wc: 2847 | cw: period typical homophobia, Steve's asshole parents
The offers from everyone to have him over for Thanksgiving had been great, any other year he would have loved such a choice, but for the first time in a long time, he was spending the day with family.
"But you hate your family." Dustin pointed out when Steve had told everyone about his holiday plans.
"No, I hate my parents. It's my grandma that asked me to go, and I want to see her and my cousins that I haven't seen in like five years. I'm driving myself to Chicago, so I won't be stuck in a car with my parents for hours on end." Steve explained.
"But you're working a late the day before, and I'm not going to cover you so you can drive up early" Robin replied.
"I'm planning on leaving by six on Thanksgiving morning. It's less than four hours to drive, so I'll be there before ten, well nine because of the timezone change. I took the late shift the day before so I had an excuse to drive myself, and my parents wouldn't have any reason to come by Hawkins before. And I drive home either the Friday or the Saturday, ready for our Sunday shift."
Come Thanksgiving day, Steve was somewhat regretting his decision. It had been nearly midnight before he'd gotten home, after a number of people came in just before closing insistent on needing a selection of movies ready for the next day. Then hadn't been happy when the movies they wanted weren't in stock, so they left the place a total mess, causing Steve to stay late to tidy up ready for the opener the next day. Then having to get up around five, so he could get ready and be on track to leave as planned. In an attempt to wake up, he was mostly surviving on a large cup of incredibly strong coffee. He was just counting down the minutes until he could get there.
When he walked in the door, he was immediately wrapped up in a hug from his grandma. "Stevie, it's so good to see you."
"It's great to see you too, Grandma." He returned the hug, melting into it a little. Exactly what he needed after the year it had been.
"Let me take a look at you." She stepped back slightly, giving him a once over. Her hand came up to trace the scar still on his neck from where he had been strangled by the bats and vines. "What happened here?"
"I. It's nothing. It looks a lot worse than it is." Steve replied, trying to get out of the awkwardness of the conversation.
"Oh, if you're sure. If you want to help with dinner, you can join us in the kitchen. But if you just want to rest, anyone who's watching football is in the living room, and the Macy's parade is on in the den."
"It's been a long drive, and I had a late finish last night, so I think I'm going to take a bit of a break. I might come out and help a bit later." He offered.
"Oh, honey. If you don't feel up to it, you don't need to help at all. Take it easy, and we'll call you once everything is ready." She kissed Steve on the cheek, before going back to the kitchen.
Steve made his way through the house, glancing into the living room as he passed. He could see his dad in one of the recliners, and decided against joining them. Wanting to delay the inevitable "you're a disappointment" lecture. He knew his mom would likely be in the kitchen, not actually helping, just drinking wine and gossiping. He moved on to the den, where most of his cousins were. He hovered in the doorway for a second, unsure what to say. So much had changed since the last time he had seen any of them.
"Wait, Stevie?" One of them, Lizzie, said as she looked up to see him.
"Uh, hey?" Steve replied, a little unsure, before he was being swamped in a group hug.
"Jesus Christ, when did this happen? Last time I saw you, you were like a little kid. Now you're a whole grown adult." Another, Mark, said.
After a long catch up, bringing Steve up to date on everyone else's lives, and him giving an abridged highlights of his last few years, they then got into more serious topics.
"Was everything okay after the earthquakes? I tried calling a few times, but I don't know if I had the wrong number because it never went through." Alice, the oldest of his cousins, asked.
"The phones were down across the whole town for a while after, then it was patchy for weeks after that. It was hard to get five or ten minutes without it dropping out. It took me like two weeks before I was able to get hold of mom and dad to let them know that the house was still standing, and that I was still alive." Steve explained.
"Wait, they weren't in Hawkins for the earthquakes?" Harry cut in.
"No, they've not been in Hawkins since February? Like over a month before it happened."
"Oh. They were telling us last night about how awful and hard it had been during the earthquakes, and how they were scared for their lives." Alice replied.
"That's such bullshit. They weren't in the country when it happened, they were in London. They didn't even know that it was Hawkins that was affected until I called them, because all they'd seen on the news was a freak earthquake hitting the Midwest. It hadn't even specified the state. And then they didn't care how I was, if I was hurt or anything, all they were interested in was if there was damage to the house, and how the earthquake could affect the resale value."
"Okay, I call dibs about bringing that up over dinner. I just want to see what shade of purple Uncle Dick can turn." Becca, the closest cousin to Steve in age, piped up. "But were you hurt?"
"Uh, minor injuries. Nothing serious." Steve lied, not wanting to worry anyone. "I was able to start volunteering within a couple of days. You know, helping out at the relief center, helping search for missing people. And when everything calmed down I was helping rebuild and stuff. Just trying to do my bit. But I'm fine now."
"That's good. But thinking of Uncle Dick turning purple, who gets to bring up Fuck Reagan?" Mark asked.
"Stevie's been through the most, I think he should get the chance." Alice replied.
"Uh, I think that would go down about as well as if I told him that my best friend is a dyke and I've spent most of my free time in the last six months sucking off the local drug dealer, who was accused of being a cult leader and murdering three people." Steve said quickly, unsure if he wanted anyone else to pick up what he'd said.
"Was that for drugs, or for fun, or what? Like a hook up?" Harry asked.
"He's my boyfriend. I mean, it helps that I get free weed out of him, but I'd do it anyway." Steve admitted.
"That is something you missed out of your round up. But I love that all of us are some variation of queer."
Dinner was...interesting, to say the least. After saying Grace, they went round the table to say what they were thankful for that year. Steve had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing as his parents waxed on and on about how they were thankful for their lives and being able to escape the earthquake unscathed. He couldn't keep from laughing when Becca spoke up against them.
"Really? Because Alice asked Steve how he found it after the earthquakes, and he said that he couldn't reach you for two weeks after it happened because the phones were down and you were in London. And you didn't even know that it had hit Hawkins until he called you."
"Steven, why are you telling lies about us?" His mother demanded.
"I wasn't? You weren't in Hawkins when the earthquake hit. You've not been there since February. When I was finally able to call you, you only cared about how the house was, not if I was hurt. And you were pissed that I hadn't called you sooner, despite the fact the phone lines were down for the whole town. I could have died or been injured in hospital, and you wouldn't have known."
"How dare-" His father started, only to be cut off by Steve's grandmother.
"Settle down. There's no need for arguing. I am inclined to believe Steve, because I do remember you telling me that you were going to be spending a few months in Europe at the start of this year."
Both of Steve's parents were visibly unhappy, but they didn't push it any further, allowing the rest of the family to talk about what they were thankful for.
Many small conversations broke out over the table, Steve loving the feeling of being surrounded by family for the first time in a long time. He got pulled into talking to different people, but he did his best to avoid his parents' eye. Not wanting to get trapped by them telling him all the ways he had bothered them since he'd last seen them. But he knew they were up to something, when his father got up before dessert was served.
"Before we have anything else, we do have a big announcement about the future of our family." He said, using the voice he always used when talking to the most important clients.
"You've sucked enough political dick to get what ever tax exemption you were after?" Lizzie asked, before anyone could take it too seriously.
Steve's dad just spluttered in anger as a call of "Elizabeth." Came from at least four different people around the table.
"Ignoring that horrible interruption. What I was going to tell everyone is about Steven's imminent engagement. He is going to be proposing to Melissa Downey, the daughter of my business partner, at Christmas, they've been seeing each other for nearly eighteen months now, and it is going to mean big things for our family."
Steve couldn't respond, processing what had just been said, as everyone started speaking, some offering congratulations, others in confusion.
"That's news to me." Steve said loudly, to get over everyone's voices, once he could form the words. "I'm not planning on proposing to anyone."
"Well, Arthur and I have been discussing it, and it is the only thing that makes sense now, the two of you have been together for long enough, the logical next step is engagement."
"I'm not dating Melissa. We went on one date over a year ago, just after I graduated. It was awful, all she was interested in was if I made enough money to bankroll her spending addiction. I made up a fake emergency to get out of it, and I would rather stick forks in my eyes than suffer through that again." Steve got to his feet, bracing his hands on the table. Knowing he'd been right not to be optimistic that the holiday could pass without incident.
"You will if you know what's good for you. If you don't, it could destroy our business. You wouldn't want to be the reason we go broke, would you? You could end up homeless. Where would you live?"
"First, I have plenty of friends who would be happy to take me in if I had nowhere else to go. It's something we talked about after the earthquake, because some people I know did have damage caused to their homes and I let them stay with me until they could move back in. Second, I don't really care about whether or not you go broke. You don't provide any money to me. You haven't since I started working at Scoops. I pay for all my food, gas, clothes. If you go broke, my financial position won't change at all. And third, I can't propose to her. I'm in a relationship, and we're both very happy."
"Is it that Buckley girl? Or did you somehow manage to convince that Wheeler girl that you're actually worth something? Because I can tell you now, you are going to break up with whatever little slut-"
"His name is Eddie." Steve shouted before he could think it through, and a silence fell across the room. "That's right. Your son is one of those awful queers that you keep campaigning against, to keep them illegal and get them locked up. And you know what? He's easily the best sex I've ever had. Especially when we get high first."
"Why you-" His father roared, his face turning a dark red in anger. "How dare you do this to us? After everything we have done for you. You'd better hope that those friends of yours would be willing to take you in, because you are not living under my roof any longer. You will have until the end of the weekend to collect your belongings, anything left will be burned."
"Except, it isn't your roof, is it Richard? If I remember correctly, I was the one who paid the mortgage. My name is the one on the deed to the property in Hawkins. I just allowed you to live there, rent-free might I add, because it made sense for you to live somewhere close to Indianapolis when your business was taking off. I had been planning to sell up. So I think maybe you should be the one to collect your belongings from that house, because I'm not sure if I want you living under my roof any longer. It sounds life you're almost never there, anyway." Steve's grandma replied.
"But, mother-" His father started.
"But nothing, Richard. I don't know where you learnt your hateful attitude, because I know I did not raise you to be the sort of man that would kick your own son out over something as minor as who he loves. I really thought you were a better man than that."
"It's disgusting." Steve's mother added. "So unnatural, and that disease."
"What is disgusting is your bigotry. I think I want you both out from under my roof, now. So, if you would both kindly leave. And I expect you to move your belongings from the house in Hawkins, as that is now Steve's house, not yours. And you better not touch anything that isn't yours, or cause any damage, because I will take legal advice." Steve's grandmother stood up, anger radiating from her tiny five foot frame. "And, unless you change and apologize for your outdated beliefs, you can forget any inheritance. I will not have any of my money going to support hatred."
"Mother,"
"Leave, Richard. Now. I'm not afraid to get the police involved here."
Steve's parents looked at him with their faces filled with utter disgust, before they turned and left. His grandmother escorting them off the property.
"Are you okay, Stevie?" His grandmother asked after the end of the meal.
"I. I think so. I think I need to make a couple of phone calls." He replied.
"Use any of the phones, dear. Maybe if you know someone who can keep an eye on the house."
"Yeah. I babysit for the chief of police sometimes, so I might call him. He'll make sure nothing happens."
"Good. And, if you're talking to that boy of yours, tell him that he's got to come up here for Christmas. I want to meet him, and make sure he's good enough for you."
"Grandma." Steve protested.
"I'm just saying." She replied before walking away.
Steve shut himself in one of the bedrooms, for a little privacy from the still crowded house while he made the calls. The call to Hopper was quick, just outlining what was going on, and Hopper agreed to keep a check on the house until Steve was back in Hawkins. Then it was the call to Eddie.
"Baby, I wasn't expecting you to call. How's your Thanksgiving?"
"Interesting. My parents decided to announce that I was going to propose to dad's business partner's daughter. They wouldn't accept that I wasn't interested in her so I accidentally came out."
"Shit, I hope that didn't go too bad?"
"Uh, it could have gone worse? Somehow me coming out got my parents removed from the will and kicked out of the house. Because my grandma wasn't happy with them being assholes about it."
"Oh, badass grandma. I kinda want to meet her now."
"I was hoping you would say something like that. Because she has told me that you have to come here for Christmas. She wants to make sure that you're good enough." Steve couldn't help smiling as he talked, somehow the day had gone so much better than he'd ever hoped.
#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve harrington has bad parents#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#stranger things#atimeofyourwrites
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A WEEKEND AWAY | (l.norris)
summary: Lando takes you on a weekend away
wordcount: 1.5k words
pairing: landonorris x fem!reader
warnings: none!
notes: I‘m late with posting today :((( normally I always schedule them, so they’re right on time, but today was super stressful and I was working when it was time for it to get published🥲
advent calendar
”Do you want to get away for a weekend?“
”I‘d love that, Lan.“
So before you knew it, you two had packed up your things and were on your way to the Nice airport, to fly to Austria. Lando had rented a beautiful cabin in the middle of nowhere, you can always reach the landlord via phone, and the next house is only five minutes away, but all in all, you were alone. You two needed that, a weekend where no one had any responsibilities, almost no phone service, and just relaxation. Lando also couldn’t wait to go skiing again, and you were excited about it too, Lando had shown you how to ski and since then, you always loved going on ski trips with him and your friends.
You arrived at the cabin, and the landlord, Michael, drove you and your luggage on his special snow bike up to the house. He was generous enough to stock the fridge with food, just as drinks and whatever your heart desired. You went inside it and looked around, the wood walls were looking comfy, and made you feel like you were in a Christmas movie. Everything was decorated beautifully, the living room had a fireplace with wood next to it, you couldn’t wait to enjoy a cup of hot chocolate next to Lando in front of the fireplace later. The bedroom had floor-to-ceiling windows all around the room, so wherever you looked, you could see mountains, and the bathroom was spacious and the shower was a rainshower, all in all, it was perfect.
Lando and you started with packing your clothes out of your suitcases into the closet, you hadn’t brought that much, after all, you were only staying for two nights, and mostly you wanted to go skiing. So warm clothes and your skiers it is. You two had a small lunch, cutting up some bread that was placed in one of the cupboards, even finding Nutella, and before you knew it, you were wrapped in thermo clothes and your snowsuit. Lando was holding his helmet under his arm and in his hand he held his ski goggles. The nearest ski slope was only ten minutes away, when Michael dropped you off, Lando and you couldn’t contain your excitement. The first few meters on the skiers were wonky and slow, both of you had to get used to standing on them again, but once you two sat on the ski lift, you were ready to go down the slope.
You and Lando had so much fun skiing down the hills, Lando even tried little jumps over a few rocks. After two hours of going down different slopes, it was time for a break, you two settled down in the restaurant cabin and ordered a hot drink, to warm up.
”Do you know how sexy you look in your snowsuit?“
You shushed Lando quickly, he was talking way too loud, ”Don’t speak too loudly, but have you seen yourself?“
Lando grinned and took your hand over the table, his glove-covered thumb stroked over the back of your hand. ”What do you wanna do later? We can fire up the fireplace?“
”I would love that, I also packed some of our baked cookies, we can eat those.“
”I love you so much Y/N, you know me better than anyone.“
After that confession you two went back to the slope, driving down the different tracks, enjoying the feeling of gliding over the white snow. Luckily for your snowsuits and helmets, no one recognized you, and you could fully enjoy the private time you two had. No cameras, no Instagram, no pressure of looking a certain way, nothing. When you were back in your cabin after an eventful day, Lando fired up the wood in the fireplace and you started to cook an easy meal, you couldn’t go, full gourmet, after all, Michael stocked it up with basic food items, but the pasta with sauce would still be delicious.
The snowsuits were hanging on the rack in front of the chimney, to dry faster. You couldn’t wait to relax with Lando, maybe read a book or watch some YouTube videos you couldn’t catch up together, or continue your series, a lot of things could be done, but most excitedly you could enjoy the time and cuddles with Lando. Due to his job, you hadn’t really the time to calm down and not do anything for a few days, but now you could, and you would.
Dinner was delicious, but now you were chilling on the couch in front of the fireplace with a MacBook perched up on the coffee table, with your current series playing and two mugs filled with hot beverages next to it. That was what you longed for, you in Lando’s arms. He laid on the couch, with you on top of him, his arms clung around you, stroking your lower back and ass, and your hands were resting in his hair, pulling slightly on his strands.
With every minute passing you two grew more tired, the flight and the skiing tired you out, you were ready to fall asleep on top of Lando, but he knew if you did that, both of you would have back problems the next day.
”Come on, love, let’s go upstairs, we can sleep in the bed.“
In your tired head, you only nodded and slowly scooted off of Lando, closed the lid of the MacBook, and made your way into the bedroom, you were happy you already took off your makeup earlier. You laid down next to Lando and he pulled you close to his front, breathing in your scent before both of you went into the dreamland.
The next morning started off slow, Michael brought fresh bread rolls to your door, and it was almost midday when you got out of bed and ate breakfast, but this weekend, you could do whatever you wanted, sleep as long as you wanted, or stay awake as long as you want.
”What do you wanna do later?“, Lando asked when he bit into his bread roll.
”I want to build a snowman, and maybe just chill in front of the fireplace, or skiing?“
”We can start with building a snowman, maybe then skiing? We’re not coming here often, we should ski as often as possible.“
You nodded and pushed the last piece of bread roll into your mouth. Together you cleaned up quickly and before you knew it, you were wrapped up in your snow suit again, ready to go outside and build a snowman.
Lando and you immediately got to work, rolling little snowballs in the snow that was lying on the ground, freshly snowed from the sky while you were still in bed this morning. The crunching of the snow moving underneath your shoes was music to your ears, you loved listening to that sound. With Lando’s ball being almost as tall as his hip, he stopped and put it in a spot where you could see it from the living room, your ball was a bit smaller, so Lando heaved yours on his. While Lando got to work on the head, you went looking for rocks, it wasn’t that easy because of the snow, but close to the house, you found some. You looked for ones that had the same size and quickly you found some, bringing them to Lando who was almost finished with rolling the ball around.
He placed the head on top of the body and you pressed the stones in his face, now he has eyes and a mouth. Lando went and grabbed a carrot from the fridge, digging a small hole with his pointer finger and pressing the carrot in there.
When the finished snowman was standing in front of you, you hugged Lando, squeezed him tightly, and kissed him.
”Look at him!“
”He‘s mint! Let’s call him Steven.“
”Steven?“
”Yeah, he looks like a Steven.“
You started laughing and Lando let out his high-pitched laughing sounds.
After going back inside, cuddling on the couch to warm up again, you decided to go skiing one more time, before your flight leaves tomorrow. Michael picked you two up and brought you to the slope, dropping you off.
It was already 3:00 pm, so you didn’t really have that much time left on the slope, but you made the most out of it. Gliding down the tracks with Lando by your side, it made you happy that you could see Lando enjoying himself, he was just Lando and didn’t need to be someone he wasn’t.
The last evening was spent, again, in front of the fireplace. The MacBook was playing a movie in front of you and snacks were placed next to it, Kinder cards, self-baked cookies, and other sweets you found in the cupboards.
”Thank you for taking me on this trip, Lan.“
”Always baby, you know I’d do anything for you.“
You looked at Steven and cuddled a bit tighter to his chest.
#lando norris#lando norris imagine#formula 1#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris x y/n#lando x reader#lando norris one shot#lando imagine#snow#skiing
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we fell apart when the sky was orange (and now every sunset reminds me of you) // beomgyu
Two long years after he broke your heart, Choi Beomgyu remains your first and only love. Unfortunately he’s now also your colleague, and you’re not sure if you ever really got over him.
at a glance: gender neutral reader, exes to lovers, office au, angst, fluff, ft. enhypen’s heeseung, itzy’s ryujin, and p1harmony’s keeho
words: 6.5k
warnings: swearing
notes: happy valentine's day!! i'm like an hour late but shh hope u enjoy <3
——————————
Your one-and-a-half year long relationship with Choi Beomgyu, the first serious relationship either of you had ever had, ended abruptly during a lovely evening in the East Coast Gardens. You’d gone there together with some of your friends for a picnic and to watch the sunset, celebrating finishing your second year of university.
At some point, you and Beomgyu left the rest of the group to take a walk along the beach. The sky was tinted that showstopping blend of pink and orange only seen at dawn and dusk, and he was holding your hand.
“We have to break up,” he blurted out, letting go.
When you two walked together, it was typical for neither of you to speak for long stretches of time. You weren’t exactly sure what you expected him to break the silence with, but it surely wasn’t that.
“What?”
“We have to break up,” he repeated, barely even looking you in the eye. His voice was flat, but his jaw was so tight he was slurring all of his words. “It’s, uh, it’s been real.”
The glow of the sunset, as breathtaking as it was, faded into the background for you. “It’s been real?” you echoed in disbelief, your mind still lagging ten paces behind your mouth. “Gyu, you can’t be serious. What happened?”
He took a step back from you. “Nothing happened. We just aren’t right for each other.”
“But- but we’re in love,” you protested, hating how childish you sounded. Maybe you were. Maybe it was your juvenile foolishness that had convinced you he meant it when he said ‘I love you too’, as if the ‘too’ tacked on at the end wasn’t a clear enough sign he just said it to agree with you.
You couldn’t remember what happened after that — what he’d said in response, if anything, whether you’d stormed off first or if he’d left you there in the sand, if you had cried. All you remembered was the heartwrenching drive home, shoved in the backseat next to a friend you’d long since lost touch with, periodically tipping your head back so your tears wouldn’t spill over.
——————————
Two years later, everything worked out in the end. You’d like to think so, at least, because you and your best friend Ryujin had just graduated from university at the top of your cohort. With your grades, you both easily secured jobs at the biggest accounting firm in the country as recruits in their prestigious Graduate Talent Programme. It was your first day on the job, and you were about to meet the other GTs.
“No way,” Ryujin muttered.
“What?” you asked, but as the question was leaving your mouth you saw what she was pointing at. Or, more accurately, who.
Beomgyu saw you at almost the exact same moment you did. He locked eyes with you too quickly for you to have pretended not to see him, so you stood rooted in place as he made his way over to you. The expression on his face was unreadable.
“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted. You couldn’t recall the last time you heard your name come out of his mouth. Even though the office was stuffed with people more important than you two, people you should’ve been introducing yourself to, you saw and heard and felt no one but him.
“Hi, Beomgyu,” you returned, his name heavy on your tongue.
He rocked back on the heels of his black dress shoes — so opposite to the sneakers he used to wear everyday back when you dated, the white ones you had given him for his birthday four years ago and he refused to replace despite them just about falling apart — and put his hands in his pockets.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said. You sensed a degree of wariness creeping into his tone now. He looked exactly the same, barring his slightly shorter hair with his icy grey highlights taken out.
“Yeah, what are the odds?” you asked, making casual conversation as if you couldn’t hear that same wariness in your own words.
He wore a crisp white button down, starched impeccably into perfect plains that wrapped around his broad torso, a thin black tie, and black slacks. He’d clearly gotten better at tying ties. You remembered struggling through the How to Tie a Windsor Knot WikiHow article with him before one of his job interviews, both of you flailing around helplessly for nearly an hour before you succeeded.
He nodded to someone standing behind you, prompting you to turn around. “Nice you’ve got Ryujin with you. Heeseung got in too, if you remember him.”
You did. When you and Beomgyu were still together he often told you about Heeseung, an old friend from high school he gamed with online. You wondered what he had told Heeseung about your breakup.
Thankfully, someone else called for everyone’s attention right then, and you booked it to the other corner of the room.
“Good morning everyone! I’d like to introduce our brand new GTP recruits. GTs, if you would please come to the front.”
You and the four other GTs awkwardly shuffled forward, and you ended up standing right beside Beomgyu. The universe hated you; that was the only explanation. Ryujin was too busy stifling her laughter to feel sorry for you.
“Joining our auditing team are Shin Ryujin, Lee Heeseung, and Yoon Keeho. Joining our advisory team are Y/N and Choi Beomgyu. Please give them all a warm welcome!”
The rest of the office clapped politely while your world crumbled around you (fine, you were being hyperbolic). Of all the people on the planet you could’ve been paired with, it just had to be him.
He still smelt the same, wearing the same cologne he’d worn when you were together. The same cologne which clung to your bedsheets for weeks after you broke up.
You closed your eyes for a split second, looking down so no one would notice, and took a deep breath. Then, you raised your head again, turned to Beomgyu, and held out your hand.
“I look forward to working with you,” you said with a polite smile.
He raised an eyebrow but shook your hand anyway.
——————————
Your new team lead whisked you and Beomgyu around from office to office, throwing more information at you than any normal person would be able to process, giving you no room to breathe — let alone talk to the man who’d broken your heart two years ago and was apparently not over you, either.
Clearly, not talking to him didn’t mean you weren’t thinking about him.
Perhaps he was thinking about you too, because you’d catch him watching you out of the corner of your eye when he thought you were distracted. But your interactions with each other were limited to curt, perfunctory statements and uncomfortable glances.
After clock-off, your new colleague Keeho suggested all the GTs go out for drinks. He claimed it was so you’d get to know each other better, but it was clear he just wanted drama. You were at the bar ordering another mocktail when Beomgyu pulled out the barstool next to yours.
“Make that two, please,” he told the bartender, sitting down. Neither of you said a word. You snuck a glance at him to find him already looking at you, so you turned away and stared straight ahead.
Were you over him?
Truthfully, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t tell the difference between being hung up on an ex and grieving someone who’d been such a pivotal part of your life. Maybe it was the whole ‘you never really get over your first love’ thing other people talked about.
He cleared his throat. “Hey.”
You winced, bracing yourself for awkwardness. “Hey.”
“So, uh, you look-” he hesitated, cutting himself off, “How’ve you been?”
“Good… good. You?” You were starting to regret ordering a non-alcoholic drink, because he was just as pretty as you remembered and it was doing your head in.
Ryujin always said you needed to date again, that you’d never move on unless you put yourself back out there. To your credit, you did try. But you ran all your attempts at dating into the ground with all the same flaws of yours that had ended things between you and Beomgyu two years ago.
“Good…” He paused again, and then straightened his back and put his hands on the bar counter, open and declarative. “Can we not do this? Can we just start over?” he asked.
“Start over?” you echoed.
“What happened between us happened so long ago. We don’t need to dredge all that back up again,” he said.
The bartender returned with your identical drinks and, before you could say anything, Beomgyu handed over his credit card. He waved away your surprised gratitude, raised his glass, and held the other one out to you.
Maybe to another person, someone who knew him less well than you did, he’d seem cool and confident. But you could see a tentativeness in his eyes, a slight shake that told you he was worried you wouldn’t respond well, that you wouldn’t take the olive branch in his hand.
You let out a small laugh, the group chat revelation from this morning still rattling about in your head, and tapped the rim of your glass against his.
“Sure, Gyu. Let’s start over.”
——————————
You and Ryujin spent the entire night and most of the next morning’s commute to the office debating what ‘start over’ meant. She thought it meant going back to the courtship stage (whatever that was), and you thought it meant erasing yours and Beomgyu’s history entirely and beginning anew. As strangers.
“But he isn’t over you!” she protested, drawing ire from the elderly couple sitting in front of you on the train.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” you mumbled. “Nothing’s going to happen between us. We literally didn’t say a word to each other yesterday at work.”
Ryujin shook her head. “You’re wrong. There’s something there. I don’t know what, but there’s something.”
Nearly a whole week passed before you began to admit she was right, when even you could no longer bury your head in the sand and pretend you didn’t see it. You kept telling yourself you were content with carrying on your ostrich roleplay for as long as humanly possible, but it was starting to grate on you.
Every year, the GTP recruits were expected to put together a proposal paper and presentation on what they felt the company could improve. The deadline was in two months — how were any of you supposed to be familiar enough with the company by then to make policy recommendations?
“Our team lead keeps saying the company needs ‘fresh eyes’,” Keeho said during your first meeting for the project a week later, already careening off topic. “She stares right into my soul whenever she says ‘fresh eyes’. It’s fucking creepy.”
“It is creepy,” Heeseung agreed, twirling his pen between his fingers.
“Do we all have our notes ready?” Ryujin asked, wrangling the meeting back on track.
Beomgyu helpfully gathered up each of your notes and passed the stack over to you. You were friendly now after that night at the bar, but there was so much tension between you two that even your team lead pointed it out.
“You’re in charge of this, right?” Beomgyu asked. You had volunteered to do the boring work of collating all of your ideas and suggestions into a draft skeleton outline for the proposal paper.
“I’ll help you,” Keeho offered, smiling at you from across the table. “I’m happy to do the auditing parts.”
Beomgyu folded his arms and leant back in his chair. “They can manage.”
You had to stop going giddy every time you saw him in a shirt and tie.
“Actually, help would be useful,” you said to Keeho, ignoring Beomgyu not because you were annoyed, but because you didn’t know what to make of his interjection. Unbeknownst to you, Beomgyu scowled.
——————————
You and Keeho had arranged to work on the report after lunch that day. Beomgyu wasn’t keeping tabs on you or anything, he just made sure to remind you that you had a 3pm advisory meeting with him the same afternoon. Yes, that was the only reason he cared about what you did with your time.
And the only reason he was hovering around by Keeho’s office cubicle was to make sure you weren’t late for the meeting. Not because you were there. Not because you were with Keeho. Not because you and Keeho kept laughing and playfully pushing each other. What could possibly be that funny, anyway?
“Can I help you?” Keeho asked Beomgyu, finally noticing his presence.
Beomgyu ignored him and looked straight at you, tapping his watch. “Let’s go. It’s 2.50.”
“Ah, already?” you mumbled, mostly to yourself, gathering your things up from Keeho’s desk. “Sorry, Keeho. I’ll finish it tonight.”
Keeho smirked as his gaze shifted from you to Beomgyu and then back to you, before he let out a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll take it from here.”
“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!” You scrambled to your feet to follow Beomgyu to the lift lobby.
The meeting room was just three floors above you, and as soon as Beomgyu led you into the lifts he braced for you to ask him why he was in such a rush. It only took a minute to get there. But you didn’t; maybe you would have a couple of years ago.
——————————
Beomgyu waited until you and him were alone in the office — an hour or so after the end of the work day — when he just couldn’t take it anymore.
“There’s so much weird sexual tension between you and Keeho,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual. To both his amazement and relief, you didn’t seem to notice.
Your lips twitched, like you were about to reveal something but quickly decided against it. Beomgyu remembered when he was able to read you like an open book, but those days were now long gone and he couldn’t tell what you were thinking anymore.
“He’s hot. And tall. And he seems nice,” Beomgyu continued, unsure what he was trying to accomplish.
“I don’t really date anymore,” you blurted out, seeming to regret saying that almost immediately.
“Why not?”
You shrugged, now regaining your composure. “I… I don’t think I’d be a good partner. For anyone.”
It was Beomgyu’s turn to falter. He watched you carefully as the realisation started to sink in. The walls of the now quiet office felt like they were closing in on him. You’d blamed yourself for the breakup. He’d made you think you were too broken for love.
“Oh, god, did I do that to you?” he asked, so quiet it was nearly a whisper.
“…It was a long time ago,” you replied after what seemed like forever, a non-answer if ever there was one, glancing up from the desk and flashing him a tight-lipped smile. It didn’t even get anywhere near your eyes. “We don’t have to get into it. I’m sorry I brought it up. Like you said, we should just start over.”
He swallowed his pride and shook his head firmly. “No, I was wrong. We should talk about it. I don’t want to leave things unsaid.”
The version of him that had broken up with you would never have said that. That version of him refused to even admit when he had a headache. That version of him dumped you because he couldn’t handle you ‘always needing to talk about feelings.’ It was hard for him to stomach that fact, even all these years later.
“I don’t know- I had so many issues and I expected you to be my answer to all of them. I just figured that if even a guy like you couldn’t stand me, I was beyond redemption,” you shrugged.
Once, during a particularly hectic exam season back in university, you had completely shut yourself off from him, all your friends, even Ryujin. You didn’t talk to anyone for a week. You didn’t leave your room. You didn’t answer any of his texts or calls. He knew your parents were fighting and your rent had gone up past what you could afford and you were struggling to pass your classes. There was nothing more he wanted than to drive over to your place and hold you, to tell you everything was going to be fine, but you refused to let him.
“Do you still think that?” he asked, his throat feeling exceptionally tight.
“Maybe. I’m not sure,” you admitted.
Even back then he knew why you refused, although he wasn’t ready to admit it at the time. Whenever you did try to open up to him he would shut down, so eventually you stopped trying.
Your phone alarm went off before he could think of a response, a generic default ringtone. It used to be a recording of him quacking like a duck, because for some reason you found that hilarious and he liked doing it to cheer you up.
“I should go. My train’s coming,” you told him.
He blinked, blindsided. “Oh- okay.”
You packed your bag and stood up, walking to the lift lobby and pressing the button. Then, in a fraction of a second, you dropped the facade.
“Don’t take what I said too seriously, Gyu,” you assured him. “I’m alright now. I’m in a good place.”
He stared at your eyes, trying to decipher them, but you seemed to be telling the truth. After a second or two, he pulled his shoulders back and nodded. There was still a weight on his chest.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he smiled.
The lift doors behind you opened, and you smiled back. The weight lifted.
“See you tomorrow, Gyu.”
——————————
——————————
The GTs were meeting before the work day officially started to discuss the progress you and Keeho had made yesterday. You and Ryujin got on the train an hour earlier than usual.
“Are you gonna say yes?” she asked, after you told her Keeho had asked you out on a date yesterday. She had a slice of buttered toast in her mouth in flagrant disregard of the ‘no eating’ sign right behind her.
“I don’t know,” you groaned, dragging out your last word like a whiny child. You only acted like this in front of Ryujin. “I should, right? He’s nice.”
“I don’t think you should date people on the basis of niceness. I think you should date them based on whether you actually like them,” she said, never being one to sugarcoat the truth for you, before her eyes widened in realisation. “Don’t tell me it’s because of Beomgyu.”
“It’s not,” you said, and she gave you a knowing look. “Well, it’s not not. What if I’m broken?”
Your conversation with Beomgyu hadn’t left your head since yesterday. You were still bewildered that he’d insisted on talking to you about your breakup; it was so unlike him. Or at least the version of him you remembered.
“I don’t understand how you can take him breaking up with you the way he did as an indictment on you and not him,” Ryujin said. “He always acted like you were some big emotional burden when most of the time you were just a bit sad and needed a hug. And he couldn’t even handle that.”
——————————
Beomgyu, Heeseung, and Keeho were all already in the meeting room when you and Ryujin showed up, even though you were five minutes early yourselves.
“Keeho brought doughnuts,” Heeseung announced instead of saying ‘good morning’, pointing to the box on the table. Ryujin grinned and skipped over to the box to grab one.
“Y/N, do you want Oreo or cinnamon?” Keeho asked, checking to see which flavours were left.
Beomgyu looked up from his phone and said nonchalantly, “Y/N doesn’t like eating in the morning.” The statement was addressed to Keeho, but he looked right at you as he said it.
You stared back at him. He remembered, but of course he did, because you used to watch him eat breakfast while only nursing a giant thermos of coffee every morning. He always nagged you about not skipping ‘the most important meal of the day’, and you always insisted that that was a myth. (For the record, you were right.)
“Uh- yeah. I’m good, thanks,” you stammered after far too long a pause.
Keeho cocked an eyebrow, looking between you and Beomgyu like he had yesterday with a slight smile on his face, before taking the last cinnamon doughnut for himself.
Five minutes before nine, you wrapped up your meeting. Beomgyu and Keeho offered to stay and reset the meeting room while the rest of you hurried to your desks, until you realised you’d left your phone behind and circled back to get it. Right as you reached for the door handle, you heard something that made you freeze.
“Y/N told me you asked them out.” Beomgyu’s voice was barely muffled by the closed door.
Peeking through the tiny window of the door, you saw Keeho shrug. “I did. But I’m not holding my breath.”
“Why? They think you’re hot,” Beomgyu said.
You were so going to kill him. That little-
Keeho laughed and shook his head. “Nah, I’m doomed by the narrative.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Beomgyu asked. That was the man you recognised, defensive and immediately assuming intent to offend. You heard them walking towards the door and scrambled to hide behind the wall around the corner, holding your breath.
“Relax, man,” Keeho chuckled, opening the door. The two men walked right past you, not noticing you. “I’m just saying you should go for it.”
Beomgyu frowned. “What?”
“Yeah. No regrets, right?”
——————————
——————————
Beomgyu was acting differently with you now. He was smiling more, joking around more. You were trying not to think about it too much — you didn’t know what it meant, and, more worryingly, you didn’t know what you wanted it to mean.
You two stayed late one Friday night to work on a presentation deck, being the only people left in the office by 8pm. You ordered kimbap and fried chicken and ate dinner together at his cubicle, balancing paper plates on your knees while he typed and you peered over his shoulder.
“This feels familiar,” Beomgyu mused, turning around to look at you. You must’ve looked like a deer in the headlights to him, because you instantly forgot whatever you were about to say when he smiled at you.
In university you had spent many a night in his apartment sitting beside him at his desk, watching him game with Heeseung (whom you only knew at that point as a disembodied voice that lived in Beomgyu’s headset). You were usually snacking on something and you’d feed him whatever it was while he was playing.
“So, did you say yes to Keeho?” Beomgyu asked, sounding flippant, but you could tell he’d been waiting for the right time to ask you that for a while.
“No, he- that’s weird,” you frowned, after you pushed the ground floor button and it failed to light up. Then, the entire lift rattled. “That’s weirder.”
He reached over your shoulder to push the button again, his hair brushing against the back of your neck. Once more, it didn’t light up. But you were worrying about other things, namely how broad his button up made his shoulders look and how good he smelt.
“Answer my question,” he pressed, all while repeatedly poking the button like an impatient toddler.
You would’ve laughed, if not for how close he was standing to you making it impossible for you to think straight. “We decided against it- are we actually stuck in here?”
It was silent for a few seconds as you looked at each other, confused. And then he began to panic.
“No, we can’t be,” he insisted, jabbing his finger at the lift button over and over so hard you thought he’d break his knuckle. His eyes were wide and his breathing was shallow and fast.
“Gyu-”
He cut you off with a loud wail and slapped his hands onto his head, throwing his back against the wall behind him and sliding down it dramatically. You bit back a laugh, the feeling of his body right by yours a second ago now a distant memory.
“We’re trapped! We’re gonna die!” he shrieked, his voice amplified by the tightness of the space you were in. The lift rattled once more.
You stifled a laugh. “Dude, chill.”
It had been nearly four years since your first date, but you still remembered it vividly. He’d brought you to a night carnival, and one of the first attractions on the itinerary was the haunted house. He confessed to you months after you started dating that it was all part of his grand plan to make you fall in love with him: that you would get scared and cling onto his bicep and he’d heroically protect you.
The actual experience went like this. You and him made it about a fifth of the way through the haunted house — with you taking the lead and him screaming bloody murder the entire time — before he tapped out and you turned back. Upon shamefully emerging from the haunted house’s entrance like a couple of quitter chickens, he sank to the floor with his head in his hands, exactly as he was right now. Of course now he was in a button up, tie, slacks, and dress shoes rather than a university sweatshirt and jeans, but the pose was nearly identical.
“I’m too young to die! But I’m too old to get on the news for dying young!” he babbled. Maybe he was delirious from the stress of the job. Ignoring the meltdown unfolding by your feet, you dialled the emergency number above the lift door and gave the man on the other end of the line your lift’s reference number.
“The maintenance guy will be here in a few minutes,” you relayed, hanging up the phone.
He took his head out of his hands and stopped screaming. “Oh. I might have overreacted.”
You laughed, joining him on the floor on the opposite side of the lift. “You think?”
It was silent for a while, save for a few odd creaks from the lift here and there. He had his legs stretched out in front of him and they looked about a billion miles long. You couldn’t really look at him too much without your heart feeling weird.
“Hey,” he started, kicking your shoe to get your attention. “What happened with Keeho?”
He was still on that.
“Nothing. We decided it wasn’t a good idea,” you answered, pausing for a moment to mull over whether you should admit to the conversation you had eavesdropped on last week. You choose to keep your mouth shut.
Beomgyu stayed silent for so long that you got over your refusal to make eye contact and looked up to see if something was wrong. He was frowning. The lift was so small and quiet you swore you could hear your own heartbeat echoing off the walls.
“It wasn’t your fault, you know? Us. How we ended,” he said, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “I was always shutting you down when you needed to be comforted. I even said you had too many issues.”
You winced at his last sentence, words that still stung nearly three years after he’d first uttered them to you. He must have seen it on your face, because he closed his eyes and looked away.
“Maybe we both met the right person at the wrong time,” you offered, trailing off as he silently got up from his spot opposite you and sat down next to you instead. If he moved even a millimetre closer, his shoulder would’ve touched yours. You held your breath and turned to him, your face so close to his that you could count his eyelashes.
“Yeah, maybe.” He held your gaze, unwavering.
The lift rattled even louder this time, but although you jumped he didn’t even flinch. Instead, his eyes drifted down to your lips. You used to rest your head on his shoulder when you two sat next to each other like this, whether it was on his sofa or at a restaurant. It was your ‘thing’.
He leaned in, and you found yourself drawn towards him. There was something magnetic about him that seemed to pull you forward, a compulsion of sorts. He used to taste like the pomegranate lip balm you kept in your pocket that he constantly nicked because he was too lazy to buy his own. You wondered if he’d bought one for himself after you split up. His nose brushed against yours and your eyes fluttered shut.
BANG!
You jumped apart, exchanging alarmed glances at the deafening metallic clang of the lift door.
“Maintenance! You guys okay in there?”
Beomgyu recovered from the shock before you did and sputtered out an, “All good!” But he was looking only at you. Beside him you were frozen, certain you could still feel the warmth of his breath on your face.
“Stand back from the doors!” the maintenance man continued.
You scrambled to your feet first, straightening your jacket and grabbing your bag. Your face felt like it was on fire. After (in your estimation) about a billion hours, the lift doors finally parted to reveal a beaming maintenance man.
“Thank you so much, sir. Have a good night,” you rushed out, mumbling a goodbye to Beomgyu without turning to look at him. He didn’t get a chance to return the pleasantry before you were gone.
——————————
——————————
Neither of you spoke of the lift incident after that night. You acted like nothing had ever happened, and Beomgyu seemed more than happy to go along with your charade.
Your team lead had invited you both to tag along to a meeting with another company’s headquarters; neither of you had any direct involvement in the project, but he’d asked you to prepare a short presentation on your suggestions for the project anyway. It would be a good experience for you, hence why you agreed to it, but now you were starting to question your judgement.
“Are you nervous?” Beomgyu asked you under his breath as you walked down the corridor side by side to the conference room.
“Is it obvious?” you asked. Your thumb drive loaded with presentation slides was burning a hole in your pocket. Your palms were sweating, but you didn’t want to say that out loud. He’d just start rapping Eminem’s Lose Yourself at you and ruin your focus.
Truth be told, you didn’t really know why he was here — he wasn’t giving a presentation and had nothing to do with the project.
“It’s obvious to me,” he answered.
If you read into that even a little, you inferred he meant that he knew you better than other people did, that he saw more of you than they did. If you read into your own relief when he told you this morning he was coming for the meeting, you inferred having him with you made you feel more secure.
You needed to stop reading into things.
But how could you, when he checked where the air conditioning vents in the meeting room were the second he walked in so he could get you both seats far away from them, knowing you got cold easily? And how could you, when he swapped your chair with his own on instinct to give you the one without any broken wheels?
After the meeting ended, you took the train back home with him. It was a two hour ride.
“You did great,” he praised, leading the way to an empty train carriage. As he walked, he slipped his fingers under his navy blue tie, loosening the knot and popping open the top button of his shirt. You tried not to stare.
“Thanks.” You sat down in the window seat, and he took the one beside you. His shoulder touched yours. Were train seats always this narrow?
There was a part of you that wished Ryujin were here to knock some sense into you and/or crush your delusions before they became too well fleshed out, but she was starting to warm to Beomgyu more and more these days. She was even encouraging you to talk to him. Ryujin? Encouraging you to talk to Beomgyu? Maybe you’d fallen into the matrix.
——————————
“I’m on my way home. How was work?”
You hadn’t dreamt about Beomgyu in a long time, but your dreamscape’s recreation of his voice still remained accurate. Warm and melodic, with a smooth lilt that made anything he said sound poetic.
“It was alright. Are you with Y/N?”
Heeseung’s voice. Hm. Dreaming about Heeseung was weird, but not entirely out of the question. You’d gotten to know him pretty well-
“Shh, man. They’re sleeping right beside me.”
At that, you finally woke up. Your head was resting on Beomgyu’s shoulder instead of the window pane, somehow having found its way to him while you were asleep. Perhaps he’d shifted you there himself, like he used to do whenever you dozed off on the wall of yours and his favourite study booth in the back of the university library.
He didn’t notice you were awake. You kept your eyes shut and remained perfectly still.
“Have you guys talked?” Heeseung asked on the other end of the phone.
“No. What am I supposed to say? Sorry I almost kissed you, I think I’m still in love with you?” Beomgyu said quietly.
“Yeah. Literally.”
“I can’t do that, man.”
“Why not? The universe gave you a second chance. No regrets, right?”
Beomgyu was silent for a few seconds.
“Yeah, I’ll see you at home.”
He hung up without giving Heeseung a chance to reply, and you felt him shifting around as he slipped his phone into his pocket.
Still. Not that he fell in love with you again, but that he never stopped. He was still in love with you.
His hair brushed the side of your face when he turned to you and called your name softly.
“Y/N, wake up.”
You’d never been a particularly good actor, but you pretended to wake up as best as you could and hoped he didn’t see through you.
“Look,” he said quietly, even though there was no one else around, pointing out the window.
The sun was just beginning to set, glowing a brilliant warm orange and glazing the clouds around it in red and yellow. Pink streaks spanned across the sky and through the window into the train carriage.
“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.
When you turned back around, Beomgyu was watching you instead of the sunset. He looked away immediately, clearing his throat and shifting around in his seat. You wondered if he was thinking of the same thing you were.
“Sorry I woke you. I didn’t want you to miss the sunset,” he mumbled. His hands sat folded awkwardly in his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them.
Still. Still?
You could count on one hand the number of times in your life you’d been well and truly speechless; this was one of them.
He seemed to mistake your silence for something else — you didn’t know what — because he turned away and dropped his gaze apologetically.
“Hey, about the other day,” he said, trailing off, “I’m sorry I made things weird.”
You weren’t going to lose him again. You’d had enough heartbreak.
“You didn’t,” you rushed out, placing your hand over his. The movement was sudden and uncoordinated, an impulsive lunge forward rather than a measured and gentle reach. “I wish I hadn’t run away like that.”
Beomgyu’s eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly in shock. You didn’t know if your words or your actions had caused that.
“Really?” His voice was all breath and no depth.
The melting light of the sunset behind you poured into the train carriage through the window, lying across his face in ribbons of gold that made his skin glow. The hue was almost indescribable, the type of colour only found during sunsets, and the colour you associated only with Choi Beomgyu.
His fingers curled up to lace themselves with yours, and you felt a coldness on your skin that gave you a jolt. It was a ring. Plain, thin, silver.
You bought him matching rings for your six month anniversary, thick patterned silver ones with intricate carvings and twisted rope trimmings. They were cheap costume jewellery — you lost your job around then and that was all you could afford — and they stained your fingers green after a few days.
You gave up and wore your ring on a chain around your neck instead, but he wore his on his index finger every day, all the way to the end. You used to call him 1% Shrek.
He squeezed your hand.
Now or never.
“I don’t want to… I don’t think I can pretend I’m not in love with you anymore,” you admitted, your heart battering against your rib cage like it was trying to burst out of your chest.
Beomgyu’s grip on your hand tightened. “Me neither,” he whispered.
You looked at him, at the softness in his brown eyes and the gentle slope of his nose. He had made all the first moves in the past. He asked you out on the first date, he initiated your first kiss, he introduced you to his friends and family first. You were done with waiting for him to lead the way.
“Can I kiss you?” you asked.
All his nerves appeared to melt away. He grinned cockily, the exact same grin he donned right before he was about to do something annoying.
“Kissing on public transport is so passé,” he said with a dramatic sigh, even though you were the only people on the train. “We aren’t horny students anymore, we’re grown adults with serious jobs-”
“There’s a juice box sticking out of your bag,” you pointed out, suppressing a laugh.
He moved towards you, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek. Like your muscles had held onto the memory of his touch all these years, you leant into the familiar warmth of his palm.
“You make a compelling argument,” he muttered, before bringing his lips to yours.
Peppermint. He used peppermint lip balm now.
When was the last time you’d kissed? You couldn’t remember. But you remembered how it felt — the way his lips slotted perfectly between yours, his curve of his hand on your face, the angle of his shoulder exactly where you always held onto him.
When you separated, he pressed a final quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. That was his trademark; he never kissed you without doing that.
“I can’t believe you came back to me,” he said. The diffuse amber of the sunset glazed over his face, making his eyes sparkle. Something about the way he looked at you slowed your heart rate, made you feel sedated.
You ran your thumb over the ring on his index finger, now warmed from the heat of your locked hands.
“Always.”
——————————
thanks for reading!
-minastras <3
#tomorrow x together#txt#choi beomgyu#txt beomgyu#txt x reader#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu angst#beomgyu fluff#beomgyu au
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all-nighter | j.jh (M)
As your newly-dating boyfriend works on his new app, you decide to take care of him when he tries to pull an all-nighter.
Or, Jaehyun is finally ready to fulfill all of his fantasies.
Pairing | Nerd!Jaehyun ♡ BadGirl!Reader
Genre | Comedy, Romance, Smut [ brief shower action, fingering, riding, oral (both), brief 69, subby!jaehyun, dom!reader, protected sex, dacryphilia, dirty talk, praising, a little surprise at the end ♥︎ ]
Word Count | 5k
Reading time | 25 minutes
Warnings | usage of curse words, explicit descriptions of sex, afab reader, not proof-read. lmk if I missed anything.
Notes | It’s finally here! After so long, pretty boy Jaehyun is back :) Happy Valentine’s Day, Valentines! I hope you like this one. ♥︎ Can be read as a stand-alone, or you can read Pretty Boy here!
A strong wind ruffled your hair as you pushed past the library’s doors. It was close to 9PM and you looked for your boyfriend after your last lecture of the day.
It had been, approximately, 3 months since your first intimate encounter with the man. The promise of a further adventure still on the table. Given the nature of the man, you wanted to take things slow, going at his pace without pressuring him into anything. He did seem to be ready, but you wanted it to be special—for the both of you.
The dimpled guy had been nothing but the sweetest these past couple of months, his bashfulness didn’t seem to fade away though. Not that you complained about it, the sight of his pink cheeks and glossy eyes only made you fall for him further. To be honest, you were completely in love with him—and you were sure he felt the same.
The lady in the front desk greeted you and told you they were closing in an hour. Taking a small tupperware out of your bag, you placed it on the counter. A piece of cake inside for the lady that always makes conversation with you when you come looking for your boyfriend everyday. She smiled at you and thanked you for the treat.
“You mentioned you like this kind of cake so I brought you some.” You smiled. “I’ll be out in like 10 minutes, I’m here to make sure Jaehyun hasn’t been absorbed by the computers.” She chuckled and directed you to where he was.
“Well, in that case, he is in the private computer rooms upstairs. Room 4.” She smiled at you. “Here’s a key, pretty sure he will not be hearing you knock.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Garcia.” You waved at her and made way to the private room section of the library.
You knocked on the door, and just as she had said, no one answered. Smiling, you opened the door to see your boyfriend deeply concentrated on his screen, a bunch of weird codes displayed on a window and a preview displayed on his iPad.
Jaehyun jumped in his seat when he felt a pair of hands on his shoulder.
“Oh my-“ he turned around and as soon as he saw your face, he relaxed. “You scared me…” he whispered.
“Oh, I am sorry, baby.” You cooed and cupped his face, squishing his cheeks, while straddling his lap. “How’s my pretty boy doing?” You kissed his lips softly a couple of times, making him blush, yet his hands cupped your ass.
“I-I’m okay, I am working on my app.” You pecked his lips again as you watch his skin turn pink. “How are you?”
“I’m okay, baby. But we need to go.” You said. “The library is closing soon and you need to rest a bit.”
“But I am not done yet.” He tried looking back at the screen but your hand on his jaw prevented him from doing so.
“You can finish tomorrow. Now, let’s go home, pretty boy. Let me take care of you.” He started talking again, so you pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll drive you home and I’ll make you a nice meal.”
“Just ten more-“
You cut him off with a kiss again, this seemed to be the most successful way to shut him up.
“And then we can take a shower together,” he hummed against your lips, interested in your last statement. “Then we can do a lot more…”
“Like what?” He whispered.
The grip he has on your bottom got stronger, as he practically squeezed the soft mounds. The sudden boost of confidence surprised you, making you wet nonetheless.
“I dont know… what do you want to do?” A smirk forming on your face.
His lips touched your jaw ever so softly and your eyes almost bulged out of your face. It wasn’t something outrageous but he barely ever even kissed you normally. He would rather hide under his sheets, blushing like crazy, than outright tell you he wants to make out.
“There’s this movie that just came out. It’s a romcom, I’m sure you’ll like it too.” He suggested and smiled cutely.
At this point, you were too soft for his dimples that you couldn’t even suggest something naughtier. You loved seeing him happy. The lamest things made him happy and therefore it made you happy.
“A movie sounds great, baby.” You kissed his lips softly and removed yourself from his lap. “Now, let’s go so Mrs. Garcia can go home.”
“So, how’s your app going, baby?” You asked and opened the door to his apartment, which he held for you to get in so he could follow after.
The scent of his home was absolutely heavenly. Soft and manly. Discarding of you shoes, you reached to hold his laptop and tablet to place them on his desk. He whispered a small ‘thank you, baby.’ that made you heart beat at a hundred miles an hour.
“The app is almost done.” He smiled proudly. “It should be up for download by the end of the month. I hope it does well.”
“Of course it will do well, pretty boy. You made it, so I am sure it is great!” You assured him. “And if I have to, I will purchase a million devices so I can download it in all of them.”
The sudden pull of your waist by his arm made you gasp softly. Not expecting him to be this affectionate, you were not quite sure how to react other than by snuggling into his chest as it hit your back.
“Thank you, baby.” His lips ghosted over the crook of your neck and you could’ve just faint right there.
Truth is, he also felt the same way. Your words of encouragement and the silly idea of buying a million devices for the sake of his success made him feel elated. Absolutely enamored by you. Thoughts of you flooded his mind and he didn’t mind it, all he wanted was to hold you close and never let go of you—he was deeply in love.
“Do you want to shower first, baby?” You needed him, all of him this time.
“Sounds good, beautiful.” The word rolling from his tongue was so sexy. His voice drove you insane, it was low and deep while still holding that hint of timidity.
You could definitely get used to him being a bit more straightforward and affectionate.
“Let’s go then, pretty boy.”
Soft delicate hands helped the man discard of his clothes, he loved the feeling of your hands on his body. Although, he would never say out out loud.
He knew what was going to happen in the shower (or at least he hoped it was what he thought), and he was very much looking forward to it. His dreams were always filled with images of you—some innocent and some not so much. Often, he would find himself wandering around explicit thoughts of you: you on your knees and choking on his dick, you riding his face, his fingers deep inside you as you screamed his name, you on your knees and elbows, pretty ass parading for him as he fucked you dumb, and the most popular thought of his—you bouncing on his lap taking all of him as he watched your pretty face and pretty tits jiggle.
Of course, he never found the words to ask for all of his fantasies. The fact that you worshipped his cock and often pointed out how big he was, made his confidence boost a little. But it wasn’t enough to outright ask you to ride his face or bend you over. As a matter of fact, his cock still didn’t have the privilege to explore the crevices that his fingers had.
Ever since he became your boyfriend, he had done countless of research of ways to pleasure you. Wanting nothing more than to give you as much as you gave him. At this point he should be an expert, but how could he be one if he never put it to practice. He tried many times, in his head, but once he wanted to apply it… it never came out the way he wanted too. His bashfulness always won.
“Let me help you…” he offered quietly when he saw you removing your shirt.
You stopped on your tracks and stood in front of him. While you do enjoy him being submissive (he does too) you didn’t mind him being a little more responsive.
“You’re so pretty.” The way his voice resonated in the softest way possible, clenched your heart. He had told you this countless of times but it never failed to make you feel special.
Feeling his lips on your collarbone, caused a moan to leave your lips, his own curving up in a small smile at the reaction.
Jaehyun’s hands traveled down the curves of your body to undo the zipper of your short skirt and let it fall around your feet. Curving his palms, he cupped your soft bottom, bringing you closer to his naked body as you held unto his biceps.
Not so sure what was happening, but you were having the time of your life being touched by him. The man’s hands touched you with such delicacy that it almost felt like feathers brushing against your skin.
“Are you okay?” You asked, curious of his behavior.
“I’m okay.” He smiled. “I just want you to feel good, too.”
“I always feel good, baby.”
“I know, but I want to make you feel good myself.” You lips joined as you stumbled into the shower once he removed your underwear.
“Yeah?” The cool water splashed on you bodies, dampening his hair and yours.
He merely hummed against your lips, before cupping your face to stroke your cheeks with his thumbs.
“Come here, let me wash you hair.” His fingers ran through your hair, massaging your scalp as he washed away any oils. Jaehyun kept all of your favorite care items in his house for you, as he liked having you over often.
Closing your eyes, you stood there taking in his care. It was you who was supposed to be taking care of him, but he wanted to return the favor as he had promised the first night. Not only sexually, but also romantically. His heart fluttered whenever you were with him, the way you treated him was heart filling—even his friends started envying the way you treated him, but they couldn’t agree more that he deserved it.
The water washed away the soapy bubbles from your hair and you turned around to face him, grabbing the bottle of his shampoo and smiling at him once he bowed his head so you could reach.
“You look cute.” You giggled and spiked his hair. “Such a pretty boy.”
“Stop…” he blushed but still giggled with you.
Jaehyun stepped under the shower, the suds washing down his body and you couldn’t help but follow their path. From his head to his collarbones, to his abs and down his legs—where, of course, you stared at. He grew shy under your gaze, but he couldn’t help himself from pulling you into his arms.
“You’re so pretty.” He whispered and placed his thumb across your bottom lip before kissing you once more.
Kissing him always felt nice, it made you feel a million butterflies in your tummy. He kissed you with such delicacy no one had ever given you before.
“Oh, someone’s excited.” You giggled against his lips when you felt something poke your thigh.
“I- uh- I’m sorry…” his cheeks painted a deep pink and his eyes shut as he stopped kissing you.
“Hey, don’t act all shy now.” You smooched his lips a couple of times until he was smiling. “Let me help you with that, baby.”
He kept you in place, against the shower wall, once you were about to kneel in order to suck him off. Jaehyun shook his head when he saw your confused face.
“Not like that…” his lips kissed your neck and his hands travelled down your body.
“What do you want me to do, sweetheart?”
“I can’t say it…” he confessed bashfully against your neck.
Giggling, you stroked his back softly. “Do you want me to give you a handjob?” He shook his head.
“My boobs?” He shook his head again. “Do- do you want to go all the way?” He nodded and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. “Okay.”
Guiding his hand with yours, you led it to your pelvic area, his fingers brushing past your clit making you gasp softly.
“I don’t think I can’t take you without prep, baby.” You said and he stared at you intently. “Can you help me get ready for you?”
Your eyes shut when you felt his fingers moving. His slender finger brushed past your lower lips and teased your entrance. It was quite surprising he knew what to do—but then again, you didn’t know all the hours of research he had gone through.
“Fuck…” you exhales sharply as his middle finger teased a specific part of sensitive skin near your entrance.
“C-can I?” He asked and you nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.
That’s when his finger dipped inside. Your hands reached out to grab at his shoulders to keep you balanced, the feeling of his finger deep inside you was already so much.
“Oh my God!” You gasped once more after his finger curled, pressing your g-spot.
“Is that good?” He asked, eyelids low and irises deeply concentrated in your face.
“Yes- please, more…” your eyes moved to look at him and you were met with his eyes intently staring at you. “I don’t- oh fuck!”
Your sentence was cut short as you felt him add another finger, his pace now quicker and finger pads curling which each pump. Just as you were about to talk again, his lips captured yours in a sloppy kiss.
Jaehyun kissed you eagerly, a little too excited for the things that were happening—and the ones that would unfold later.
“Baby,” you groaned and he hummed. “You’re so good at that, I don’t think-” you gasped once more as his thumb circled at your sensitive clit.
Your eyes were blown open and mouth agape as you turned to look at him, his chest and cheeks were a deep shade of pink and you could notice his heavy breathing—he was turned on.
“How about we move this to your bed, sweetie?” Your hand reached out to stroke his rock hard cock, a gasp leaving his lips almost instantly.
“Okay,” his shaking breath made you smirk as you pushed him back.
Jaehyun stumbled backwards as you lead him back into the bedroom, you lips still permanently sucking on his. Usually, he would mind the mess the water dripping down your bodies made, but he was far too excited to care.
“I can’t wait to have this pretty cock inside me, baby.” You stroked him again, making him hiss as his bottom touched the mattess beneath him—your naked body falling on his.
You bit his chin and sat up on his abs, he couldn’t help but stare at your wet pussy touching his skin. He was absolutely mesmerized, his dirtiest fantasies were unfolding right in front of him. Jaehyun’s hand subconsciously reached to squeeze your ass, making you gasp softly.
“Do you like this?” You asked when his breath hitched at the sudden move of your hips, your pussy glading over his abs. “Do you like me riding your abs?” he bit his lip.
“Aren’t you a dirty boy…” clicking your tongue, you removed yourself from him and turned your back to him before straddling his body again. Your pussy now in complete display and just mere inches away from his face. “God, I love sucking this pretty cock.” You said and licked up his shaft.
The man tensed up beneath you, struggling to keeping himself from pulling your ass down and devouring you.
“Fuck,” he let out a shaky moan when your mouth sucked on his cock, but the sudden clench of your pussy caught his attention. Sucking him off did turn you on. “Just like that…” his thoughts were short lived when his tip hit the back of your throat.
“Hnng-“ Jaehyun whined when your mouth suddenly left his skin. “No-“
“No what, baby?” You couldn’t see his face, but his eyebrows knitted up as he debated whether to pull you down or not.
This was his time to shine. The time to finally do what he’s been wanting to do. Jaehyun wanted nothing less than suffocating on your pussy as your plush thighs hugged his head.
“Cat ate- fuck!” You gasped loudly as the man beneath you grabbed your hips sternly and pulled you down. His tongue sloppily made out with your wet core and you couldn’t help but moan loudly as your chest heaved out heavy breaths.
“Oh, baby… you’re so good at that.” His teeth grazed your clit softly and it felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The sound that left your lips was a sound Jaehyun quickly got addicted to.
He could definitely get used to hearing those pretty moans as he pleasured you as if that was his sole purpose on the u universe. You could feel his warm tongue lapping your folds and alternating to kitty lick your clit and entrance. The sensation of his teeth slightly grazing your bud added a new thrill that you had never experienced before.
Although he was the least experienced man you’ve been with, he was definitely the best at making a meal out of you. He wasn’t rushing to get your orgasm out of the way and seek his, but because he was hungry and eager to please you.
“Jaehyun…” moans turned into slurred whines of his name as your orgasm approached, but he stopped right then, kissing your pussy once before moving you off his face.
“Where did you learn that, pretty boy? Hmm?” You questioned, feeling strange at the submissive headspace you were in for a mere second. “What makes you think you can just stop when I’m about to cum?”
He felt the mattress dip as you moved around to straddle him like you did originally. This time, your breasts joined the skin of his chest as you leaned forward to suck at his thick neck.
“Are you just eager to try this pussy?” You asked and he moaned softly, making a smile form across your face. “Is that what you want, baby? Will you let me ruin this pretty cock?” You licked up his throat and bit his chin.
“This pretty cock will never be satisfied by no one other than me. You got that, pretty boy?” He nodded slowly and stared as he waited for you to kiss him. Your lips ghosted over the skin around his lips, teasing, but never making contact with his lips.
“Such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” Your fingers ran down his body, his skin so soft to the touch that you could swear it would’ve melted under your touch.
Your hand slid slowly from his shoulder to his pecs, which you teased by pinching his pretty nipples. Jaehyun struggled to keep his eyes open and mouth shut at the feeling, his mouth fell open and soft whimpers left his throat as your hands teased down his abs, where you could feel your wetness from earlier.
With your middle finger, you swiped the clear glistening substance and reached to his lips—the man didn’t waste any time before he was already sucking your finger dry, humming at the taste.
“God, you are hot.” You groaned as he looked up at you with the cutest pleading eyes as his cheeks hollowed around your finger. “Open your mouth, Angel…”
He obliged and you smirked.
“Stick your tongue out.”
A small moan resonated from the man as he did what you said. Grabbing his jaw, you kept his face in place as you lowered your own face close to his. Your tongue sticking out to lick his quickly before sucking it as you would with his dick.
Jaehyun exhaled heavily and his body laid limp on the mattress as you kept doing your work on his tongue. Who would’ve though such an impish action would feel like heaven on Earth.
“Please…” he mumbled while moving his hands to caress your skin, sending shivers up your spine.
“You can’t wait any longer, baby?” You whispered and he shook his head soflty. A smile broke on your face, feeling soft for the boy who stared at you with stars in his eyes.
“Let me get a condom…” kissing his lips one last time, you left the bed to find a condom on his drawers.
Jaehyun’s mind and heart were rushing at a million miles per hour. He had been waiting for this moment to come, he knew it would eventually happen, but he never it would happen with someone like you. As you moved back to the bed, he laid there propped up on his elbows.
“Are you sure you want to do this right now, baby?” You asked sweetly, genuinely concerned about him once you glanced over and saw him fidgeting.
“Yes, I’m just a bit nervous.” He shyly admitted.
“I’ll take it slow, okay?” Your lips touched his in a sweet peck. “If you want me to stop at any time, tell me and will stop.”
“Okay…” his voice trembled when your hand slowly rolled down the condom over his length.
“Relax, love…” voice soft, you instructed him to breathe deeply. “You already feel so good, baby.”
A soft moan left his plush lips and his eyebrows knitted up when he felt the tip of his cock glide over your wet folds. The quiet sound turned into a loud whine as you finally sunk down his cock painfully slow.
“Ah- I- Oh my God!” Jaehyun whined and his chest heaved with heavy breaths. Shutting his eyes and opening them again, he was greeted with the prettiest sight ever.
There you were, eyes closed, eyebrows knitted, mouth slightly open, and quiet curses leaving your pretty lips. He couldn’t help but moan at the sight.
“I don’t think I will last long tonight, baby.” You whispered. “I’m not even halfway down and you already fill me up so good.”
Between heavy breaths, Jaehyun stared at the spot where your pussy met his cock. He stared intently as less and less of his latex covered skin could be seen, yours stretching visibly as you sunk further down.
“Oh fuck…” you felt lightheaded. His cock fit beyond perfectly inside you, his tip pressing on that sweet spot so deliciously that you knew you would cum before he did if you didn’t control yourself. “Are you okay, angel?”
“Ye- oh- you feel so warm, oh my- fuck!” Borderline drooling, Jaehyun could only mumble and moan deeply as your warm center engulfed him tightly.
“Oh Jae, you feel so good, baby.” Your nails clawed at the skin of his chest softly as you fell forward.
Jaehyun’s breath hitched when he felt the soft skin of your breasts softly grazing his lips, after a moan left his lips when you rocked your hips rather harshly down his cock, he took the chance to suck on the pretty hardened buds.
“Mmm, fuck- I love your cock so much, pretty boy.” You groaned, growing frustrated at the rising pain in your legs as you tried to keep riding him.
Growing needy and hungry for the man under you, you left a loud moan before collapsing unto his chest. Your cheek was pressed against his shoulder and his hands moved to caress your body in a feathery touch. Your hips only moved in circled now as you tried regaining the strength in your thighs and calves.
“You feel so good, baby… please keep going…” he breathed out, swearing he would pass out at any given moment.
“So fucking big,” you whined, the circular motions only adding to your sensitivity and need to release. The feeling of his big cock stretching you out and his pretty moans and whines was driving you to a state of stupidity.
Halting the movements of your hips for a bit, you let yourself rest to regain the strength in your thighs, the man under you clearly frustrated at the action as he let out a whine and desperately groped at your hips to move you just a little. It was good enough to sorta soothe the growing ache for your wet centre.
“So desperate for this pussy, aren’t you, pretty baby?” You taunted, teeth sinking on the skin of his neck as a strained moan left his lips at the sharp feeling.
“Please…” his voice was now reduced to merely a rasped whisper. Lifting your head, your eyes diverted to his face, his pretty eyes were shut closed and his thick eyebrow met in the middle of his forehead while they furrowed.
Jaehyun’s cheeks tinted pink and lips hung open, a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead and chest heaving.
“So fucking pretty,” your hand clawed at his jaw, grabbing it firmly and making him yelp softly. The sight of such a beautiful man absolutely wrecked by you was bringing out another side of you that had been suppressed for a long time. “You want me to move? Beg for it, pretty boy.”
Just as the words left your lips he opened his eyes wide in shock at the sound of your sultry voice. He caught your eyes preying down on him in a dark gaze, making him shudder.
“Please, ______,” Jaehyun let out a pathetic breath.
“Please what? Tell me what you want, baby.”
“I need you…”
“You need me? I’m already here, love…” you smirked, not satisfied with his answer.
Jaehyun shook his head despairingly and moaned when you clenched your walls to tease him.
“I need your pussy, baby, please move!” He whined, tears already falling down his cheeks.
“Oh yeah? You need it?” You questioned and he whined out a ‘yes’.
The smirk on your face only grew wider as you slouched down to wipe his tears with your tongue before dipping it into his mouth and letting the salty taste invade his tastebuds. He couldn’t help but whimper at such a move.
“Good boy,” sitting back up, you used your hands to lean back on his thighs and keep yourself steady.
“F-fuck…” he gasped when your hips resumed their movement. “Mmm, ri-right t-there…”
“Look at you, Jae…” your hips moved frantically when you noticed that the quick pace made his moans louder and his breaths quicker. “So pussy-drunk, aren’t we, angel?”
“S’fuckin’good, baby…” his words, now mumbled, were consumed by his lazy and dragged out moans.
You were sure that Taeyong would scold you the next day for keeping him awake if he wasn’t out of town. Jaehyun’s moans were surely loud enough to echo in the eldest’s apartment.
“Oh, Jaehyun… you’re making me feel so good.” You praised. While you were doing all the work, the feeling of being stuffed to the brim by him was rewarding enough.
“O-oh, I’m gonna-“ you moved your hands from behind you to lay of his chest, slightly crouching on top of him to snap your hips down his length sharply.
The first plunge almost knocked the air out of your lungs, the head if his cock hitting your g-spot deliciously.
“Cum for me, angel. Cum inside me, pretty bo-y.” Your voice halted for a second as you felt your orgasm building up. “I want you to fill me up, baby.”
The words leaving your mouth only rung in his ears, the though of filling you up with his cum driving him insane and fueling his body with nothing but lust.
Jaehyun held unto his orgasm, wanting you to come undone first, until he felt your soft lips on his. Your tongue played with his as loud groans left his throat and were swallowed up by your mouth.
You whined against his tongue when his warm release painted the latex that blocked his skin from your tight walls white as his climax washed over like a tidal wave. Jaehyun’s hearing stopped for a bit as he relinquished in the most exquisite feeling ever.
“F-fuck, Jae…” you cried out as your walls contracted around his girth, triggering your own climax and making you collapse on too him.
Loud moans harmonized with his deep groans as you both laid there coming down from the little heaven you shortly ascended to. You felt strong arms wrap around your shaking body and shaky hands caress your back.
“Thank you, baby.” You heard Jaehyun breath out, making you giggle. Of course he would thank you…
“I should thank you. I have never been stuffed so good in my life.” Now, it was his turn to giggle. His lips pressed a soft kiss on top of your head and you couldn’t help but smile.
The room fell into a comfortable silence, just the muted sound of the A/C and your breaths filling up the space. The alarm clock on his bedside table now reading 1:00 AM.
“Did you feel good, angel?” You asked after he sighed, a bit scared that he would regret letting you take his virginity.
“So good… I thought I was in heaven for a while there.” Jaehyun moved his head to kiss your lips chastely a couple of times, before lowering his voice and smirking. “How about next time I let my baby rest and fuck her good into the mattress?”
Your whole body shuddered at such a thing coming out of his mouth in such a sensual voice. You had created a monster, he had came not even five minutes ago before he was already voicing out what he had been thinking about all this time. Who knew fucking him would unleash such a fiend but you were surely in for a fucking treat.
NEOYUNO 2023
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Omg can I please have some fluff like Kylian and reader visit his parents house for the weekend and it makes Ethan really happy to see reader because she’s his bestie, when they get there Ethan takes her away from Kylian and he gets jealous they spend over 3 hours together and then reader comes back to Kylian in his childhood bedroom where they watch movies and have cuddles💕
"Can you say it again?"
"Blueberry."
You laugh, making him repeat words in english. You love the way his accent sounds, loving the way he pronounces the words.
"I love it." You laugh, squishing his hand. "Don't forget to call your dad."
You were driving to his mother's house. He planned this weekend exclusively for his family and you two to be together.
Since the beginning of the season, he has had so much stress, making him crave some family time.
His mother and brother lived remotely close to his house. Sometimes, even spend nights with him.
But this season, everything changed, Ethan was practicing with the first team, but he was traveling with the second team a lot, and his mom was busy with his foundation. Making the time very much tighter for them.
Fayza went to Bondy. She wanted to get some paperwork and some things ready to sell the house. The thing that made Kylian sad.
His mother's house was the first thing he ever bought with his hard earned money. He wanted his parents to have their own home. So he gifted them the house.
His mom kept the house during the divorce, so it was hers now. Kylian didn't have a say because, as he says, it was theirs and not his.
Before the divorce of his parents, they all used to live there. Even their older brother and Melissa.
But when he moved from Monaco to Paris, Jires went to Turkey and Wilfried to another place closer to Paris. The house felt different.
Melissa and the kids stayed there with Ethan and Fayza. But to him, it was still weird not having his father with them.
"Oui, mon amour."
He was in charge of the music, being the passenger princess he was, refusing to only sit and relax. So he took the dj job.
The call was quick, Wilfried and him exchanged some words and then hang up.
"I want some waffles with whipped cream." He says, stomach roaring.
"Well, you could have had it, but you refused to eat."
"I wasn't hungry. You knew that."
"Maybe because you chose to wake up like ten minutes before leaving."
He pouts, not answering, but his facial expression was enough of an answer.
"We are almost there, bébé." You say pointing at the GPS. "And knowing your brother, he's probably waiting for us."
"Correction, he's waiting for you."
Ethan and you have an amazing relationship. He sees you as an older sister he can trust. Always stealing you and making you two do all sorts of things while visiting.
"He is." You sigh, turning your head to him quickly. "It's not my fault your family loves me more than you."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. He knows you're joking. He actually loves how close you're with his family.
He never met someone who was so perfect with his parents, brothers, and even extended family.
The drive continues for another twenty minutes. Thankfully, the roads were pretty empty, making the drive a fast one.
"Look, we're here." You smile, squishing his arm. "Ready to have an amazing weekend?"
He nods, smiling like a kid on Christmas day. "Oui, I'm so happy."
He helped you with the bags, asking you to go onside and announce yourself, but two little laughs beat you at that.
"Y/n" Lana yells, she throw herself at you.
"Bonjour, mon petit fille." You spin her around. Kissing her cheeks.
You look for her brother, noticing he is in Kylian arms. He's welcoming his uncle. "Bonjour, Isayah."
You got closer to them, kissing his cheek just like you did with Lana. Making him laugh.
Fayza was standing at the front door. The scene was adorable to her. She can easily picture you and kylian in a few years with your own children.
Living in a house with a big garden, she thought about it maybe a little too much. But she can't be blamed. After all, Kylian was the one who described how he pictures your life together.
"Bonjour, my babies." She says, catching your attention. "Come here, let me help you."
She hugs you tightly, repeating the actions with her son. She took Isayah from Kylian arms, following you to the living room of the house.
"Melissa, hello." You say happily, she has become a close friend for you. Always counting on her for everything.
"We literally saw each other like three days ago." She laughs, hugging you.
"She's obsessed with you, that's why."
"You're just jealous, kyky."
He rolled his eyes for the second time, going upstairs to leave the bags and to wake Ethan up.
"How was your exams?" Fayza asks, curious about your life.
"It was good, I think I did a good job."
"You did, don't doubt about yourself." She says, kissing your cheek.
She was like a mom to you, always caring and loving you since you met her. She was extra special to you, knowing you were there to stay since the beginning.
You can hear kylian laughing from the second floor, probably doing something to Ethan or laughing at some joke.
"Boys." Fayza shakes her head. "Come help me, sweet. I can guess Kylian didn't eat breakfast."
"You know your son." You laugh, walking with her to the kitchen where she was cutting some fruits and making waffles.
You chat with her and Melissa, who joined you. Kylian and Ethan were in the living room chatting with their dad.
Wilfried and Kylian were messing with Ethan. He recently changed his style, so he felt a little more confident than usual, which Ky loved.
"Let's eat everybody." You call.
Wilfried shared some stories about his most recent trip, Melissa worked with Kylian, so her stories weren't new for the family.
Ky told them about the next matches, feeling like his stories were kind of repetitive, but you enjoyed them.
The way he was very into creating new ways and opportunities for him and the team to score and win.
"But the news here is, this mademoisell right here." He pats your knee. "Is going to be a valedictorian again."
They all got so excited at the news, Fayza and Wilfried telling you how proud they're of their "daughter."
As the day continues, you spend the rest of the morning helping Ky and Wilfried to prepare the meat and veggies for the barbecue.
It was Ethan the one with the idea of making a big family barbecue and everybody agreed with him.
"After this, you and I are going to play some fifa. This time, you're not beating me." Ethan lightly pushed you, making you laugh.
"Yes, and I want to know about that girl you texted me about." You whisper in his ear, making him blush at the thought of his crush.
"Deal, but first a fifa game."
After lunch, Lana and Isayah wanted you to join them on the pool. Wanting to play with you and their uncle like always.
"Oh, mon bébés." You say sadly, you wanted to swim with them but also you promised Ethan days before to have a chat with him. "As soon as I finish with Uncle Ethan, I'll be here, okay?"
Kylian pouts more than they do. You send him a kiss while you walk inside the house.
Ethan and you have an amazing relationship. He trusted you with his life. Sometimes, when Kylian was away and couldn't get a hold of him, you were there for him. Ready to help.
When it comes to girls, you're his go-to person. Maybe because he knows how much Kylian is a master with the football but not that much in the dating area.
"Okay, pause pause pause." You laugh at him, pushing you in order to make you lose the goal. "You, young man, own me a story."
"I own you anything, woman." He laughs, imitating your tone.
"C'mon, tell me, did she like the roses?"
"She did." He smiles. "Thank you so much for helping me. I don't know what I would do without you here."
"Probably be the best at fifa." You say, making both laugh at that. "But don't worry, E. I'm here for anything you need."
The fifa game took hours, hours Kylian didn't got to spend with you. Hours he was pouting like a child.
He's sitting on the couch hearing the laughs and screams you and Ethan are making. Feeling left out.
He knows feeling like this is dumb, but he's been so busy lately that even spending time with you was a bit difficult.
He helped his parents with picking up the plates, washing them and even helped Melissa with the kids.
And still not you.
"Bonjour, Monsieur Mbappe." You say in this funny accent. He was in his old childhood bed, a single one. He looked so big for the bed.
He turns to the wall, feeling left out and being jealous. "Go play fifa."
"Yeah, it was fun, I had to pick your player." You tease. "But maybe I should have picked Olivier. He's faster."
He turns back to you, eyes narrowed and pout. "Did you just call me slow?"
"You're such a baby, come here, mon amour." You throw yourself on top of him. He hugged you like a koala bear. "God, you're crushing me."
"Good, so you don't go."
"What if we moved and watch something?"
He thinks about it for a few seconds, making you squeak. "Can we watch that scary movie I like?"
"If I say yes, would you let me breathe?"
He laughs, softening the hug, making you sigh and breathe deeply. "Can you get some popcorn?"
You nod, getting up from the bed. But first, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. "Some soda too?"
"You're making me break my diet." He laughs. Kissing your lips.
"Good, once in a while." You return the kiss.
Going down to the kitchen, you notice that Fayza is there, sitting at the kitchen island with a book in her hands.
"Hi, I thought you were asleep by now."
"No, Ky wants to see a movie, and he's kinda grumpy from all the attention everyone is getting from me. Everyone but him."
"Well, he's a man. They always want more but never know how to ask." She laughs, winking at you.
You laugh with her, making a little chat while the popcorn is getting ready at the microwave.
"I'm gonna miss this house. I feel like it was yesterday when Kylian brought me here to meet you."
"Oui, so many memories. But I think it is time for us to move on."
You nod, thinking about the amazing memories you shared with Kylian and his family there.
You place the popcorn in a bowl, grabbing two sodas and leaving Fayza and her book alone.
The movie was good, it has a scary factor. But your mind was still roaming through the memories.
You scratch lightly Kylian arms, something you do when you're cuddling while watching a move or a show.
He's focused on the movie and the popcorn. Not noticing how you're so lost into nothing.
"I wish we could stay longer. I know this is not my family home, but this place has something that I love."
"I get it, I feel like a part of me hurts from thinking about letting this go."
You stayed quiet for a while, trying to focus on a little bit of what's left from the movie. Kylian, on the other hand, got lost into his thoughts, he loved this place.
He wanted to make this a vacation home, to bring his kids to the place where he grew up, where the people supported him.
He wanted to save his childhood house. He wanted his, well, your kids to be able to hear the stories you created there, to be able to feel the magic you two feel there.
He takes the remote, turning the TV off, making you protest. "I have an idea."
"We're not pranking anyone, Ky."
"No, that's not it." He gets up. "Well, that's a good idea, you can't deny."
"No." You laugh.
His hands found yours, intertwining them and looking at you in the eyes. "Let's buy the house."
"What?" You say, taken aback by the sudden proposition.
"Oui, we can use the house for weekend getaways, we can use it for vacations. For special occasions."
"But I thought."
"I know what I said." He interrupts you. "But I can't deny that there's a special something, and in the near future, I want to create more memories with you here. I can't wait for our kids to enjoy this place like we did."
"Oh, bébé." You let his hands go to press your palms to his cheeks, kissing him slowly. Feeling all the emotions. "We have to talk to your mom about it."
"Can you believe that? If she says yes, this will be our first house together."
"This will be your house, Kyky." You laugh, even tho he always told you that what was his was yours, this was different from a t-shirt, this is a whole house.
"No, bébé. This will be ours."
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𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 5.9k words
summary: in which it’s been six months since a random night in a bar brought together two pairs of best friends, and two couples were formed. in those months that came and went, almost in a lovestruck blur, they entailed a countless amount of formal double dates, late night hangouts in someone’s apartment, and more moments in bars that led to lazy days in bed the next morning due to the hangovers. at times things felt way too good to be true. but, in a good way, a great way. you loved steve, and anyone with two eyes could easily see how much he was in love with you
warnings: explicit language, smut (mdni!), lots of fluff, a lil angst, soft!steve/steve being so adorably in love with reader
author’s note: read part one here! for once i’ve written something that is not drowning in angst! lmao i almost went in a completely different direction with this but i wanted to keep it lighthearted and fun and cute so anyway enjoy!<33
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
It was hard not to admire Steve while he was asleep in your bed.
He always looked so peaceful; head against the pillow that quickly became “his,” hair mildly disheveled and going every which way, and mouth pulled into a straight line that looked soft instead of hard and sweet instead of firm.
You wanted to kiss him. But, you couldn’t do so right then, so instead, you took another sip of your morning coffee and simply watched him as you leaned against your dresser.
“You’re staring,” He mumbled, one side of his mouth quirking upward in a small smile.
“Your eyes are closed right now, so I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” You responded, making your tone sound completely confused.
Steve opened his eyes then and you immediately pulled your eyes away from him and became fixated on a random spot on your wall. You took another sip of your coffee to mask your growing smile.
Steve’s smirk deepened as he maneuvered in the bed and sat up to lean against the headboard. The now lack of comforter covering his body revealed his chest that was bare, because you were wearing his shirt, and revealed the top of the navy plaid boxers he had on.
“I could feel your pretty little eyes on me, honey.”
You playfully rolled your eyes at him because he knew exactly how affected you were by any term of endearment he’d use on you; they always made you slightly cringe while simultaneously folding into a giant ball of mush.
“I hope you know that I do in fact hate you anytime you do that.”
Steve ignored your statement, which was pretty much a blatant lie, and only smiled at you some more. “C’mere.”
You wanted to play with him a bit longer, pretend that he couldn’t make you fold so easily; even though he absolutely, completely always could and did. But at that point, you knew you couldn’t resist, and you honestly didn’t want to.
Placing your mug down on the dresser, the next few moments passed by in a knowing blur that felt like second nature to you because of how frequent the events would happen. You settled yourself in Steve’s lap, knees on either side of his waist. His hands snaked under your, his, shirt to find your hips and give the skin a light squeeze.
“You should still be sleeping right now,” You said, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. “You were up a lot later than me last night.”
His new job wasn’t that demanding, but because of how much Steve loved it, he made it much more intense than it actually was, and he was completely happy with that.
It had all happened about a month and a half ago. Marissa had convinced you all to go to her ten-year-old cousin’s middle school basketball game. It was almost a two-hour drive to where they lived in Indiana which was close to the border of Indiana and Illinois, and actually kind of close to where you and she had grown up in Illinois.
When the four of you walked into the slightly empty gym and saw that the team was losing pretty badly, you found out quickly from Marissa’s aunt that it was because their coach quit last second, so the kids were pretty much fending for themselves along with a parent acting as coach who had no athletic experience so he was just telling them to do whatever they wanted.
Robin was the one that jokingly mentioned that Steve had been the star of their high school’s basketball team and would probably be a great coach, and Marissa’s aunt perked up at hearing that and successfully convinced the other parents in the crowd to have him do it. He was initially reluctant because he didn’t think he’d be good, but there was nothing scarier than adamant parents who wanted to see their kids win, so, of course, he ultimately said yes.
In a way, it seemed almost perfect how easily Steve was able to fall into that role, and when the team won that night, for the second time out of the eleven games they’d played so far that season, the school offered him a permanent coaching position right then.
He was slightly hesitant and didn’t accept the job at first. Because he knew the pay wouldn’t be the best and the commute every day would be brutal. But, even as he told you those cons, you could already see how happy the idea of the job itself made him, and how second nature it seemed.
“It’s the random opportunity that has fallen into your lap.” You had told him that night in his bed, fingers running through his hair and a small smile on your face. “You have to take it.”
And he did.
And he loved it and put his whole heart into coaching those little middle schoolers; coming up with new plays and ideas for practice almost every night. You found it both adorable and endearing how seriously he took it.
“I’m okay,” He responded with a small shrug, and then he looked up at you as he smiled, leaning closer to you. “Besides, your staring problem makes it really hard to sleep.”
You almost playfully shoved him, but your eyes instead slipped shut when his lips found your neck. You were still able to respond somewhat coherently, though. “Hm, I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Steve mumbled something against your neck that you couldn’t make out but the soft hum of his lips against your skin made you want to combust. Before he left any marks on your neck, because he knew how much of a hassle it was for you to cover them, he moved up to trailing soft kisses along your jaw before finally reaching your mouth.
“Mm, coffee,” He whispered against your lips, tasting the slight remnants of what you had been drinking before he woke up and what was still sitting on your dresser.
You slowly started moving yourself against him and it made you smile how quickly a soft groan fell from his lips at your action. “There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen if you wanna get that right now instead of doing this.”
Steve groaned again at a particularly rough stir of your hips. “I think coffee can wait.”
“Great answer,” You said and kissed his nose.
His hands went to the hem of the t-shirt and you almost helped him pull it off of you, but a knock on your door halted your next movements.
“Hey, lovebirds, wake up if you’re still sleeping.” It was Marissa’s slightly muffled voice coming through the door. “Or if you’re fucking, please stop. Also, it’s barely nine in the morning so if you are fucking, you two are insane.”
You refrained from laughing at her statement as you softly swatted Steve’s hand away that was still trying to push your shirt upward.
“What’s going on?” You asked, voice loud enough so your best friend could hear you.
“Important family meeting.”
“Once again, something about you calling all of us a family feels slightly incestual,” You said as you began maneuvering yourself off of Steve.
“I know you hate it, but we are kind of a little family,” You heard her say. “In a completely nonrelated, ‘we’re two couples who are also all best friends’ kind of way.”
In a way, Marissa was right, and you could fully see that. Six months ago the four of you were two separate little pairs of friends and now there were two couples and four pretty close friends.
You all were a tight-knit group that was forged together by one random Friday night in a bar, and sometimes this strong interconnectedness worried you. Because if something happened to either you and Steve or Marissa and Robin, you had no idea what that would mean for the rest of the group.
Anytime you’d have those moments of worry, something would always tell you that in the end, it would be you to mess everything up. It was an irrational thought, a part of you knew that, but it still felt way too true because of how almost “wrong” it felt for things to be this good.
How deeply you’d found yourself loving Steve in such a short period of time still scared you as much as it made you feel so fucking happy.
“You okay?” Steve asked, pulling you out of your thoughts as he came up and wrapped his arms around you from behind.
You instinctively leaned into his touch and let your previous thoughts fade away as you always did. You never verbalized these fears to him, or even Marissa, a part of it felt unnecessary and you also didn’t want to fully acknowledge your worries because of how much more real they’d feel if you did say them aloud.
Your next words came out in a soft mumble. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking about stupid stuff.”
Steve didn’t question you any further and simply nodded at your response before sneaking a quick kiss on your cheek and then moving to slip his jeans on.
You pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it to him as he headed toward your bathroom, and then you went to put on a random wrinkled hoodie of yours. Before opening your door to head into the living room, you grabbed your cooling coffee off of your dresser and took a sip, glad that it was still mostly warm.
“Morning,” You smiled at Robin who was leaning against the kitchen counter and eating a buttered piece of toast. You began refilling your coffee with what was left in the pot because you knew Steve would want some when he emerged from the bathroom.
“Morning,” She smiled back at you and took another bite of her toast. “Where’s the dingus?”
“Bathroom,” You answered and she nodded at that. “Do you know what this ‘family meeting’ is about?”
Robin quickly shook her head. “Nope. Marissa’s keeping me in the dark too.”
“That’s because I want you all to be surprised,” Marrisa said, from where she was sat cross-legged on the couch, textbook open in her lap because she had a huge test in a couple of days and had been religiously studying for it for the past week. Her nearly perfect time management skills still always managed to amaze you.
Steve came out of your room moments later and you held out the mug for him. He smiled at you as he took it and pressed a quick kiss against your lips. “Thank you. Love you.”
You leaned into him and his free arm circled around your shoulders. “Love you too.”
He took a quick sip of the coffee and let out a small sigh of contentment. “Did I miss the meeting?”
“No, and now that you’re here, I can share the great news,” Marrisa said before getting up from the couch and joining you all in the kitchen, standing next to Robin. “Okay, so remember how we all have been talking about how we need to take a couple’s trip soon?”
You all nodded along to her words, and you almost said that it was really only her that had been talking about doing a couples trip for the past few weeks, but you refrained from doing so because she looked so happy with what she was about to say.
“My aunt has a really nice cabin right by a lake and she said we can use it for a weekend. Next weekend, to be specific. So clear your calendars.”
“Ooh,” Robin said as she wrapped an arm around Marissa, pressing a soft kiss against her cheek. “Sounds fun.”
“Yes, and only slightly like the beginning of a horror movie,” Steve joked with a small laugh. His words startled you a bit because that was exactly what you were about to say.
You smiled up at him. “I think we share the same brain.”
He grinned widely at that and pecked your lips. “Can I keep it for the rest of the day?”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
It was actually very rare that you and Steve would have either apartment entirely to yourselves. Although it shouldn’t have been rare because the four of you could’ve easily come up with some sort of system to make sure that you and Steve, and Marissa and Robin were alone in one of your two shared places, but none of you really cared enough to do it.
But, on this night, it was just you and Steve in the apartment he had with Robin because she and Marissa were out seeing a movie that neither you nor Steve really wanted to see.
Things were quiet but the good kind, the comfortable kind. Steve was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch while also hunching over the coffee table as he brainstormed and wrote out some new plays that he wanted the kids to try out next week. And you were laying on the couch, a campaign that you had been working on for the past week in your hands as you stared at it for what felt like forever. Your boss had told you there was something wrong with it, but she didn’t tell you what that “wrong” thing was so you were left simply staring at the paper and having absolutely no idea what to change about it.
“Hey,” You said softly to grab Steve’s attention and when he turned his head to look up at you, you held up the paper in your hand for him to look at; maybe a fresh pair of eyes could tell you something that you couldn’t see. “What’s wrong with this?”
Steve stared at it for a few moments and then his eyebrows furrowed. “Is this a trick question? It looks really good to me.”
You let out a small sigh as you let your eyes focus on the paper again. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”
Steve was about to say something else but before he could, the sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen stopped him and caught both of your attention.
He started moving to get up, but you stopped him and stood up instead. “I’ll get it. I need a break from looking at this.”
You headed over to the kitchen and picked the phone up off the hook, placing it at your ear. “Hello?”
“Hey– Wait, who is this? This is a girl’s voice, so you’re definitely not Steve. But, you’re not Robin, either.” It was clearly a guy’s voice on the other end, but it didn’t sound familiar to you.
“I’m Y/N.”
“Holy. Shit.” The sudden and pure excitement in his voice slightly startled you. “The Y/N?”
“Um, yeah, I guess?” You answered, pretty much answering his question with one of your own. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Dustin. Steve’s friend. Probably his best friend after Robin, even though I was technically here before Robin,” He said and it all kind of clicked into place for you from there because of how much you heard about him from Steve and Robin. “Anyway, it’s cool to finally meet you. Well, sorta meet you, I guess. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Your attention turned to Steve, who was back to being hunched over the coffee table, and a small smile took over your features. “All good things I hope.”
“Oh yeah, literally only good things. Steve’s obsessed with you.”
You let out a small laugh at that. “Oh, really? Do tell me more.”
Dustin didn’t waste a second to launch into a story. “He was rambling to me about you for a good two hours last week. He was just going on and on about how you guys went to some bar and were playing pool, and you were really good which he thought was so cool. And you were making fun of him for being bad, but still let him win a couple of games. He does absolutely suck at pool, I know that for certain.”
You remembered that night pretty vividly, mainly because it had happened barely a week ago but also because you’d never forget how bad Steve was at pool. You actually thought it was kind of cute. You also didn’t think it had been that obvious that you let him win a few times.
“He said he wouldn’t mind getting beat by you in pool for the rest of his life,” Dustin continued on. “He specifically even mentioned something about being old in wheelchairs. He’s so in love with you. You’re definitely his Suzie.”
“Suzie?” You questioned, and at that Steve finally pulled his attention away from what he was doing and looked at you.
“Who is it?” He asked you and you ignored him because your attention was solely trained on hearing Dustin’s answer.
“Suzie’s my girlfriend and she’s amazing and awesome and pretty much perfect,” The teen explained. “It’s awesome that Steve’s found you. From how he talks about you, you sound pretty perfect too.”
You smiled at his words.
It was then that you realized exactly how different things were with Steve. Because hearing about how much he loved you and how often he’d lovingly ramble about you didn’t scare you in the slightest. You knew that if this was any other relationship, any other guy, you’d want to immediately run in the other direction. But, you honestly didn’t want to run away and that realization made all of your previous worries and fears feel nonexistent.
Dustin started saying something else, but you couldn’t make it out before Steve took the phone from you.
“Henderson,” He said in an annoyed voice to the boy on the other end of the line and then looked at you. “What embarrassing stuff did he say to you?”
“Oh, nothing embarrassing at all,” You told him as you headed back to the couch, a sweet smile on your face. “Just how much you love me and my fantastic pool skills. Which actually aren’t that good, you’re just really bad. But, I still love you.”
He playfully flipped you off with a roll of his eyes and a small laugh as he continued talking to the teen on the other end.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
It was a soft kiss pressed against a certain sensitive part of your neck that pulled you from your sleep. Sleep that had been much needed after the first night at the lake house that ended at one in the morning after a heated game of charades against Marissa and Robin that happily resulted in you and Steve winning.
You groaned at the feeling and rolled on your side to try and lull yourself back to sleep, but Steve pressing more kisses to your neck and then your face fully woke you up.
“You told me to make sure you wake up early, remember?” He mumbled against your ear before pressing another kiss to the side of your head.
“Mhm,” You muttered as you turned on your side, letting your sleepy eyes meet his. “I sadly do remember saying that.”
“Come on, we have a sunrise to go watch,” Steve told you, a small smile on his face. As usual, his smile did something to you and made you smile back at him even though all you really wanted to do was go back to sleep. “Which was completely your idea, by the way.”
“Sometimes my ideas aren’t the best,” You responded but finally got up anyway.
Steve was already in a hoodie and sweatpants since it was unsurprisingly cold outside, and the same small smile was still on his face as he watched you pull on your own pair of old sweatpants and a random hoodie in a half-asleep daze. After you slipped on your shoes, he leaned down a bit in front of you and turned around so his back was toward you. “Hop on.”
“God, you’re the best,” You said as you wrapped yourself around him, arms circling his neck and legs circling his waist, and he lifted you up and led you out of your shared room.
You almost told him to go toward the room Marissa and Robin were sleeping in and force them to come watch the sunrise with you two, but you kind of just wanted to have this moment solely with Steve.
He let you down once he made it to the wooden bench that perfectly overlooked the lake and would let you both have a good view of the sunrise. It was still fairly dark outside, but you could see the beginning remnants of sunlight starting to take over the dark sky.
When the two of you sat down you immediately maneuvered yourself so that your head was in Steve’s lap, which made your legs dangle a bit off the edge of the bench.
“Back in Hawkins, there’s this place called Lover’s Lake. Being here slightly reminds me of that,” Steve said as his fingers started mindlessly playing with the drawstrings of your hoodie. “I should take you there soon.”
You playfully smiled up at him. “Ooh, I finally get to see your hometown? This relationship is getting quite serious.”
He let out a small laugh as his eyes met yours. “Yes, and I’m planning to go ring shopping next week, actually.”
“Make sure you take Marissa with you,” You said jokingly but attempting to make your voice sound as serious as possible. “She’ll know which one you should get for me.”
“Don’t worry, I already asked her to come.”
“Good,” You said, nodding at him. “Now back to this Lover’s Lake place. It sounds exactly like the kind of place where someone would take a date for a late night making out in a car kind of vibe.”
He was quiet for a bit until he mumbled, “No comment.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his sudden shyness and you grabbed his hand to intertwine it with yours and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. “You can talk about old girlfriends and dates or whatever, y’know. I’m not gonna get jealous or anything. The past is in the past. And I’ve heard plenty of stories from Robin, anyway.”
“Why would I wanna talk about past girlfriends when I can think about the future?”
“I don’t think I wanna hear about your future girlfriends,” You joked, a small smirk on your face.
He lightly poked your side, causing you to laugh loudly. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I do,” You said with a shake of your head. Even though you actually knew exactly what he meant, you wanted to hear him say it.
“My future with you,” He responded, eyes meeting yours.
“Oh,” You said as if it all finally clicked into place for you. “Can I hear more about that future?”
Steve smiled at that, more than happy to talk about the thoughts that almost always circled his mind. Thoughts you already knew because conversations like these would usually happen in a post-sex, pillow talk haze where he would ramble and you would listen and almost always reciprocate, playing into the fantasies he was cooking up and adding your own.
It always felt easy to imagine something more with Steve, sometimes way too easy. Especially after the conversation with Dustin, you felt like you could fall even deeper into Steve and everything would be completely okay. More than okay, actually.
“Well, there’s our house, of course,” He started and your eyes slipped shut as you imagined the picture he was painting of your future together. “Which can’t be too big, like the house I grew up in. But, it does need to be big enough for all of our five or six kids since we’re both a little insane and think that having that many is a good idea.”
His hand was still intertwined with yours and you gave it a light squeeze. “We need to have enough for a basketball team so that you can coach them.”
“Makes sense,” Steve nodded, smiling at you. “Also, a big house means a big backyard for the dog too, which is great. She’ll have lots of room to play.”
Your eyes opened at that. “I thought we agreed on a cat?”
“I’m still heavily advocating for the dog.”
“Okay, we can do both,” You told him. “I’m thinking a golden retriever and an orange tabby.”
He looked at you in a certain soft and sweet way that made you feel a little nervous and caused your stomach to swarm with butterflies.
“What?” You asked shyly, pulling your eyes from his and looking up at the orange hues that took over the sky.
“I just love how we can talk about this kind of stuff, even though it’s only been six months,” He said. “And probably from that first night we met, I’ve been thinking about us and you and this future with you that is technically far away but also feels so close. And if I said that to any other girl, they’d probably be running for the hills by now.”
The vulnerability of his words sat with you and when you looked at him again, you couldn’t help but smile at how sincerely happy he looked right then. Even though you were completely comfortable in the position you were in with your head in his lap, you let go of his hand and sat up so you could kiss him. It was your nonverbal way of letting him know that you wouldn’t run away, and he must’ve heard you loud and clear because he only kissed you harder and pulled you impossibly closer to him.
“Those girls would be idiots if they did that,” You told him when you pulled back from the kiss and the two of you were still only a breath away from each other. Your eyes were closed as you said your next words. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to entertain the thought of having six fucking kids with. And it’s scary as hell but the good kind. Because, yes it hasn't even been a year yet, but I already know that I want that house with you and that backyard and that dog and cat. Because I love you. Like, a lot. Like, so much so that I feel like I wouldn’t be able to function properly for at least five years straight if I ever ruined things with us. And I’m kinda rambling a lot right now, but whatever.”
Steve’s lips found yours again and the abruptness of the action caused you to softly gasp into his mouth. He pulled you sideways into his lap and both of his hands cupped your face in such a tender way that you felt as if you could melt into him right then and there. Your fingers started lazily circling the drawstrings of his hoodie.
“I think we’re definitely missing the sunrise,” You muttered against his lips but still didn’t fully pull away.
“It’ll happen again tomorrow,” Steve said simply and you completely agreed with that.
His hands traveled downward to snake themselves underneath your hoodie and you sighed in contentment at the feeling of his fingers against the bare skin of your hips and then your waist. You wanted more, you needed more, but you couldn’t allow that “more” to happen on a wooden bench.
“We should go inside,” You told him, words more so coming out in a soft plea, and Steve nodded almost immediately at your request. You took one last look at the way the sun was reflecting so prettily off of the lake before he led you inside the house.
With both of you fully clad in a hoodie and sweatpants, it felt as if there were a million layers separating you two from one another and you desperately needed that to change. Shoes came off first and were kicked somewhere by the door and then your hands grabbed at the ends of Steve’s hoodie, helping him pull it off and he did the same with yours. In between quick and chaste kisses, piece after piece of clothing item was littered on the floor of the living room and dining room until you made it to your shared room and you were only in your underwear and Steve was down to his boxers.
His arms circled around you from behind when he closed and locked the door behind you both, and he started walking you toward the unmade bed before he turned you around and softly pushed you down against it.
He leaned over you, lips ghosting over yours before pulling back a bit and you couldn’t take the teasing so you pulled him roughly against you, his body weight crushing you in the best way possible and his warmth enveloping you completely.
“I love you so much, baby,” He mumbled against your lips, and although that was something you knew, your heart still squeezed at hearing those words.
“I love you too,” You told him as you started kissing all over his stubbly jaw.
Your hips bucked upward at the feeling of his hardness pressed firmly between your thighs.
“I need you inside me. Please,” You told him as you moved your hips again and he groaned in your ear.
He could only nod at your words as he maneuvered off of you a bit, pulling your underwear down and tossing it somewhere in the room and then spreading you for him.
“So pretty,” He said, dragging a finger through your wetness, catching your clit for a brief moment before pulling away.
“Steve…” Your moan came out in a soft sigh and your eyes fell shut. “Please.”
“Anything for you, baby.” His lips pecked yours before he finally slipped out of his boxers.
When he finally entered you, filling you to the hilt in one slow motion, you both moaned in contentment. For a few moments, he stayed just like that, words getting lost in your hair as he said, “Just wanna feel you like this for a bit. You always take me so well, baby,” and you could only respond with a soft, barely coherent, “Mhm.”
You adored moments like these. The softness of it all, the slowness of it, how much love you could feel laced within every thrust when he started moving. Noses and lips brushed over each other haphazardly, panting breaths and moans not allowing your mouths to connect for more than a brief moment. Your eyes met his dark but loving gaze and you could feel your cunt flutter around his cock, which elicited a loud groan for him.
One of his hands firmly found your hip, holding tightly so he could push into you harder. Your back arched and you nearly screamed at the new feeling of him hitting so deep inside of you.
“Doing so well, baby,” Steve mumbled, lips finding your neck. He was still moving at his slow pace but hitting that perfect spot inside you with every harsh thrust. “Fuck. Taking everything I give you so fucking well.”
“Steve,” You breathed out, unable to say anything else.
He kissed you roughly, tongue darting in to taste you for a brief moment before speaking. “I can tell you’re close. I can feel you fucking, ah, squeezing my cock.”
You nodded profusely, a small whimper falling from your lips. “Mm, so close, yeah.”
“Touch your clit for me, baby.”
You didn’t hesitate to listen to him and let one of your hands snake between your bodies and begin circling the small bundle of nerves. You immediately started seeing stars.
He kissed you again, swallowing your loud moans. “Good girl.”
The soft praise made you clench around his cock again and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer as you continued the ministrations you were making on your clit.
“‘M gonna come,” You muttered, moving your hand faster to match Steve’s quickening thrusts, and you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten.
“Do it, baby. Come all over my cock. I wanna feel it,” He told you, pulling back a bit so he could watch as you did so. Eyes screwed shut and legs shaking as your back arched and you let out a particularly loud moan. Steve continued fucking you through your orgasm. “So fucking pretty.”
Through your fucked out whimpers and soft pants, you reached out to pull him close to you again, and your mouth began sucking on a particularly sensitive spot under his jaw that you knew would send him tumbling over the edge with you. Which it did right as your tongue grazed over the skin.
“Ah– ah, fuck,” Steve stuttered out as he came inside of you, and you moaned loudly at the feeling of his warm cum painting your walls.
He lay on top of you for a few moments, both of you too spent and too lost in your post-orgasm hazes to do much more but let your shallow breaths take up the silence. When his breathing steadied, he slowly pulled out of you and pressed a quick kiss to your neck before padding to the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom to grab a damp washcloth to clean the mess between your thighs.
He then got back in the bed, pulling the blanket over the two of you and circling his arm around your waist to bring you flush against him.
You could feel yourself slowly falling asleep in his arms, and you were close to simply letting it happen, knowing that you both could probably use another hour or two, but then you were reminded of something.
“We need to get our clothes from out there or we’ll never hear the end of it from Marissa and Robin.”
“Mm, in five minutes. I just wanna lay here with you for a bit longer,” He told you, voice slightly muffled because his face was buried in your neck.
“Okay,” You agreed since you felt way too comfortable to move anyway.
“You could never ruin things between us, by the way. You know that, right?”
You were slightly confused about where Steve’s words were coming from, but then you remembered that in the midst of your rambling outside on the bench, you had said that; that you had finally verbalized those worries that had plagued you but now felt so unimportant.
You nodded at his question. “I know.”
“Good,” He said as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Because you could hit me with your car and I’d still be so fucking in love with you.”
You softly laughed at that and shifted around so that you were facing him. “Am I allowed to test that out?”
“I’d rather not, but if that’s what it takes,” He answered, a smile on his face as one hand reached up to stroke your cheek.
“It’s okay, I believe you,” You said, turning your head a bit so that you could press a soft kiss to his palm.
You both simply stared at each other for a bit, letting a silent conversation play out where you told him through your smile how grateful you were for him because you’d never known anyone like him; someone genuinely sweet and kind and effortlessly funny and who could always, always match your energy just right. And Steve acknowledged your silent honesty and showed how amazed he was to have you in his life as well by slotting his lips against yours. You two lazily kissed one another until you fell asleep with your limbs tangled up and the discarded clothes out in the living room long forgotten.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
let me know ur thoughts<333
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#stranger things imagine#stranger things fluff#stranger things smut#stranger things fic
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connie + shy!reader like she had a hard day at work or something and all she wants is a hug but is too afraid to ask
YES I LOVE THIS
you were glad that you and conrad had only planned a movie night and not a big date tonight. you probably would have canceled if you had. today had kicked you in the ass. three people yelled at you at work, your manager being one of them. you just needed conrad.
the ten minute drive from your work to your boyfriends house felt like an hour. the five second walk from the bottom of the driveway to the top, felt like twenty minutes. you had never been more relieved in your life when you finally reached the front door. shooting conrad a quick, 'let me in' text, regardless of the fact that he had told you multiple times you could come in on your own.
it was only a few seconds before the blonde had opened the door, "hi, baby," he smiled, moving out of the way in order to let you in. you smiled back, not saying anything as you made your way to his couch and set your bag down on it. he wasn't far behind you, sitting down on the couch and pulling you with him, "hi," he spoke once more.
"hi," you responded. you moved to dig through your bag, trying to get the pajamas that you swore you had packed. when you came to the conclusion that they were, in fact, not in there. "fuck," you mumbled, leaning back onto the couch with a sigh.
"what's the matter?" conrad asked, placing his hand on your knee.
you took a deep breath, afraid that you might start crying if you hadn't, "i forgot my stupid pajamas," you mumbled, running your fingers through your hair. you had said it like it was the end of the world, and conrad couldn't have been more confused as to why.
he looked at you, tilting his head, "it's alright. we can go upstairs, and you can have one of my tee shirts," he said, moving to stand up and offer you a hand to do the same. you nodded, taking his hand and following him up the stairs. conrad sat you down on his bed, opening his closet, "okay. want a sweater or a t-shirt?" the boy asked, turning around to face you.
you looked up at him, and he felt like he could cry when he realized how sad you looked. "just a t-shirt, please. can i have some sweat pants, too?" you requested, softly.
"anything for you." you got dressed into warm clothes when conrad finally decided to bring up the elephant in the room, "now, pretty. why do you look so sad?" he asked. you shook your head, not wanting to give him an answer. "that's okay. im great at guessing games," your boyfriend smiled, "hmm, are you tired?"
you shook your head.
"hungry?"
again.
"okay, okay. do you want a hug?" bingo. you nodded, looking up from your lap to make eye contact with him. he chuckled, immediately wrapping his arms around you. "y/n/n, baby. you never have to ask for a hug, you know that." he told you, the words muffled into your hair. "bad day at work?" he asked, earning a nod.
you pulled away after a few minutes, ready to talk, "im sorry, connie. it was just a really long day. i didn't mean to shut you out."
he looked at you like you had three heads, "it's okay. we all have bad days. let's go watch the movies," the boy suggested standing up and pulling you with him.
you watched five minutes of ten things i hate about you before you fell asleep.
#conrad fisher x you#conrad fisher x reader#tsitp conrad#conrad fisher#conrad fisher fluff#team conrad#conrad tsitp#tsitp fluff#tsitp imagine#tsitp fanfic#tsitp cast#tsitp imagines#tsitp oneshot#tsitp#christoper briney#chris briney#jenny han
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hiii idk if you’re still taking requests but can you do something smutty with steve in season 3 w his scoops ahoy uniform on after he gets home from work or something🙏🏼🙏🏼
like sub!babygirl!steve is so 🤤🤤😽😽 and a
dom!femreader 🫶❤️❤️ AND OMG HE HAS A MOMMY KINK😧😧 I BEG OF YOU
✶ ┄ OH, BABY !
summary: after a long day at work, steve harrington needs someone (*cough cough* you) to take care of him.
pairing: sub!steve harrington / f!reader
word count: 5.6k
warnings: sub!steve, brief use of a mommy kink, r calls steve daddy like twice i think, mention of a breeding kink, 18+ mdni (ignore any typos, i am way too tired to proofread <3)
a/n: hi, it's me again, turning a blurb request into a full length fic. also i can't stop writing for sub steve apparently. all i can say is baby girl is baby girlin real hard in this one lol thanks so much for your request! enjoy xoxo
( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )
It’s sunset by the time his shift at Scoops concludes. He serves the last few remaining customers while Robin less than kindly ushers out the loitering teenagers that have stuck around all day.
A group of moms clad in vividly colored spandex tells him “we’re being bad today” like some sort of mantra that makes them feel better about ordering plain vanilla ice cream. Some middle school aged girls with a mouthful of braces, crimped hair in pigtails, and absolutely wreaking of fruity perfume and daddy’s money try helplessly to flirt with him while they use a matte black card to purchase a banana boat sundae.
His last customers of the night are an old married couple, all gray and wrinkly and smiling like life’s still so new to them. They order one strawberry cone to share between them and hold onto each other’s shaking, frail hands as they make their exit.
Steve smiles as he watches them go. He sees a lot of you and him in them. He hopes by the time you both are all old and brittle, you’ll still be happy like that, still so in love.
Working in the downstairs abyss of Starcourt makes him feel crazy sometimes. With no windows and only manufactured fluorescent lighting for ten hours straight, it makes time feel less and less real.
Sometimes he’ll be in before sun out and cower like some sort of vampire when his shift is over. Other times, he’ll come out when it’s pouring down rain and be absolutely baffled at the sight of it because it was perfectly sunny when his shift started.
Everything else but ice cream all but ceases to exist in the hole of Scoops Ahoy — weather, time, life.
Even though it’s closing when he leaves, Steve doesn’t realize how dark it’s gotten outside until he’s walking through the desolate parking lot to his car. The bustling mall has fallen asleep with the rest of the town. The sky has long turned to a navy velvet, the stars and full moon bright white silk.
It makes his limbs heavy and his eyelids heavier as his tired bones ache for rest.
Steve makes the longer drive out to the cabin rather than his own home to see you. Hopper’s out for some conference which means El gets to spend every ounce of her time at the Wheeler’s and you and Steve get to play house.
He doesn’t bother to knock before he comes in. He shuffles through the entrance like his feet are made of lead and leans his weight against the door after he clicks it closed.
The sound of his arrival gets your attention from where you scurry around the kitchen. A smile pulls slowly at your face as you turn over your shoulder to look at him, placing a cover over a pot of something that smells like your infamous chicken alfredo.
“Hey, Stevie,” you greet with a beam and a sort of sunshine in your voice that Steve’s been missing all day.
His body relaxes for the first time since he got up this morning at the sight of you, freshly showered and in your pajamas for the night — an oversized t-shirt that definitely didn’t belong to you before, because it used to be his.
You look more like home than any four walls could ever be to him.
Steve tries his best to give you a smile in return, but it’s weighed down by fatigue and not all there.
You can see it all over him, every ounce of exhaustion on his lax and tired features. Slinging ice cream for less than grateful customers for ten hours straight has taken an obvious toll on him. The bright blue sailor’s uniform makes him look more boyish, but no less tired — or hot.
Your heart swells at how cozy he looks, fatigued and warmed and in dire need of being taken care of. It makes you glad that you started dinner earlier than normal, even happier that you’ve got the house to yourselves.
You exit the kitchen and walk the short distance to him, taking his scruffy cheeks in your palms and rubbing your thumbs against his cheeks.
“Hard day?” you wonder softly and smile to himself when you feel Steve nestle further into your touch.
The boy hums lowly in reply — neither a yes or a no, but a short hmph that means he doesn’t want to talk about it now. He doesn’t like thinking about work when you’re in his arms and all over him. He’d rather pretend like you’re the only thing that exists and let the rest of the world slip slowly away.
He turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrists. You smell like lavender, he finds, and it makes him that much more tired and needy for you.
His hands settle on your arms, fingers wrapping themselves just below your wrists. “Just tired,” he answers finally. “How was your day?”
“Better than yours, I’m assuming,” you quip with a smile. Your hands drag from his face, down the tense columns of his neck, and settle at the white lapel of his uniform. Steve lets you pull him down by his red neckerchief until his lips press against yours, the pillows of them far cozier than the bed and blanket he so craves right now.
He grows somehow heavier against you. He exhales deeply through his nose as his aching muscles start to relax, the warmth of it brushes against your cupid’s bow. His hands fall to your back and ball into your shirt as he clutches so ardently onto you, as though terrified he might have to go another agonizing ten hours without you.
Your smile contorts against his mouth. A laugh exhales sharply through your nose at this tired boy, exhausted and too willing to let you swallow him whole.
As much as you want to take care of you him, you want him to get a little food in his belly and fresh clothes on his skin.
He’s got freshly laundered cottons sitting in a drawer you cleaned out in your room especially for him and a pot of his favorite food simmering on the stove. He’ll be golden in an hour or more and you’ll happily take care of him then.
Steve whines when you pull away from him. The pathetic sound bubbles from his throat and his face screws up like you’ve actually pained him by not kissing him more. He ducks down, looming over you, as his lips chase yours.
You giggle at him, letting him kiss you — one, two, three quick pecks and a fourth sweeter, more drawn-out one he presses against you as the two of you stumble back into the living room.
“You need to eat first, okay?” you protest when you part from him again, lips clicking wetly as they separate. “You probably haven’t had anything all day.”
“I had half a banana in the break room at lunch,” he retorts, half-heartedly.
“Exactly,” you scold. “Go get changed and then we can eat, ‘kay?”
“If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you could’ve just said.”
You roll your eyes at him and how he’s still so sly despite being so damn tired. You push playfully against his chest and squirm out from under where he’d cornered you between his body and the back of the couch. “You smell like a sundae and cheap cologne—”
“Blame those assholes from Abercrombie.”
“—hit the showers, Harrington,” you tell him with a playful sternness, swatting him on the ass as you pass by him.
The action stopped surprising him a long time ago. He’d complained relentlessly about corporate and the stupid outfit they made him wear to work every morning until he realized how much you liked it.
After that, Steve figured he could put up with the itching and the chaffing and the weird stares from other mall-goers. As long as it meant you being unable to keep your hands off of him, dropping to your knees in front of him before he left for work, visiting him at lunch because you just had to see him again.
“You comin’ too, or…?” he jokes in reply, already inching towards the bathroom, but secretly hoping you’ll say yes.
You refuse to amuse him, though, and instead tell him that you have to keep stirring the pasta so it won’t burn. He’s too tired and too excited to wash all the muck of the long workday from his body to beg.
You knew just what he needed — like you always do. He’s as good as gold by the time he gets out of the shower, smelling of your shampoo and practically glittering at how good he feels.
His skin gets to breathe for the first time all day when he slips on a pair of boxers and a faded forest green Hawkins High sweatshirt. They’re freshly washed. He can tell by how soft they feel and the way they smell of fresh detergent.
It makes his heart swell.
While he’s been slinging ice cream and questioning all of his life choices, you’ve been washing his clothes, folding them and putting the in their own drawer in your dresser. You’ve been cooking him his favorite dinner, knowing he hasn’t eaten all day, because you know everything about him.
You do it all because you love him. You don’t have to think twice about it before you so effortlessly take care of him.
He swears you’ll feed him if he begs hard enough, but Steve hasn’t reached that level of tiredness yet. He does, however, force you to sit halfway in his lap while the both of you opt to eat on the couch in the living room rather than the kitchen table.
A repeat of Miami Vice plays on the tiny television across the room and you tell him about what you’d done on your day off in between shoveling forkfuls of pasta into your mouth with your legs slung into his lap.
Most of it was spent taking care of chores, a feat made harder without Hopper and El to take on the extra workloads but easier because their absence meant less shit to get done.
You drove Dustin and Lucas to the Wheeler’s house later that morning, then doubled back across Hawkins when Max called and all but begged you to free her from the hellscape on Cherry Lane, as she so lovingly put it. You picked her up and dropped her off with the rest of her friends.
And even though they all swore they had rides back home, they’d called again some hours later and asked too sweetly if you could take them back across town.
You complain and grumble about it, but you do it for them anyway.
Because you take care of people. That’s just what you do.
“So you were a personal chauffeur for a bunch of kids all day?” Steve jokes and laughs to himself as he swipes a smudge of alfredo sauce from your chin with his thumb
“Basically,” you nod in reply.
When that’s all done — and the episode is over and the dishes are in the sink and your teeth are freshly brushed — you tell Steve to get into bed, and then to get his head out of the gutter at the look he gives you after.
He’s pleasantly surprised when you bring a whole basket of things from the bathroom and into your bedroom. He watches silently, obediently, as you light a candle on the far side of the room before climbing into bed beside him.
“Scoot down a little,” you tell him. “And take off your shirt.”
He does it all without question. He rises, strips himself of his top, and tosses the thing mindlessly on the floor beside the bed. With his lean torso and bare chest on display, spotted with tufts of chestnut-colored hair and smelling of your body wash, he lazes back onto the bed again with his head on the pillows.
Steve holds his breathe when you straddle his chest.
“Comfy?” you ask him quietly.
He can only nod in response.
His eyes are wide, twinkling with love and curiosity. It makes you smile. He’s always so soft in his way, so compliant with you — and, fuck, if you don’t love how he looks when he’s underneath you.
You lean down to press a chaste kiss to the chiseled tip of his nose then reach for one of the many bottles stacked inside the wicker basket. You drip the rose-scented liquid onto a cottonpad and tell him that it’s cleanser.
“I thought I was already clean?” he retorts.
“Well, this shit is gonna make ya glow like a baby, Harrington,” you tell him and swipe the stuff up and down his face — across his forehead, along his nose, and around his stubbly jaw. “Which means it’s perfect for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means you’re a baby,” you quip once, then smile lovingly down at him. “My baby,” you correct.
“Damn straight,” he hums with a soft smile, then shuts his eyes when you trade the cleanser for what you call a liquid exfoliator. He doesn’t ask what that means. He doesn’t say much of anything really, because he’s enamored with the way you dote on him.
Your day has been just as busy as his, maybe not as mind-numbing, but still busy. You’ve been bouncing all across town, trying to make sure a bunch of kids weren’t putting themselves in total danger — Steve knows firsthand how hard that can be.
And yet, you keep caring for him, like it’s more important than how tired you must be.
The way you’ve settled on top of him is just a bonus. It’s not as domineering as you usually are in this position, straddling your legs over him and forcing his face between your legs with your fingers tangled in his hair. He wouldn’t have minded if that’s what you’d done in the first place. He would’ve thanked you for it, really.
It’s comforting more than it is anything, the subtle weight of you on top of him, keeping him grounded.
You rub something that feels like lotion into his skin. The tips of your fingers massage his face — they dig softly into his temples, relieving all the strain there, then trace around his curve of his jaw. Steve sighs and melts into your touch. It makes you laugh.
“Look at you,” you giggle, all soft like the moonlight streaming in rays from the windows. Then you tease him. “My baby’s gettin’ all pampered tonight, huh?”
“That stuff smells really good,” he notes. “Think it’s safe enough to taste?”
You know he’s joking, but you flick him in the center of his freshly moisturized forehead anyway, when his tongue darts out the side of his mouth to lick around his lips.
“You’re such an idiot,” you scold with a laugh. “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to have a kid if you keep acting like one, Steve Harrington.”
The boy's eyes fly open. “…A kid?” he repeats in something short of a whisper.
You only hum in reply with a little shrug like you’re trying to play it all off. Like you didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on him and left him to pick up the pieces. Like it isn't the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life (even though you are sort of making fun of him).
“You want a kid with me?” he presses, eyes sparkling and full of hope.
“‘Course I do,” you shrug again, focusing on capping the moisturizer and putting it away rather than meeting his intense gaze. “Want anything and everything with you, Stevie.”
The boy doesn’t bother to hide the grin your words put on his face. He’s all but beaming from where he lays beneath you, trying to make sure he’s still breathing because his heart has started to flutter something fierce.
It was something the two of you only ever talked about in passing — usually him bringing up the idea of having kids and you swatting them all down.
“We’re too young,” you tell him. “We’re too broke”, “we’re too dumb.” The occasional “my dad is literally in the next room, he’ll kill you if he hears you talking like that” shuts him up real quick.
But here you are now, telling him you want a baby with him, that you want everything with him. It drives him absolutely insane.
“Yeah?” he hums in response, idle hands rising and settling upon your bare thighs, rubbing at the smooth skin there, petting you almost. The room gets suddenly and unbearably hot with the look he gives you, innocent and knowing and hungry.
You feel him shift from underneath you, the hardening cock in his boxers making it hard to stay as comfortable as he had been.
“You wanna be a mommy, honey?” he all but coos. “Wanna take care of our kids like you take care of me?”
Though his words set a fire in the pit of your stomach, the tone of them makes you roll your eyes. It’s like flipping a light switch when it comes to Steve. It takes next to nothing to turn him into a puddle of mush.
He’s always raring to go when it comes to you, and you’d be lying if you said it was totally invigorating.
“What happened to my sweet, sleepy, baby Stevie, huh?” you tease, hands leaving his face to caress the ones he’s got resting on your thighs. “Thought you were too tired?”
He shakes his head defiantly. “Never too tired for you.”
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you scold with bubbly laughter when you feel his large hands trail up your legs. His finger falls beneath your shirt, the tips of them sneaking into the rounded hems of your underwear, all but cupping your ass to drag you further up his chest.
He’s practically salivating at the mere thought of tasting you. Of knowing that the only thing separating you from him is a couple of inches and the thin fabric of your underwear.
He knows that when he slides them to the side, you’ll be wet and needing him underneath, slick enough for his tongue to slip right in.
And, truth be told, oral sex wasn’t the easiest when you weren’t alone. It was too precarious of a position. If Hopper knocked on the door and barged in hardly a moment later, you needed to break away quickly.
So when your dad and little sister were home, it was easier to use your hands to get each other off. And, maybe, if Steve was real good, you’d let him fuck you.
But his mouth on you? There wasn’t enough good he could be for you to let him do that, not when your father was on the other side of the door in the living room. Because you’re pretty sure death would be easier than your dad catching Steve Harrington giving cunnilingus to his daughter. You’re pretty sure you’d die on the spot, anyway.
But Hopper is miles away. Your sister is on the other side of town. And you’re alone with your boyfriend, hidden away in a cabin in the middle of the woods. It’s the perfect recipe for the best sex of your life.
“Don’t care,” Steve murmurs, pressing kisses to the inner parts of your thigh when he settles you more intently over his shoulders. “Wanna make you feel good.”
“Yeah?” you croon. From below you, the boy notes the arched brow and knowing glint in your eye that usually means trouble. “Daddy wants to make mommy feel good, huh?”
Steve knows exactly why you said it. Why you chose to say it like that. It’s the same reason you brought up the kid thing in the first place. Because you knew it would drive him crazy.
And it’s not like you ever had to try to make him mental, all you really had to do was walk into a room and he was done for. But you didn’t just want to just make him go insane, you wanted to ruin him.
And you know you’ve done just that when a groan spills from his mouth and two strong hands dig rather ruthlessly into your hips. He pulls you down without warning, pressing your clothed pussy closer to his face and dragging his nose between your covered lips. A moan leaves your mouth in a heavy exhale when the tip of it nudges your clit.
“Like being called daddy, huh?” you tease through bated breaths.
Steve nods in reply as he hooks a finger through the hem of your panties and slides them to the side, putting your pretty, glistening pussy on display for him.
He was right about what he said before — you were soaked.
All but drunk on the sight of you, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh. “Like the other thing, too,” he mumbles against your skin, like he’s hiding himself there.
“The other thing?” you question with pinched brows. The confusion ebbs like a rolling tide as you realize: “Oh. You wanna call me mommy, Stevie?” you ask with a joking lilt.
“Shut up,” he groans against you.
He’s pleasantly surprised when your hand grabs the strands of his hair like reigns, pulling him back just before he puts his mouth on your pussy. He’s even more stunned at the stern expression taking over your features, not nearly as playful as you’d been moments before.
Suddenly you’re ten feet tall, and he’s nothing more than an ant, at the mercy of your boot.
“That’s no way to talk to your mommy, is it, Stevie?”
He shakes his head with glazed over eyes. “Sorry.”
“Sorry… what?”
There is an underlying tone in your voice, something teasing and yet somehow serious all at once. It’d make him roll his eyes if he weren’t lying beneath you like this. Now, with your pussy mere inches from his face, he isn’t quite sure how to be anything but obedient.
“Sorry, mommy,” he corrects.
A flip switches and you’re smiling again. “Good boy,” you praise and it makes his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers. Your hand guides him to your pussy again.
Steve’s always been good at oral. A little too good, actually. It made you jealous sometimes, to know that his technique has been perfected over years of experience.
“All the other girls were just practice for you, honey,” he’d soothe your seething rage with a wink and a tongue shoved deep into your cunt.
You believe him now, that every other girl was just an obstacle for him to get to you, because no one’s had him like this. No one will ever have him like this.
You’re the one who’s got him on his back with his mouth on your pussy. You’re the one who’s got him calling you mommy.
And it makes you feel like a fucking giant.
He wastes little time to envelope your cunt with his mouth. You feel the muffled grunt he lets out at the tangy and familiar taste of you. His tongue pushes into your cunt, licking you with the intent of devouring you entirely. His nose presses intently against your clit, prodding the little button as you ride his face. He encourages every thrust, guiding your hips up and down his mouth.
“Fuck, Stevie,” you whine and feel him smile drunkenly against your pussy, never ceasing his assault against your sensitive skin.
Your head falls back, suddenly too heavy to hold up. Your gaze settles on the ceiling, though you’re not exactly looking at it, and moans fall from your open mouth and into the heavy air — billowing laments in the moonlight.
“You make me feel so good,” you murmur to yourself, but to him especially, knowing he turns into a ticking time bomb when he’s praised. “Always make mommy feel so fucking good, baby.”
He groans against you, and it makes your hips twitch over his face.
Your head turns and your glazed over eyes fall on the hard cock trapped in his underwear. It’s more than apparent against the thin fabric with a wet patch of precum darkening the plaid cotton. The sight of it, paired with his lips wrapped around your clit, makes you moan most pitifully.
“Fuck, Steve,” you cry. “You’re gonna make me come. Holy shit, baby— gonna come so hard in your mouth.” The promise makes Steve double his efforts against you, wanting nothing more than to taste every drop you can give him. “I’ll ride you after, 'kay? Make you come so hard you can’t see straight. Fuck. I’m so fucking close.”
You figure his muffled whine is an affirmative.
“If you make me come now, maybe I’ll let you come inside me—”
You barely get to finish your sentence before Steve’s wrapping his arms around your thighs and keeping you pressed against his face. His tongue works overtime inside of your cunt, attentively flicking against every part of your velvet walls that it can reach, while his nose nudges your clit most relentlessly.
It has you reaching your climax within seconds, hips jerking against him while his hold on you tightens. Steve only lets you go when he’s certain you’ve ridden out every inch of your orgasm.
You’re shaking and half-numb when you unfold your body from his and settle next to him on the bed. You press yourself over him as your lips swallow his, tasting yourself on his mouth that glistens with you.
Your torso is splayed over his bare one, knees digging into the mattress at his side as you arch your back to push yourself further into him.
“Was that good for you?” he mutters after you’ve pulled away, sliding the tip of your nose up and down the bridge of his.
A laugh escapes you in a sharp scoff. If he couldn’t have felt how good it was for you — after you all but writhed against him — surely he must’ve tasted it dripping like honey from your cunt.
“It’s always good,” you assure him, then murmur more quietly, “Always so good for mommy.”
You keep the promise you’d made him no more than minutes beforehand. You pull down his boxers at the same time he’s trying to get you out of your shirt, and it’s just a mess of yearning limbs until the both of you are naked.
You rub yourself over his cock a few times, getting it all slick with you in the place of lube, because you know taking him is never an easy feat. The stretch of his dick inside you is always delicious but fuck if it doesn’t burn. It’s like fire in every sense of the word, hot and filthy paired with a distant ache.
Steve lets you set the pace as you get used to his length nestled deep inside your velvet. His hands rest compliantly on your hips as you grind against him, honeyed gaze fixed on your fucked out features as you take him — brows pinched, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.
Then, when every inch of him is snug in your cunt and your senses return to you, you deny him of his want to touch you. Your fingers wrap around his wrists and push them into the pillow on either side of his head. “Mommy didn’t say you could touch her, did she?” you purr to him as you lean over him. He shakes his head obediently, if only it meant that you kept fucking yourself on top of him.
And you do. Most ardently.
You keep your bare chest pressed against his fuzzy one, nose-to-nose as you slide your hips over his. And even though he’s had you like this before (in this position and many others), it feels brand new every time. It’s like he’s never felt you before despite how familiar you feel.
It triggers his body into a sense of fight of flight, as though frightened he’ll never get to have you again. It leaves him fucking you like it’ll be the last time he’s inside you, every fucking time.
It never is, though — obviously. Most times he only has to wait a couple minutes or more before he gets to take you again.
But now, with his hands balled into fists beside his head and your’s braced on his chest, digging into the patch of hair there as you rock back and forth on his hard cock — the tip of it nestled deep inside of you and hitting every sweet spot that makes you keen — has left him an absolute wreck beneath you.
He’s chasing his pleasure like he’s never felt it before. Like he won’t feel it again.
“Your cock feels so good, Stevie,” you moan above him.
“‘M not gonna last long, baby,” he mutters between harsh and labored pants.
“’S okay… I want you to come,” you promise and press a too sweet kiss to his swollen, pink lips. You move your hips more intently over him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. “Want you to fill me up.”
“Yeah?” he breathes out in something short of a whimper. His eyes are glassy and his brows are furrowed and it takes everything in him not to fuck up into you — because he wants to be good, he wants to be good for you.
“Yeah… Want you come in me… Fuck me until it takes,” you babble over top of him, knowing exactly what it’s doing to the whining boy beneath you. “Wanna give you a baby— fuck— I wanna make you a daddy, Stevie.”
A whine spills from his throat. His toes curl into the fabric of your comforter, eyes rolling back into his head, body tensing as he digs his fingers into the skin of his palms that still ache to touch you.
Your name spills from his mouth along with a string of curses and pretty little cries when he stuffs you full of his come.
You happily accept every load he shoots into you as work him through every aftershock of his orgasm. Yours doesn’t come so easy — you roll your hips over yourself and rub your clit until you’re twitching right along with him.
You come down from your highs together with a tender softness. You lay over him, one hand combing through his curls and the other stroking softly at his sweat-slicked bicep. You watch with heavy eyes as his orgasm rolls over him.
His chest rises and falls with every heavy breath, stuttering when another pang of pleasure hits him all of a sudden. “Fuck,” he whines harshly into the heavy air.
He’s happy you don’t deny him when his arms wrap around your waist, hands rubbing up and down the expanse of your slick back.
You press tiny kisses to his face as he comes down — his nose, his cheeks, his forehead his stubbly chin and jaw. You press one, two, three pecks to his lips before you slide off of him, then laugh when he whines.
You’re gone for hardly more than three minutes, but to Steve, it feels like an eternity’s gone by.
You return from the bathroom, wiped freshly clean, and blow out the nearly burnt-out candle on your dresser before you slither back into his side. One of his arms curls beneath your shoulders to pull you closer to him with his other rests on the back of yours that’s settled on his chest.
You share one pillow, noses inches away from one another’s, while you bask in the warm moment and the sex-coated air around you before you have to break it.
“You know I’m still on the pill, right?” you ask him.
He nods.
“And that we’re—”
“Way too young to have a kid right now?” he finishes for you, though the idea makes him sad. He nods.
“Yeah… And—”
“Too broke? I know that too.”
“Also my—”
“Your dad would kill me if I got you pregnant?”
It makes you laugh. You hadn’t realized you’d talked about having kids this many times — at least, not enough for him to memorize all the reasons why it’s not the best idea right now.
“Yeah, I know it’s not happening any time soon,” Steve says with a sigh. “I like to pretend, though. Plus, it’s not even about that to me, you know? I just… I just like being with you and… everything.”
Everything, you repeat to yourself. A word that means so much and nothing at all.
No one knows what everything means, they just know that it’s a lot, a whole lot. That’s what makes it so special. Steve wants it all with you — the overbearing dad, the sister with powers, the teenage kids who never let you have a single second to yourselves when they’re around.
It’s a lot sometimes, most times, but he’ll weather it all with you.
“You like being with me?” you echo just to see him nod.
He does. “I love being with you,” he corrects.
“Love calling me mommy, too, huh?”
He realizes then, the sincere moment was just a set-up for that stupid joke. He groans and flops his head back on the pillow, but makes no move to distance himself from you.
“Oh, my god,” he moans in annoyance. “Am I gonna have to deal with this the rest of my life?”
You nod. “Sorry, Harrington, but I’m never letting that shit go.”
Good, he thinks to himself, even though he pretends to hate it because it makes you laugh. He never wants you to stop.
#published by bug#stranger things x reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic#stranger things imagine#steve harrington#stranger things#stevie oneshot#st oneshots
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Drop your pin
Chat i MIGHT have cooked with this one
This is bad, this is so bad.
Less than two hours ago you left your house to drive over to a nice restaurant in downtown San Fransokyo and now you were pulled over at a gas station parking lot staring at your dreaded flat tire. If you hadn’t turned off your music to take a phone call from your friend mid-drive you probably would have never heard the dreaded: BANG!
What’s even worse is you were running late for your first formal date with a guy you met at an off-campus study site where you worked as a barista. He looked so cute in his little academic grind, so focused you thought his eyebrows were stuck in a permanent scowl. Thankfully, said the boy was studying so hard that he refilled his caffeinated iced tea almost four times and he came up to you. He started the conversation by rubbing his beautiful brown eyes tiredly saying “I am really tired, but I’m trying to stay away from coffee for a little bit.”
And somehow, his voice made him almost ten times more attractive than you originally thought him to be. By the time you finished pouring his tea, he’d complimented everything about you. From the hairstyle, you had dawned that day to how well you did your job. He was perfect and you were so excited for this date.
Until the universe had just to come and ruin it.
Canceling is one thing, but canceling because your tire popped is another. Everyone knows that whenever someone cancels last minute because they’re having ‘car troubles’ actually means ‘I wanted you to get lost from day one and now I have a reason not to see you.’ That and the lame excuse of ‘Oh I’m just really busy this week.’
This is why you can’t help but feel a sense of dread boiling in your stomach while you hear your phone ring and ring, waiting for him to answer. You like this boy, honest. But after this, he may not be so sure.
You swear you can feel your heart drop to the pits of your stomach when you first hear his voice.
“Hi, I’m not there yet. I just turned onto the 5 and-oh shit! Are you already there? I’m so sorry.”
You would laugh if you didn’t feel like crying. “Umm no, I’m not. Tadashi I have some bad news.”
“Uh-oh, what’s up?”
You took a deep breath. “Okay umm, so when I turned onto the highway my right tire popped and now I’m outside this sketchy-looking gas station trying to figure out what to do.”
Silence. All you could hear on his end of the call was the zooming of other cars next to his.
“Tadashi?” You confirmed. “Are you still there? Look I know it sounds like such a lie and I’m sorry. I really was looking forward to going out with you and I feel so bad about-”
“Drop me the pin.” The sound of his voice forced you to have such a visceral and public reaction.
Drop the pin? Like-to him? Why?
“L-Like,” You stuttered. “My pin? Right now?”
“Yeah, your pin.”
So you did. You sent him your GPS pin and waited for a little less than ten minutes. What did he want with your location? Maybe he just wanted to make sure you weren’t lying to him about being at the gas station. He could just never show up. After about seven minutes had passed, a rusty old work truck drove off the exit and into the gas station parking lot. Flashing bright yellow headlights. The truck pulled up almost directly in front of you and for a moment you felt fear. A stranger just coming up to you in a car in a sketchy area while you have no other way of escaping. But that fear dripped away when you saw it was Tadashi who was driving.
“Oh my gosh, hi.” You stared at him, slightly confused but extremely relieved.
He opened the door and walked towards you. “Hey, are you alright?”
“I’m fine, but my tire isn’t and I really don’t want to have to pay to get a new one.” You groaned at the thought of dealing with car troubles.
Tadashi squated down with a grunt at your popped tire. “Do you know how to change one of these?”
“Erm, kind of.” You answered honestly. “I don’t know it well enough to try it. I’m too scared to try it on my actual tire.”
He hummed before asking you to pop open your trunk so he could reach in and get your spare. And for the next twenty-two minutes, you watched your date grunt, sigh, groan, and flex all the muscles he had lifting and changing your popped tire. You learned two things in those thirty minutes.
1)That your date is one hell of a handyman and 2) That your date is not only cute but damn is he hot.
When he finished, he stood back up stretching out his limbs and cracking his neck.
“Now, you can’t really drive on a spare for too long so we’ll just go back and change it.” He said as if it were the most nonchalant thing in the world and not an act of pure chivalry.
You, who was almost starstruck at this man practically launched yourself and him in the biggest hug you’ve ever given someone.
You gushed, “Oh! Thank you so much. You’re so sweet!”
Thankfully, he hugged you back. Arms fully wrapped around you and jaw rested on the top of your head. When the two of you let go, he took your phone and put an address in it. One you had never even heard of. A place called the Lucky Cat Café and when you asked all he said was “We’re going there to change your tire.”
So the two of you got back onto the highway and drove backwards from your original date spot. For most of the drive you tried to keep the back of his car in your sights even though you had the GPS on. By the time you’d arrived, the street that the Lucky Cat was located on was practically empty. Everyone and all businesses seemed to be asleep for the night, which is why you both had decided on a place in Downtown San Fransokyo where the city rarely sleeps.
You shut your car door behind you. “What is this place?”
“It’s my aunt’s café, we live on the top. You see?” He pointed at a window in the top of the building with a glowing light through it like someone was home. “So my garage is on the side over there, do you want to just park there and I’ll change your tire.”
Wait he was serious. Like he was full-on going to change your spare tire.
“Seriously?” You double-checked.
Tadashi smiled followed by a light and airy laugh. “Yeah, I’m serious.”
So you drove past the main building and into the rather large alleyway where his garage was. From where you were you could see the garage door that was painted on the sides with traditional Japanese art.
“Did you paint that?” You pointed at the door.
Tadashi fumbled around in his pocket for the garage door key. “Me and my brother worked on it when we were in middle school.”
“So you guys are close?”
Guys that love their families are mad hot.
The door slowly propped open. “Extremely close and- oh. Speak of the devil.”
Sitting inside the garage was a boy who couldn’t have been any older then fifteen on the couch resting flat on his back. Scrolling on his phone and eating a green melon popsicle in white calf socks.
He lifted his head to see the two of you standing in the frame of the garage, large brown eyes that resembled Tadashi’s staring like a deer in headlights.
“Oh shit,” He grunted. “What’s up?”
Tadashi alternated his hand between the two of you. “Hiro this is y/n, y/n this is my little brother Hiro.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Hiro.” You smiled. Tadashi had mentioned him a few times and you’d heard him in the background of some of the FaceTime and regular phone calls you had with Tadashi.
Before he could respond, your date looked around his garage with a look of confusion on his face. “Dude, where are the tires?”
“Behind the dumpster.” Hiro said like it was obvious.
Tadashi rolled his eyes. “The unused ones, dumbass.”
“Oh, side shed.”
Your date excused himself and pulled out his phones flashlight to navigate his way through the dark of the night to his familys storage shed. Leaving you alone with his younger brother who had since put his phone down.
“You’re y/n?”
“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’ rocking back and forth on your feet.
Hiro’s face filled with a sudden smugness. “You know he’s like super into you, right?”
You tried to fight the obvious smile that wanted to come to your face. “Really?”
“Before he left he called all of his friends to make sure he looked good enough to leave the house.” He scoffed at the memory.
Just then, Tadashi came back rolling a brand new tire for your car. He told Hiro to scram before setting it down and grabbing his own tools. The garage itself was crazy, filled with tools, walls of water stained blueprints, chalk drawings, and premade machinery including a 3D printer and two different computers.
While changing your new tire, you took the time to really apologize for the messed up ‘date’ you were having.
“I’m so sorry about this, this is not what I planned at all.” Your voice laced with sincerity.
Tadashi’s face fell into one of fake disbelief as he joked, “You mean you didn’t intentionally pop your own tire so I would come and get you and we had to change it instead of going out to the restaurant we’re both appropriately dressed for?”
You laughed and gently punched him in the arm. “Don’t be an ass.”
“I know, I’m just joking.” He reassured you. “You look really beautiful though, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that before.”
“Aww, thank you. You look half decent as well.”
The two of you laughed as he continued to change your tire. There was a point where the new one he brought out for you had weighed so much he had to take off his dress jacket and lift it up like a deadlift. At his obvious struggle you offered to help but it was pointless.
“No it’s okay I got it.”
“Really?” You asked. “I can help you out. Plus it would teach me for the future.”
“Well when you’re with me, you won’t ever have to change your own tire.” Just as he said it, he regretted it. The two of you hadn’t even really been on a first date, just a few flirty texts and calls. That’s it.
He covered his mouth. “Oh-that’s not- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
To his relief and surprise you laughed in the most adorable way he’d ever heard someone laugh. “It’s okay, that was cute. Really cute.”
“Oh thank god.” He breathed out.
After a couple more flirty conversations and remarks, he’d finally finished installing your new tire and placed the spare back in your car.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” You cooed and kissed him on the cheek.
A warm blush expanded across his face after the kiss your given him as he dizzely responded, “No problem.”
You had your arms hooked around his neck as you both just stared at each other. Tadashi looked down at his watched and hummed.
“You know, they’re still open.” He referred to the restaurant from your original plan.
To say you were shocked would be an understatement. He did all of that for you, and he still wanted to go out?
“Y-you,” You began to stutter in disbelief. “You still want to go out with me.”
“If anything I want to go out with you even more now.” He whispered so low only you could hear. “Do you want to go out with me?”
“Yes.” You whispered back, falling into his dark brown eyes.
He smiled, face getting closer and closer to yours. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Ye-”
Kissing before the first date even starts is unheard of for you. It’s not something you would ever do…normally. But to be fair nothing about that first date was normal. You ran you hands up his jet black hair, lightly pulling at the strands while his hands held yourl ower back. How could making out with someone you hadn’t even gone on a proper date with in the middle of his garage with the door wide open feel so incredibly intimate?
When you two had pulled away all you could do was laugh. What was so funny? You don’t actually know, but something about it had made to so giggly. Face pressed into his chest, laughing.
You two had decided that it seemed like a better idea for Tadashi to drive to two of you downtown and when you opened the passenger seat door there was a large bouquet of pink tulips and daisy fillers on the seat with a calligraphy card with your name on it wrapped in brown paper. You covered your smile with your mouth as you picked up the bouquet.
“I was going to give those to you when we got there.” Tadashi said shyly, embarrassed that he missed the opportunity to give them to you when he pulled up to the gas station parking lot.
All you did was stare at him, endearence in your eyes before kissing that boy straight on the lips another time.
#baymax#big hero 6#big hero six#tadashi hamada#bh6 x reader#disney#fanfic#tadashi hamada x reader#napakmahal#writing#writers block#hiro hamada#san fransokyo
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