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elysiality · 2 days ago

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WISH YOU WERE HERE ! [ TAPE 1 ] ☾ jackie.

꒰ (e.) cryo /ˈkɹʌɪ.əʊ/. — involving or producing cold, especially extreme cold. ꒱

Jackie loved you. she really, really did. but she couldn't claim to be ecstatic when you started crying every time she brought her future up.

DARLING, I SHOULD TELL YOU. THIS TAPE CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT AND IS RATED R:

angst . slowburn. hurt, no comfort. omniscient dynamics. graphic descriptions of cannibalism n gore. dead dove, do not eat. sweet moments of bliss before a storm. canon compliant (so far).

5k words. no beta, we die like Laura Lee. (oh wait, this isn't A03)

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TK-SHH. the sound of a woman's heavy breathing comes over the mic, crackly and nearly cacophonous. "Uh..." the hesitation in her soft voice is clear. the sound of buttons being pushed makes it through the screen. "Van, is this thing on?"

somebody, presumably Van, sighs and fiddles with some buttons. the audio quality is considerably better now. another woman clears her throat. "So... we're making a couple of tapes, to try to remember what happened to her. Back then." her voice is raspy but the catch in her voice is audible as she utters the last syllables.

there's a beat of silence and then another voice, eager and enthusiastic, pipes up. "Well, she was part of the Yellowjackets." there's a couple of 'duhs' and grumbles of 'can it, Misty'. Misty obliges without any objections.

Van clears her throat. "Uhm....she liked to hang out with all of us. In the woods, usually." she chuckles placidly.

"Jackie- Jackie hated the creepy-crawlies in there. But she would always go when she asked. No matter what. They- they were close. I think. Jackie and her. Jackie and her 'cinder'."

Jackie Taylor was perfect. perfect girl, perfect grades, perfect boyfriend, perfect life— that was her to a T. if you asked someone to define flawless, they'd probably point you in her direction.

and she maintained the image well. captain of the school’s star soccer team. prom queen. a best friend who bent over backwards to make her happy. it's all a teenage girl could dream for and more, right?

wrong. there was nothing more Jackie Taylor hated than being ‘perfect’. a doll in someone else's playhouse, an untouchable goddess whose smiles were bestowed upon everyone like gifts.

her future was set in stone. a script, written for her to play Barbie and Ken with Jeff, live a perfect demure life with frilled aprons, a huge family, to stay quiet and bury all her dreams, to waste her twenties scrubbing stains out of her husband's stiff-collared shirts while waiting for him to come home to his dingy apartment from his 9-5.

if she'd known that picking the pretty boy from the litter to be her boytoy would lead to this perdurable life, she would've just sucked it up and admitted that she liked girls, even if it meant her parents would boot her to the curb.

college was just something to pass time till Jeff put a ring on it, her parents would tell everyone. it's why they were sending her to Rutgers. a nice, sensible finishing school would've been better, of course, but their daughter needed a complete education at least (even if she would be holed up in a trashed living room for the next living years of her life).

she'd agree politely, letting honeyed words roll off her tongue, pretending that all her dreams of becoming a journalist, a professional soccer player, of being free were just tongue-in-cheek, ignoring the bitter aftertaste that came with them.

she longed to lash out, to scream at the world that she didn't want to be who they were forcing her to be, to sob her pain of not being understood by anyone, not even Shauna, who seemed to shut down every implication that Jackie’s life was anything less than perfect with a subtle laugh.

but let's be real. little miss perfect would never do anything that didn't fit others’ images of her.

that's why she liked you. why she admired you. why she loved you.

she knew how the other kids spoke of you. ‘mad as a march hare’, ‘off her rocker', ‘nutty as a fruitcake’ and a variety of other names too crass to repeat, even in her head.

how they'd avoid you when they saw you gliding down the halls, feet never making a sound, like a mouse. how she'd been warned several times by classmates to ‘stay away from the looney tunes girl’ whenever she was called for soccer practice.

how even coach looked at you like you were a ticking timebomb, liable to explode.

but she couldn't, for the life of her, understand where those misconceptions came from. she could never pin all those stupid rumours to a vision of you in her mind’s eye. ‘crazy’ sounded like an oxymoron next to your name.

if anything, you were a wallflower. an observer, not an instigator. quiet, taciturn, walking like you were on the most fragile of ice, always smelling like lavender and rain and something so faintly earthy, she couldn't put a name to it.

she used soccer as an excuse to get closer to you. she wasn't quite sure why you even joined the team. you were a star player, an ace up their sleeves for sure, but you didn't seem all that interested in kicking balls and getting all sweaty in soccer jerseys and whatnot.

you were popular among the team if not among the school, at least. everyone wanted a piece of you— which was both gratifying and incredibly annoying when Jackie just wanted you to herself.

she'd ask you to come with her to the new cafe downtown? you'd apologise and tell her that Lottie already asked you to go see her mother's new flower show.

she offered to lend a hand with the little thatch of flowers you were growing in your own little corner of the outskirts of town? Nat had already come around and pulled weeds with you the previous weekend.

getting you alone was a task akin to pulling teeth, but the reward was worth it.

she'd show up to the outskirts of town in her most comfortable clothes— usually some overalls and a loose shirt, sneakers already covered in mud (something that would've given her mother a heart attack had she not stowed them away in a shoebox under her bed), hair tied in a scrunchy, car coated in a fine inch of dust from not being used, and wait for you to show.

you didn't tell her where your house was, and she didn't ask.

it was just an unspoken rule— she'd camp around the edge of the woods surrounding Wiskayok and you'd show, copious amounts of flowers in your hands, a camera slung around your neck, inconspicuously handing her poppies and leading her by the hand into the heart of the wilderness you seemed to know so well.

she'd watch, enamoured, as you sang to the flowers around you, coaxed the creepers to grow, cajoled the skittish squirrels onto your arms and then petted their trembling heads. she'd never had a green thumb, Jackie, much to the woe of her pitiful mother, but she liked it on you. it suited you, the real you.

she'd often take these opportunities to articulate her miseries, venting her frustrations of being the perfect moldable doll to you, knowing that unlike the rest of the world, you'd listen.

sometimes, Jackie would wonder if you were the earth personified. she could think of no other explanation, no other reason why the woods would listen to you so well, why you seemed like such a wild child, why your presence felt like being cocooned in a warm blanket of magma and shrubbery, so nurturing, so unselfishly caring.

your penchant for getting reclusive baby animals to love you had earned you the affectionate nickname, ‘Cinder’. “Like Cinderella”, she had proclaimed to you proudly, resting her arm against the metal locker, strands of wispy auburn hair sticking to her chin.

you'd just snickered and accepted your new moniker with grace. it was another reason why she liked you. she could be herself around you. playful and warm and awkward like every other teen, not docile and obedient. not perfect.

you'd listen to her patiently, stroking your fingers along the tapered, paper-thin wings of the butterflies that perched on your fingertips, one ear tilted to her, the other tilted to the ground like you were trying to listen to it too.

and when it was all over, when she was shaking with rage and animosity towards everything, when her hands would go to clutch at the poppies in them and crush the petals just because she could, you'd look at her. really look at her. the eyes are a gateway to the soul, someone had once told her. if that was true, you may have seen hers— but she certainly couldn't see yours.

your eyes were always fogged over, distant. like you were staving off the thought of a place that wasn't here, like your heart was in a home completely detached from your body.

but there was always that piercing glint in them. that look that spoke a thousand, raucous words that rang in your ears only, but were hushed husks of whispers to her.

there was a knowing appearance to them— not pitying, just sad. full of empathy. like you were let in on secrets that she wasn't. for once, it brought solace to her. she wasn't sure she wanted to know what kept a gentle soul like you up at night— if you even slept.

“The frost will override the heat one day, Jackie.” you'd tell her ruefully, your typically steady hands shaking as you set a magpie down on the moss, watching it spread its wings to soar away, it's belly full of seed you'd just fed it from your pocket.

she snickered, nudging your arm with her elbow. “Uh-huh. And what's that supposed to mean?”

but you didn't elaborate. you never did.

this same statement was repeated to her several times, and each time she would question it and each time you would just…go mute, like you wanted to tell her but you couldn't— tugging at your hair nervously, plucking at your clothes like they were too tight on your body— so she'd just let it go.

the closest she got was that one time you convinced her to scale a tree. she was panting as she crawled up behind you, muttering a small ‘fuck’ as she noticed the small tear in her shorts— the hem had caught on a stray branch or whatever, clearly.

you were balanced precariously on the far end of a broad branch, shuffling what appeared to be a deck of cards in your hands, muttering something to yourself. that wasn't new.

she'd caught you talking to yourself in hushed voices many times, only to come to a terse stop everytime someone else came near you. she could only make out a few words each time and none made sense.

‘mother’ and ‘snow’ and something about grief that her brain had tuned out automatically— the cons of having mastered the ability to blank out basically everything.

and yes, she's aware that eavesdropping is a shameful crime, yada yada yada, but it doesn't technically count if you're spying on just one person, right?

as she settled herself against the less hazardous limb of the tree, you looked up at Jackie, your eyes fire in the cool morning air of a New Jersey sunday. her heart beat faster and she beat off the feelings with a stick. ‘She’s a girl', she told herself firmly. ‘And you have a boyfriend.’

“I'm going to try to tell you what I see today.” you had said urgently, face staid and earnest in perfect juxtaposition.

Jackie nodded just as dourly, though she was not ashamed to admit that she was suppressing titters. she doubted she could ever see what you saw— you were just wired different.

you saw colours where they didn't exist, people who were long gone, emotions as swirls and mists rather than something abstract. it sounded cool on paper, but even Jackie wasn't oblivious enough to ignore the haunted look in your eyes, the jittery cadence of your voice.

you shuffled the cards so rapidly, Jackie couldn't keep track. you held them out to her, your voice louder than usual, almost eager. “You're the querent, you have to draw.”

“The que- what now?” you ushered her in the direction of the cards. she shrugged and took off the top card.

“The Hierophant.” she drawled with an air of blitheness. she turned the card around and showed it to you. a priest, sitting in front of his disciples.

“That is who you are.” you told her. “It represents traditionalists, following the norms of society, accepting your fate without looking at new approaches.”

she winced internally. well, she couldn't argue with that. she didn't want this life. she didn't want that prom crown, she didn't want Jeff to be her king. she didn't want him as much as she wanted you, as much as she wanted Shauna. but she went with it, because it was the right thing to do.

“Lucky guess.” she murmured, realising only too late that you heard it. but you didn't bother to comment.

instead, you held out the deck again, taking her old card and placing it in between you two. “Take another one.”

she eyed the deck suspiciously. “How many do I have to take before this is over?”

“Six.”

she blinked, holding back a groan of agony, instead deferring gracefully, picking up another card and turning it around for you. “This one's upside down.” she commented descriptively. she'd always had an eye for details like that.

“Your past. Temperance Reversed.” you noted, placing it on one side of the center card. “Lack of balance, excess pressure. You're unable to fit the pieces of yourself together, because they were all made by other people, you're unwilling to change.”

Jackie’s stomach tightens. she’d always felt like that— a body with two left feet, with odd hands, limbs and organs that didn't belong to herself, clothes she didn't even like. it was like churning in a pressure cooker. being forced into beauty pageants as a child, being made to walk across hallways with books on her head like her home was some fucked up princess school.

she took another card silently, holding it up for you. you plucked it from her grip solemnly and placed it down on the other side of the center card.

“Your present. The two of Wands, reversed. You could break the cycle, you could break free. The leap is right there, but you're unwilling to make it. You're afraid of failure, of losing your safety, so you don't move on.”

Jackie shifted uncomfortably, her clothes suddenly feeling too stiff on her, too ragged. she knew you were right.

it was right there. the escape from her gilded cage. Rutgers may not have been the best school she could have gone to, but getting any education at all would mean that she could leave her home behind. find her own way.

but she didn't like the thought of having no warm fireplace to come back to, no love to fall back on, the prospect of working a long job just to barely afford rent.

another card.

“Your future. Seven of Cups. You will struggle to find meaning, you won't be able to reach for any possibilities, any hope. Without drastic change, your fate is sealed to be devoid of hope.”

Jackie scoffed playfully, but there was a clandestine hint of fear in her voice. she'd always been a skeptic, a non-believer. she went to church because her parents wanted her to, not because she actually found faith in God.

“A lot about change, huh?” she snorted, folding the edge of the future card that was placed in front of her. “Is someone going to come from the sky and pelt me with lightning bolts or something?”

you shot her a withering glare that paused her weak chuckles. “I don't believe in these cards as much as I believe in my intuition. I believe what they're insinuating, because I can feel it in my bones. You will strike yourself down if you're not careful, if you don't drop your attitude, if you don't change."

she sobered up immediately, assuming the expression one would have on the deathbed of a dear friend. she picks the next card with unnatural stiffness, offering it to you like she was presenting an award.

you examine it carefully. “Your obstacle. The Moon Reversed. Betrayal, confusion, misinterpretation, fear. Somebody will betray your trust when you need them the most, and you won't understand why.”

Jackie started, her eyes widening as you place it across the centre card. “Wait- who's gonna betray me?” you shrug. “I don't know.” something told her that you were fibbing. but like always, Jackie never asked.

she reclined again, stretching to reach for the final card.

“Your destination-”, you started off as she grasped the topmost card. “Death.” she finishes, staring at the card in trepidation. a pit suddenly formed in her stomach, boring holes into it.

she put it face down, like it was a bomb about to explode, gaping at it. there was an uneasiness that wasn't there before, and she didn't like it. she wasn't gonna be a superstitious idiot after shunning fallacy for so long.

“Inverted Death.” you correct. she looked up at you, startled. your voice was squeaky, wavery. “End without change. Rot. Decay.”

and you burst into tears.

Jackie immediately scrambles forward, her face etched with concern as she reached for you. the cards promptly fluttered to the ground, covered by the shrubbery. she didn't give a damn.

she realised pretty quickly that the branch was snapping far too low, bending under your combined weight, so she took your hand and practically hauled you to the sturdy limb, taking you in her aching arms.

growing up in a household where she was coddled and comforted for even tiny papercuts meant that she knew exactly what to do when the tears started.

she whispered words of affirmation in your ears, reassuring you over and over again that they were just ‘silly cards that should've been used for poker or something' and it wasn't real, that nothing would happen to her.

she couldn't even tell if she herself was at rest with her reading, but what did it matter, when you were sobbing into her shoulder like your heart was cracking, like a flood of sorrow had just emerged from somewhere deep rooted inside you and shown itself in such a raw way?

you seemed damn near inconsolable when the weeping started, but you stopped just as quickly, wiping frantically at your eyes, almost bashedly, like you were ashamed of displaying such lack of self control.

Jackie fished around for her handkerchief, the one engraved with her initials and handed it to you. you wiped your flushed face with shaky hands and stowed it away in your own pocket, mumbling a promise to have it back to her by Monday.

Jackie shook her head no. “Keep it.” she had told you. “It's yours now. Just a token. To tell you that I'm all right.”

you looked unconvinced, but thanked her anyway, enveloping her in a hug that lasted far too long, that had her drunk on your scent. the scent of the earth.

“Hey. Tell you what. Let's go down to that new diner that opened like two blocks from here.” she talked to you like one would a startled animal. "You didn't wanna go last week because of all the terribly-kept plants, but you might like it now..." something in her voice seemed to soothe you. your mask appeared again, the one that made you seem so reticent.

you smiled sweetly at her, nodding as a sniffle escaped you. “Only if you foot the bill.” you said slyly, taking her hand in yours. she rolled her eyes. “Gladly, freeloader.”

she helped you down the tree— your legs were trembling like leaves.

she started to walk off, leading you by the hand like it was a leash. a tight leash. but you tugged on her wrist. she turned around almost stiffly, like a plastic doll. she was more affected than she was letting on.

“Jackie.” you started off, your voice urgent, “I need you to promise me. That you'll be more aware- that- that you won't ignore what's right in front of you.”

she stared at you for a bit, and then laughed, like you were pulling her leg. “Oh c'mon, I know I can be a bit oblivious sometimes, but I'm not that bad.”

she tried to start walking again, but you didn't budge an inch, staying mired on the ground. “No, Jackie I'm serious. Promise me you'll change.”

change. there was that word again, that annoying word that crawled into her head like a parasite and rooted itself there.

“I promise.” she sighed after tarrying for a bit. “I'll try.” you hold out your pinky to her. childish, but the only bond you ever truly trusted. a bond that ran deeper than blood pacts.

she looked at your jutted pinky and silently sealed the promise. you finally uprooted yourself from the mud, watching as she turned around and started trampling her way through bushes.

you pretended to not notice her smile fade when her back was turned to you. she pretended not to see the look of distress in your eyes when she turned away.

and look, Jackie loved you. she really, really did. but she couldn't claim to be thrilled when you'd start crying every time she brought up her future.

when the private plane to nationals (courtesy of Mr. Richy Matthews) crashed, when she was jogged out of her peaceful sleep to the sounds of screams and what she had no doubt was her death knell, her eyes were drawn to you and to Shauna— who was unconscious.

her throat closed up in panic, her lungs wouldn't work properly. she knew Lottie would take care of you, she knew she wouldn't let you die. she had Shauna to deal with now.

she dragged Shauna out of the burning wreckage of the plane twice that day, both times with guilt in her stomach, the last time with tears in her eyes as Van screamed for help behind her, screamed to not be left alone with the burning bodies of her teammates and her own voice.

Shauna clattered on the ground like a sack of potatoes, cuts forming a mosaic on her face, but she was safe. Jackie's eyes darted around the carnage and the wreck, searching desperately for the figure she knew would be dressed in blue.

she spotted a blue blur out of the corner of her eye just as she was about to start screaming your name, and she caught you by the waist just as you jumped into her arms, toppling over.

her wobbly hands clutched at your shirt desperately, trying to make sure you were real. she pulled back, her eyes scanning the wounds littered on your face. “Are- are you hurt anywhere else? Do- do we need to-”

“Where's Van?” you cut her off, staring around the wreckage with wide, sparkling eyes. your eyes reflected the fire behind her right in her face and she shrank back automatically, the shame creeping over the relief she felt.

she rubbed her arms nervously, clambering to her feet. “I….she's…”

“You left her.” the words come out of your mouth so cold, so hostile that Jackie’s knees nearly cave in. her mind is wiped clean of all the multiple excuses she once used to maintain her perfect image.

the look you give her, the look of pure revulsion, so different from that warm gaze of yours— the one that made her feel on top of the world, makes bile rise in her throat. she clutches her stomach like she's trying to hold her innards in— or perhaps rip them out and give them to you.

you push the hand that's reached out to graze the edge of your loose shirt away, shooting her one last scowl before taking off— right towards the inferno burning at the plane.

“Cinder— wait !” Jackie starts to chase after you, but aciculur fingers tug at her shoulder, pulling her back. It's Lottie, looking oddly steely. her eyes gleam with something as she watches your retreating back, her arms locking Jackie to her place— adoration, maybe. Jackie knows where you're going. where you'll always go.

with Lottie practically pinning her against her body, preventing her from dashing to your side like a dame in a bloody letterman jacket, Jackie wriggled out of her grasp to check on an incredibly pissed Shauna. no matter. she knows Shauna, knows how she'll always forgive her, knows how she'll always be there, even if you're not.

sure enough, when she's trying to wheedle an acceptance to her apology out of Shauna, you show up— with Van in tow.

you're both covered in ash and soot, Van looks the worse for the wear— but you're still alive. that's a lot more than she could say for certain other people, she thinks, as she gawks at Coach’s body, lolling over a tree, dripping tiny droplets of blood like rain.

she catches Van's eye, then yours, and she knows she's not welcome. the harsh glares bore into her like a stake to the heart. she turns and walks away as Tai engulfs Van in a hug that lasts far too long to be friendly.

and thus grows the emotional rift between you two. the longing glances she shoots in your direction, only to be met with radio silence or often times, nothing at all. but you're not petty. you never were, and she knows and god, it makes it so much worse.

to know that you still stand up for her, still defend her indolence when she lazes around instead of helping with gruelling chores, still defuse the tension between her and the others, even though there's the hatchet that can never be buried in between you two.

losing Laura Lee was painful for everyone, but more so to you and Lottie. she was there, watching the plane fall just as quickly as it rose, watching you run out to the lake, Lottie following suit, watching as you dropped to your knees, Lottie screaming her heart out beside you. she padded into the frigid waters and held you to her chest, her heart beating in time with yours as you sobbed silently, each gulp of air a wheeze that probably rendered you blind with its fervidity.

you drank the soup with everyone else at Doomcoming. you watched her go off with Travis, your eyes all knowing, shining with a clarity that no other foggy eyes held. you locked her in the closet that night. not out of spite, but out of fear for her own safety. this hive was no longer hers to control, no longer looked up to her like she was their queen who hung the moon in the sky. and you knew better than most, like you always did.

she started to protest as you shoved her in, cans of stale food crashing to the ground as she gripped at the wooden shelves for support. “Stay here, Jackie!” you hissed, your voice unnaturally deep. the look in your eyes was…proud. confident. like you knew what you were meant to do, for once in your life.

Jackie wiped the dust off on her dress, starting to follow after you as you took long strides towards the door. but you whipped around, pushing her back in with a force that was practically inhumane. she stared at you, her mouth agape. “I'll come back for you, I swear!”, you seethed. she didn't miss the slight hint of rancour in your voice as you made the promise.

silently, she extended her pinky to you. the harsh shadows that had settled on your face seemed to clear, if only for a moment. you clamped your pinky around hers, locking eyes with her own clear hazel. then, you slammed the door shut behind you as she slid to the floor, curling in on herself.

but you didn't come back for her, did you? not when she needed you the most, not when she needed you to bring her back in from the cold. literally. when the inevitable fight with Shauna came, when years of hidden acrimony and malice surfaced, when feelings that had never been communicated to her— ugly, jealous feelings, came to light, she had no one.

she had fallen from her throne. no longer the untouchable goddess. no longer the high-horsed queen. in a setting where morality and traditionalist ideas didn't matter, Jackie had nothing going for her.

Shauna, with no qualms about the ‘eat or be eaten’ rule, with nothing holding her back, unloaded years of anger and scorn onto her, and everyone turned their backs on her. her, who held fast to civilized behaviour, she who refused to adapt as the situation required.

Jackie gathered up her pillows and blankets, marching to the door on feet that felt unnatural on her body, her eyes locked onto the pretty, soft hands that were useless, that no longer mattered in a callous life. everything she had known collapsed in on her. she had lost all meaning, all purpose, all will to live, to eat and to do anything that once mattered to her.

she turned back one last time, to make one last cutting remark at Shauna. but something stopped her. you were huddled by the fire, counting your fingers, dressed in a loose, thin-strapped black dress that was so far off from what you would've usually worn, Jackie wasn't even sure she was looking at the same person anymore.

but then again, it seemed she had never known any of these people, jammed together in a dilapidated cabin in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. it was the look in your eyes when you raised your head that stopped her cold.

your eyes glittered like gemstones, reflecting the firelight in a way that should've been impossible. instead of the warm atmosphere your gaze usually gave her, the butterflies, the red cheeks, Jackie felt like there were a million bugs crawling up her legs, binding her, suffocating her. you gave a fleeting glance towards the door and returned to counting your grimy fingers, like nothing ever happened. like her conceited self deserved her fate.

like you never even knew her. not the mask she put up, not the face behind it.

it crushed her. because fuck, it hurt. it hurt so bad, she didn't know it was possible for an ache so deep to exist after all the pain she had just suffered through. it gave her the courage she needed to walk out the door, to feed her own ego.

you didn't want her anymore? well fuck you. she didn't want you either. she wouldn't change. not for the world, which was always given to her on a silver platter, but had now rotted with her heart.

your last words to her rang in her ears, crept into her dying dream as her body grew colder and her soul grew warmer. “I'll come back for you, I swear.” you're reneging on your promise, just like she did on hers. eye for an eye, huh?

when Jackie woke the next morning, she was no longer herself. she was detached, more detached than she had ever been. she rose and her body did not follow. she couldn't say she was very surprised, staring at the white snow that coated everything, every surface, every treetop, even her own cold, cold body. so your damn tarot reading came true after all.

she wanted to see your reaction to finding her like that. blue-faced, but peaceful, more peaceful than she had ever been in life. and hey, she certainly left a pretty corpse behind for you to find, right? she blocked her ears against Shauna’s screams. they were too blood-curdling, too painful to hear, even if she had declared the brunette dead to her mere hours ago.

she had one priority and one priority only. her transcluent eyes scanned your impassive face. nothing. not a tear. just cold disinterest, like she had never mattered to you at all. all she could glean was a twitch of your lips and nothing more.

Jackie decided to stick around. somehow, she knew that there was no ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ waiting for her. she would be free when she chose to be. she hadn't panned out in life and she wouldn't move on in death. take that, reversed Temperance. she knew exactly who she was. a petulant, stubborn bitch who wouldn't let go.

over the course of the blazing winter, somehow, the darkest, murkiest parts of her had manifested into this twisted version of herself that communed with Shauna sometimes, mocking her and taunting her for the death that was, in Jackie's opinion, at least, entirely her own fault.

but she was pleased to know she was haunting someone, if not you. or maybe she was.

because after Tai found out that PTSD Shipman was playing dress up dolly with her two month old corpse and the spontaneous decision to cremate her was made, you stepped up just as Shauna was about to light the fire. you stooped down to her body and pressed a kiss on the forehead of the stinkin cadaver, before gently unhooking the necklace that rested on her bony collarbones.

you fastened it around your own neck, untangling the golden chain with an almost reverent hand, kissing the heart charm.

your eyes were closed, but she could feel the sorrow around you like an aura, emitting towards her in a way your feelings never had before. maybe she was having like a spiritual connection to you or something. cuz of the necklace. maybe she had haunted the necklace with like— her skin cells or something.

she had expected to feel some tie to her physical body post-humous cremation. some agony tantamount to being burned alive or something. but as she watched her former teammates rip into her perfectly cooked carcass, scarfing down chunks of her flesh like it was ambrosia, sucking her fingers like they were cornucopias and would leak nectar, she felt nothing. nada. not even disgust, let alone anything physical.

she supposed she didn't have anything corporeal to feel her pain with anymore. there goes her plan of being a vengeful ghost.

Jackie never really put herself in your shoes. she never saw what you saw. she loved you, but not enough to consume you. not like you did now. you weren't ravenous like the others, weren't giving into your baser instincts, despite being as emancipated as anyone else.

you took your time, running your fingers along smoked flesh, the curve of her hip, the trail of her face. no one else noticed or commented, lost in their gluttony. you picked carefully, sitting at the metaphorical head of the metaphorical table.

her feet, nearly burned to a crisp, a symbol of humility. her eyes, the gateway to her soul. her hands, the ones that had made so many promises with you over the years. her lips, the ones which you had grazed with your own on nights when she was too tired to lie to herself.

she felt those, even though she didn't. placebo effect or whatever, but she did. a pleasant burning in her eyes. featherlight fingertips over her feet. a warm press in her numb palms. a brush of plush, chapped lips on hers, reminiscent of a time when her future was still set for her, but not as bleak when she was still on top.

you looked straight at her and the hole where her heart should've been gave a feeble twang. a desire for what could've been. you've always been one to love like that. devouring her like an animal with all the softness of a human. when she looked at you, you looked right back at her. aware. always so aware.

so no, Jackie never really did understand you. but there, looking at your eyes, the only ones filled with tears at a table full of beasts as wild as yourself, but in your senses, so painfully aware, gave her an inkling that even if it was for just that small moment, she did.

a/n : ran into so many hiccups on the way but it's finally here ! this is part 1/10 ! find the main masterlist here.

TAGLIST: @beaucate @theoreticalfreak @f4riedimples @scatorcciosbabe @theworldscalamity

#۶ৎ(っ- ‸ - ς) wish you were here !#yellowjackets #yj #yj show #(๑>◡<๑) works !#yj season 1 #yj season 2 #yj s2 spoilers #yj season 2 spoilers #jackie taylor #yellowjackets spoilers #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets s4 #yellowjackets show #yellowjackets season 4

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deliciousangelfestival · 2 days ago

Text

The Director's Obsession - Phase 1

Character: Director Orson Krennic x F!ISB Agent

Summary: Director Orson Krennic keeps one ISB agent under his thumb, pulling her from lunches, stealing her sleep, and destroying three dates. The project demands everything. Or maybe his obsession demands more.

Word Count: 4,598

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Chapters:

Phase 1, Phase 2 , -

Phase 1: The First Date

You barely have time to breathe. The last report for Phase 1 isn’t even cold on your desk when Director Krennic barges in with his usual dramatic sweep of his cape. The pristine white uniform almost glows under the sterile lights of the ISB Headquarters. He doesn’t bother knocking; he never does.

"There you are," he announces, like he’s surprised you’re working. "We need to push forward on Phase 2. Immediately."

You look up from your datapad, blinking. "Director, Phase 1 was finalized yesterday. The metrics haven't even stabilized yet."

"I know," he replies, his voice smooth, but edged with impatience. "Which is why Phase 2 is crucial. The rebel movements are growing bolder. The citizens need to feel safe. The Empire needs them to believe. And you," his eyes narrow slightly, "are the one who can make them believe."

Of course. Always you.

Phase 2. The next wave of carefully curated propaganda was to make the citizens embrace the Empire’s iron grip as if it were a warm blanket. Stormtroopers patrolled every sector, ensuring safety, order, and control.

"You want me to make them love seeing armored men with blasters on every street corner," you say flatly.

"Precisely," Krennic smiles, as though it's the simplest thing in the galaxy. "I trust your... creative talents."

And then, as quickly as he appeared, he’s gone. The cape swishes. The door hisses closed. You let out a long breath.

You don’t even get a chance to relax before your comm buzzes. It's Agent Dedra from across the floor. Again.

"Another visit from your work husband, I see," Jung drawls, voice dripping with amusement.

You rub your temples. "He's not my…"

"Oh, we know, we know.. Professional. Completely official. That's why Krennic only visits your office three times a day. I mean, he’s practically redecorating in there."

"Maybe we should get him a desk next to yours," Dedra adds. "Save him the walk."

"I swear to the Emperor," you mutter. "If you two don’t find something useful to do,"

"Oh, we’re very productive, we’re conducting a psychological study on how much attention one director can lavish on a single ISB officer before HR gets involved."

"I’m taking bets. I give it a week before he brings caf and calls it a 'collaboration session.'"

You groan. This is your life now.

You lean back in your chair and stare at the towering holoscreen of Phase 2’s draft campaign. Smiling citizens, loyal soldiers, protective Stormtroopers, the illusion of safety wrapped in polished armor.

"You’re just jealous," you shoot back finally, trying to reclaim some dignity. "He doesn’t visit you because you’re both insufferable."

Jung whistles. "You wound me."

Dedra chuckles. "Don’t worry. We’ll save you a seat at the wedding."

You slam the comm shut before they can continue.

Another sigh escapes you. The weight of the work presses in, heavy as ever. Phase 1 drained you dry, and now Phase 2 threatens to pull even more from you. But there’s no choice. Not with Krennic watching. Not with the Empire demanding results.

You glance at the door, half-expecting him to appear again.

The cape. The stare. The impossible expectations.

And you? You’re just trying to survive another day.

******

You barely have time to enjoy the brief silence after finishing Phase 1. The reports are still warm on your datapad when the summons arrives.

Director Krennic.

Of course, it’s him.

You drag yourself up from your desk, already knowing what this will be about before you even enter the meeting room. Krennic stands there like a monument in white, immaculate uniform, that damned cape swaying slightly as he shifts his weight. His hands are clasped behind his back, his posture as severe as his demands.

"You’ve done excellent work on Phase 1," he begins, voice smooth as polished durasteel. "The citizen morale reports have improved significantly. Public compliance is up. But now we move to Phase 2."

You bite your inner cheek, holding back the groan building in your throat. "Phase 2 Director?"

"Yes." He steps forward, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a state secret. "The rebel activity is escalating. Skirmishes, propaganda, and underground broadcasts. They’re infecting the citizens with fear and uncertainty."

He pauses, eyes narrowing. "Fear must be replaced with security. Confidence. They need to see the Stormtroopers not as enforcers, but as guardians. The face of order. Of peace."

You inhale, steadying yourself. "Director, I just finalized Phase 1 last week. The teams haven’t even stabilized the implementation yet."

"Exactly," he cuts in, smiling faintly. "Which is why we must strike now. While the momentum is ours. You have the skill to turn this tide. You always have."

Always me.

You leave the meeting more tired than when you entered. Another mountain of sleepless nights waiting. Phase 2 isn't just another propaganda wave. This time, you have to convince the entire citizenry that armed soldiers patrolling their streets is a comforting sight. That a government capable of planetary destruction is their protector.

You barely return to your office when the teasing begins.

Agent Dedra Meero is already leaning casually by your desk, sipping her coffee like she has all the time in the galaxy.

"Phase 2, huh?" she smirks. "Our golden star shines again."

"You could volunteer to help, you know," you mutter, sliding into your chair.

"And rob you of all the attention?" she laughs. "Perish the thought."

From behind her, Jung appears, balancing a datapad with a ridiculous grin. "How many times did he visit you this week?"

"I’m not counting."

"Seven," Jung answers for you. "Seven times. And it’s only midweek."

You roll your eyes, already regretting not locking the door.

Then Major Partagaz strolls by, overhearing just enough to chime in. "I never thought I’d see the day when Krennic made personal visits to ISB Headquarters," he remarks dryly. "The man barely acknowledged this department existed before you arrived."

"It’s called 'oversight,'" you reply, trying to sound more annoyed than amused.

"It’s called devotion," Jung teases.

Dedra leans in, lowering her voice dramatically. "He's your work husband at this point."

You stiffen. "Don’t."

But it's too late.

"You know," Jung adds with mock-seriousness, "we were thinking of organizing a little congratulatory party for you. Maybe get Krennic a desk right here. Right next to yours. Save him the commute."

"You could share office supplies," Dedra snickers.

"Maybe even a caf machine," Jung says. "Personalized mugs, his and hers."

Partagaz lets out a short huff, the closest thing to a laugh he ever gives. "Focus on your actual assignments," he mutters before walking off. But even he seems mildly entertained.

And then, as if summoned by the Force itself, the lift doors hiss open, and in steps Director Krennic.

The teasing evaporates like mist. Everyone straightens, faces suddenly blank and professional. Only your pulse remains elevated.

"Ah," Krennic greets with his usual calculated smile. "I trust you’re making progress."

You force a nod. "Of course, Director."

His eyes flick to the others, a silent dismissal, before landing back on you. "Good. I’ll be expecting a preliminary outline by tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Of course.

"Naturally."

He leaves without another word, his cape sweeping behind him like the final stroke of a signature.

The second he’s out of earshot, Dedra leans closer. "Work husband," she whispers.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "I hate all of you."

Jung laughs. "You love us. Not as much as he loves visiting you, but close."

*******

The days blurred together. Work. Report to Krennic. Work. Report again.

Phase 2 was eating you alive.

You barely saw the sun anymore, not that it mattered. Your life was reduced to the narrow stretch between your apartment and the ISB headquarters. If there was a rebellion raging out there, you wouldn’t have known. You were too busy trying to make citizens adore the very soldiers that patrolled their streets like silent sentinels.

And Krennic?

Oh, Krennic was thriving.

He had a special gift for pulling you out of every moment of rest. Once, you dared to take a lunch break, an actual sit-down meal in the cafeteria.

That’s when the call came.

“Director Krennic requires your presence immediately,” the officer said, looking at you like you were a fugitive caught mid-bite.

You shoved your tray aside and ran, practically sprinting through the sterile halls, your boots echoing with every step as you reached his office.

Krennic barely looked up from his datapad. “I trust the break was refreshing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I was three bites in.”

“Well, consider those bites a luxury. We’re not running a leisure cruise, Specialist.” He waved a hand as though dismissing the concept of meals entirely. “The sooner we stabilize Phase 2, the sooner you can resume... chewing.”

You wanted to throw something at him. Preferably his datapad.

Instead, you returned to your desk and drowned yourself in revisions, graphs, focus group data, and holovid drafts. The hours ticked by, your apartment becoming little more than a place to sleep for a few hours before dragging yourself back to ISB Headquarters.

Until one evening, when you handed him your final report, something unexpected happened.

“You’ve done well," Krennic said, scanning the summary with an approving nod. "Impressively well. Effective messaging, clear results, stabilized compliance... yes."

You held your breath. Was this… praise?

"You’ve earned a day off."

You blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"A full day," he repeated, smiling like he was offering you a rare antique. "I suggest you take advantage before I change my mind."

For a full minute, you just stood there. Surely, it was a trap. A test. But no, the next morning, your schedule was blank.

*****

Your friend Mia nearly fainted when she heard.

"Finally!" she exclaimed through your comm. "Do you know what that means?"

"Can I sleep?"

"No. It means you need entertainment. And lucky for you, I’ve arranged a blind date."

You froze. "Mia,"

"Don’t fight me on this. You need air, conversation, and let’s be honest, your social life’s been nothing but work and a bunch of uptight ISB agents for months."

You hated that she was right.

So that’s how you found yourself in a proper dress for the first time in months, sitting across from Malcolm, your date, at a very nice restaurant. He was Navy, tall, polite, and, thank the stars, had no idea about your work.

It felt... nice. Simple.

You sipped your wine, relaxed for the first time in what felt like an eternity. You even laughed, genuinely laughed, at one of his jokes.

“I have to admit, it’s refreshing to talk to someone outside of the fleet for once,” Malcolm smiled. “And you, you have this calm, professional charm. I like it.”

You smiled, blushing a little. “Occupational hazard.”

He reached for the menu again. "Shall we order dessert?"

That’s when it happened.

A sudden chill ran up your spine, that instinctive sensation you learned to never ignore.

Your eyes wandered across the room. Five tables ahead, seated perfectly in your line of sight, was a familiar figure.

Dear stars.

Of all places.

Director Krennic.

Sitting with Major Partagaz.

Krennic's posture was relaxed, but his sharp eyes had already landed on you the moment you looked up. The brief flicker of surprise on his face vanished, replaced by something else entirely.

Amusement.

You tried to look away, pretend you hadn't noticed, but it was too late. He stood.

"No," you whispered under your breath. "No, no, no, stay seated. For once in your life,"

But of course, he approached.

The sound of his polished boots was like an executioner’s drumbeat.

Krennic stopped at your table, his eyes briefly scanning Malcolm before landing back on you.

"Him?" he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain, eyes narrowing at Malcolm as though inspecting defective equipment. “Him?”

He scoffed, almost laughing under his breath, then gave you one final glance that said more than words could: This is the best you could find?

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the heavy silence behind him.

Your date blinked, utterly humiliated. "What... was that?"

You swallowed hard, your face burning. “That was... work.”

Malcolm’s expression hardened. "You have some complicated office politics." He grabbed his coat. "You know what? I’m not interested in being part of... whatever that was."

And just like that, your first night out in months ended with your date walking out the door.

You sat there for a long moment, staring at the half-empty wine glass.

Of course.

Because even on your day off, Krennic found a way to ruin it.

*******

You were left standing there, alone, humiliated, abandoned at the table like some rejected charity case. Your fist clenched as you allowed yourself one brief, venomous glare toward Krennic, who sat there as if nothing had happened. He was calmly discussing something with Partagaz, sipping his wine, completely unaffected by the disaster he had just casually caused.

Of course. Why would he care?

You grabbed your jacket, forcing your breathing to steady as you headed for the door. But as you passed the cashier, the young clerk stopped you.

"Miss... excuse me," he said awkwardly, lowering his voice. "Your... companion hasn’t paid yet."

You blinked. "What?"

You glanced back toward the empty chair where your date had been. The plate of half-eaten food mocked you.

You sighed heavily. "Unbelievable."

You pulled out your credits, practically tossing them onto the counter. The night was a complete waste of time, of food, of hope.

And then, as if summoned by your suffering, you heard his voice beside you.

"So," Krennic drawled smoothly, watching as the waitress helped adjust his cape, "the man just left? Turned out he’s more dramatic than I thought."

You didn't answer. You didn’t have the energy.

Partagaz was standing just behind him, his gaze briefly meeting yours with something close to... pity. His eyes said it without words: Sorry.

You rolled your eyes. You weren’t looking for sympathy.

"Wait," Krennic said, just as you reached for the door handle.

You froze. Slowly, you turned.

“A man shouldn’t leave you alone. Especially in that dress.” His voice lowered slightly, as though it was meant only for you. “Let me drop you off.”

Partagaz huffed behind him. “What about me?”

Krennic didn’t even turn around. “Go call a taxi.”

The Major rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he walked away. "Fine."

You sighed again, heavier this time, and pulled the door open. ‘Fine. At least I don’t have to walk my shame home.’

You followed him to the black Imperial transport waiting just outside, the glossy surface reflecting the streetlights. The driver opened the door without a word, and for the first time, you found yourself sliding into the passenger seat of Director Krennic’s vehicle.

It was… immaculate. The interior smelled faintly of expensive leather and sterilized perfection. Of course it did.

As the door hissed shut behind you and the car pulled away, the silence between you hung thick for a moment before he, predictably, broke it.

"You have interesting taste," he said, glancing sideways at you with a little smirk. "Navy lieutenant? Really?"

You shot him a look. "It’s called trying to have a life."

"Is that what you call it?" he said lightly. "It looked more like a charity event. He didn’t even have the courtesy to cover the bill."

You glared ahead, jaw tightening. "I wasn’t aware my personal life was part of your department’s jurisdiction."

"Everything is part of my jurisdiction," Krennic replied smoothly, folding his gloved hands in his lap. "Especially when it concerns my top officer."

Your head snapped toward him. "I’m not your officer."

"Semantics." His voice remained calm, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You belong to the Empire. And by extension, to me."

You exhaled sharply through your nose. "You have no idea how incredibly inappropriate you sound right now."

He chuckled. "Perhaps. But not inaccurate." He let the words hang before his tone shifted, the playful edge dimming, replaced by the familiar cold professionalism you knew too well. "You’ve done well on Phase 2. But don’t let distractions pull you off course. We still have work ahead. The rebel sympathizers aren’t slowing down. Neither can we."

You stared out the window, your reflection staring back at you in the glass. "I know my job, Director."

"I know you do," he said quietly. "That’s why I tolerate your… outside hobbies."

You couldn’t stop the dry laugh that escaped you. "One failed date qualifies as a hobby?"

"In your case?" Krennic smiled faintly. "Yes."

The rest of the ride passed in silence, but his presence weighed heavily beside you, like always. Calculating. Watchful. Amused.

As the car pulled up to your apartment complex, the driver opened the door. You stepped out, wrapping your coat tighter against the chill.

Krennic leaned slightly toward your open doorframe. "Next time," he said softly, "choose better company."

The door closed before you could respond, and the transport glided away into the night, leaving you standing alone under the flickering streetlamp. The moment his car disappeared into the night, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You punched the air with both fists, your voice breaking the silence of the street.

"Arrgh!"

The fury bubbled inside you. That man never let you breathe. Not at work. Not at lunch. Not even on your first date in months. You stormed into your apartment, tossed your jacket aside, and glanced at the clock.

At least you’d make up for it with some sleep.

You took a long, hot shower, trying to wash off the frustration and Krennic’s smirk from your skin. Then you climbed into bed, shutting your eyes tight, letting yourself drift into sleep. Finally, you escaped. In your dreams, there was no Empire, no propaganda deadlines, no Director Krennic. Just quiet, peaceful nothingness.

*******

Morning arrived too quickly, but you felt surprisingly refreshed. You followed your usual routine. Breakfast. A light run. Shower. Coffee. Uniform. And then off to ISB headquarters.

The moment you stepped onto your floor, you felt it. The air was… different.

Your colleagues were eyeing you with strange, knowing looks. As if you were carrying some kind of secret you hadn’t shared yet. You tried to ignore it, walking straight to your desk, but the weight of their stares kept pressing.

Jung was the first to speak. He leaned over from his desk, lowering his voice but loud enough for others to hear.

"I heard Director Krennic offered you a ride home last night."

You closed your eyes for a brief second. So they knew.

"Yes. After he ruined my date," you replied, trying to sound casual.

Dedra’s head snapped up from her datapad. "Date?"

You sighed. There was no escaping it now. You told them everything. How your friend set you up with a Navy officer named Malcolm. How you finally had a night off after finishing Phase 2. How did you go to a fancy restaurant? How, against all odds, Krennic and Partagaz were there too.

You continued. How Krennic noticed you first. How he walked right up to your table, sized up your date like some superior officer inspecting unfit troops. How he scoffed. How Malcolm walked out, embarrassed and annoyed.

By the time you finished, their reactions came flooding in.

"Ooooh..." Jung leaned back, grinning.

Dedra raised an eyebrow. "I can't believe he just walked up to your table like that. Unbelievable."

"Oof. Rough," another agent muttered.

There were a few low whistles, some snickering. The entire office found this far more entertaining than any report they were working on.

At that moment, Major Partagaz walked in holding a datapad. His sharp eyes scanned the room before settling on you.

"So," Partagaz said, his voice smooth and neutral, "did Krennic stay over at your place afterward?"

You blinked, your jaw dropping slightly. "What? No!"

His eyes narrowed slightly, amused. "You went straight to sleep then?"

You raised both hands. "Yes. I went home. Alone. Straight to sleep. Don’t twist it."

The smirks were everywhere now, but before you could scold them further, the room’s atmosphere shifted again. You felt him before you saw him.

Director Krennic entered the room, walking with his usual polished arrogance, coat perfectly tailored, posture impeccable. He glanced around, reading the faces, noticing the barely-contained grins, but pretending not to care.

"My, my," he said in his cool voice, lips curling into a faint smirk. "What lively conversation so early in the morning."

He looked at you directly, eyes glinting with mischief.

"I do hope no one’s discussing personal matters during work hours. After all," his voice lowered just enough for only you to catch it, "we wouldn’t want to mix business with pleasure, would we?"

The ISB agents tried their best to suppress laughter. You pressed your lips into a tight line, biting back every insult you wanted to throw at him.

This man was impossible.

"Now," Krennic clapped his hands once, addressing the room like nothing unusual had happened, "Phase 3 awaits us. I trust you’re all ready?"

He didn’t wait for an answer. His eyes met yours one more time, and for a brief second, his smile widened like he’d won some invisible game.

You exhaled slowly, muttering under your breath. "Stars help me."

*******

Krennic stood behind his desk, skimming through the latest reports you handed him. His gloved fingers danced over the datapad, eyes narrowing slightly as he read through the results of Phase 3. You waited, arms crossed, heart beating a little too fast. You weren’t nervous about the data; you knew the numbers were good. You were nervous because this was Krennic, and he always managed to turn every conversation into something personal.

Finally, he set the datapad down with a quiet tap.

"Acceptable." His voice was calm, but the faint smirk on his lips betrayed his usual arrogance. "The citizen morale is responding well to your campaigns. The imagery of Stormtroopers as guardians of peace is spreading. The people are beginning to trust the Empire’s strength once more."

You allowed yourself a small breath of relief. Maybe this time, finally, you would get a break.

But of course, it never worked like that with Krennic.

"I hope you’ve also taken my advice to heart," he added, with that same smug grin. "About finding a man who deserves you."

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop yourself. "Director, are we done?"

"For now." He waved his hand dismissively. "You may leave."

You didn’t waste a second. You turned on your heel and walked out of his office, leaving his smirk behind you. Stars, that man could get under your skin like no one else.

You had hoped that Phase 3 would mean you’d finally earn another day off, like you did after Phase 2. Instead, less than twenty-four hours later, you received the message.

The Emperor requested your presence.

You stared at the message for a long moment, unable to fully process it. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a summons.

Then, of course, Krennic appeared.

"I see you’ve been invited," he said smoothly, as if this was just another routine briefing. "Naturally, I’ll be accompanying you."

"But the Emperor asked for me." You frowned.

"And I am responsible for you," he said. "I discovered you. Groomed you. Your success reflects on my leadership. This is as much my audience as it is yours."

You didn’t argue. What would be the point? Once again, Krennic made everything about himself.

******

The following morning, you stood side by side with him as the shuttle glided toward the Imperial Palace. The air inside was cold and clinical. No one spoke. Krennic looked utterly at ease, as if this was just another meeting. You, however, kept your breathing steady, forcing yourself to appear calm.

As you stepped out onto the landing platform, two Royal Guards awaited you, their crimson armor gleaming under the harsh lights. Without a word, they led you through towering black corridors, polished to perfection. The air smelled faintly metallic, sterile, like power itself.

Finally, you entered the throne chamber. The tall columns, the eerie silence, the shadows, all pressed against you like a physical weight. And there, seated atop the raised platform, cloaked in darkness, sat Emperor Palpatine.

His yellow eyes gleamed beneath his hood as his withered hands rested on the armrests.

You bowed immediately, head lowered. Krennic followed, slightly more theatrical in his movement.

"Rise," Palpatine commanded, his voice low and rasping. "My child... I have watched your work with great interest."

You straightened, standing tall under his gaze. His presence was suffocating yet mesmerizing.

"Your propaganda efforts are effective. The citizens are responding. Their trust in the Empire grows stronger. You have... talent."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." You forced your voice to be steady.

Krennic, of course, couldn’t stay silent.

"Naturally, my Lord," he said with that unmistakable tone of self-importance, "I was the one who found her. Saw her potential. Polished her skills. She was... raw, once. But under my guidance, she shines."

Palpatine turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing, studying Krennic. The corner of his pale lips curled ever so slightly.

"Good," the Emperor rasped, his voice echoing. "Then your judgment has served the Empire well, Director Krennic."

Krennic’s chest seemed to puff out just a fraction more. You fought the urge to roll your eyes right there in front of the Emperor.

Palpatine’s attention returned to you.

"Your work is not finished. The rebels grow bolder. We must tighten our grip before they become... dangerous. You will continue your efforts. Do not fail me."

"Yes, Your Majesty," you answered, bowing once more.

"Excellent," Palpatine whispered, his voice trailing off like a shadow.

As the guards signaled the audience was over, you turned to leave with Krennic walking beside you, his mood practically glowing.

"See?" he whispered with that infuriating smirk. "You're becoming quite the star of the Empire. And you owe it all to me."

You let out a quiet breath, focusing your gaze ahead.

"Director," you replied, voice flat. "Don’t push your luck."

His chuckle followed you down the corridor.

The car hummed softly as the palace lights disappeared behind you. You sat beside Krennic, arms folded, staring out the window as the stars stretched across the sky like distant promises. For a few minutes, neither of you spoke.

Then you finally broke the silence.

"You know," you said, "since the Emperor was quite pleased with my work, I think I deserve a reward."

Krennic glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his signature smirk already forming. "A reward?"

"Yes." You arched a brow. "Like a day off."

"A day off?" He chuckled, shifting in his seat as if the idea itself amused him. "So you can have another date?"

You rolled your eyes. "I want a social life too, Director. You do realize I’m not one of your droids, right?"

He made a show of pretending to consider it, tapping his gloved finger against his chin dramatically. "Hm. Fine. You may have a day off."

You looked at him, slightly suspicious. "That easy?"

"Of course." His grin widened. "You’ve earned it. And besides, I’m curious to see what kind of disaster your next date will become."

You let out a groan and sank back into the seat, muttering, "Stars save me."

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ashlovesfood · 3 days ago

Text

Gothamite love, Gothamite me, Gothamite you, Gothamite tears, Gothamite heartbreak.

Tags: Unwilling Bruce!wayne x demanding fem!reader, divorce talk, sick of his bs, overworked, workaholic, bruce on his knees, pussyyyyy eaterrrrrrr in the HOUSEEEE, cunnilingus, spanking, multiple orgasms, denial, toy model AFTER him????, sex toys, riding, creaming, jerking off, woah howd i write this.

American Wedding!(▰˘◡˘▰)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Maybe living in Gotham wasn’t hell to say the least. Bruce was an amazing husband to you, better than anyone else. But, how could you say that the relationship was unstable?

He constantly went to work, went to business trips, or flew to different places without giving you a heads-up. It was making the marriage, well, worse. His words were barely there.

“I’m going to work.” “Had a meeting come up.” “Won’t be home for a few days.”

Sickening. It made you feel enraged. How could a steady marriage that never had problems suddenly become rocky? Bruce was never like this, always taking trips over going home to spend time with you. So, you eventually got tired.

The manor doors open with a click, footsteps thumping on the ground as a bag hit the floor. Bruce put his coat on the rack and took off his shoes, walking towards the living room. A soft glow from the TV caught his attention.

“Baby.”

Silence. You were too engrossed in your show that you didn’t notice him. The lights flicked on which made you turn like a deer in headlights. “Bruce?”

“You didn’t hear me call you?” He was kinda shocked, were you really not paying attention to him..? His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink.

“Oh, sorry. Just- thought you weren’t coming home tonight, like usual.” That shot through his heart like a dagger. Was he really that absent? No fucking way. Bruce bit back a reply as he turned off the water and wiped his hands.

“I sent you a text message directly saying I’m coming home tonight. I also asked if you wanted dinner at home , or if you wanted to get take out.” Oh, whoops.

“Sorry, forgot to say that I already ate. Left my phone in the room.” The TV seemed to be soooo much better than whatever was happening from the side, apparently. Bruce walked towards the couch, grabbing the remote to pause the show.

“Hey! I was watching my show what are you..” You looked at him, realizing what he wanted.

“Focus on the conversation first. Why are you out of touch all of a sudden? Did I do something wrong?” Bruce was worried, knowing how any underlying issue could affect you for days. He quite literally saw your mood change.

“Okay fine. Wanna know the truth? I’m so fucking sick of you staying at work like it’s your second home. I know, you have to do soooo much shit just to keep up but seriously? Staying at different places and flying out of nowhere without even sending a proper message? I’m on my ass every day waiting to see if you even show up here. You can’t even spare a minute without sending a full length message that explains where you’re at??”

“Wait let me explain-..”

“NO. I’m not done. Bruce you don’t know how much dread and sorrow fills my heart when I can’t even get a reply back. I send short messages for your convenience yet it’s not working. What’s not clicking??? I’m worried about you! But you just can’t seem to care enough about home when work is everything, to, you.”

Tears ran down your cheeks, dripping onto the fabric of your clothes as you held eye contact. Those words spilled out like word vomit and you felt a mix of emotions run deep. Could you even get those words through his head??

“I’m sorry babe. Look, I didn’t know you would be like that all day, I thought you were fine without my replies. I’m sorry that work is getting in the way of us and I can fix that. Just- give me another chance sweetheart..”

“Bruce, I want a divorce. This marriage won’t work if I have to give you another chance.”

Quicker than a flash, he was on his knees. Bruce placed his palms on your thighs, the warmth seeping into the fabric as he looked up.

“We are not getting a divorce. Anything but that, darling.”

You could barely get a word in before he yanked your shorts down, the fabric pooling around your ankles as his breath ghosted over your skin. His hands spread your legs apart, raising them over his shoulders making your shorts hang on a foot.

“Bruce! I- ohh..! D-don’t do this..!” Bruce latched onto your pussy through the panty material, lapping at the damp spot as he moaned. He was quite literally on his knees for your pussy.

God if you could try and pause this moment you would, but his tongue? Maybe this wouldn’t hurt after all. He flicked the edge of his tongue against your clit, saliva strings connecting you and him. He was getting tired of the cloth becoming a barrier between you and him.

His fingers delved into the panties, a loud ‘rrippppp’ echoed.

“Bruce! That was my favorite-!”

“M’gonna buy you new ones.” Your bare pussy was revealed as he latched onto your cute little hole, sucking the juices out like a drink. You were twitching, hands reaching out to grip his shoulders as his mouth worked on you.

Bruce felt his rock hard erection rub against the couch, using his lower half to edge his shaft. He was gonna make you see the stars.

“No- no more! Hngh!” You felt the tight coil bounce inside your stomach, releasing a gush of sticky liquid all over his jaw. It reached up to his cheekbones and dripped down, staining the cushions.

“Cumming before me, baby? Should discipline you like the slut you are.” Bruce growled, picking your body up as he sped towards the master bedroom. His arms let go, your body thrown onto the mattress from his roughness. You landed with an oof.

He palmed his cock through his trousers, feeling the tip throb with need. The amber light showed the darker spot on his pants, his pre leaking like a leaky faucet. “I’ll show you how to come.”

Bruce slid a box from underneath the bed, opening the top to reveal a flesh toy. Your jaw quite literally dropped. “Oh. My. Gosh.”

It had chiseled abs, bouncy skin that felt satisfying to touch, and a nice jiggle to it. But, most of all, the dick resembled his. Girthy, long, the perfect veins that you would run your fingertips along.

“Knew you’d like it. Got it specially made after me for you, darling. Now, be a good girl and take off your shirt.”

Damn it all, soon as you threw your shirt to the floor he grabbed you. Bruce used his strength to drag you down near the edge of the bed, laying your legs onto his shoulders. His lips gently kissed the inner flesh, nibbling small parts that left marks.

“Fuhhck! Ohh- right there!” Your moans stirred the fire in his stomach, kindling the spark with branches too big made him egotistical. You could feel his mouth bend into a smirk as he continued eating you out, another orgasm crashing into you.

Sticky, but sweet. You tasted like deliciousness, better than any sweet he’s ever had. Candy like notes but sweeter, it drove him INSANE. Your pussy was better than anything in the whole fucking world.

“No, you won’t be riding me sweetheart. You’ll be riding the toy, right infront of me, okay?” Bruce slapped your right ass cheek, grinning as he saw your delicate skin bloom red.

“But!” Another slap to your ass made you squeal with pleasure, your cunt gaping open. You were winking around nothing, making his dick diamond hard.

“No buts baby. Ride the toy or go to bed without cumming.” You watched as he sat on the plush chair in the corner, his hands teasingly removing his belt.

Bruce removed the belt and let it drop to the floor as he unzipped his pants, letting his boner free. The skin was taut, cherry red blending into his skin tone as pre dripped. “Better get to work bun.”

It took you a god awful amount of courage to grab the toy, letting your slick dribble down onto the tip for lubrication. You bit your lip, finally sinking down onto the toy. “Can I touch myself, please..?”

“Please, what.”

“Please, sir.”

The silence was loud enough to hear your own heartbeat, the toys dick reaching spots like Bruce, expect you had to work yourself.

“Yes princess.”

He watched the fleshy mounds of your ass continuously bounce on the toy, fucking his fist as he groaned your name. You looked too fucking hot in his eyes.

“Ngh! Oh- Mcumminggggnuhhh!” Your body spasmed as you soaked the sheets with squirt, seeing the dark spot contrast from the sheets made you horny. The feeling of electricity ran through your body like blood, making you jolt in places.

“You’re so fucking sexy love..” Bruce continued to rub his cock in his hand, watching you ride out on the toy made him exhilarated.

Creamy wetness covered the sex toy as your cunnie clenched around the material, eyes rolled all the way up in your brain. If the stars weren’t possible to see without a telescope, you would debunk it right now because you are.

Another orgasm, taking all your energy with it made you so tired, but this toy? Best thing compared to Bruce’s dick.

He came, hot strings of sperm running down his hand and onto his clothes. “Guess it’s my turn to make you cum, huh?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

A/N - So like not me trying to finish off my drafts like.. omg this actually was a great piece to write bc it’s in parts and not crammed into one! also my mood has been terrible recently like pls don’t pmo. (◣_◢)

#i love batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #fem reader #bruce wayne #dc comics #batman smut #bruce wayne smut #smut #ashywashy #dcu smut #dan mora #dc smut #dcu comics #dcu #dc universe #batman comics #batman #female reader

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monicaalexandraaa · 2 days ago

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OH MY GOSH I WANT TO SQUEEZE HIM !!!!!!!!!!! This is the sweetest !!!!!!! I think I said “awwww” at least 17 times throughout this whole part. He is just so freaking cute. I can already tell he’s getting warmed up to her a tiny bit and I’m excited to see the progression. She’s so kind, confident and funny and is exactly what he needs. She’ll help him loosen up and feel more comfortable not just with her but with himself too😌

Every interaction they had in this was perfect! And when he finally laughs that is such a precious moment🥺I’m already so obsessed with them. Truly cannot express enough how much I love this story already🩷🩷

Fine Print: Chemistry

Masterlist: Here

CW: shyness, brief moments of insecurities, smut (masturbation), Harry is a nervous baby.

A/N: I am so excited to get this story going and I hope yall like it, I’ve never done shy Harry so this was fun!✨

Word Count: 6.5K

Tag List: @vikiii07 @pearlybows @sweetmoonlove0214 @mads3502 @somewiseguy @matildasatellite @lizsogolden @spinninc @prettygurl-2009 @onrsie @silastylesswift @umadirectioner @littlemomentsofbeauty @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @blckburd @triski73 @mema10 @angeldavis777

Summary: Harry’s mom sets up a meeting, you make Harry nervous but are determined to have him feel comfortable around you✨

“But who is she?” Harry asks for the third time as he follows his mom around her garden, adjusting his glasses as she kneels down to cut a few stems of her rose bush. Anne doesn’t look over at her son as she hands him the stems so he can place them in the basket he has his soft cardigan covered arm looped through.

“I told you Harry she’s a lovely girl that I think will do splendidly as your significant other.” Harry feels his tummy do flips at the idea of this girl he doesn’t even know being his significant other. “I know this isn’t ideal and you’re a romantic but it’s just temporary okay? Just until you settle in and get your footing in your new role.” She goes on to add as she spots a few more good looking roses to cut off and hand to Harry to place in the basket.

“This is all just-just a lot and and what if she doesn’t even like me?” Harry feels his chest tighten as he pictures sitting down across from a woman who ends up leaving as soon as Harry opens his mouth and stutters over his hello because he’s nervous and ends up saying something ridiculous. “She’ll probably think I’m-I’m weird or not her type because-”

“Now Harry that’s just ridiculous you’re everyone’s type.” Anne says gently interrupting his nervous rant, not trying to downplay his worries but not letting him talk poorly about himself in the process. “You’re not weird so that’s enough of that and I happen to know for a fact she thinks you’re quite charming.” Harry’s face gets five shades redder as his mother lets him in on a little secret she’s been carrying around ever since she approached you with the idea of marrying her son so he can take his father’s place as head of the family business.

“R-really? She-she said I’m charming?” He stutters as he reaches up and adjusts his glasses, Anne turns her head to look over at him and nods with a soft smile.

“She did.”

“So we’ve met before? Her and I?”

“Once or twice yes.”

“When?” He wonders as he follows his mother as she moves to another rose bush with pink flowers. She waves her hand and lets out a hum as if she’s trying to shoo away his questions.

“I don’t remember.” She answers not looking at him, focusing on finding the prettiest flowers to add to the basket so she can make a few arrangements to place around the house. “Just don’t be late tonight okay? That’s not a good first impression.”

“Mother we’ve already met so this isn’t going to be a first impression.” He states making Anne shoot him a glare that has him swallowing down his sudden braveness, not wanting to get on his mother’s bad side when she seems to be in a very cheerful mood.

“This is important Harry I need you to just be on time and show her how truly lovely you are.” He lets out a sigh as his mother turns so she’s facing him. “Think you can manage that?” She asks as she raises her hand that’s glove free and rests it on the side of Harry’s face, giving his cheek a gentle pat.

“Yes ma’am I can manage that.” He answers with a small smile, trying his hardest to not let his nerves show. And it clearly works as his mom just returns his smile before turning back around to cut a few more roses from the bush. Harry watches from a few steps away as his tummy twists itself into knots and his heart begins to beat a mile a minute when he looks down at his wrist and sees that in a little over four hours he’ll be meeting someone who will potentially be his wife for an undisclosed amount of time, and all he can think or more so worry about is if you’ll like him.

Harry feels as if the entire weight of his family business is resting on his shoulders as he sits in the plush leather seat in the middle of a cafe near his house. He looks around as he nervously fidgets with the ring on his index finger, spinning it around while trying to seem like nothing is troubling him and act like it doesn’t bother him in the slightest that whoever is about to take the seat across from him is going to eventually have the same last name as him. His knee is bouncing up and down as he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, regretting the choice to wear a long sleeve cream colored jumper knowing that he tends to run a little warm when he’s nervous. He is halfway through debating on if he should order a coffee or if it’ll make his heart that already feels on the verge of bursting with how wildly it’s beating, actually do just that with the addition of caffeine when he feels a presence behind him.

“Is it normal for you to sit in a cafe and not order anything?” Your voice startles him as you lean down and fold your arms on the back of his chair so you’re lips are right next to his ear, Harry immediately jolts forward so he can turn his upper body and look at you just as you stand up with a smile on your face that has him struggling to form complete sentences in his mind.

You watch his cheeks turn a deep pink as he reaches up and fixes his glasses that slid down his nose a bit with how quickly he scooted forward in his seat. You can’t help the way your smile spreads into a full blown grin at how utterly adorable the man sitting in front of you is, with his khaki colored slacks and soft knitted jumper and his glasses that bring your attention to his soft jade colored eyes that can’t seem to stare into yours longer than a few seconds before they look elsewhere. You feel his eyes on you as you walk around his chair until you’re standing in front of him with your hand out.

“Allow me to introduce myself.” Harry takes your hand as you tell him your name and it’s one that for some reason sounds vaguely familiar. “I’m going to be your wife in,” you take your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the date on your lock screen. “Two and a half weeks.” You state with a smile as you give his hand a firm shake.

“Oh uhm uh hi I’m-I’m Harry St-Styles.” He fumbles his way through his greeting and it makes him internally cringe at how dumb he sounds just trying to tell you his name, a name that he knows you already know.

“I like your last name.” You tell him as he lets go of your hand, you turn and walk over to the seat across from him. “I like it so much I think I’ll make it mine as well is that okay with you?” You ask as you plop down into the seat, letting your bag fall to the floor by your feet. Harry blinks a few times before clearing his throat and running a hand through his curly brown hair.

“You’re uhm really okay with all of uh-this?” He gestures between the two of you with his hand that’s not white knuckle griping the armrest of his chair.

“Yeah I’m fine with it-I mean don’t get me wrong it’s a little old school to need the person running your family business to be married and a man but it’s not the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.” Your answer has Harry’s mind reeling with possibilities of what could be the craziest thing you’ve ever heard, his eyes glance down to your shoes when you catch him staring at you for a beat too long. “I’m going to need you to do something for me okay?” Your voice is soft and sweet but still gives off a sense of confidence that has Harry already mentally agreeing to whatever it is you’re about to ask him to do. You lean over and rest your forearms on your knees, your hands clasp together and your eyes stare into his once he swallows down his nerves and dares to meet your gaze.

“Wh-what is it?”

“I need you to look me in the eye for a full two minutes.”

“I-I uhm why?” He asks as he adjusts his glasses and feels his face get hot as you continue to stare directly at him making him have to look away.

“Because it’ll make it easier for you to not get so-blushy around me if we just stare at each other for a few minutes and then maybe it’ll also help you listen better because I hit you with two jokes about us getting married and you didn’t even chuckle so yeah we have to get this out of the way before it becomes a thing.” Harry sits there in awe of how well you managed to get through your whole little spiel without fumbling over your words, looking away from him and all without your cheeks even gaining the tiniest hint of a blush. Your words came out smoothly and your voice never lost its gentleness, not even when explaining how he failed to laugh at your two little attempts at jokes that clearly went right over his head.

“Why-why two minutes? Why not just uh just one?” He rubs at the back of his neck as his eyes glance over your shoulder to the back of the small cafe, needing a break from the eye contact.

“It’s been scientifically proven that the longer you can maintain eye contact with someone the less likely they are to make you nervous and as your soon to be wife I’d like to make you a little nervous.” This time Harry doesn’t miss the small change your voice does when you lightly tease him, how the softness has a playful edge to it. “But not enough to make you uncomfortable.” You explain with a calming smile that makes a swarm of butterflies go off in his tummy.

“Okay.”

“Great.” You pull out your phone and scroll to the timer app and set it for two minutes before placing it on the armrest of your chair. “Ready?” He gives you a nod in response as he fixes his glasses and runs his palms over the tops of his thighs. “Two minutes starts now.” His eyes slowly find yours and he has to fight the urge to immediately look away, his hands grip his pants as he feels his cheeks get warmer and warmer as the seconds tick by.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” Your voice almost makes Harry look away but he just clears his throat and maintains his eye contact.

“Uhm uh-have we met before? My mom said-”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Five or six years ago I think? It was very brief at a convention my dad dragged me to. Your dad was talking to my dad about golf clubs and I dropped my badge on the floor and you picked it up for me.” The wheels in Harry’s mind begin to turn and you smile as if you can actually see him beginning to figure it out.

“Your dad knows my dad?” You just nod and then the lightbulb goes off in Harry’s mind. “Oh-I knew- knew your name sounded familiar. Your dad used to-”

“Own one of your biggest competitors? Yeah. Well before he sold it two years ago.”

“Oh.” He says as he sits back in his chair, his eyes a little wide but still locked onto yours. “Is that-that why my mom picked you? Because of your family?”

“Picked me? Harry do you think she selected me out of some applicant pool as if she posted about this on some job site?” You ask with a laugh making him shrug, the timer goes off and you silence it and much to your surprise Harry stays looking directly at you.

“I don’t know how she did it. She just uh told me what was happening and if I’d uhm-have any-any issues with it.”

“Well your mom has been going to my tennis club for the last year and a half so we’ve gotten friendly and she approached me two weeks ago with this proposal of marrying her son so he can take his father’s place as head of the company.” Harry nods as you begin telling him the story his mother has been refusing to. “She told me she wanted someone like me because I know how it goes-running a company and the toll it can take on someone. But mainly because she wanted someone who would help you gain the confidence and respect of your employees because you’re-”

“Too nice? Soft? A w-wimp?” Your eyes harden just a bit as you stand up from your seat and Harry regrets opening his mouth as you approach his chair.

“Being soft isn’t a bad thing. The world is plenty sharp enough I think it needs more softness.” Harry feels his hands get sweaty as you place a hand on the back of his chair so you can lean over and run a hand through his hair. “She said you’re kindhearted and she doesn’t want to see you get taken advantage of.” You answer as you stand up and he feels as if he can take a sigh of relief when you look away from him and over towards the counter. “Let’s go order something so we don’t look like the only two weirdos not drinking anything in the middle of a cafe.” He stumbles out of his chair to follow you as you head for the counter.

“So uhm why did-did your dad uh sell the company?” Harry asks surprising not only you but himself as the two of you stand off to the side after ordering your drinks. You just give him a casual shrug as you lean against the counter.

“He wanted to retire and I didn’t want to take it over.” Your answer is simple but Harry can tell there’s more to it but before he can ask anything else a nice barista is handing him a cup of coffee and you an iced late.

“Thank you.” You quirk a brow at Harry’s soft spoken thanks, because you were standing next to him when he ordered and you know for a fact he didn’t order a hot coffee. You notice him bring the cup up to his lips and make a face that tells you he doesn’t like whatever he just took a sip of.

“Excuse me?” Harry nearly trips over himself to follow you as you take the cup from his hands and walk around to the front of the counter, as he stands behind you he begins to think this is going to be something he’ll be doing a lot of, stumbling over himself to keep up with you.

“Hi how can I help you?” You give the barista a pleasant smile as you place the cup down on the counter in front of her.

“He ordered a double shot over ice with two creams and one sugar.” You explain with no hint of annoyance or rudeness in your voice, just right to the point. The woman looks at the cup and then back at you with an apologetic look on her face.

“So sorry I’ll get that out right away.”

“Thank you so much.” You say before turning around and Harry watches your hand as it comes and rests on his arm. “It’s not rude to ask for things to be fixed. It doesn’t make you an asshole.” It’s as if you can read him like a book the way your words hit him right in the chest. “Don’t settle for things you don’t like. Not even something as small as a cup of coffee.”

“Here you go ma’am so sorry about that.” You turn and grab the cup from the nice woman’s hand, giving her a smile.

“Thank you it’s for my husband-gets a little cranky without his mid day caffeine kick.” You joke making the woman laugh as she looks over your shoulder towards Harry who is looking down at the floor while rubbing the back of his neck hoping neither of you can see how pink his cheeks are.

“Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Did you call me your uhm hus-husband?” You just nod as you hand him his coffee and walk back over to the side of the counter to grab your latte and head back to your chair.

“Might as well start getting used to calling you that right?” You stop mid step nearly making Harry crash into you as you turn around and raise an eyebrow at him. “Unless you don’t want me to be your wife and you’re just trying to think of a polite way to tell me you’re not interested and your mom needs to find someone-”

“No no I like you.” He sputters out faster than he intends making you let out a chuckle. “I just don’t uhm know what happens now?” You reach your hand up and place it on the side of his face, Harry instantly without any shame leans into the warmth of your touch.

“Well did you want to propose now or wait until after my background check clears?” This has Harry choking on a sip of coffee and trying to catch his breath as you reach up and place a kiss to the cheek your hand isn’t holding.

“I uh-uhm I don’t-don’t know.” You laugh as you pull away from him and drop your hand from his face allowing him to collect himself.

“I’m just kidding Harry- that’s three jokes now so maybe we need to do some more eye content drills.” You lightly tease as you give his arm a reassuring squeeze before looking down at the watch on your wrist with a small frown. “It was lovely meeting you but I have to go-I’ll see you in a few days for drinks or dinner okay?” All Harry can do is nod as you give him one last warm smile before turning and grabbing your stuff and heading out the door of the cafe.

“Holy crap.” He mumbles as he walks over to his chair and plops down with a humph. “That-that was my future wife.” A smile creeps its way onto his face as he leans his head against the cushion of he chair, the sound of your voice and the way your eyes seem to sparkle when you smile replaying in his head as he begins to think that maybe this won’t be too bad, you seem nice and have enough confidence for the both of you so maybe this will turn out better than he thought.

“You look cute.” Your words already have Harry feeling flustered as he stands up to greet you when you make your way to the table in the back of a little Italian place you suggested the two of you have dinner at.

His eyes quickly rake over your frame, he is in a slight daze over how effortlessly put together and cute you look with your green dress that you tossed a thin white sweater over so you don’t get cold. It’s not lost on him how you manage to make something that’s simple look as elegant as an evening gown with how you carry yourself. He can see exactly why his mom sought you out for him. When his eyes meet yours his tummy does a weird little flip when you give him a little wink.

“I like you in brown.” He smiles and looks down at his light brown cardigan he has over his plain white t shirt that’s tucked into a pair of jeans, you hang your bag in an empty chair before leaning over and placing a kiss to his cheek. “Makes your eyes pop.” You explain making him just nod as he tries to act like the feeling of your lips on his cheek hasn’t been at the forefront of his mind since you did it the first time two days ago in the cafe.

“Thank-thank you uhm you look beautiful.” His voice gives his nerves away as he feels his whole face get hot when you pull away from him. You let out a chuckle as you take your seat in the chair right next to him that he is quick to pull out for you.

“So glad I’m marrying a man with manners.” You say appreciatively as he helps push your chair closer to the table.

He smiles as he lets his eyes wander over your face for a moment before taking his seat, taking note of how pretty you look with the candle light blanketing your features in a soft glow. He feels suddenly out of place sitting here with you, as if he doesn’t quite meet the standards of someone you should be seen having dinner with.

“Okay come on.” He’s brought out of his thoughts by your hand grabbing his on top of the table.

“Where-where are we going?” He asks making you laugh as you shake your head and even though you’re laughing at him having no clue what’s going on he decides he likes the way it sounds.

“No where.” You say with a laugh as you wrap your fingers around his hand. “Just need you to look in my eyes for a bit because that’s now four marriage jokes I’ve told you since meeting you and I still haven’t gotten even a little giggle out of you and it’s not that I think I’m wildly funny or anything but I do think those were decent chuckle worthy jokes.”

“I’m-I’m sorry I just-”

“It’s okay.” Your voice puts him more at ease as you give his hand a soft squeeze. “I just want you to feel comfortable around me that’s all so come on-look me in the eyes and tell me what you’re wearing to this party on Saturday so I can plan accordingly.” Your eyes are soft and easy to get lost in when Harry finally finds it within himself to look into them.

“Uhm I’m wearing a black suit with a r-red shirt and black slacks and uh-uh black dress shoes.” You nod along as Harry slowly tumbles his way through telling you what he’s wearing to his father’s retirement party, never making him feel as if he needs to rush you just simply sit there and look at him as if what he’s saying is the most interesting thing you’ve ever heard.

“Okay I have a red dress but I’ll have to see the exact shade of red your shirt is to make sure it matches or else we are going to look silly.”

“You-you want to match with-”

“With my fiancé? Yes. Makes it look as if we’ve been coordinating our outfits for years-it’ll be good to make it seem as if this won’t be our first social outing as a couple.”

“Oh right-yes that makes uhm sense.” You instantly pick up on the slight shift in Harry’s voice, going from shocked and excited to almost deflated and it has you leaning towards him, a small smirk playing at the corners of your mouth.

“And I just want everyone to know you’re mine and nothing does that better in a room full of nosey businessmen and their even nosier wives than a matching color scheme.” Harry has to break the eye contact as he feels his cheeks get hot, he adjusts his glasses and softly clears his throat before he can look at you again. “So just send me a photo of your shirt and I’ll make sure my dress matches.”

“Did you want to arrive together? Uh like with-with uhm me? So it doesn’t look weird us showing up separately?”

“Oh my man has manners and brains? I might never give you up.” This has Harry quietly chuckling making your eyes go wide and a grin to spread across your face. “Oh my god I’ve done it!” He smiles as you give his hand a firm squeeze and reach over with your free hand and place it on his cheek. “You laughed.” You say with a happy sigh making him once again let out a chuckle at your dramatics that give him a warm and fuzzy feeling on the inside because of how happy you are over the fact you managed to get him to laugh.

“Does this mean we don’t-don’t need the eye contact uhm drills anymore?” He asks nervously as you pull your hand away from his cheek and when you just give him a look he already knows your answer.

“Oh no we are going to continue to do them until I get a full on belly laugh out of you.” He just nods and rubs his lips together as you finally let go of his hand so you can grab the menu that’s in front of you. “Now let’s pick something to eat because I’m starving and you and I have things to discuss and I can’t do business on an empty stomach.”

“So you-you don’t want to change anything about the contract? You’re-you’re sure?” Harry asks as you scrape the last bit of ice cream from the sundae you ordered for dessert. “Not even the uhm-uh compensation? I left that-that open for negotiation.” You let out a hum of pleasure as you put the spoon in your mouth that has Harry’s gaze falling away from your eyes and down to your lips. He watches as you pull the spoon from your mouth and lick your lips in what seems like slow motion making him shift in his seat and look down at the table as he fixes his glasses.

“Harry I don’t need to be heavily compensated I have enough money to live a very comfortable life so yes everything is fine.” You answer as you push the now empty bowl away from you. “I was a little shocked at what was hidden in the fine print though.” Harry raises an eyebrow as you fold your napkin and place it on the table next to your bowl.

“What-what fine print?”

“The fine print that says that the timeframe for our marriage is dependent upon on how quickly we can get you to be taken seriously and seen as a dependable and confident new head of the company but I can expect it to take anywhere between six months to over a year.”

“Oh I see.”

“And that I get an extra ten thousand for every baby I give you.” You have a playful smile on your face as Harry nearly drops his glass of water and looks at you with wide eyes.

“That-that’s not-there’s no way-you don’t have-”

“Relax Harry I’m kidding. There’s nothing about babies in the contract.” Harry lets out a sigh of relief that has you reaching over and lightly smacking his arm. “Gee can you sound anymore relieved? I mean I don’t think having babies with me would be that horrible.”

“Oh no that’s not-I don’t think it would be bad it would be lovely-not the uhm making of the babies but that you’d-you’d uhm make lovely-lovely babies.” Harry officially wants to get up, walk away and change his name as the words seem to fall from his mouth without his permission.

“I think you’d make some pretty adorable babies as well Harry.” He can’t bring himself to look at you as your words hit his ears, still too embarrassed by the ridiculous stuttering mess of jumbled up words he just said to you. “Your mom said we are announcing the engagement at the party so that will officially mean the countdown is on and we have to be married by the time your dad leaves his office for the last time.” You quickly and smoothly move the conversation along as you grab your glass of water so you can take a sip.

“Okay does that me we have to-”

“How are we doing over here?” Harry looks up as the waitress approaches the table, her eyes never leaving Harry as she stands there with a smile on her face. “Need anything else? More water or-”

“I think we are good thank you.” You answer as the waitress not so subtly checks Harry out, who is too busy turning and looking over at you to notice. When she finally looks away from him and over at you, you reach over and place your hand over his arm as you lean just a tad bit closer to him to show the waitress that Harry is very much not avaible for her to drool over, at least not in front of you. “Oh actually maybe the check if you don’t mind?”

“Oh uh yeah sure thing I’ll be right back.” You see the small hint of disappointment on her face when Harry just stays looking at you, making her have no other choice but to nod as she turns and walks away.

“So how are you feeling about this? Like really?” You ask with a tone that Harry hasn’t heard from you before, it’s still sweet but the undertone is more serious.

“I uhm-”

“Don’t be afraid to hurt my feelings okay? Be honest.”

“I feel good about this uhm I was nervous-I’m still nervous but not about this but more about uh taking-taking over the company that-that’s uhm yeah a uh a lot.”

“Well you won’t have to do that alone.” Harry once again feels butterflies in his tummy when you give him a genuine smile as you give his arm a squeeze. “I’ll be there every step of the way.” Your words have him relaxing a bit, you slide your hand down so it’s over his wrist.

“Thank you.” He says with a smile that lets you see his dimples for the first time, your whole face lights up as you stare at him.

“Oh goodness dimples? Yeah good luck getting rid of me you’re like the total package.” Harry’s face gets warm but he fights through it and doesn’t take his eyes off yours.

“I uhm had a good-good time tonight.” He tells you as he mindlessly flips his hand over so his palm is facing up and you don’t waste anytime in sliding your hand into his making him swallow nervously as you slip your fingers between his.

“Here’s your check. Have a good rest of your night.” You reach over with your free hand and grab the check from the middle of the table before Harry can even try to reach for it as soon as the waitress walks away.

“I can’t let you-”

“Can’t let me what? Buy you dinner? Why not?”

“Uhm because that’s-this is like a uh date right? So-so I should pay.”

“Says who?”

“It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Don’t worry I won’t think you’re rude for letting me pay it’s okay.” Harry lets out a sigh as he shakes his head while you grab your wallet out of your purse. “Look at us. Having our first fight over who gets to pay for dinner. We’re so cute.”

“This-it’s not a fight but just know I’m not okay with this.” You laugh and give his hand a squeeze as you place the check down with your card tucked underneath it.

“I’ll let you pay for everything else from now on how about that?”

“Fine.” He tries to sound upset but the smile tugging at his mouth gives him away and before he can stop himself he’s leaning over and tucking some hair behind your ear. “Sorry you-”

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to touch me I’m not made of glass.” Your voice is light and teasing but Harry can’t help but sense a hidden meaning to your words but before he can think to hard about it the waitress comes by to grab the check.

“So I’ll see you this weekend?” You ask as you stand outside the restaurant, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Yes I’ll uhm come pick you up around six if that-that works for you?”

“Works great.” You answer as you take a small step towards him, Harry looks down at you and adjusts his glasses as you wrap your arms around him in a hug. “I had a nice time tonight Harry. Thank you for being such a gentleman.” You tell him as his body finally reacts to what’s happening, you rest your cheek against his shirt as his arms loosely wrap around your shoulders returning your embrace.

“Thank you for being uhm so-understanding I uh can see why my mom picked you.” You smile as you pull away and look up at him.

“See you Saturday hubby.” You give him a playful wink that has him chuckling and it works as a distraction so he doesn’t notice you reaching up on your tiptoes until he feels your lips on his in a kiss that is so quick the only way he knows it actually happened is he can faintly feel the softness of your lips when you pull away with a smile. “Don’t worry I’ll text you when I get home. I know how much you worry about me.” You tease as you unwrap your arms from around him.

“Uhm uh-see-see you Saturday.” His words are rushed and it makes you giggle as Harry’s arm fall down to his sides as he watches in a trance like state as you turn around and head towards the car that’s waiting to take you home. You give him a wave that he doesn’t register and try to return before it’s too late and you’ve already climbed into the backseat and closed the door, leaving Harry standing there in a daze as he watches the car drive off down the street feeling not nervous, but actually kinda excited about Saturday.

Harry can’t seem to get you out of his head when he gets home from dinner. His mind is a mixture of images that remind him of how pretty you are, how sweet your voice is when you’re telling him a story and the adorable smile you get when you’re teasing him. But the main two things that have Harry’s mind spinning is how much he enjoys hearing you call him your fiancé or husband already, he knows those are titles he’ll actually be to you soon but hearing them fall from your lips with such enthusiasm and excitement makes his heart do weird things and he really can’t get over how soft your hands feel whenever you slide them into his or wrap them around his wrist.

Harry steps into his shower thinking it’ll help him relax and get you off his mind, he lets the warm water hit him easing the tension in his shoulders as the warmth of the steam engulfs him. He lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes, but he’s instantly met with visions of you laughing and smiling at him and something about the way you smile at him sends a shiver down his spine. The visions playing in his mind are so vivid, he can practically hear your voice saying his name and the feeling of your hand gently wrapping around his wrist and suddenly it’s all too much for him.

Harry’s arm reaches forward, his hand resting on the cool tile wall of his shower as he feels himself hardening at the mere thought of you. He slides a hand down his toned stomach wondering how it would feel if it was your hand and not his own, he lets out a groan as he wraps his hand around his hard length giving himself a few slow strokes. He knows this is probably borderline inappropriate, stroking himself to the idea of how it would feel to have your soft hands on him but in this very moment Harry can only focus on how good he feels.

“Oh shit.” He mumbles as he remembers the faint feeling of your lips against his, his mind spinning with ideas of how nice those lips would feel wrapped around his hard cock. He lets out a soft moan as he pictures you kneeling down in front of him, your pretty round eyes gazing upward, lips parted invitingly. His hand tightens around himself as he envisions your tongue tracing him teasingly, your mouth enveloping him fully feeling deliciously warm and wet around his shaft, your head bobbing rhythmically.

“Oh yes-just like that.” He murmurs breathlessly, his hand quickening its pace, gripping tighter as pleasure starts to build rapidly. Harry swears he can almost hear your soft moans, they’d be sweet and a bit whiney and it makes his cock twitch in his grasp. He imagines your hands gripping his thighs as you take him deeper, letting his hands tangle in your hair, imagines the moans you’d let out when he gives it a few tugs.

“Fuck.” He gasps urgently, his hips thrusting instinctively into his own hand, driven by the vivid image of you looking up at him while he thrusts his hips letting the tip of his thick cock hit the back of your throat making you gag slightly. Your nails digging into the back of his thighs urging him on.

“Shit-oh fuck.” He groans loudly, the warm water cascading over his trembling body as his climax surges powerfully through him, releasing in hot pulses onto the shower tiles. He shudders deeply, breathing heavily as the intense pleasure begins to subside. His eyes slowly open and he lets out a shaky breath as he realizes what he just did and instead of feeling guilty or even embarrassed at how quickly he managed to get himself off he just lets out a breathy laugh at how flustered you made him after just a few interactions with you, knowing it’s only going to get worst the longer he’s around you. He shakes his head making water fling off the ends of his damp hair, trying to clear his mind.

“Get it together Harry.” He mumbles to himself as he tilts his head up towards the water and runs both hands through his hair. The movement making him remember how good your hand felt when you ran it through his hair in the cafe. He has to shut his eyes tight and make himself think of other things like memos from work and meetings with the marketing team so he doesn’t get worked up again but even those thoughts have him remembering how soft your voice sounded when telling him how you’ll be with him every step of the way as he transitions into his new role and he feels his cock twitch between his thighs making him let out a frustrated groan.

“I’m so fucked.”

#adjusting his glasses like how is that cute but it’s so cute #soft cardigan <3 & what if she doesn’t even like meeeeee r u kiddinggggggg #oh my gosh I could cry already he’s so sweet & I hope the glasses adjustments are a constant theme #oh she’s fun #Harry’s mind reeling with possibilities of what could be the craziest thing you’ve ever heard this is adorable #“Why-why two minutes? Why not just uh just one?” STOP 😭#much to your surprise Harry stays looking directly at you. Eeeeee !!!!!#Harry can tell there’s more to it oooooooo interested to learn more & AHHH the fact he was gonna drink it anyways #he begins to think this is going to be something he’ll be doing a lot of stumbling over himself to keep up with you. so cute !!!#“Don’t settle for things you don’t like. Not even something as small as a cup of coffee.” PERIOD #Thank you it’s for my husband LOVE HER I’d also be letting everyone know that man is my husband #Harry who is looking down at the floor while rubbing the back of his neck hoping neither of you can see how pink his cheeks are HES SO BABY #I COULD DIE I WANT TO SQUISH HIS CHEEKS #“Well did you want to propose now or wait until after my background check clears?” This has Harry choking on a sip #of coffee and trying to catch his breath as you reach up and place a kiss to the cheek your hand isn’t holding. LOVE she’s so great #“That-that was my future wife.” AHHHHH #THE LITTLE WINK #He feels suddenly out of place sitting here with you as if he doesn’t quite meet the standards of someone #you should be seen having dinner with. Noooooo you’re so perfect we all need to remind him #“Where-where are we going?” Sobbing #And I just want everyone to know you’re mine YES #the teasing is everything #not the uhm making of the babies SCREAMING #Oh goodness dimples? Yeah good luck getting rid of me you’re like the total package. Exactly #before he can stop himself he’s leaning over and tucking some hair behind your ear. Oh my gosh I COULD DIE #oh I think low where this is going🤭#Yuppppppppp I love it #love love love #harry styles fic rec #harry styles smut

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coffeewasamistake · 1 day ago

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Wedding Ink

For the Mini Pride Bingo hosted by @genderthings.

[AO3]

Prompt: Tattoo | Rating: Gen | WC: 1230 | Relationships : Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary:

Steve wants to marry Eddie and wear a wedding ring to show the whole world they belong to each other, homophobic laws be damned. But Steve is a nurse, and hospital rules are hospital rules.

It’s not that Steve dislikes jewelry. Honestly, it’s kind of the opposite.

Take Eddie’s rings, for example.

His boyfriend has a few of them, all bulky and impossible to ignore, and he barely takes them off to shower. They are always on his hands, even when he plays guitar, even when he sleeps. And he is so full of life, his man, always waving his hands around, rings catching the light with each movement, gleaming.

The way he touches him is no better, warm hands and soft metal sliding across his skin, gripping, grabbing. Loving.

Steve likes rings. Especially Eddie's.

He’s just not allowed to wear jewelry at the hospital.

Becoming a nurse had not been easy, but after the whole mess that happened with the Upside-Down, after breaking Eddie’s ribs, each snap resonating like thunder in his arms when he was trying to breathe life back to Eddie’s lungs, after everything the nurses at Hawkins Memorial had down for them, strong and caring when the whole town had wanted to crucify Eddie… Steve had known.

He loves his job. He has finally found his place in the world, one where he can help people in need. No day is really easy, but the rewards are worth the long shifts and the random hours. Being a nurse makes him feel useful in a way he had been craving for years.

He just wishes he could wear a ring.

Some of his coworkers are married, and they either keep their wedding band on a chain around their neck or take it off before their shift and store it in their locker.

He could do the locker thing, realistically.

But he can’t get out of his head the absolute panic in his coworker Mary’s eyes, the high pitch of her voice, her harsh breathing and her shaking hands when they had ended their shift at the same time and her ring wasn’t in her locker.

She had found it, eventually, because, of course, she had left it at home and had forgotten all about it in the frenzy of hospital life, but the fear had lingered. She had stopped wearing her ring, keeping it in a jewelry box on her bedside table. Just in case.

And the thing is. Steve and Eddie can’t get married. Not legally at last. They have been talks of backyard wedding, one day, maybe, but the ring… The ring is a problem.

It eats at Steve. Days and nights.

He can’t imagine getting married and only having a ring to prove his devotion to his husband. Not when he can’t wear it all the time and could lose it at any given moment. All his wedding dreams end with his ring disappearing and Eddie looking at him through tears, asking if he doesn’t love him anymore.

When he finally opens up to Robin, she’s kind about his fears. Understanding in a way that speaks about years and years of feeling out of the norm. Different. Kept from enjoying so many things that other people take from granted.

“It’s okay to feel like that, Steve. It’s scary to realize your love is not something people are going to accept, especially when another typical married couple thing is out of your reach.” She squeezes his arm. “You have coworkers who wear their wedding ring around their neck, right? Maybe you should do that when you finally take that step with Eddie.”

Steve swallows, his throat tight, fighting through the burn in his eyes.

“Northwestern Memorial has a very strict policy about jewelry. The only pieces nurses are allowed to wear are wedding bands on necklaces. And you have to provide a wedding certificate for that.”

“So, they wouldn’t…”

Steve loses the fight against tears.

“No, they would never let me wear any ring given by Eddie.”

“Oh, babe…” Robin arms wrap around him as he sobs.

“Say, Stevie…” Her voice is wavering. She seems so unsure of herself, in a way that differs from her usual anxiety-fueled ramblings. “I could maybe marry you? Legally, I mean. Then you would marry Eddie, and you’ll be able to wear your wedding band around your neck.”

Steve’s burrow deeper into Robin’s embrace. He can’t deal with not being held right now.

“Thank you, Rob. But it wouldn’t be the same.”

They hug for a while, before Robin manages to make him laugh with a crazy anecdote about her least favorite coworker. They end up playing a drinking game in front of Star Wars, and Eddie is woken up at 2 a.m. by his very drunk boyfriend sliding in his bed.

“Hey, Eddie, Eddie?”

“Wot?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Mmmrrr.”

“I love you a lot, Eddie, like… like an insane amount. Scientists cannot quantify how much I love you, and…”

He is stopped by a kiss.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie tiredly wraps himself all around his boyfriend, octopus-style. “But please, go to sleep.”

_______________________

They’re celebrating Nancy’s promotion in a gay bar when Steve has a revelation.

The girls want more drinks, and Steve grumbles but leave the warmth of Eddie’s arms to bring them cocktails.

“And a beer for your humble servant, please, my liege!”

And a beer for Eddie, apparently.

The bartender is only vaguely familiar, and he is pretty sure the guy wasn’t there two months ago. Steve flags the man down, and watches with a smile as he shakes Nancy’s elaborate cocktail. He is putting on a show, but Steve can tell it’s not really meant for him, not with the wedding band glistening on his left hand and the wink he throws at the new waiter.

The wave of jealousy hits him unexpectedly. It must be nice to wear proof of your marriage in front of everyone like that, and to be able to flirt with your husband at your own place of work without having to watch your back. Maybe he should hang up his scrubs and go into bartending.

Steve shakes his head. He loves his job. He is being ridicul…

He frowns.

What’s that just underneath the guy’s wedding band?

The bartender winks at him this time, playing with the ring.

“Had this one for almost two years now.” He points at the waiter. “It goes with that one.”

“What’s that?”

“Hum?” The bartender blink, then smiles again. “Oh! Look.”

He leans over the bar and shows Steve his hand, palm up. He pushes the ring out of the way, and just underneath, the initials S.W. are written in black ink.

“Scott Williams. That’s my man.”

“It’s a tattoo.” Steve says numbly.

“It sure is, darling.”

“I can get a tattoo.” Steve cannot breathe. He can have that. He can etch Eddie’s name into his skin, keep him there forever.

“Hey, don’t forget your drinks!”

Steve turns back to the bar, disoriented, and grab the tray the bartender is nice enough to give him.

“You okay, man?” He asks, visibly worried.

“Never been better.”

He walks past the crowd without seeing it and reach their group. Robin’s head shot up at his arrival.

“You’re alright, Dingus?” She frowns. “You look a bit shell shocked over there.”

She yelps when Steve put down the tray heavily on the table, drinks splashing.

“Hey, what are you…”

Steve climbs on his boyfriend’s lap.

“Eddie,” he cradles his face with both hands, reverent. “Will you marry me?”

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve x eddie #gender things #pride things bingo #pridethingsbingo #prompt: tattoo

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satorus-princess · 2 days ago

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a/n: alexa play 'desi girl' (ft. satoru finding his name in your mehndi) lowkey think that i like the suguru one more LOL

there's music playing in the background, almost muffled by the excited chatter of friends and family invited to your most special day. but if gojo's being honest, he can't hear the music or chatter, solely entranced by you. you and him in your own little bubble of happiness.

his hands cradle yours tenderly yet firmly, your knuckles brushing against his palms. you expect his eyes to be scrutinising the brown stain, intricate and beautiful, but when your gaze flickers to his face he's staring at you with a lovesick grin.

“satoru, you're not even looking,” you laugh.

“oh, i am. and i'm thoroughly enjoying the view.” he winks. you roll your eyes playfully.

“you're so goofy.”

“mhm, but i'm your goofy husband now, mrs gojo,” he smirks, but it soon melts back into a loving smile. it almost hurts his heart, in the most euphoric way possible, to look at you, adorned in deep red and gold. his wife.

“hey, don't try to weasel your way out of this by talking sweet like that.”

“i'm not trying to weasel out of anything. am i the bad guy for wanting to stare at my stunning wife?” he emphasises the last word on purpose, savouring the way it rolls off his tongue so beautifully.

you huff, beginning to slide your hands out of his but he quickly grasps them again, his thumbs circling your palms.

“ah, you don't need to let go. fineee, i'll take a looksie.”

he spares one more glance at your features before his eyes trail down to your hands painted delicately with mehndi, to find his name embedded into it.

it's hidden on your wedding ring finger. he already knows it. he found it about ten minutes ago before his eyes had wandered to your face. but he doesn't say anything, not wanting to let go of your hands yet as his thumbs continue to caress your palms.

as he pretends to continue to look for it, he speaks up softly, “your grandmother told me about that myth - that the darker the stain of your mehndi, the more your husband loves you. and it's no surprise that yours is so dark,” he smirks playfully, eyes briefly meeting yours.

a soft smile decorates your lips, and his heart skips a beat. “in that case, i never want it to fade.”

“i'll make sure it never does,” he whispers, bringing your hand up to his lips and he kisses the spot where his thumb once was. and his thumb moves to hover over his engraved name.

you notice where his thumb drifts and raise an eyebrow at him. “you saw it this whole time, didn't you?”

he grins cheekily, crinkled eyes marrying yours, such devotion and admiration shimmering in his. “yeah,” he admits quietly, “i just didn't wanna let go.”

his lips travel up from your palm to the gold ring sitting prettily on your finger, a diamond nestled in the middle so luminous, yet his eyes still put it to shame.

“am i the pope? kissing my ring like that,” you giggle teasingly. but your eyes are warm and affectionate as you watch him.

“chup, and let me love on my wife.”

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pxpecxdy · 29 minutes ago

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Oh my god I love this!!!! Rue you really blew me away with this! Ive been anticipation this since you first told me the gist of it and it's even better than what I imagined! I love Samira and Jack watching out for Robby and having dinner with him on a regular basis, very much reminds me of my bff and her husband inviting me over lol. The second date was so amazing I loved the lead up to it with Robby waiting for her! And the museum!!!?!!?! Chefs kiss!!! Everything about it is so sweet and nice and I'm a blushy giggly mess, feet hanging off my seat on the train swinging!!!!

Alight With The Sparks | M. Robinavitch

Summary: Jack and Samira open a dating account for Robby, and furious Dr. Robinavitch goes to shut down the poor girl they have managed to charm, only for the night to take a turn and change his mind.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut(only one scene), VERY VERY PLOT HEAVY, so much pining urgh, Robby falls hard and fast and first, he is smitten alright, Alcohol consumption, blind date trope, lots of fluff and kisses and just cutesy things, English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 8.4k+

an: so I know I said I didn’t wanna write the blind date idea but here I am with this HEAVY fic! I hope you guys like this pleaseeeee comment and tell me what y’all think about it! Also, shoutout to @m-robinavitch & @pxpecxdy for helping me with this fic!!! ALSO THE PICS DO NOT REPRESENT THE READER!! She is written as neutral as possible with NO details about her appearance! She’s just shorter than Robby!

no beta<3

“Jack, he’ll kill us.”

“I’ve had enough of his grumbling.” Jack unlocks Robby’s phone, opening his gallery to find at least one good picture of him. “He doesn’t say it, but I can see how lonely he is.”

“And your solution is to open a dating account without him knowing?” Samira hisses, sitting down next to Jack on the couch, glancing at the bathroom door in the hallway in panic, “Stop— what if he finds out? Oh, great, now you’re snooping around his gallery.”

“Sweetie, listen,” Jack whispers while airdropping the few pictures he has selected from Robby’s phone, glancing up at the bathroom door before he looks at Samira, “Heather has moved on, all his exes have moved on, and he is sitting alone in a bar drinking while having a midlife crisis. He needs to go out; it’s good for him and my sanity.”

“You already have a girlfriend, stop digging your nose into his life, maybe he doesn’t— shit, shit, he is unlocking the door!” Samira snatches Robby’s phone, standing up anxiously before she rushes toward the kitchen, dropping his phone face-first on the counter, and busying herself with filling a glass of water.

Jack clears his throat, looking down at his own phone, a barely visible smirk on his face as he opens the dating app and uploads Robby’s photo without looking suspicious.

“What do you want to have for dinner?” Samira asks, smiling awkwardly at Robby, who gives her a reassuring grin in return while he reaches for the tissue box on the counter next to his phone, “I don’t feel like cooking, so…”

“We’ll figure it out, honey, don’t worry,” Jack, finally after the harsh glare Samira gives him, turns off his phone resting his head on his hand on the back of the couch as he waits for Robby to join him, “It doesn’t matter as long as Robby stays here with us.”

“Yeah, about that…” Robby drops the crumbled tissues inside the trash, putting his phone in the pocket of his jeans before he gives a soft apologetic smile to Samira, “I think I should leave. You gotta enjoy your time with him now that he’s moved in. I’ll come another day.”

“You know we are more than happy to have you over,” Samira replies, following Robby to the door, pulling Jack up by his hand to say his farewell, “But no pressure! You’re welcome anytime!”

“Thank you, Samira,” He gives her a half hug before he pats Jack’s back when he is pulled in for a deep embrace, “Good night, brother.”

“It’d have been great if you didn’t run away from having a solid conversation with me.”

“I don’t need you to scold me about my perfect life, I’ve heard enough,” Robby shakes his head as he bends down to put his sneakers on, sighing deeply when he sees how Jack and Samira — both — give him an unsatisfying look, “Don’t even think about talking. I’m outta here.”

“We want what’s best for you—“

“And that, Jack,” Robby hits the elevator’s button before he looks back at his friend with a defeated smile, “Is to keep your head out of my business. ‘M not trying to sound mean, I’ve done everything, maybe that’s how it’s always supposed to be.”

“What? What do you mean?” Samira asks, stepping forward, looking at Robby with a soft frown, glancing back at Jack, who is mimicking her conflicted thoughts.

“I’m not exactly the best man to date,” Robby shrugs, running a hand through his hair as he waits for the elevator to reach the floor, “I’ve been told, and I don’t disagree. I’ve tried everything—“

“Not everything.” It is comical how Jack and Samira both say it at the same time, and in that moment, Jack understands she is on board with his plans.

Robby chuckles, his shoulders go rigid as he waves at them one final time, “I have, trust me. I’m destined to be alone, and I’m fine with it. You should be, too.”

As soon as the elevator doors are shut, Samira pushes Jack inside the house, slamming the door before running her hands down her face, groaning loudly.

“Get out your phone, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she grabs Jack by the elbow, pushing him down on the couch as she crawls next to him, “Find him a date as soon as possible. He is becoming an insufferable old man.”

“See? My idea is fucking brilliant!” Jack grins at her, unlocking his phone to open the dating app, “We gotta make sure we talk exactly like Robby so when they go on the date, she thinks it was him all along.”

“We’re basically lying, but sure, thank you for your brilliant idea,” Samira sighs, shaking her head in disappointment, but deep down, she knows this is the only path Robby hasn’t taken; maybe something good will come out of it. She can only hope.

“Okay, choose a picture— definitely not this,” Jack angles his phone so she can take a better look at the photo. The first one is a group photo of Robby and his day shift team; he isn’t looking the happiest and cleanest, and more importantly, he is looking at Heather. So nope, this one has to go.

“Something that shows his face better,” she snatches his phone from his hands, leaning against his chest as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, “Okay… what about this?”

“Not bad, but it’s a group photo again— does he even have a picture of himself? Like a solo one?”

“That’s…” Samira stops, pouting a little when she thinks about it, “That means no one’s ever taken a picture of him. No wonder he feels so drained; he doesn’t have one single picture of himself! Jack he is so lonely.”

“I’ve been telling you, honey,” Jack kisses the crown of her head, “He needs to find his match again. He found it once, he can do it again.”

“This app better give us someone worth his time— oh, okay, this selfie isn’t that bad, huh?”

“He’s holding up a book,” Jack cringes, scratching his jaw as he stares at the photo, “Okay, urm, it’s not too bad, but he looks like a grandpa. We just have to find girls who are into him and whatever category this picture is a part of.”

“He’s had bunch of relationships before, we’ll definitely find someone,” he watches as she adds his name, making sure she puts down ‘Robby in short’ so his future hypothetical date doesn’t call him by his first name, “Add his height, his job… urm, what else?”

“What does he like? Besides books, obviously.”

“Women.”

“Jack,” she gives him a look that screams as if we don’t already know, “Focus! Hobbies. What does he do when he is out of the hospital?”

“Drinking, reading… he goes to this really, really old record shop— he’s such an old man, he’s going to die soon—ouch, what?”

“You are barely any younger than him,” she pinches his arm, rolling her eyes as she adds the things he told her, “Any sports? Football, basketball, baseball?”

“I think he plays basketball with Jake a few times a week when he isn’t exhausted, which is rare, you should add that he is so tired—“

“Listen, babe,” Samira turns around, cupping Jack’s face and he takes the opportunity to pecks her lips, “You had a stupidly amazing idea, now don’t fucking ruin it. Let me handle it, alright? Alright.”

She settles against him again, putting the location on Pittsburgh before she presses ‘done’ and starts going through the options the app is offering in this city. They like some of the profiles, delete the others, and the game of finding Robby a match starts.

•••••••

“Hey, man,” Jack strides inside the hospital, backpack slung on his shoulder as he hugs Robby, taking a look at the board before he looks back at Robby, who gives him a sympathetic nod, “Looks like you guys had a rough day.”

“Yeah, hope your shift is better than ours,” Dana sighs, tucking her glasses inside her bag, “It was a shitshow. A school bus crashed into a tree… a bunch of terrified children ran in here.”

“That’s the worst you got today? You should hang around and see how much—“

“It’s not a game of who has it worse, Jack,” Dana chuckles, swinging her bag on her shoulder as she leaves the station, “Enjoy the night, I’m sure you’d love the screaming children who’ve got hand surgery at three in the morning.”

“Have a good night,” Jack squeezes Dana’s hand as she passes him, looking back at Robby, who is leaning his hand on his forearm on the Central, “Go home, you need rest.”

“Yeah, I will,” Robby scratches the back of his neck, “I’m thinking of taking a few days off, just to sleep. I know I won’t, but trying it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Take Friday off,” Jack replies quickly — almost too quickly — before he clears his throat and pulls his phone out of his cargo pants, “So you know, you can have your weekend and a day more off in a row. Please text Samira and tell her I got here, the car’s hers for her next shift.”

“Sure,” Robby frowns a bit at Jack, watching him go after Jack, and hands him his phone. Robby, hesitant and nervous, unlocks Jack’s phone — yeah, he knows his password, it’s a requirement in ER because they trust each other enough and someone has to get inside this thing in the time of emergency — and he finds Jack’s messages with ease, Samira’s name pinned on top with a picture of her smiling.

It’s one second, he is too quick, he shouldn’t be this quick, but he is. He catches a glimpse of his name in one of the recent unread messages. He stands frozen, looking at the contact’s name, color draining from his face.

Robby’s date

“What the fuck?” He whispers, opening the message without thinking twice, reading the only text available.

I’m so excited to finally meet you this Friday, Robby!

He thinks he might drop dead in the middle of the ER. If he puts his hand on the side of his trachea, he would feel how insanely fast his carotid pulse is. He is sweating on his forehead, his back, and his hands. He doesn’t think he can hold the phone any longer.

He takes another look at the message, and it seems the words are taunting him. A date. Robby. A date he doesn’t know anything about. In Jack fucking Abbot’s phone.

Robby walks to the locker room, phone clutched in his hand as he pushes past people to find his friend, Jack, might not be his friend any longer after this conversation — and finds him pulling out his stethoscope from his bag.

“I’m gonna ask this once, Jack,” Robby squeezes his eyes shut as he holds up the phone, “What the fuck is this?”

“Wha— oh.”

“Oh is right, my friend,” Robby glares at Jack, who just shrugs and shuts his locker door, sighing deeply before he grabs his phone and locks it. “Robby’s date, seriously? Are you cheating on Samira—“

“Woah, woah, okay, man, take a fucking breath,” Jack raises his hands, giving Robby a look that shows if he talks more he might pull out his knife and slice his friend in half, “I would rather lose all my limbs than cheat on her, one. Two, that is your date. See the name, Robby’s name? That’s you. You think I’m that desperate to impersonate you? You’re not half as handsome as I am.”

“So what is it then? I have a date and I didn’t even know about it?” Robby pushes his hands into his hoodie, turning around to lightly bang his head on the lockers, “When were you going to tell me?”

“Thursday—“

“A day before the date? Wow, this is fucking thrilling,” he rubs a hand down his face, leaning on his side on the cold metal, giving Jack a defeated look while crossing his arms over his chest, “Why’d you do that, Jack?”

“Because I’m fucking worried about you,” Jack hisses, walking closer so he doesn’t need to shout and alert the entire floor, “You’ve been neglecting yourself, I can’t stand that.”

“You’re talking like a Victorian prince, spit it out, I’m one second away from banging my head on this damn locker.”

“You are lonely and instead of fixing it, you’re letting it destroy you,” Jack says, putting his hand on Robby’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly, “I know what I did was… unethical, so to say, but you need to get out there, brother. You have to stop letting these destructive thoughts ruin your life, and no, before you say it, you deserve a good life.”

“I’ll go to that date to shut that poor girl down,” Robby whispers, shaking his head slightly as he takes in Jack’s words. “She’s probably excited to meet me, and I’m gonna go tell her how it was not me. Bravo.”

“It’s a step even if you tell her no,” Jack shrugs and gives him a soft smile, “But go there, you never know what might happen.”

“I’m still fucking pissed at you so don’t push it.”

••••••

Robby is nervous. It has been too long since he has felt this way. Nervous about meeting a woman? The confident Dr. Robinavitch, who handles a chaotic emergency department for twelve hours on his own? It doesn’t sound like him.

What is worse, though, is that Jack didn’t budge for a second when Robby asked him to show at least a picture of his date so he could easily find and send the poor girl home. He already feels responsible for her excitement that he is about to ruin; he feels bad that he has to do this. But there is no other option either.

He is all dressed up, per Samira’s request; nothing too extravagant, but a dark green fitted shirt with rolled up sleeves and his jeans. He doesn’t know if it is a good look, he shouldn’t care because he isn’t going to stay at all — says hi, shakes your hand, sits down to explain what his idiot friend did, says goodbye, and then be on his way.

He walks into the restaurant with his hands in his pockets, nervously looking around before a waitress notices him and asks about his reservations. He doesn’t know which name Jack gave them, but a soft voice interrupts his thoughts before he makes a fool of himself.

“Robby?”

What he doesn’t except, is for you to be fucking ethereal, as if they have pulled you out of fairy tales and sat you in front of him. If he blinks one more time, he might be able to see you glowing under the soft lights of the restaurant.

You are smiling at him, standing up to greet him. The dress you are wearing makes his mind go blank. The color matches your skin, and the fabric clings to all the right places that have his mind spinning. And it only breaks his heart that he has to tell you the ugly truth about how you both ended up here — he wishes he could do something to change his unbelievable fate.

“Hi,” you reach to shake his hands when he walks to the table, beaming at him with such enthusiasm he has never felt, “It’s so good to see you.”

“Likewise,” he clears his throat, smiling back awkwardly before he rounds the table to pull your chair back, tucking you in gently before he goes to his seat.

“You’re late,” you whisper, as if you’re scared he might run out of this place before you get the chance to say something else.

“Yeah, about that,” he rubs the back of his neck, looking at you with soft eyes, knowing what he is about to say might ruin your entire night — the thought makes his heart twist, you are far too beautiful to be hurt because of Jack’s stupidity, but if he doesn’t tell you, he will never forgive himself — so he leans forward on the table with his forearms resting on the tablecloth, “I’m deeply sorry for what I’m about to say, I… I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Oh…?” You sound small, and he hasn’t even spoken the words. This is going to break him, he is sure, cause your bright eyes are slowly losing the glimmer in them the more he keeps quiet.

“The person you texted was not me.” The cat’s out of the bag now. “It was my friend, he wanted to get me to start dating again, and he thought whatever he was doing was to help me. I had no idea I was going to have a date until a few days ago, and… he even refused to show a picture of you.”

“So you’re not here for the date.” You take a deep breath, huffing out a slow laugh, “It’s alright, I wish I had known sooner so I wouldn’t spend hours getting ready for someone who doesn’t even know my name.”

“I’m so sorry,” Robby hides his face in his hands, embarrassment washing over him as he hears you. Fuck you, Jack. “For whatever’s worth… You look incredible. You look fantastic, so… so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you give him a halfhearted smile — at least that’s a start — and reach for your purse, “I think it’s best if I leave—“

“Wait!” What the fuck, Robby? He doesn’t know why he is stopping you, he is here to shut this stupid date down and prove to Jack that he doesn’t need to date to have an amazing life, but he already feels like someone has stabbed him when his eyes fall on the little pout on your lips, “Listen, um, I hate that I’m the reason you feel your efforts are wasted, so… let me buy you dinner. This is the least I can do to apologize for this inconvenience.”

“Are you sure? I mean,” you chuckle, looking down at your hands, “You don’t even know my name.”

“I can learn your name,” he shrugs, his eyes giving out the subtle hint of his admiration, “If you’d like me to.”

“Well, I’ve liked you for a few weeks, although now I found out it wasn’t you, but… I’m not opposed to a friendly dinner,” You explain, resting your chin on the back of your hands, gazing at Robby in a way that makes his heart leap into his throat, “At least someone gets to enjoy my outfit tonight, even though it isn’t the Robby I wanted to.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the real one more enjoyable than the one you talked to,” he smiles, wrinkles deepening as he looks at you, “if it makes you feel any better, the one you were talking to was my friend and his girlfriend.”

“You’ve got a tough competition then,” he knows you are flirting, he should shut it down, he should tell you to stop, he should stop his heart from racing when you blink and grin at him, he should most definitely look away to stop his cheeks from turning red.

“They don’t have you looking all dolled up in front of them,” fuck, fuck, fuck, there it is, “I think I can manage.”

“Wow,” you chuckle shyly, glancing away for a second before looking back at him, “Smooth, I like it. Definitely better than all the flirting your friends were doing.”

“See? Real Robby is the real deal.”

“Don’t take yourself too highly, you might trip and fall,” you grin, “Besides, this isn’t a date, right? Your words, not mine.”

“I don’t know about that anymore,” Robby looks at you, the heavy feeling in his chest making his lips stretch into a broad smile, “Maybe… we could ignore what happened and start over? And I get the chance to take revenge on them.”

“Okay, I’m in.”

“In taking revenge or turning this into a date?” He raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for your answers as he drags his eyes over your face. Jesus, you really are beautiful. How did those two idiots managed to get you to like him only with texts is beyond him.

“T-the date,” he can see how you get flustered a little, stuttering when your gaze locks with his, “Other aspects don’t concern me, nor should it bother you.”

“I can’t just let it slide,” Robby shrugs, “but I’m also too old to get back at him. I would rather focus on things that matter.”

“Like what?”

You know what, but he isn’t going to ruin this, not now, not when, after so many countless dates, he is actually feeling something. Robby beams, resting his cheek on his palm as he trails the length of your arm to your face, his grin matching yours.”

“Like you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be here—“

“Yeah, yeah, well I’m a man, and I’m not immune to what I see,” he cuts you off gently, reaching to grab the glass of water on the table, trying to hide his flushed face behind the cup.

“And what is that?”

“Don’t play coy with me now, you know what I’m talking about,” he rolls his eyes at you playfully when you laugh quietly. And he soon finds out he loves that sound, and he would do anything to hear it again, anything.

“It wouldn’t hurt to say it, you know,” you bite your lip, waiting for him to reply, “I like expressive men, there, I gave you a hint.”

“Then I’m the worst person on earth for you to go to a second date with,” Robby winces as the words leave his mouth, thinking of how insecure he must have sounded instead of funny, but you don’t cringe, you don’t frown at him, only chuckle and shrug.

“I’ll be the judge of that, but you need to answer my question first.”

“Which question?”

“What changed your mind?”

Robby thinks for a long moment. He doesn’t know what it actually is: your beauty? Probably, you looked like an angel waiting for him, and he is glad he could wipe the quick frown he forced on your face when he told you he didn’t know about the date. Your humor? Possibly. But in all senses, you in whole changed his mind, you feel like the person he can speak to, the only one who wouldn’t make fun of him for all the vinyls he has collected.

“You,” he says, scratching his beard, looking down at his fingers as he clears his throat, “you did. It’s been a long time since I went on a date, and every time I did… something felt wrong. You don’t feel wrong.”

“You don’t feel wrong either.” You say it with so much grace to him, so soft and pliant that he can’t believe it is directed at him, as if he deserves it, “I’m glad you didn’t stand me up.”

“I would never,” he tells you, sighing deeply like you have offended him, “and to show that I am truly interested, I’d like to take you out again.”

“You don’t even know my name!” You laugh, glancing at the waitress as she makes her way to you, before looking back at Robby, who runs his hands down his face, shoulders shaking as he chuckles.

“What is your name?”

••••

You agreed to come, you replied to his text, and agreed to come. Not once, not twice, not even three times, but ten times in the period you were apart. He asked for your name, got your number successfully without making a fool of himself. So there is no reason you shouldn’t show up. Right? Right.

But why are you late? Was it all… a fun night for you? Then why did you tell him you were on your way ten minutes ago? You will come, yes, you will, you have to, there isn’t anything stopping you from coming to this date. Maybe his favorite fucking recordshop wasn’t the best choice to take you out, but you begged him to show you a piece of himself, so here he is.

Stupid, he should have listened to Jack and taken you to the cinema.

“Robby, oh my gosh, finally!”

He turns around so fast he thinks he is about to get dizzy, but a giant smile covers his worry as he finally sees you, practically skipping over to him, panting when you reach him.

“Hey,” you hold onto his biceps as you catch your breath, his hands automatically coming to your arms to hold you steady as he mutters a soft ‘hello’ and squeezes you a bit, “It took me half an hour to find this place!”

“I thought I sent you the location,” he gives a questioning look, “I did, didn’t I? Samira helped me, and no, I know how to use my phone, but I was never required to share a location. Don’t make an old man joke.”

“When have I ever?!” You gasp dramatically, laughing when his face turns red, “No, don’t worry, you did send me your location. But it wasn’t exactly the right one.”

“What?” He is going to die from embarrassment; he is sure he will drop dead on the hot bricks under his shoes, “I’m sure I shared it right…”

“You chose two streets down this place… It’s all good now! I’m here, late, which I’m so sorry about, but I’m here!” You straighten your back, giving him one of those radiant smiles he has grown quite fond of, before you wait for him to lead you inside.

“I guess I was nervous… sorry,” he rubs the back of his neck, feeling the heat spreading down to his chest as well, “but yeah, I’m really glad you could make it.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have lost the chance to get to know you more! Of course I’d show up!”

“I’m glad,” is all he can say, before he notices how much his cheeks are hurting from smiling back at you. He manages to walk a few steps ahead, opening the door and waiting for you to enter, “Ladies first.”

“What a gentleman,” you walk past him, waiting for him to join you as you step to the side, suddenly looking out of place, “Show me around?”

“Of course, we should go upstairs,” he walks side by side with you, “I’ve been coming here since I got hired in The Pitt, it’s one of the oldest shops in the city, and sells vinyl only.”

“That’s so cool! To be fair, I’ve only been to record shops a few times, so I don’t know much about them,” you shrug, biting the inside of your cheek, bashful and grinning, “So I’m sorry, you have to explain everything to me.”

“Gladly,” he replies and pushes the door to the shop open, watching with amusement as you wait for him to enter this time, “Alright, come on.”

He walks inside, giving you enough space to join him. The atmosphere is warm and welcoming, enveloping you both in its entirety, and Robby feels instantly at home. The colors are brighter, the music feels more vibrant than ever, and you… Your beauty blends so nicely with your surroundings — like you belong there with him.

He shakes his head a little, leading you between rows of different Vinyls, stopping when he reaches a room full of records on the walls, shelves, and two rows in the middle with record players in the corner.

“A room full of one dollar records, one of my favorite places to spend time in—” he explains, but soon he is cut off guard when you slowly grab his hand, looking around the room like you don’t know what you have done.

Robby stops dead in his tracks as soon as you wrap your fingers around his hand, head slowly turning in your direction, only to find you innocently shrugging and pulling at your bottom lip.

“I can— if you’re uncomfortable—“

“No, no, absolutely not,” he stops you before you can say more, smiling as his cheeks turn red again, “I… like it.”

“Good, show me the rest.” You squeeze his hand, and he tugs it forward gently, pulling you inside the room.

He feels like a freaking teenager again. He is fifty, fifty for fuck’s sake, yet he is explaining everything about these records to you, trying to stare at you all the time because if he does, he would melt under your gaze.

“I’ve always wanted to have this,” he says, showing you a record of Pale Blue Eyes by The Velvet Underground at the end of your tour in the shop, “I don’t know why I’ve never bought it, probably because I have tons of untouched records at home.”

“I buy it for you.” You gently grab it from his hands, pulling him towards the cash register, handing them the vinyl before Robby has the chance to snatch it out of your hand, “No complaints!”

“I can’t let you do that,” he reaches for his wallet, but you grab his other hand as well, stopping him from moving, standing forward to lace your fingers through his and looking up into his eyes, “I’m serious.”

“So am I, you paid for my dinner when you were forced to come, the least I can do is to buy you a simple record,” you tell him, letting go of one of his hands to pay the cashier, pulling Robby behind you as soon as you hand him the bag, “Thank you for today, I loved it!”

“Thank you for coming, honey,” he says, smiling softly when you come closer, craning your neck to look up at him. “I… I’m glad you had fun.”

“Couldn’t ask for a better date,” you grin at him, letting go of his hand to wrap them around his waist, laying your head on his chest, hiding your smile when you hear how hard his heart is beating, “When’s our next date?”

“Whenever you’d like,” he wraps his arms around you, too, kissing the crown of your head, sighing softly as he smells the scent of your shampoo, “I’d like to get to know you more.”

“I’ll think about it,” you beam at him, standing up on your toes to kiss his cheek, pulling away before he can react, leaving him blushing and smiling like an idiot, “Call you later?”

“Yeah, please do.”

••••

“Robby! Are you kidding me?”

“I’m not, honey,” he chuckles, hugging you back just as tightly when you jump into his arms, “You said you wanna go and well, I had the day off.”

“You had the day off, or you found another attendee to fill in your place?” You ask, hanging from his neck, and he rests his palms on your waist, rubbing your back and dragging his eyes down your sundress, “What do you think?”

“Fucking beautiful,” he breathes out, pulling back a little to take a better look at you, closing the distance so he can press a soft kiss on your forehead, “I can never get enough of you.”

“Juuust how I like you,” you caress the nape of his neck, leaning up to kiss his cheek before grabbing his hand, threading your fingers through his, before you both walk inside the gallery.

It has been a good four months since your first date, and Robby, true to his words, made these four months worth your time. He always manages to call you during the chaotic shifts he spends in the hospital to spend dinners at your place. He has kept the date at his house still on hold so he can treat you as best as he can.

Pet names have become a regular thing in your relationship, he loves how you get flustered and shy as soon as he casually drops another pet name to you, he adores your rambling behind the phone when something in particular annoys you at your work, or when you’d cuddle him to sleep when he reads to you — apparently his voice is ‘magical’ so you say.

“Jack’s covering for me, he owes me,” he shrugs, pulling you inside the gallery, turning around to glance at you, “Don’t say you feel bad for him, he deserves it.”

“Take it easy on him, will you?” You step next to him, resting your chin on his chest, “If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be here together.”

“I hate to admit that he did this,” he rolls his eyes, hand coming up to cradle your face, thumb caressing your cheek before he pulls back before he does something that surprises you both, “Show me around, honey.”

“With pleasure, Doctor Robby,” you drag him inside, and he lets you walk around the room with a skip in your step, pointing at different paintings, “You know, the museum showcased twenty two of this artist’s works? It was huge, I wish I could attend it back then.”

Robby just listens, holding onto your hand as you lead him around the gallery, voice soothing and beautiful as you give him information he will forget later, but he still listens intently, nodding and smiling when you catch him staring at you.

“Sassetta – The Virgin of Humility Crowned by Two Angels,” you read the name, stopping in front of the painting, “It’s an Italian Renaissance painting, early fifteenth century, and it shows the Madonna sitting humbly while being surrounded by angels. I like it, I don’t know why, but I do.”

You pull on his arm again, guiding him to another painting, talking about them so enthusiastically, and it warms Robby’s heart. When was the last time he had felt like this? So fuzzy and content? He doesn’t remember, he doesn’t care, not when you are showing him around all happy and smiling because you finally got to visit the place you wanted after a long time, and he is over the moon that he could make this happen for you.

“Enjoying the art?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you when you ask him, and he doesn’t answer you either. So with a curious look, you turn around, only to find him gazing at you with such a soft expression on his face, brown eyes glimmering with love.

“Yeah, I am.”

“The paintings, Robby,” you giggle, pulling him closer, seeking his warmth.

“You’re more beautiful than all these paintings,” he confesses. When did your lips start to look so kissable? They are taunting him, looking back at him, almost begging to be kissed.

It’s impulsive; he shouldn’t do it, not here, not in front of all of these people. But he can’t help himself, his self control is gone, nonexistent even. So he puts his hand on your waist, tucking you into his chest as he dips down, locking his lips with yours.

You taste like vanilla buttercream (how the fuck it is possible, he doesn’t know and frankly, he can’t care less), your perfume is much strong now, the scent filling his senses with such intensity that he deepens the kiss as soon as you loop your arms around his neck.

Ridiculous, he should have kissed you on top of the Eiffel tower or a boat crossing a river, or with Jack popping a confetti over your heads — but it happens now, in a moment of haste, in the middle of a gallery, after four months of growing closer and closer.

It is the best kiss he has ever had.

He pulls back slowly, finally dawning on him what he just did. He kissed you, in front of everyone, in a public space, but… it felt so good, so real, so sweet and deeply comforting, like he was meant to do it.

“Robby…”

“Fuck, I’m sorry—“

“Don’t be, don’t—“ you press your fingers to his lips, biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning and kissing him again, “Come with me, people are staring.”

“Fuck,” he lets out a breathless chuckle, letting you grab his hand and guide him outside, trailing after you like a puppy with his tail between his legs and a very deep blush on running down his face and chest.

You pull him into the alley next to the gallery, trailing your hands up his chest slowly, holding the side of his neck, gently caressing his throat, thumb bobbing as he swallows. You pull him down slowly, pecking his lips so softly he thinks he might turn into dust.

Robby, though, is losing the last shred of control he has on his body. He is trying to be nice, but he can’t, not when you are tilting your head and pulling him closer. He spreads his palm over your waist, one running down to hold you by the neck, deepening the kiss like he needs to breathe the air in your lungs.

“Get a rooooom.”

You and Robby pull away immediately, looking to find a disgusted teenage boy looking at you with a frown, snorting when you apologize hurriedly. He walks past you and Robby a second later, leaving the two of you heaving and smiling from ear to ear.

You are the first to crack, biting down your fingers to muffle your laughter, only for Robby to groan and chuckle, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he tries to make himself look small, hands circling your body to hold you close.

“Thank you for today,” you cup his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes, “Especially for the kiss.”

“That was spontaneous…” he reddens more, his hands going to hold on to your hips, “But I’m glad I did it, it was bound to happen…”

“Mhm, yup,” you scratch the nape of his neck slowly, watching him closely as he sighs and leans into your touch, “Wanna kiss me more?”

“Thought you’d never ask, honey.”

••••••

Robby sighs deeply, rethinking his life choices as he chops the potatoes as best as he can. He spent hours in surgeon rotation back in med school, he even does srugery in the ER rooms for fuck’s sake, so why do his pieces look anything but sharp? He is going to lose his mind if he keeps thinking about it.

He promised you dinner, a good one, you insisted you would bring the wine, and he caved in. Now, all he needs to do is cook these filet steaks as best as he possibly can. He doesn’t know much about cooking, but he had to invite you to his place; it only seemed right because he had slept countless nights at yours.

So he is going to do his best.

There is a knock on his door, a soft pattern he recognizes immediately. Robby wipes his hands on the towel he has thrown over his shoulder, marching to the door to open it for you, finding you leaning on the wall with a bottle of red wine in hand.

“Hey there, handsome.”

“Hello, honey,” he grins and pulls you in with a hand on your hip, locking his lips on yours in haste, pressing you to the door as soon as he closes it. “Welcome to my cramped apartment.”

“Hush, I love it!” You peck his lips, letting him lead you inside towards the kitchen, “Where’s your record stash?”

“In the reading room, and no, you can’t go there. I had to push everything inside there to make the house look tidy since I didn’t have time to clean up like I wanted to.”

“What do you mean you didn’t have time?” you ask, following him into the kitchen, “Robby, baby, look at me—”

He turns around, sucking the inside o fhis cheek as you cup his face, waiting for him to say anything. He thought he would be able to hide it from you so you wouldn’t get worried, but you have grown quite well at reading him.

“I promise I started my shift early to rest before you get here—”

“You told me you had the day off,” he cringes at your serious tone, but soon a small smile covers his face when you rub his beard, looking at him with nothing but sympathy. “Go sit down, I’ll cook—”

“Absolutely not,” he corners you against the counter, forearm protecting your back as he rests his hand on the edge, pressing himself into your body, “You’ve already done so much for me, let me take care of you tonight.”

“How are you going to take care of me?” You run your fingers up his sides, hands slipping under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin, “Is something going to happen tonight?”

“Do you want it to happen?” he asks, leaning down, hovering his lips over yours, feeling your hot breath fanning on his face, his eyes drawn to your mouth.

“Mhm,” you nod, wrapping your arms around his torso, “I do, and I want it to happen now.”

“You don’t want to see how I ditched culinary school for medicine? Rude,” he skips your lips, kissing your cheek down to your jaw, “Forget dinner, I wanna taste you.”

He feels you suck in a sharp breath, tilting your head to the side to give him more space as he mouths at your skin, biting and nibbling and moving down to your pulse point, making you hiss into his ear.

“Robby—“ you gasp when he bends his knees a little, grabbing the back of your thighs to pick you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks to his bedroom, kicking the door open before he lowers you on the bed gently.

You close your eyes, feeling him grabbing the back of your leg to take off your heels, pressing a gentle kiss on your ankle when he drops your shoes on the floor, moving his lips up the path of your leg, tapping your thigh so you would scoot up on the bed.

“Open your eyes, honey,” he whispers, settling on his stomach between your thighs, “Need you to look at me, come on.”

You slowly open your eyelids, biting on your lip as you find him reaching your side to pull down the zipper of your dress, sliding his fingers beneath the fabric to feel the curve of your breast.

“Take it off for me, please,” he sounds wrecked already. He has imagined this moment in some dark moments when he would allow his imagination to wander freely, “I have to see you.”

“Okay,” you let out a shaky breath, sitting up after you throw your legs over his shoulders, pulling your dress off and lying back on the bed, only in your underwear, breasts exposed to the chilly air in the room.

Robby’s eyes darken with desire, hands moving up your belly to grope your tits, muttering a low ‘fuck’ as he pinches your nipple, pushing his shoulders under your thighs to spread your legs more.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he groans, nipping at the skin around your belly button, sinking his teeth into the flesh to earn a gasp from you, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

“Please do,” you sit up on your elbows, reaching for his head to run your fingers through his hair, “Don’t keep a girl waiting, baby.”

He smirks, fingers pulling on the hem of your underwear, slowly taking it off before he locks his eyes with yours and starts kissing your inner thighs, moving to where you need him the most with patience.

You look like heaven itself, and taste even better when he licks a fat stripe from the seam of your pussy, humming as he closes his lips, genuinely enjoying the way your hips twitch under his touch.

“Oh…” you sigh when he starts sucking on your buzzing clit, flattening his tongue on your folds as he drinks your essence. You push his face into you a bit roughly, closing your legs around his neck as he moves faster, lips drawing patterns with an enthusiasm that has you throwing your head back.

He smiles against you, his beard burning your pussy in the most delicious way, and he knows with the way you are gasping and moaning, he knows you are feeling the euphoria slowly building up in your core.

He grabs one of your thighs, pushing it against your belly so he has room to push a finger inside without detaching himself from your cunt, thrusting the digit inside with so much care as if you will break.

“More,” you dig your nails into his scalp, bucking your hips to his face, moaning louder when he adds another finger, curving them both inside you. His fingers are thick, thicker than you expected, and they stretch you out just beautifully.

You feel the knot in your stomach breaking, your elbows giving out as you drop back on the bed, legs shaking around his head as you arch your back, releasing all over his face.

Robby buries his face into you, smothering himself as he laps up your wetness eagerly, drinking you like a nectar. He keeps your hips pressed to the mattress while he fucks you with his fingers through your orgasm.

“Shit, baby, that was… fuck,” you laugh breathlessly, pulling him up by his neck, “Take off your clothes, you’re too dressed for my liking.”

“You good?” He chuckles, kicking off his shoes and pants, unbuttoning his shirt only for you to push it down hurriedly, pulling him down on top of you to chase his lips into a passionate kiss, tasting yourself on his beard.

“Don’t make me wait, I swear if you do—“

“I won’t, I won’t,” he says, pushing his boxers down in haste, making home between your legs, grabbing his cock in a tight grip, stroking himself, “Fuck, I can’t believe we waited this long.”

“Jesus Christ, Robby,” you swallow as you look at his dick in his hand; fat, hot, heavy and ready to fuck you into oblivion, “You’re big.”

He turns red, bright and beautiful, but he soon closes the distance and kisses you, guiding the red tip of his cock to your entrance, gently rocking his hips forward, inhaling sharply as he pushes past the first ring of muscles.

You moan into his mouth, hands flying to his shoulders to ground yourself as he pushes inside you, filling you with all he has got in him, caging you under his weight with his belly pressed to yours.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, hiding his face into your neck, pulling out halfway before easing his length inside your puffy cunt again, “I’ll keep you on my bed forever if I could.”

“You can, baby,” you gasp, nails scratching Robby’s back as he picks up his pace, no longer as sweet as he thought he would go, but now faster, rougher, more urgent and needy. The lewd sound of his hips slamming next to yours echoes in the bedroom, only adding to the fuel of your desire: “You can keep me here as long as you want.”

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long,” he whispers into your ear, holding himself up with his forearms around your head, moans and deep breaths filling your hair as he fucks you harder.

You whine in his throat, pressing your lips into his Adam's apple as you feel your walls clenching around his girth, crying out when he angles his hips to hit your sweet spot, groaning as you quiver beneath him.

Wailing, you cling to Robby’s body as you gush around him, waves of pleasure hitting your body as he follows you closely, growling at the sensation of your cunt clamping around him tightly.

He pulls out, fisting his cock a few times before he comes on your stomach, groaning from the depths of his chest as he empties his balls on you, and you hold him through it.

“That was amazing,” you kiss his forehead, holding him close as he shakes on top of you, gently lowering his weight on you to catch his breath, “You were amazing.”

“I love you.”

There, out in the open, three little words that he has wanted to say for the past six months ever since he set his eyes on you. Pulling back a bit to look into your eyes, he doesn’t regret it, he had to say it, utter the sentence softly so he can make his feelings known.

“I love you, too.” You cup his cheek, pulling him closer, “I love you, Robby, so so much.”

He kisses you again, this time soft and endearing, full of unspoken promises. He swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, pushing the muscle into your mouth, exploring your taste deeply.

“I’m gonna go clean up, I’ll come, honey.” He lets go of your lips with a lewd ‘pop’, kissing the corner of your mouth. You nod, scooting up to lie on his pillows, watching as he walks stark naked into the en-suite bathroom to clean himself up, coming in with a warm rag to wipe you off as well.

“Wine?” You ask, jumping off the bed as soon as he agrees, running to the kitchen and coming back with his phone and the bottle you brought earlier and a corkscrew, “There you go.”

“What’s the phone for?” He looks at you, grabbing the bottle from you as you crawl into his lap, popping the cork before he puts the wine aside to breathe, hands coming up to hold you by your hips, laughing when you raise his phone in your face, “What’s that for?”

“Pictures!” You laugh too, taking a few pictures of him, smirking as you notice a few blooming marks on his throat, “There, now you have some juicy photos to put as your profile picture in dating apps.”

“I’ve already found my match,” he says, squeezing your flesh, smiling when you bite your lips, looking down at his chest shyly.

“Yeah?” You lean forward, nudging your nose with his, “Plan on keeping your match forever?”

“If she lets me,” there it is again, the fucking butterflies in his belly, “I’d love to keep her as long as she lets me. For days, months, even years.”

#robby x reader #fic rec #dr robby x reader #dr robby #michael robinavitch x reader #michael robinavitch #AHAHHHHHHHHH #ill take nine more #need a double date now

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