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stylesharrys · 5 months

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Baby Styles | WILAY Spin-Off

A/N: it's been forever since I wrote when I look at you and I promised ages ago I would do some little spin-off fics... here is one for you guys that I had over on patreon :)

WC: 2,049

Then Y/N sees it, the tears starting to well in her daughter’s eyes as she sinks into Harry’s chest. Her heart starts to break, reaching closer for her baby, but she grabs hold of Harry’s arms as the first of the tears begin to fall.

He frowns down at his little girl, worries fogging his senses and his heart beating sporadically against his chest. Harry holds her closer, eyes shifting to Y/N, who looks completely distraught.

“Dais… what’s wrong? This is exciting. You’re going to be a big sister. We’re going to have a baby Styles!” Y/N tries to sell it, but the child’s mouth only starts to turn downcast, and a small sob slips past her lips.

“But Harry won’t be my Daddy anymore.”

Y/N's got some news and Daisy finally asks Harry to be her real dad.

Daisy’s favourite part of the day has to be bedtime.

Forget playing with her friends at school, or bathtime where Y/N lets her swish around the tub like a mermaid, or Aunt Akasha or Gemma feeding her up with ice cream. Daisy thoroughly enjoys bedtime because more often than not, it’s her only time with her Dad that goes undisturbed.

Since she can remember, Harry has always put Daisy to bed. The exception of those couple of months he was touring a year ago, but he still FaceTimed her at every bedtime and read her a passage from whatever book they had chosen for that week.

Y/N putting Daisy to bed is never the same. She’s always argued so. Y/N doesn’t read the same as Harry. She doesn’t do the voices, or make the faces, or execute the dramatic pauses.

She tries, but it’s not the same. And Daisy has made her opinion on Y/N’s bedtimes clear.

The four-year-old has grown into a complete ball of sass in the past two years, and the entire family knows it.

Y/N argues it’s Harry rubbing off on her, that she’s picking up his quirks and mishaps. Harry tries not to laugh when he watches the child strop off sulking because Y/N’s told her she’s settling her to bed that night.

“Daddy, come look!”

Harry sets the plates on the table as she calls him from the living room. Stifling a yawn, he follows the voice of the little girl and finds her bouncing on the balls of her feet, in front of the coffee table.

She’s drawn a picture, a reasonably artistic one; he won’t lie. It’s of Harry, that much he can tell. He’s sat in the home studio he and Y/N had built out in the garden next to the shed last year, his red guitar sat in his lap with a mop of brown curls on his head.

He grins. “Is tha’ me, petal? Looks good! Should we stick it on the fridge with your other ones?”

She nods, handing him the paper and scurrying past him toward the kitchen, nearly bumping into Y/N’s legs on the way and earning a disapproving look from her mother for it.

“Careful, Dais, it’s hot in here,” Y/N warns gently.

She doesn’t say anything, instead rummages through the drawer beside the fridge for another letter magnet. She retrieves a P and Harry lets her pin it to the fridge door, a triumphant grin to her lips as she places her hands to her hips.

“What do you think, Mummy? Do you like my picture of Daddy?” She asks with bright eyes.

Y/N squints down at the picture, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Love it, babe. Did Dad’s hair perfectly, didn’t you.” She praises.

Harry squints in teasing offence at his fiance, the front of his curls tied above his head and looking like a small beansprout.

“I thought you liked my hair?” He feigns offence as he regards the young girl and she shrieks out a wholesome laugh at her Dad’s behaviour.

“I do!” She jumps, stilling back on her feet and tilting her head to the side. “But it is getting very long, Daddy.”

Y/N stifles a snort, and Harry leaps forward to smack her bum playfully, Daisy covering her eyes with an amused shriek. “Right you,” Harry turns back to her, “go wash your hands and put your colours away, Mum’s dishing dinner up.”

Daisy doesn’t wait a moment longer when she sees the dino nuggets being piled on her plate, rushing to get her things tidied and hands cleaned.

It leaves Y/N and Harry alone again for a moment, and he takes advantage of it, wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist from behind and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

His hands sprawl out across the expanse of her stomach, heart skipping a beat at the thought of watching it grow again, as it had four years ago.

“Are we gonna tell her tonight?” He asks softly and Y/N hums, taking a shaky breath.

She’s nervous. She doesn’t know how Daisy is going to react about being a big sister. The four-year-old has never even mentioned having a sibling, and everyone is very much aware of how much Daisy enjoys attention.

Y/N’s worried her little girl will kick off into a meltdown and she doesn’t think she can stomach a distraught child tonight.

Harry gives her a reassuring squeeze. “She’s going to be fine with it. Honestly reckon she’ll be obsessed.”

He’s only trying to lighten the weight on her shoulders, which Y/N does appreciate, but if she’s honest, it’s not doing much to help.

She nods with a sigh. “Yeah, she should be alright. Just all new to all of us.”

Settled on the sofa with The Grinch Who Stole Christmas on the TV and three mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table, Daisy and her parents cuddle up on the couch.

The fire is crackling, making the moment all the cosier for the three. Daisy snuggles between Harry and Y/N, her hair in damp braids that Y/N had plaited after her bath and her feet are cosy in a pair of Christmas socks.

Harry has an arm thrown over the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing against Y/N’s shoulder to catch her attention. She looks over to him, sleepy look on her face and Harry thinks he wouldn’t mind settling Daisy a little earlier than usual, just to have some well deserved alone time with his fiance.

He nods his head between them, down to the little girl that’s snuggled against their sides. Y/N purses her lips, blinking back the sleep she desperately needs, and nods.

She shuffles on the sofa, turning her attention to Daisy while Harry pauses the movie. Daisy is quick to frown, something that makes a slight smile creep across her mother’s lips.

“But the doggy!” she whines.

Harry gently lifts her from under her arms and pulls her backwards, so she’s settled in his lap. He keeps his arms around her small middle as they both face Y/N.

“We can watch the doggy in a minute, Dais. Mummy and Daddy have something very exciting to tell you.”

Daisy’s eyes light up, dazzling with curiosity and excitement. “Are we getting a doggy?” She shrieks, hands clapping as she bounces in Harry’s lap. He bites back a loving laugh and pulls her closer to keep her still.

Harry kisses the top of her head, and Y/N reaches to stroke Daisy’s clothed feet.

“No, sweetheart. Not a puppy.”

She frowns, can’t possibly understand what could be more exciting than getting a puppy.

Harry gives her body a gentle squeeze, his eyes on Y/N as she takes another shaky breath. “Mummy’s got a baby in her belly.” He whispers to the four-year-old.

It takes a moment, then another. Daisy doesn’t make a sound, barely even cringes at the mention of a baby. She’s been around enough of them through cousins and family friends to know how needy and clingy and whiney they are.

A frown starts to etch onto Harry’s face as Y/N’s lips part. Why has she not said anything?

“Baby?” she finally repeats, eyes now glued to her mother’s clothed stomach and Y/N nods her head, hands instinctively reaching for her middle.

Harry’s eyes begin to well, can’t believe how perfect his life has become. The woman of his dreams, two children of his own.

“Yeah, petal. Baby in Mummy’s belly.”

He frowns down at his little girl, worries fogging his senses and his heart beating sporadically against his chest. Harry holds her closer, eyes shifting to Y/N, who looks completely distraught.

“But Harry won’t be my Daddy anymore.”

It feels like the world around them has shattered, can’t hear anything but white noise. Harry struggles to swallow down the need to throw up, and Y/N can’t make sense of anything around her.

Does she think Harry won’t be her father anymore?

A chill runs down his spine. He hasn’t heard Daisy call him Harry in two years.

Harry makes quick work of spinning her around in his lap, standing her on the sofa, so she’s looking at him. Daisy’s face is red, blotchy with tears, and she’s started crying so hard she’s given herself hiccups.

He wipes her eyes. “‘Nough of that, petal. I’m always gonna be your Daddy. Where’s this come from?”

Y/N shuffles closer, somehow managing to sit wedged in Harry’s side as she reaches for her daughter, too. She rubs her back soothingly, one hand intertwined with Harry’s.

Daisy shrugs, bottom lip pouted out and quivering. Y/N and Harry never want to see her so upset again.

“Because the baby is Styles, and-and I’m not! And Daddy will love the baby more than me because the baby is Styles like Daddy, but I’m Y/L/N like Mummy. And Mummy will be Styles at the wedding, so I’ll be all alone, and you won’t love me anymore, and I won’t have a Mummy or Daddy.”

She bursts into a fiery fit of tears, unable to stop her entire little body from trembling as the sobs wrack through her. Though both parents struggle to keep their tears at bay, neither of them can seem to help the amusement that trickles across their lips.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Y/N coos.

Harry holds her close, peppering kisses to her cheeks and refusing to let go, heart crushed at the raw sobs that sound through the living room.

“Daddy is going to love baby Styles just as much as he loves you, Dais. You’re always gonna be my little girl,” he promises wholeheartedly, but Daisy isn’t having any of it.

“But I want to be Styles, too! I want to be Styles like Mummy and Daddy and baby.” She wails out breathlessly, face now bright red as she struggles to catch her breath.

Y/N and Harry meet each other's gaze, blinking once, then twice. She wants to be a Styles.

Never once has Daisy said anything about her last name being different from Harry’s. Never once has she related the name difference to him not really being her father, and Y/N doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Okay… we’ll call you Daisy Styles from now on then,” Harry suggests to her, and though it’s a decent proposition, it’s not quite official enough for Daisy.

She wipes her arms and shifts in his hold, now looking between both of her parents and they give her a moment to compose herself, catch her breath and calm her thoughts.

“And my teachers and doctors and everyone! I want everyone to call me Daisy Styles!”

They look to each other, a warm smile spreading across Harry’s lips and Daisy watches them silently converse with wide eyes. Y/N raises a brow, a quirk in the corner of her lips and Harry nods softly, a broad smile breaking across his face.

“Okay,” Y/N breathes.

Daisy’s eyes light up, her back straightening as she quickly wipes her face and sniffles back any remaining tears. Harry squeezes his fiance’s hand, raising it to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“We will get the paperwork and change your name to Daisy Styles. But, you have to promise to be a nice big sister to the baby.”

She nods, quick and eager. Daisy throws her arms around both of her parents, jumping on the sofa between them, and Harry thinks he could fucking burst.

Daisy and Baby Styles.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #wilay

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serasvictoria · 7 months

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Title: The Hair

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve returns from a roadtrip with Eddie with longer hair than usual and it really, really works for you.

Word Count: 8849

Content warning: 18+ only. Minors dni. Smut. Oral sex (f receiving). Vaginal fingering. Hair pulling (that one's a given). Swearing. Teasing. Overstimulation. Masturbation (m receiving). Nicknames (not a Y/N in sight). Reader is kinda shy at times, because you know… Steve.

Notes: This fic has been based entirely on those pictures of Joe in Finalmente L'Alba. You know the ones that I’m talking about.

Beta read by @adrille88 ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Robin’s cackle could be heard throughout the room. One hour in and she still thought that it was the funniest thing that she had ever seen.

“Yeah, Robs, I know.” Even though you couldn’t see Steve’s face from this angle, you could tell that he was rolling his eyes. “Very funny.”

“I can’t help it.” She collapses into another fit of giggles and slumps into Vickie’s side. “It’s just so long.”

And it was. Steve’s hair had gotten significantly longer during his time away and it had been the first thing that everyone present had commented on when they saw him during this little “welcome back” celebration.

Steve and Eddie had gone on a road trip when the latter had finally graduated, a small celebration for the boy who had ventured past state lines only once before when he had gone to Chicago, and they’d been gone for almost three months.

They kept in touch through postcards, most of which were stuck to Robin and Chrissy’s fridge with some of the ugliest kitschy magnets that you had ever seen, but none of the hastily scribbled messages on the cards ever mentioned anything about Steve’s current hair situation.

“Getting a haircut wasn’t that important,” Steve sighed, “but Jesus, I’ll get it done tomorrow if you keep acting like this.”

A harsh noise, a gasp of alarm, escapes from your lips and you don’t even notice that you’ve done it until you see that several eyes are on you. You try to save face by shrugging and turning your head away from Steve’s luscious locks, but when Eddie sniggers loudly you know that you had failed to make your small outburst look like it was nothing.

“Okay,” Robin says, eyebrows arched with obvious amusement. “Yeah, I guess you could do that, Stevie, but maybe hold off on it for a while? It might grow on me.”

“As long as you stop pulling my hair,” he mumbles under his breath, “it stopped being funny about an hour ago.”

“Yeah, to you,” Robin counters. “But not to me.”

Her hand reaches for his hair again, already grinning, not being particularly subtle about her intentions. Steve jerks away from her and suddenly they’re caught in something that would look like a minor scuffle to outsiders, but everyone that’s present knows that it’s more akin to a playful round of roughhousing between siblings.

“Careful, careful!” Chrissy calls out when they narrowly miss the second hand coffee table, almost spilling the drinks and snacks all over the floor. “It’s not like we can replace stuff if you guys break it.”

“Yeah, you ruffians, break it up.” Eddie materializes between the duo, coming to Chrissy’s rescue and making a T-shape with his hands to signify a time-out. Robin still manages to reach around him to give one final yank on Steve’s hair. “Fuck’s sake, Buckley. Don’t break the serious sanctity of the time-out.”

Robin barks out a laugh. “Oh, is that what it was? Thought that was the T of… the T of…”

While Robin was grappling to come up with a word that began with the letter T that could be applied to the current situation, you slipped into the small kitchen.

Maybe you would do better if you gave yourself a little time out from Steve’s, quite frankly mesmerizing, long hair.

It has been a few years since you had been this preoccupied with his hair. It was the main topic of conversation in high school after all, a source of desire and yes, envy for some, as well. Because a boy with hair that great? There were many girls that would have killed to have the same amount of volume and texture.

You were safely tucked into the desire camp however. How could you not be? Steve was gorgeous.

Is gorgeous.

There‘s no denying the fact that that stupid teenage crush that you had on him is still present. The only difference now is that your long friendship with Vickie has brought you a lot closer to Steve than you had ever been before.

When you hear movement behind you, you think that it’s her at first, coming to find you to gush about something funny that Robin had done or said in private, but when you hear someone who is distinctly male clear their throat instead, you realize that you have no such luck.

“What are you hiding out in here for?”

Your eyes go wide as saucers when you turn to face him and Steve actually holds his hands up in an attempt to look less threatening, making you aware of the fact that you must look terrified.

“N-nothing.” Your reaction was more down to being in extremely close vicinity to him, because of the size of the kitchen. There was barely any space between you already and he was only standing in the doorway. “It was just… a bit crowded?” You frown, because that wasn’t the word that you were looking for. “I mean, that’s not exactly what I-“

“Rowdy?” Steve offers up helpfully.

“Yes!” Your exclamation makes you cover your mouth with your hand, shocking yourself with your small outburst, and when Steve laughs, you can feel your cheeks heat up from the potential embarrassment. “But a fun rowdy? If that makes sense?”

“A bit,” he admits. “That’s just what me and Robin are like. We bring it out in each other I guess and the hair definitely doesn’t help.”

“N-no,” you stutter as your attention is brought to his hair once more and you can’t help but bite your bottom lip as you stare. “It’s definitely distracting.” You try to stop there, really you do, but you still end up blurting out, “In a good way.”

Groaning softly, you attempt to cover your entire face with your hand. If the ground could swallow you up right this instance that would be great. Naturally, that doesn’t happen, but when you peek through your fingers, you see that Steve hasn’t left. He’s merely standing there, arms crossed in front of his chest and his head is tilted to the side, his brow pensive as if he’s deep in thought.

Clearing your throat, you shake your head as if you could shake off the awkwardness from moments before. Your eyes dart to Steve’s hair again and his gaze turns more curious when he notices.

“Okay,” he finally says with raised eyebrows. “Interesting.”

“What is?”

“You,” he counters swiftly and you can see his brow furrow. He looks like he wants to slap himself. “I mean, your response. It’s pretty telling, you know.” Getting called out on your obvious attraction to him wasn’t something that you had been expecting, yet here you were, and Steve doesn’t look disgusted. If anything, he almost looks more interested. “And don’t try to deny it, I’m not an idiot.”

“Never thought you were.”

Sometimes people liked to point out Steve’s lack of intelligence, even back in high school because he didn’t really excel academically. The prevailing image of him being a dumb jock was ridiculous anyway. His grades were alright. Not top of the class, but he wasn’t at the bottom either.

They were above average most of the time, but when his grades dropped after Nancy broke up with him, everyone seemed to treat it as confirmation of what people had been saying behind his back all along. He still managed to pick himself up when exams rolled along, but it hadn’t helped sway opinion much.

It was an opinion that you did not share however.

Steve was smart. The information that interested him was just different. A conversation that he had with Lucas Sinclair on sports earlier only confirmed it.

Batting averages rolled off his tongue like they were nothing, even going as far as remembering what Wade Boggs’ average was back in ‘82. Name a Major League player and Steve would know exactly why he was better or worse than another player.

Same thing for basketball and ice hockey. You had even overheard him talking about volleyball once. Technically, it was women’s beach volleyball, but it still counted.

The only sports that Steve didn’t seem to care for were soccer and lacrosse. You highly suspected that the only reason that he didn’t like lacrosse was because his dad used to play it in college, apparently. That was a nice little piece of information that you had gained from Robin in Steve’s absence.

“True,” he smiles. “Don’t recall you ever saying anything about that.”

How he would know that was anybody’s guess, seeing how you must have been nothing more than another face in the school hallways, but you don’t question it. For a couple of seconds you even find yourself believing that he would have noticed you, however impossible that may seem.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Steve,” you smile back. The awkwardness has finally settled. Maybe you can actually be normal around him for once. “Anyway.” You turn back to the cans and bottles on the counter and make a sweeping gesture with your arm. “What’s your poison?”

“Think I’ll have-“

Steve treats your question as permission to step into the kitchen. Your breath catches in your throat, when he leans in closer, making you turn the front of your body to the counter.

He eagerly takes advantage of this and puts his hand on your lower back. You feel his hand slide down, can feel his fingers flex as they settle right above the curve of your ass. His face comes into view next to you and he keeps his eyes on yours as his right hand reaches towards the cans blindly.

“-this one.”

“Apple Slice?” Tearing his eyes away from your face to look at the can that he was holding, his expression flashes to one of brief disappointment, which makes you snort in obvious amusement. He was clearly going for one of the cans of Blue Ribbon behind it, but that was not what he ended up with. You stifle a laugh and add, “Wow. Didn’t know you liked that stuff.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Steve opens the can and takes a sip, deciding to stick with his (accidental) choice. If it wasn’t for the fact that his nose crinkled in disgust, you might even have believed him. “I drink it all the time.”

“Sure you do.” You take the can of beer that he had his eye on and hold it out to him. “I’ll trade you.”

“Nah, I’ll pass.” He leans against the counter right next to where you’re standing. “I love this stuff, everybody knows that.”

“Sure they do,” you laugh. “That’s why you’ve been drinking it all night.”

“How would you even know what I’ve been drinking? You been keeping an eye on me?”

“What?” Your cheeks suddenly feel so hot that you swear that they’ve just caught fire. You hold the can against your cheek in the hopes of cooling yourself down, but the can’s lukewarm so it doesn’t help one bit. “No! Wh-why would I- I was just assuming, okay?”

The implication of his words were to poke fun at you, but you panicked all the same. You know what you wanted it to be, but there was no chance in hell that Steve Harrington was flirting with you.

No way. Impossible.

“Relax,” he replies, his voice softer suddenly as if he was doing his utmost not to spook you. “I was joking.”

You breathe a sigh of relief when he confirms it, calm setting in once more. Who knew that talking to Steve could have this effect on you. You would have liked to have been able to display a much cooler aura, but that persona seemed to have jumped out of you and ran for the hills the second that Steve came closer to you.

Not that you had ever been like that at all, but still.

“Do you want this or not?” you blurt out and you hold the can up just in case he thought that you were offering up something else. “Last chance.”

“Fine.” Steve takes it this time, your fingers brushing together when he trades cans with you. “But only because you were desperate.”

“I’m not-“ When Steve stifles a laugh, you turn your head in the opposite direction and find yourself staring at a grocery list that’s hanging on the old fridge. “Not funny.”

“Oh, come on. I couldn’t help myself, you’re real cute when you’re flustered.” You turn your entire body away from him, but you’re only doing it to hide your growing smile from him. “Seriously? You’re not talking to me?” You shake your head and he lets out a soft groan. “I was willing to give you my best puppy dog eyes, too.”

“Y-you were?”

“She speaks! But yes, I was.” You chew on your bottom lip to stop yourself from saying anything, because you don’t want to seem too eager. “In fact, I’m still going to do it. I think that you’ve earned it.”

When you finally turn around to face him once more, you’re subjected to the full force of his hazel eyes (looking every bit like he’d gotten private lessons from doe-eyed Eddie Munson), and his bottom lip is pushed out into a pout. He looks silly and adorable all at once.

“You look ridiculous,” you giggle. “Stop doing that.”

“No way,” he says with a smirk. “I can keep this up all night if I have to.”

“Really?” The prospect of being subjected to it all night makes your heart swell about three sizes inside your chest. “I’d like to see you try.”

Steve bats his eyelashes in quick succession a couple of times until you’re laughing and you swat at his chest in an attempt to make him stop. He instantly makes a grab for your hand and keeps it pressed against his sternum.

The distance between the two of you closes somewhat, but Steve still leaves some space on the off chance that you might want to pull away.

It’s quite possibly the last thing on your mind.

The only thing that you’re thinking of is what Steve’s hair would feel like if you ran your fingers through it and if you’d get a chance to-

“Oh.” Chrissy’s voice pulls you out of the trance that Steve has put you under and you take a step away from him immediately. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“No,” you blurt out.

“Yes,” Steve says at the same time.

“I’d offer to leave, but I live here,” Chrissy giggles melodically. “Give me a sec and I’ll get out of your hair though,” she adds with a wink in your direction.

“Oh no, you don’t have to…” You’re suddenly embarrassed that Chrissy might think that something was happening (it was but you didn’t quite want to believe it just yet). The idea of the former cheerleader offering to leave what was essentially her shared kitchen was too much to bear. “I should- erm-“ Your eyes fall on Steve, who looks more amused than anything else. “Talk to you later.”

When you leave to rejoin your friends in the neighboring living room, you can just about make out another one of Chrissy’s amused giggles and Steve’s hushed apology, but you don’t stick around to hear what he’s apologizing for.

The pair enters the living room a few short minutes later, Steve’s eyes immediately find you before Dustin Henderson almost rugby tackles him and pulls him into a conversation that he had been having with Eddie.

Over the following hours whenever you would hazard a glance in Steve’s direction, you would find that he was looking at you already and he flashes you the sad puppy dog eyes without fail every single time. Whenever he makes you laugh, a smug smile materializes on his handsome face, as if he just achieved something grand.

You don’t find yourself alone with Steve again though, making you think that the small moment that you had before had passed and entirely ignoring that it was more down to yourself ensuring that there was no opportunity for him to get you alone. You were in no mood to make yourself look like a fool any further.

The hours tick by until it’s almost twelve midnight and as if on cue, Robin started yawning loudly and exaggeratedly, to make sure that everyone knew that she was getting tired.

All talk then turns to who had come by car and who could drop who off.

Somehow, in the discussion that followed it, it had been decided that you would ride with Steve. How this decision had been made was a mystery to you since you lived nowhere near him and lived only a few blocks from Nancy Wheeler, but when you tried to bring that up, you were told that there was no more room in Nancy’s car. Apparently.

The little glances that several people shared was something that you failed to notice entirely, but if you had noticed you might have figured out that the entire thing had been orchestrated very carefully by your friends, by Vickie and Robin in particular.

There was no amount of planning that could get you in the passenger seat next to Steve though, because Dustin had called shotgun from the moment that he had insisted that he ride with Steve’s car (and had dragged a bewildered Lucas along with him).

When you got in the backseat next to Lucas, you breathed a little sigh of relief that you were not sitting in the front with Steve however, half-knowing that you would end up being a stiff mess for the entire ride. The back was safer, darker, and above all, a little bit further away from Steve.

The rest of the ride is pleasant. Dustin keeps talking about everything and nothing to fill Steve in about what he missed while he was away, even though he must have heard most of it this evening already.

They act more like siblings than anything else, though if you had to be honest, you had seen Steve act similarly towards some of the other teenagers that were present which had only endeared him to you further.

When Lucas is dropped off first, he and Steve make promises to watch a football game together soon, and he drops Dustin off not long after. Similar promises are made, but they’re more of the ‘give us a ride to the arcade’ kind than anything else.

As soon as Dustin closes the door behind him, you’re shifting in the backseat, thinking it would be too odd to keep sitting there all alone. You can be brave for a short while, you’d only be in the car for a few minutes after all.

As soon as you’re moving to open the door, your hand jerks away from the handle when Steve starts driving again.

“Steve!” His eyes find yours in the rearview mirror, not so much saying ‘what?’ with his mouth, but with his eyes instead. “I was going to sit up front.”

“You don’t have to,” he answers simply.

“You’ll look like my driver like this,” you grumble slightly. “It’ll look weird.”

“Really? You’re worried about that?” Steve chuckles and you don’t really notice that he just took the wrong turn. “There’s hardly anyone around right now.”

“You don’t know that.” You lean forward in your seat, your hand coming down to rest on his chair, your fingers close to his shoulder. “There’s this old guy on my street that’s always keeping ta- hey. This isn’t the way to my house.”

“Just taking a little detour,” Steve grins, not willing to divulge any more than that.

The road that he’s currently on takes you out of town and he looks at your face out of the corner of his eye, catches how your eyes widen significantly when you realize where he’s taking you.

“To Lover’s Lake?”

Saying it out loud sounded insane.

Steve Harrington appeared to be taking you to Lover’s Lake.

You.

“Been there before?” It was a question that he knew he shouldn’t ask, but it was out of his mouth before he noticed it. “You don’t have t-“

“Once,” you reply honestly. You catch the little flash of jealousy in his eyes before the streetlights fade out completely and the car hits the dirt road. “With Pete Tanner.”

“No way,” Steve says with a slight mocking laugh. “He’s such a dick.”

“Tell me about it,” you scoff. “He spent about half an hour groping me and assuring me that he knew what he was doing, which he didn't, I might add! I gave him a handjob just to get him to stop. It was a disaster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, it was awful.” The experience had been so off putting that you had turned down every other offer of ‘hanging out’ there that you had gotten after it. This was your first time going back there in two years. “He tried to get me to go with him again the next week, but I shot him down so bad that he never talked to me again.”

“Well, unlike him, I do know what I’m doing.”

Steve didn’t even have to elaborate on that, the stories that floated around about him were pretty positive in regards to that aspect after all. It kind of stopped when his star dropped in his last year of high school, but it had done nothing to diminish his reputation. If you wanted to have a good time, Steve was your man.

“I know, Steve,” you say finally, your voice softer and decidedly more shy.

“You do?”

“Girls talk,” you clarify, even if he must have known where you had gotten it from. “It’s not just guys that talk about their conquests, the girls do, too. I’ve heard plenty of stories about you before.” You fidget with the hemline of your shirt just to have a reason to avert your eyes. “So. I know.”

“You don’t,” he chuckles. “You really don’t, but you’ll find out soon enough.”

You know that he’s right, because no amount of gossip would be able to prepare you for, well… him.

“And for the record, I don’t talk so whatever happens here tonight stays between you and me.” When he cuts the engine, you look out the window to see that he had already parked the car near the shore of the lake. Steve unclasps his safety belt, turns in his seat and fully faces you. “Now, I’m going to get into the backseat with you and then I’m going to kiss you, because I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“For how long?”

“How long am I going to kiss you for? As long as you’ll let me.”

“Damn,” you say under your breath and you can feel your body temperature rising in anticipation. “B-but I meant, how long have you wanted to kiss me for?”

Steve doesn’t answer your question immediately. Instead he switches the car radio on and turns the dial until he finds a radio station that’s to his liking. As soon as the sounds of soft rock start playing, he gets out of the front seat and opens the door that Lucas got out of a couple of minutes previous. He slides in next to you just as Roxy Music’s Avalon starts playing.

“A while,” he says simply whilst closing the door behind him. “You think I never noticed you or something?”

“I’m not exactly-“ You gesture with your hand and try your best to avoid saying the names of any of his exes, who you definitely don’t resemble in any way. “You know.”

“No, I don’t know.” He moves in closer until his thigh is pressing into yours. His left hand moves towards your face and you close your eyes when his fingertips skim over your jaw. “You’re pretty.” He says it very matter of factly, as if you should have been aware of it before he told you. “Thought you were pretty in high school, too.”

“Really?” You open your eyes and when you see that his face is a lot closer than you were expecting it to be, you jerk away and inadvertently knock the back of your head against the window. “Ow.”

“Christ, you’re like a baby deer,” he says with a laugh. “So skittish.”

“Sorry.” You rub the back of your skull automatically, but it doesn’t hurt much. “I can’t help it. I blame you.”

“What did I do?” He leans back against the seats, making his long hair flop over his forehead and partially covering his eyes. “I’m just trying to make out with the pretty girl that’s been making eyes at me all night.”

“Said I was sorry,” you whisper.

You don’t think that Steve has ever looked more gorgeous to you than he does in this exact moment and it’s scrambling your brain. You can feel your cheeks burn and your first reaction is to hide your face behind your hands. Your fingers are parted, however, so you can still see Steve’s face.

“No you’re not.”

“I am.” His fingers encircle your wrists and he slowly but gently pulls your hands away from your face. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” He brings your hands up to his mouth and your breath hitches when he presses his lips to the tips of your fingers. “Huh?”

“For being like this. For not being… confident.”

“You think you need to say sorry for that?” His mouth drags down over your digits towards your palms and you swear you can feel his tongue darting out against your skin. “It’s a fucking turn-on.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I’m not usually- not li-“ He presses a light kiss to your wrist and it makes your stomach flip. The rest of the sentence comes out with a slight groan. “I’m never this bad.”

“You were confident enough earlier.”

“This is different.”

And it was. Being in a car with Steve and there being no possibility of anyone interrupting you changes things significantly. Earlier in the kitchen, there were no expectations, it was just some gentle back-and-forth flirting, you know that now, as you tried to get a feel for one another.

There were definitely expectations now, a chance of things going much further than before, and it was filling your stomach with butterflies and your brain with cotton wool. Being this close to Steve was making it hard to have any coherent thoughts whatsoever.

“Different how?” He looks up at you then, pausing his trail of kisses. You can feel his thumbs on your wrists, making soothing circular motions while you try to find your words.

“I didn’t think that we were… you know… going to do anything.”

“What else do people do at Lover’s Lake?”

“I don’t know!” That was a lie, because you did know. Everyone in town knew what happened at Lover’s Lake and Skull Rock. Maybe if you had lived under a rock these last few years, you could have been completely ignorant to it, but you knew. “Maybe you wanted to take me stargazing.”

“Baby, I want to make you see stars, but I wasn’t planning on taking you outside.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “That’s the kinda thing that’s-“

“Making you shy?” He laughs then, knowing full well how to get you flustered. “You thought I didn’t know that? You’re one of the only girls that would blush and giggle whenever I subjected you to my whole ‘ocean of flavor’ bullshit at Scoops.”

“No way was I the only one.” Other girls giggled and twirled their hair at him, too. You saw them ahead of you in line and found yourself unfairly hating the girls that were confident enough to write their phone numbers on a napkin so they could slide it over to him. “No way.”

“Okay, maybe not, but you were definitely the cutest one. You could barely look me in the eye and then Vickie would have to order for you instead. It was cute as hell.” You burst out laughing at his confession. “You okay now?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m going to kiss you silly now.” A small affirmative noise in the back of your throat is all that you manage to offer in terms of a reply when Steve leans in closer. He pauses when he’s close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your face. “Still okay?” You nod, but he’s not letting you off the hook that easily. “With words please.”

“I-I am,” you stutter, “I’m great.”

“You sure? Because you don’t look it,” he grins mischievously. He swipes a finger from the top of your spine up to your hairline. You could feel the heat there before, where some wisps of hair had stuck to your skin, and now he can feel it too. “You coming down with somethin’?”

The only thing that you manage to do is huff in annoyance, words of disagreement already on your tongue, threatening to spill out. There’s not much chance for them to do so, because he takes the opportunity to kiss you now.

It’s a light peck. Just to get things started. No more, no less. But you let out a content sigh all the same. It makes Steve smile again, the ease with which he can read you amusing him to no end.

You whine in displeasure, already impatient that Steve’s making you wait for more.

“Relax, baby,” he breathes against your parted lips, “I was only teasing.”

He starts kissing you in earnest a split second later. And boy, can Steve Harrington kiss.

You had heard the stories, plenty of them, all of them overheard as other girls tried to outdo their friends, but none of their descriptions lived up to the real thing.

Feeling his lips on yours is making you tingle, as if electricity is coursing through him and it’s literally making sparks fly whenever he kisses you. When you feel his hand on your neck, his thumb on the corner of your jaw and his pinkie on your collar bone, it makes your skin prickle there, too.

His tongue swipes over the crease of your mouth and he does it again when you don’t grant him access quickly enough. It makes you feel better that Steve is just as impatient as you seem to be.

When his tongue finally delves into your mouth, you find that he tastes like the beer that he had earlier, but more surprising are the citrus undertones, the ones that are also sticking to his skin whenever you breathe in deeply through your nose. You can practically feel the oranges explode on your lips and the juices penetrate your mouth.

You wonder how much of that is down to your imagination or if Steve does indeed taste faintly of ripe oranges.

He’s blissfully unaware as to what’s going through your mind as your tongues slide over each other. All that he knows is that he wants more than what you’re offering him right now.

Your lips part and he presses his forehead against yours. You’re breathing heavily and you swallow hard enough for him to hear it. Your exhales intermingle with the hot air that’s coming from him, you feel it curl over your lips and spread outward over your cheeks.

Steve nudges the tip of his nose against yours and you both huff a laugh. You wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him like he’s a lifeline. He says nothing about it, but merely keeps looking at you and waits for your breathing to even out.

“Hey,” he finally says, “you still okay?”

“Perfect.” You tilt your chin up until your lips touch again and you murmur against his mouth, “You got me all lightheaded.”

“From a kiss?” When you nod, he chuckles softly. “That’s nothing.”

You’re a little bit more prepared when he dives back in again, your lips crashing back into each other as he hits you full force. You can’t get enough of him and it feels like the feeling is very much mutual.

Confidence floods back into you, all because you’re with him right now, because he seems to have picked you. He noticed you, well before this night apparently, and it was making you more bold, more powerful.

You start pushing back a bit, your teeth nipping at his lips, your tongue pushing into his mouth until you have him going all breathless instead. You can feel him shudder when you press your hand against his stomach, the muscles twitching under your palm.

Not wanting to be outdone, Steve takes back control a little by putting his hands on your hips and sliding them to the back until he’s grabbing two handfuls of your ass. You squeak when he lifts you up from the seat, making you plant your hands against the roof of the car, head tilting backwards and opening up your neck which he immediately latches on to with his lips.

“Ah.” Your head is spinning, already drunk on him and the way that he’s leaving gentle kisses on the column of your throat definitely isn’t helping. When he starts sucking on your pulse point, you moan his name, “Steve.”

“Right there?” You heave a sigh when he does it again and soon he’s putting more suction on your skin as if he’s trying to mark you. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Yeah, I like it.”

“Thought so,” he says in between open mouthed kisses. “Love those noises you’re making, baby. You gonna make more of them for me?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

“Wouldn’t be able to stop anyway,” you pant in reply. “Fuck, Steve.”

“Like that,” he says, voice sounding needy and heated. “Just like that.”

Nothing but a string of whines tumble from your lips as Steve continues his assault on your neck, but his mouth keeps moving down lower until it hits the collar of your shirt. He pulls it down as far as it can go so he can lick the dip above your sternum before veering outward to the parts of your collarbones that he managed to uncover.

Your hips are grinding against nothing at all, desperately needing some kind of friction, hoping that Steve will take the hint since his hands are still on your ass and nothing seems to be able to make them move.

When they finally shift, you breathe a sigh of relief, because you can finally feel his long fingers on the front of your body, gliding up your torso until they’re touching the underwire of your bra… where they then come to a complete standstill again.

The constant teasing is really starting to get to you. You’re so ridiculously hot for the guy that you swear you’ll scorch your way from the leather upholstery all the way down to the chassis.

It would appear that Steve is able to tell that you’re seconds away from reaching your limit however.

Your back is pushed against the door until there’s nothing left for you to do but sit in the seat sideways facing him. Steve follows you and soon he’s sitting on his knees between your parted legs. His hands are on your knees and he slides them down the inside of your denim clad thighs, fingers dancing over the inside seam, down towards where you’re searing hot for him.

Your hips push up instinctively, only to feel his digits move upwards to your hips, missing where you wanted to feel them the most completely.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, “not yet.”

When you pout, he chuckles and you highly suspect that he likes seeing you like that a little bit too much, seeing how something like this has happened a couple of times already.

Sweet merciful release comes when he finally slides his hands under your shirt and cups your breasts through the rather plain white bra that you’re wearing. He pulls the cotton cups down and you arch your back into his palms when you feel his warm skin against yours.

“Baby, could you-“ Before he could finish his sentence, you were already leaning forward, grabbing the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it into the front seat. “Someone’s eager,” he grins as he gets his first view at your (almost) bare chest. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

You grab at his shoulders, tugging on his shirt, but he surges forward to smash his lips into yours first before whipping his shirt off with the same level of eagerness as you had taken off yours. His shirt joins yours in the front, hanging over the steering wheel.

Your hand shakes slightly when you reach for him, the palm of your hand connecting with his bare chest. You had seen him like this plenty of times when he was still the swim team captain, like so many other girls that came to cheer him on during high school, but you had never thought that you would be able to touch him like this.

There’s barely enough time for you to run your hand from his clavicle down to the top of his jeans before he kisses you hungrily again. He barely allows you time to breathe and every time that your lips part, you’re taking in large gulps of air, almost forgetting to breathe entirely if it wasn’t for your burning lungs alerting you to the fact that air was desperately needed.

“Steve,” you whine when his chest hair rubs against your hardened nipples.

“I know, baby,” he replies and before you know it, his hands are on your jeans, undoing the button and tugging them down your legs. Your underwear comes along with them, but you could care less. When he realizes that your lower half is bare, his eyes widen a fraction, barely visible from the faint green glow of his car stereo. “Let me look at you. All of you.”

Taking the hint, you reach around your back to take your bra off and playfully throw it right at him. He brushes it off the leather seat and it slides down to the floor, where you think you’ll leave it when he drops you off at the end of the night, just to give him something to remember you by.

You put your hands on your knees and slowly start pulling your legs apart, baring yourself to him completely. Steve’s eyes drop to the apex of your thighs, his hunger for you plain to see on his face, even in the mostly dark car.

One leg slips off the bench and you push the other one up, hooking your ankle over the headrest. You sigh, contented and warmed by his gaze, and your hands glide over your thighs, until they come to a stop on the lower part of your belly.

“Well, fuck,” Steve finally growls. “Pretty as a picture.”

Rushing forward, he’s on top of you in a flash, lips smashed together and his hands massaging your tits. His hips undulate against yours, the zipper of his fly catching your clit until you’re gasping and sighing into his mouth. You wrap your legs around his hips, the balls of your feet digging into his ass, pulling him closer into you until you’re sure that you must have soaked through the thick fabric of his jeans.

It’s embarrassing how fast you come like this, with his pants still on, but when Steve leans his forehead against yours so you can just make out his winning smile, you know that this was probably his intention all along.

His lips hit the corner of your mouth, then your chin, and then he starts kissing a trail down your body that’s still glowing until you feel his tongue circling one of your nipples before he takes it into his mouth and sucks on it.

Your hands shoot to the back of his head, your fingers tangling through the strands of his hair, and making sure he stays right where he is. He obliges, not moving until you pull him to your other breast, where he does the exact same thing.

Steve moves back and forth like this for a while until you can feel his fingers touching your clit which makes you pull on his hair harder than you had intended.

But it doesn’t seem to be nearly hard enough for Steve.

“Come on, baby. Pull,” he husks against your skin. You twist your fingers through the thick strands and do as he asks, but it’s still not good enough. “That’s all you got? Harder.”

Grabbing a handful of his hair, you pull so hard that his cheek knocks into one of your breasts. You can feel the corner of his mouth that’s pressed against your skin curl up into a smile, obviously pleased. It makes you repeat the motion, only this time you pull him to the side until his chin is resting on your sternum.

“You want to guide me?” His hands slip underneath your thighs before you even manage to nod, fingers digging into your flesh. “Do it. I dare you.”

“Think that I won’t?”

“Oh no, I know you will,” he grins.

“You want me to tell you what to do?”

“You could. I might even listen.” Despite what he says, it’s painstakingly clear that he will do whatever you tell him to do. “Just figured that it would be more fun if you’d just yank on my hair until my lips are on your pussy.”

Shifting your hand to the top of his head, you push him down. His tongue darts out of his mouth and the tip of it touches your heated skin, creating a path as he’s on his way down.

When you can feel his breath hit your mound, you stop, just to see what he would do. Steve doesn’t move, but simply hovers above you, completely still and waiting for you to guide him the last few inches.

The last push is rough, your impatience showing once more, and now he’s completely level with your cunt. Whenever he exhales through his nose, you can feel it hitting your center and since his breath is a lot cooler than the heat that’s burning between your thighs, he makes you squirm with every outward breath.

The wait is agonizing and since he wanted you to be his guide, you briefly wonder whether you should just grab a handful of his hair and push his face down, but he takes you completely by surprise by spitting on you instead.

The loud moan that bursts from your lips surprises you both. You can feel his saliva dripping down and mixing with your own fluids.

“You like that?” He breathes against your thigh when he hazards a glance to look up at your face. “Feel good?”

“Yeah,” you moan, “real good. Don’t stop, Steve.”

“I won’t.” He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit with the flat of his tongue and your hips jerk upwards to chase his mouth when his tongue stops making contact with you. “I’ll give you what you want. Promise.”

“Counting on it.”

Steve practically dives in and devours you. His tongue hits all the right places, the tip of his nose making contact with your swollen clit whenever his mouth dips further down.

What he can do with his mouth is damn near sinful. He’s so good at eating you out that he has reduced you to nothing but sharp yelps and loud mewls in a matter of seconds.

He’s licking up every drop of your juices like a man starved, like you’re the never-ending dessert of a three course dinner, something that keeps regenerating and keeps making him hungry for more.

The pads of two of his fingers prod at your entrance, applying the slightest amount of pressure, just to make you aware of what he’s about to do, which provides a sharp contrast to the speed with which his tongue is batting at your clit.

“Please, Steve,” you cry out, begging already. “Need it so bad.”

There’s no reply, save from the slow slide of his fingers into your entrance. Your walls constrict them instantly, sucking them in deeper. Your back arches, pushing yourself away from the door, until his free hand presses down on your stomach to make sure you can’t move.

Since you can’t do much else, you grab at his hair and yank harder than before, until he moans against you and rams his fingers into you as far as they can go. He curls them up against your sweet spot until you’re gasping for air, jolts of electricity coursing from your cunt throughout your body. You can feel it all the way down to the tips of your curling toes.

“Oh, Steve,” you gasp when he covers your clit with his lips and sucks. Your thighs clench together, gripping his head between them. It makes him moan loudly and the added vibrations are what ultimately push you over the edge. “Ohgodohgodohhhh- Steve!”

Your climax hits you so suddenly that it’s almost as if Steve’s car just got hit by a truck and you’re seconds away from smashing straight through the windshield. You’re not, of course, but Steve makes you come so hard that it’s almost too easy to imagine.

Despite the fact that he’s just given you an earth-shattering climax, he’s still going, but you barely notice at first. You’re practically floating, soaring all the way up in seventh heaven, miles above the car, completely elsewhere as the aftershocks still pulsate through your body.

The muscles in your thighs are still shaking, Steve can feel them clench and unclench under his tight grip as he keeps them wide open. Your stomach keeps tightening as the waves of pleasure keep coming, your brain all fuzzy like you’ve just spent most of your evening getting high.

By the time that your head’s finally clear, in the process of shaking off the indescribable buzz, you become aware of what he’s doing, what he's still doing.

The sounds of pleasure quickly change to overstimulated whines instead. You try to push him away, but your muscles are made of jelly and he only proceeds to grip your thighs tighter, keeping them apart with so much force that you fear you’ll have neat little bruises where his fingers were digging into your flesh come morning.

The more noise you make, literally begging him to stop now because “you can’t” does nothing to stop him. If anything, it only makes him go at you harder, pushing his tongue as far into your quivering channel as he can, until you’re crying his name.

“Steve, Steve, Steveeeeee…”

Your voice breaks and you start keening, your fingers attempting to push him away and keep him right where he is at the same time. You swear that you can feel him smile against your abused pussy, but you’re so out of it that you can’t be entirely sure.

Steve manages to pull another climax out of you, tears it out of you kicking and screaming, dragging it out onto the surface after he had been digging deep for it, knowing full well that you had another one left in you.

This time, he lets you go and you crumple into the door, chest heaving and your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. You’re past speech, your throat dry as parchment because you couldn’t stop chanting his name as Steve made your insides burn hotter than a forest fire.

Through blurry vision, you can just about make out that Steve sits down next to you, but you can feel one of his hands on your ankle, fingers lightly wrapped around it and his thumb making the same circular motions as earlier while you come down from your high.

When you look up, the roof of the car appears to be swimming with stars. You can still see them behind your eyelids when you squeeze your eyes shut. Steve gave you a climax of such epic proportions that you don’t even have to tilt your head back to be able to look out the window to see the clear sky, which would no doubt be dotted with very real twinkling stars.

Steve had no idea that it was one of your favorite things to do on a cloudless night. He actually brought the night sky into the car, just like he said he would, and it made you smile to yourself.

“What are you smiling about?” Upon hearing his voice, you stop looking up and you blink a few times to clear your vision before you look at him. “Hm?”

“Nothing,” you reply, because admitting to what had happened seemed silly somehow.

“Didn’t look like nothing.” You can tell that he wants to press on so you sit up, press yourself against his side, lean your head against his shoulder and rest your hand on his hip. “Don’t want to talk, huh?”

“Don’t think I could if I wanted to,” you admit.

“That good?”

“Steve, I think that the words ‘you rocked my world’ don’t even do it justice, even if that’s exactly what happened.”

“Cheesy,” he laughs and you can feel his lips on the crown of your head. “Good thing that I like cheesy.”

The two of you sit like this for a short while and you listen to his steady breathing. You desperately want to repay the favor, want to make Steve see the same stars as you did, and he seems to sense it.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says in a low voice, “so quit breaking your pretty little head over it.”

“I know,” you reply. “But I want to.”

“Okay.”

His answer is short and simple, making it perfectly clear that there are no expectations. He’d take you home if you asked him to, but you would much rather stay here. You don’t want to go anywhere else just yet.

You start out slow, by kissing his upper arm and then his shoulder. Moving to sit on your knees for better access, your lips move from his neck until you’re peppering kisses all along his jaw. Steve doesn’t move, he merely watches you and lets you do whatever you want.

Reaching for his jaw, you turn his head in your direction so you can kiss him full on the lips. He plays along perfectly, allowing you to give him languid kisses, with his eyes wide open so he can keep following your every move.

Your hand moves from his neck down over his chest, skimming over his skin, until your fingers reach the top of his jeans. You pop the button with ease, pull down the zip, and before he knows it, you’ve slipped your hand inside so you can palm his length over his boxer shorts.

“I was going to tell you to take as long as you need, but if you keep touching me like that-” His sentence ends abruptly and with a sharp hiss, all because you squeezed him a little. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” you giggle and proceed to do it once more. You can feel his cock growing more firm against your palm. “Couldn’t help it.”

“Oh really?” he says, knowing you were teasing. You laugh again and this time he manhandles you until you’re laying underneath him. You eagerly pull his jeans down until they’re pulled underneath his ass. Your eyes drift down to his boxers and you can literally see him straining away against the cotton fabric. “I think that this is going to be a long night, honey.”

“Oh no.” Reaching for him one more time, you find him hard as a rock. There’s only one final cloth barrier between you now and soon that too will be gone. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Little brat,” he groans right before you finally push his boxers down. You finally look down, curious, and your eyes nearly roll out of your skull when you catch sight of his cock. Your hand moves slowly, tentative, until your fingers touch his velvety shaft. “A very long night,” he promises with a soft moan.

“I sure hope so,” you whisper back. “I could stay out all night.”

“Tempting,” Steve replies. He holds himself up with his arm and it makes his long hair hang in your face like a curtain.

It makes a grin appear on your lips, making you think back to how this started, with you looking at his long hair across the room and trying to stop yourself from staring. You can’t stop looking at it now, at those silky strands and how they sway back and forth, tickling your face, clinging to your damp forehead, and you don’t know if you could ever stop staring.

You don’t want to stop staring. Not for tonight at least. And for however long he’ll allow you to keep looking at him after this night…

#stranger things fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #mar writes

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lilac-5ky · 11 months

Text

Roommates from Hell, pt.1 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Stolen Fries taste best

(pic from loving yamada at lvl999, adorable manga, recommend)

Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

Plot: Out of all the women that come and go in Toji's life, you're the only one he calls his friend. But when he suddenly forces his way into your apartment, the feelings you've kept from him are put to the test.

Setting: Pre Hidden Inventory Arc. Toji and reader are both in their late twenties, no Megumi in picture... yet :p

Themes: Cohabitation, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Warning: Slight sexual content minus the actual smut.

A/N at the bottom

“You’re late. Again.”

The small silver bell at the top of the glass door notified you of a man’s arrival, his heavy steps refusing to wipe themselves upon entry, spreading mud all over the now-blotted checkered tiles of the dimly lit diner. You’d been expecting the owner of those shoes for the past six hours, his untimely arrival coming as a bitter aftertaste to an afternoon full of childish joy and mayhem— popped balloons, colorful confetti, and half-eaten pieces of cakes swept into one big pile at the room’s southernmost corner by yours truly.

“I never said I was coming,” the voice retorted, its defiant sound overshadowed by the gruesome screech of a metallic chair. “Not interested in celebrating some brat’s b-day, ‘specially if it ain’t mine.”

“How many helpless children must have spent their birthdays without their no-good father, I wonder,” you wiped your hands against your cherry-red apron, pushing the broom back into place. “If your goal is to repopulate Japan, I’m certain you’ll succeed.”

Hefty fingers mindlessly combed through a head of obsidian black, little spikes forming and then settling back down. “None, as far as I’m concerned,” sarcasm dripped from his tongue.

“Well, I find that hard to believe,” you mumbled under your breath, circling through the room to ensure everything was dealt with: leftovers in the fridge, gift wrappings in the bin, and the large aforementioned pile of garbage waiting to be scooped up. “You’ve known Kenzo since birth. Even if this ain’t your thing, the least you could’ve done was make an appearance. He kept asking about his favorite uncle all night long.”

“Except I’m not his uncle. Don’t mix me in with your sister’s family, I ride solo.”

Sigh.

“My sister’s family might as well be your family, Toji. You know how much Hinata and her kids adore you.”

“Good for them, I suppose.”

Another sigh.

“Can you at least tell me what was so important for you to not even pick the goddamn phone up?”

As if the device had grown sentient, a generic tune began tooting from the back pocket of his sweatpants, eradicating your final hope that it’d simply run out of battery.

Without budging from his seat, Toji twisted an arm around his back to pull his flip-phone out, the silver-tinted lid slamming shut as soon as he’d peered at the caller’s number, his next immediate move being to drown the sound in a glass of leftover Coke, fizzy bubbles playing the device’s final requiem.

You didn’t need to ask to know it was a woman, and he didn’t need to answer that she, whatever the name of his latest conquest was, happened to also be the reason for his being unfashionably late.

It was always like that. He was always like that. He went out with one girl after the other; from women of extreme beauty and poise to mindless bimbos who couldn’t tell tea leaves and coffee beans apart. He’d spend some cash to butter them up with expensive meals at overpriced restaurants, or VIP entrance at the hottest club, or even pay for the name tag on their designer clothes, but come next morning, he was either caught stealing straight out of their pockets or checking whether the tag was still attached to the dress for him to return it to the store—at which point, the vast majority gave up, except for those few poor souls who earnestly believed they could fix him, though they never would.

If there were two things in this world that remained unfaltering and resolute throughout the eons, then that was the earth’s orbiting the sun, and Zen’in Toji’s being the bastard of a man you knew and loved— special intonation of that last part.

It was quite the oxymoron. To know him as an irredeemable scumbag with no intention of changing, and to love him for all he was; a sentence as contradictory and controversial as the man before you. What was there to love? He never gave two shits about the people around him dying, and if he could encourage or partake in their deaths then he certainly would. He gambled every cent of cash in his hands away, and his every attachment ended with the disposal of his used-up condom. He was vulgar, cynical, and brass, and he possessed a great charisma of making people dislike him at first glance. His only saving grace was his good looks and even those he managed to scrape on a daily basis.

So, really, what was there to love about a man whose place fitted best among the pile of garbage in the corner? What was the point in all that?

He never answered your question, and when you realized he wasn’t planning to, you dragged a second chair to his side, propping your elbows first and then your chin over the vinyl backrest, feet landing at each side. You took in his expression— sour and undeniably agitated, with a frown tugging at the scarred corner of his lower lip, and a glare too icy to be meant for the wall of American-styled neon billboards he mercilessly studied. Something definitely bothered him, and as a huff stiffened his chin, the reason became evident enough for you to point at it.

“Woman or work?” you gestured at the blood that dribbled below his ear and down his neck.

He followed your forefinger with his eyes, thumb scrubbing where the gush began. He seemed oblivious to his injury, though it wasn’t as if his becoming aware changed a thing.

“So it is a woman,” you gladly seized the chance to rub salt into his wound, drawing a frustrated grumble from him.“What did you do this time? Stole her car and crashed it into a tree? Blew all her savings on cockfight betting?”

“Horse races,” he had the nerve to correct.

“Or… did you by any chance bring an uncalled ménage à trois to her bed?”

“What kind of man you take me for?” Toji protested.

“A very, very, veeeery bad man,” you smirked, and he returned it. You knew him like the back of your hand. There was no need to pretend otherwise after well over a decade’s worth of friendship.

“If a very bad man is what I am, then why’d ya let me in?” he asked. “A young unprotected woman all by herself in the middle of the night letting such scum in never ends well. Thought you were smarter than this.”

“If I was smarter, then I wouldn’t be calling you my friend, would I?”

His grimace turned into a full-blown devilish grin, the kind that secretly had your heart buzzing against the frail set of bones of your chest. He always looked so dazzling when he smiled, that sometimes you couldn’t find fault in those women wanting to believe in his pretty lies, because you, too, wanted to. You hoped that whatever the price for those smiles was, you would one day be able to afford it and gain ownership of his heart, no matter how wretched or blackened it was.

“You are a real idiot to mix it up with me,” he conceded. “Though, you are a greater idiot for letting that term define us. I bet your nights serving meals at some kiddie place get rather lonely. But I could help. I could make you feel really good, Y/N. So good that you’d risk some prick getting in, lest he is me.”

His tongue poked out his mouth, giving his bottom lip a brief lick while he peered at you through half-lidded eyes. He had this way of turning things sexual in the blink of an eye, selling himself so well that your refusal to buy seemed commendable— despite the unmistakable affection you held for his face. Little did he know how much you longed to push that chair to the side and rip his cocky expression along his black-sleeved shirt off his body, making it so that neither of you had a place to hide from the other.

Now, that’d feel good.

“My nights are fine as they are, thank you very much,” you countered your instincts much to his disappointment. “And if I ever needed myself a helping hand, know that you’d be the last I’d call!” Not as if you’d pick up, anyway, you mentally added.

His gust of interest fizzled out as soon as it surged, your rejection forcing him to rock back and forth between the chair’s legs. He wasn’t interested in continuing this. It was enough for him to take in the dusty pink shading of your ears and smile to himself, knowing you were still the kind of woman affected by his charms. Yes, that certainly was enough, for now.

“I’ll clean you up,” you declared, getting off your spot in haste and strolling through the bar in search of a clean towel.

Once you found it, you let it soak under the faucet and brought it back to him, rubbing against his skin regardless of his petty attempt at gritting his teeth. You placed one hand on his shoulder and another at his jaw, pushing them apart to no avail. Every muscle in his body was stronger than your entire bodily force combined, and he was awfully willing to flex that difference between you, just as he was at letting you straddle his hips and climb all over his body like some sort of feral monkey in heat.

A string of profanities that ranged from “bastard” to “shit-eating-asshole-shithead” poured out your mouth while Toji smirked, and smiled, and grinned, and didn’t even try to stop you from knocking the two of you onto the ground, palms barely managing to stable your head over his face. Your pleated skirt had risen, or rather flipped, over your panties, revealing the strawberry pattern panties you were wearing to his greedy hands as they hiked up your flesh without an ounce of shame.

“Wh-What are you doing?!”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he cooed, burying his calloused fingers under the elastic waistband of your underwear.

You felt him trace the inward of your thighs in languid strokes, the fabric stretching the further his hand dipped— closer, and closer to your now-pulsing core, but never so close as to make actual contact. His hot breath tingled your lips, smelling of nothing in particular, but a sweaty tang of a woman’s deodorant that still lingered in his clothes. Had he fucked her before making it here, you wondered, heart tightening at the thought.

Your legs wiggled shut, unable to fully repel his hand, and for a brief moment, you considered letting him go through with this— whatever this was. Even if you came to be another conquest won, you didn’t care. All you needed was for him to hush all logic from your brain, and fuck you senselessly against the checkered tile floor of the “kiddie food place” you served meals at.

“Toji…” you begged, uncertain what you were begging him for until you felt the warmth in your thighs subside.

“Makin’ sure to preserve your maiden’s dignity,” he said as he fixed your skirt in place. “Wouldn’t want some perv catching sight of your cute little ass, would we?”

His condescending tone made you want to throw a slap across his face and then yours; for thinking that maybe this wasn’t a mistake, that you could really move past the pretense of friendship and aim at what you really sought. But he’d been right once before. You were stupid, stupider than all those girls combined, considering you knew and still wouldn’t mind being dragged down with him one bit.

“Fucking asshole,” you blurted as you pushed yourself off him, dumping the cloth on his smug face.

Your lip quivered as you stepped onto your feet, unable to quite shake the feeling of incompletion from your core, walls pathetically clenching around nothingness. You refused to look at him, lest you caved in a second time, and thus you paced around the booths, stopping before the one window whose blinds didn’t block the magnificent parking lot view. Only a black SUV was left— most likely his newest rental.

Following a beep, you watched the lights flicker white, his reflection in the window lifting the chair back up. You crossed your arms over your chest and waited, your impatience and frustration churning into a dangerous mix within your guts, as the asshole whose name wasn’t worth saying moved past you and walked straight to the door, not a single word or goodbye said.

“What about your phone?” you asked, at last paying him a look of spite.

“I’ll text ya my new number.”

“We both know you won’t.”

He glanced over his shoulder and showed you his pearly white canines, his expression not polished enough to be called a smile. You rolled your eyes in the opposite direction, spotting his old device blinking a variety of different lights, refusing to die just like its bastard of an owner.

“What should I do with this?”

“How the hell should I know?” Toji shrugged. “Get rid of it, or toss it in some burger. I’m sure no one will be able to tell the difference. Later,” the bell chimed as the door collided with the frame, chiming a second time as his head popped in a moment later. “Loved the raspberries.”

“They were strawberries, you scatterbrained swine,” you cursed, but he’d heard none of it. The car was gone, and so was he, and it was for the best that he didn’t get to witness the strawberry-colored shadow that loomed over both your cheeks.

Fanning some of that heat away, you returned to the table, surprised to find a white envelope with the name Kenzo hastily written on the front. Cash. Lots of cash. Enough cash to keep a low-end apartment afloat for at least a couple of months. An excuse and simultaneously the answer to all your previous questions.

“You fucking bastard,” you hummed, the term switching to one of utter endearment.

When the first instance of a wintry breeze came charging at the semi-exposed features of your face—a scarf’s fluff tucked right below your nose— you knew that walking all the way to the location where the unknown ID claiming to be Zen’in Toji ordered you to meet up was probably a bad idea.

For starters, you’d turn into an icicle long before making it back to your workplace. Not to mention you had no foolproof way of guaranteeing the person you were about to meet wasn’t some random impersonating psychopath. But when you finally spotted the yellow curvy “M” upon the rectangular red sign that spelled the fast food chain’s name, you narrowed down the psychopaths to that one cheapskate you happened to know.

Walking into the nearly vacant dining area —only the first two booths near the door occupying a family of four each— you detected him almost immediately. He was the only one seated in his wing. Head slightly tilted to look past the window, golden highlights showering the curve of a nose as it arched into thin eyebrows, calm eyes glinting with subtle emerald, and fingers that absentmindedly tapped away onto one of the two paper-covered trays. He had the decency to wait for you before getting into his food, though that didn’t stop him from munching on the occasional fry.

You tugged the handbag off your shoulder and slowly approached him, hesitating to enter his field of view, if just for a moment. He seemed so peaceful and serene, that if you had the guts, you’d snap a picture of him right then and there and make it into your phone’s wallpaper. But you didn’t. You’d never be able to explain it to him in a non-humiliating way, should he catch you in the act, and so, you shook the notion off and marched in his direction, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

“What’s the point of calling me out here for lunch if we are gonna have burgers?” you dropped your bag at the far end of the table. “Why not eat at our place?”

“I like the fries here better,” he bit onto one as if to affirm his claim, licking the salty essence off his fingers. “You should be glad I got you some, too,” he nodded toward the closed dome-shaped box that lay in front of you. “Nuggets over burgers, right? Didn’t know what toy ya wanted though. Cashier girl told me bunnies are quite popular with girls your age, so I went with that.”

Ignoring, or rather postponing your answer to his outrageous suggestion, you peered through the contents of your meal’s box, spotting the wrapped-in-plastic purple-colored bunny key chain right at the bottom between the small portion of deluxe potatoes and even smaller portion of chicken nuggets that still steamed hot air. You were surprised he remembered everything about your order, down to your preference for milkshake over other beverages, and perhaps you would have shown your gratitude if it wasn’t for that last comment of his gnawing at your pride.

“How old did you tell the cashier I was, again?” you gritted, trying to suppress the toy’s cuteness within your fist.

“Didn’t. Just said it’s for some kid I know. Probably thought it was for my daughter or something.”

A pair of googly eyes popped out from their sockets, the bunny’s head in serious danger of coming right off.

“Stop acting like an old man,” you muttered in embarrassment. “A nine-month head start in life doesn’t make you old enough to be my father.”

“Still older than you, kid,” said Toji, his fingers latching onto his wrapped-up burger. “Now eat up. Didn’t pay ya lunch for it to go cold.”

Annoyed by his remarks, but oh-so terribly starved, you decided to let things slide, the two of you lunching in a period of temporal truce. He went through his burger in big bites, clearing it out before you even finished your portion of nuggets. You mildly wondered why he’d held off if he was this hungry, but didn’t press on the reason behind his invitation until after his tray was half-emptied.

“So… why’d you wanna meet up? Got something to tell me?”

“Mhm, I actually do. How would you like us to be room—Nah, that doesn’t sound too right,” Toji shook his head off, dusting the excess salt off his fingers. “I decided I’m moving in with you.”

“You, what?!?” You shrieked, eyes wide with shock, resembling those of your newly acquired key chain.

“What I just said. I’m moving in,” he repeated as if you hadn’t heard him the first time around. “Got everything right here. I’ll pop by later so you can show me my room.”

You glanced down at what he tapped as “here”, spotting a large black duffel bag that rested on his feet. He wasn’t joking, you panicked. He was being 100% serious about this. Directing your milkshake to your mouth, you took a nervous sip, nearly choking on the plastic straw between your teeth, while Toji kept staring at you, awaiting no answer in particular. After all, he wasn’t asking. He was proclaiming.

“Why would you want that?” you asked once you regained the ability to think rationally. “Weren’t you the one who said you ride solo?”

“Numerous reasons,” he stated, drawing his forefinger forth as if to recount. “For starters, rental prices going up, gas too. Inflation in the market and all that crap. Your place is also closer to work, and” he leaned closer, “wasn’t your neighborhood the one on the news recently? You know, those serial break-and-enter cases? As far as I’m aware, the culprit’s still running loose, could be a cursed spirit or something. You can’t see ‘em, but I can. I’ll keep ya safe. Wouldn’t you want that? Sounds like a fair deal to me, at least.”

The repetitive pattern of a catchy pop song blasting from the speakers served as a backdrop to your thoughts, eyes flickering between the table and his face. He wasn’t exactly wrong about what he said. The girl next door was the robber’s last victim, and from what you’d gathered, it seemed like the ones targeted were exclusively single women in their twenties. Curse or not, that was the intruder’s type, and you just so happened to tick both of those boxes.

From a standpoint of reason, his suggestion sounded fair alright, but this was Toji we were talking about. The man whose name was your first thought in the morning and the final afterthought in the night. The man you were coincidentally in love with.

Living with him would entail being around him a lot more than you could handle. Waking and sleeping and eating in the same house as him, spending your days off together, bickering about bills, take-out, and the TV remote’s ownership, doing things that only couples got to do, and of course, sharing a bathroom, which on its own meant seeing him parade through the cramped little space of your apartment in nothing but a soggy towel, hair slick and teeth beaming as he’d be asking if you’d like to join him in the shower—

You hit the break on these thoughts and pressed your forehead flat against both palms, feeling the heat exuding through your fingers. You were only able to keep this relationship platonic because of the distance he put between you. If he were to suddenly close it, what would come of you? How on earth would you be able to hold back?

“Don’t you want me?”

“Huh?” you bit at the straw again, snapping it in half.

“I said, you hate the idea of living with me that much?”

Toji certainly didn’t mince his words, but the way he was looking at you, brows furrowing and lips quivering into a frown despite the edge in his tone, almost made it seem as if hearing your rejection out loud would hurt him, and because of that, you had no choice, but to shake your head in denial. You wanted this. More than words could express, you wanted to be with him like that, even if you refrained from disclosing that truth.

You wanted him.

“What about your girlfriends? Wouldn’t they be against you living with some woman?”

“Nah, I’m done with that. Done with all of ‘em.”

“But my apartment is too small. I don’t think it’d suit you—”

“I’ll manage,” he cut you off.

“I don’t even have a second bed-”

“We can always share,” he smirked, letting out a light-hearted chuckle as he watched color paint your cheeks. “Couch is fine, too. So, whaddya say, roomie?”

“…Fine,” you conceded, very well knowing you’d come to regret this decision. “But we need to set some ground rules! No trashing the apartment, no throwing your ‘work tools’ all over the place, no smoking, no drinking, no loud music, and no bringing in random women. No starting fights either! You’ll help around and pay half of what’s needed, so no gambling your money away. Those are my terms.”

“You drive a hard bargain, roomie,” Toji said, balancing his chin atop his elbow. “Fine by me. Told you I’m done with half those things anyway, and I don’t mind helping you with anything. I mean that.”

But I could help. I could make you feel really good, Y/N.

His words from that night still lingered in your mind like an unfulfilled promise, and when he phrased it like that, you couldn’t help but be reminded of how good his hands felt that night, creeping all over your skin as if he owned it— as if he owned you.

“G-good!” you said, picking up a fry off his tray and tossing it in your mouth, lest you said something stupid.

“No one taught you stealing other people’s food is rude?” Toji shot you a glare unequal to your crime.

“It’s not stealing if you are done with it!” you protested. “You haven’t touched your fries in over ten minutes now.”

His tongue clicked against his mouth’s roof, producing a series of “tsk” sounds while he shook his head in disapproval. “Didn’t take ya for such a brat, Y/N. Disrespecting me in my face right after we came to an agreement? That’s some bad business ethics.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, barely keeping yourself from groaning. “I’m so terribly sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have stolen your esteemed fries, sir. Won’t ever happen again, sir. Please allow me to express my profound remorse, sir.”

Although Toji knew you only addressed him as such to get on his nerves, he was still pleased enough to grace with you an unsuspecting smile, seconds before you shoved a ketchup-covered potato against his mouth, smudging the left corner of his lips in a way akin to that of his right corner scar. He blinked, clouds of fury gathering in the bleakness of his eyes and cheeks puffing up, painting the most adorable expression you’d ever seen him wear.

“So cute,” you gushed, unable to suppress a hearty laughter that agitated him even more, red blooming across his cheeks— most likely by the lack of oxygen, you interpreted.

“Fucking brat,” he hissed, dipping the last of his fries in ketchup and then stuffing your mouth with it before you could even react. “I’ll show ya how it’s done!” he declared, your lips puckering against his fingers, condiment spreading all over like lipstick. His other hand forced your head in place, stilling your chin for him to work on his masterpiece, making a much bigger mess out of you than you had made of him.

“Hmphmmph!” you hummed while Toji laughed, a deep sound that reverberated straight from his guts, his eyes glinting along with his teeth in sheer joy that convinced you to give up so as to not spoil his fun. It was rare to see him genuinely happy.

“That should teach ya to behave,” he spat, smugness in every aspect of his features as he pressed his thumb onto his mouth, cleaning the ketchup off with a lick. “But you did address me properly, so you’ve earned the right to choose. Napkin or my lips? Which one?”

Stupefied as you were, you didn’t understand the full context of his question until you felt the sudden warmth of his mouth flutter over your skin, the tip of his tongue sloppily gathering the leftover ketchup off your right cheek. Your jaw popped open, a small gasp escaping as a result of his action.

“Too slow,” Toji whispered, hooded green eyes peering right into yours. “I’ll ask again. Napkin or my lips? What’s it gonna be, doll?”

“N-n-n-napkin!” you must have stuttered at least a thousand times before forming a comprehensible answer. He was so close that if he tilted his head any closer your lips were sure to touch. “P-please get me a napkin.”

“Please?” he chuckled, acting as if was really going to kiss you and then pulling away. “Be right back.”

Even after Toji let go, you could still feel the weight of his thumb holding you down, your eyes zeroing in on his black sweater as he set off for the other side of the room where the napkin and condiments stand was located. You heard a few whispers coming from beside your table, catching three pairs of eyes shooting daggers right at your back.

“Don’t they have a home?” a woman’s voice echoed first.

“Kids these days…” a man added.

“Honey, don’t look at their sinfulness, it’s the devil’s work.” A second woman concluded.

You were on the verge of experiencing a cardiac arrest, and you were pretty darn sure you would have if Toji hadn’t returned with the napkins in time, his hand snatched by yours as you forcefully dragged him out of the place, spelling frantic apologies at whoever was listening.

Once you’d made it outside, you sighed in relief, winter’s viciousness coming as a much-needed slap across your face. You took in a few breaths, letting go of his hand and padding a few steps away from the store’s windows, afraid you were still the focus of their attention. Toji followed, one hand stuffed inside his jeans pocket, while the other held the duffel bag over his shoulder in a lazy manner.

“Can you give me a lift to work?” you managed to ask, dodging his stare even as he stepped to the front.

“I would, but I can’t. Gave the car away.”

“You did what?”

Nothing about your reaction was funny in any shape or form, but he seemed amused enough to break into a soft chuckle, his eyes, too, softening ever so slightly.

“Planning to walk around town like a bloodsucker?” he asked, bringing a napkin to wipe your lips with greater care than you’d think. “How dirty,” he cooed, gently tapping at the center. “Next time, I won’t ask for permission to kiss you, roomie. Let’s go.”

“W-Where?” your voice came out so frail that you doubted he’d heard your question, his bag bouncing over his taut body with every step he took outside the parking lot.

“You asked for a ride, didn’t ya? Come.”

A/N: Launching a new series because I have so many feelings bottled up that I'm in danger of farting hearts and rainbows and shit. Decided to take the time off and write this fic for myself cause I needed it, but then I thought why not share it with the world? First time writing for Jujutsu Kaisen and Toji in particular, so hopefully it's received well!

516 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 11 months

Note

Part 2 to cruel summer pls

cruel summer pt. 2 | jack hughes

"i snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate..."

jack hughes x fem!reader

read part one!!: cruel summer

summary: you and jack have spent the entire summer keeping your relationship a secret, but when a party and feelings of doubt gets thrown into the mix, things get a little hectic...

warning(s): swearing, some angst, happy ending

author's note: omg i procrastinated so much, but here ya go

You were in an intense game of chicken with Luke, Duker, and Eddy when Jack walked back to the house to grab you a towel, using it as an excuse to wrap you in his arms after your game in the pool. On his way in, he noticed his mom sitting on one of the couches on the back patio, waving him over.

“My boy. You get more handsome with each second,” she beamed, patting the empty space next to her on the couch.

“Thanks, Mom,” Jack obliged, sitting next to Ellen, though he seemed worlds away. His eyes always drifting towards the girl of the hour, of the year, hell, of his life.

“Look how beautiful she’s gotten.”

He absentmindedly nodded. “Yeah, I can see.” He knew she was talking about you without even saying your name, because whenever Jack was there, your name wasn’t so far behind. “Have you ever hid something?” he asked. “Something really important and you want to tell people, but you’re just… scared, I guess? Of their reactions.”

Ellen smiled softly. She always had a feeling that there was something going on between the two of you, even before you guys moved to New Jersey. There was always something lingering— some sort of electricity, longing.

“Well, if the people around you love you, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” she matched his gaze, connecting it to you. She was glad it was you; she couldn’t picture him with anyone else. “And let me tell you this,” she smiled, running her hand through his hair. “Everyone here loves you. Get some weight off your chest. Tell them.”

*ೃ༄

“Your mom just bombarded me with a charity gala invite,” you scoffed, cracking open a beer from the fridge and leaning your back against the counter across from Jack.

“They’re still doing those events?”

“Charity don’t stop, Hughesy.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, of course you did,” you smirked. “I am now telling everyone that you hate charities. Jack The Charity Hater.”

He scrunched his nose, shaking his head. “Not a catchy name,” he said, walking closer to you until his hands rested comfortably against your hips.

“I guess I’ll just have to think of a better one,” you kissed his lips quickly, your eyes automatically swimming over to the entrance of the kitchen, making sure no one was there to witness it. It’s not like you didn’t want them to know, you did, you really did, but you didn’t know if Jack was ready. All of his relationships were with girls that he met on some random day in his life that have absolutely zero connection with his family. You? You were the total opposite. Luke was your best friend, Ellen was like your second mom, Quinn was your favorite person to talk shit about people with, and Jim bought you a BBQ grill for your birthday just so you guys could be grill buddies.

To say that you had a connection with his family would be an understatement. They were your family, too. And you didn’t want to lose that.

“What’s the theme this year?”

“Masquerade,” you responded, moving your hands to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Very original,” he smirked. “You going with anybody?”

You rolled your eyes, somehow bringing yourself closer to him, your lips ghosting over his. “I was hoping to go with my boyfriend, but we haven’t exactly made things official.”

Jack sighed, backing away from you. He scratched the back of his neck, the air turning between you turning cold. “Hey, about that… I just think—”

You bit your lip, looking everywhere except Jack. “No, I, uh,” you shook your head, stammering. “I get it.”

“Y/N,” he held onto your arm, trying not to let you go, but as Cole stumbled into the kitchen in search of a couple more beers for the boys, he had to let go— even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I’ll see you at the party,” you said. With a bittersweet smile, you turned away, wondering if this was still what you wanted, and if you still had the motivation to keep it going.

*ೃ༄

By nighttime, the party was in full swing. Every corner of the ballroom was crowded with high-end outfits and conversations about what new car they bought, or how they just came back from a trip to Europe, or Asia.

As for you, you sat at a table by the wall, enviously watching couples slow dance, wishing that it were you and Jack. Your mother and Ellen were a few seats away, engaged in gossip about neighborhood drama, Jack sat next to you, pretending not to stare when you glanced in his direction, and the rest of the boys were nowhere to be seen.

“Y/N,” Jack said, bringing you back to reality. “Earlier today, I—”

“Hey, Hughesy,” Trevor suddenly appeared at the table, a girl strapped to each of his arms. “Meet Gina and Teresa. Apparently they’ve been coming here every summer since they were born, just like you two.”

Jack smiled. “That’s great, Trev, but—”

“They’re single,” Trevor interrupted. “Come on, man, get off your ass and let’s go,” he said, pulling Jack away from the table; from you.

“I can’t, Trev,” Jack shook his head, trying to get back to you.

“Why not?” Trevor whined. “We have two girls that actually want to dance with us, like we don’t have to convince them, or beg, or anything!”

Jack sighed. The only girl he wanted to be with was you. “I just can’t, Trev.”

“But why?”

As you watched them talk on the dancefloor, you realized that you couldn’t do this any longer: the secrecy, the lying, the kissing in closed spaces. You couldn’t do it anymore, and if Jack wasn’t trying to make an effort, why should you?

You downed your drink in one gulp, grabbed your purse, and made your way to the grand stairs in search of the nearest exit to get you far, far away from this stupid event on this stupid night with your stupid boyfriend that no one even knew about, so you couldn’t even tell anyone even if you tried!

All you felt was alone.

“Because,” Jack shook his head, his gaze finally settling on you— the girl who was fleeing the party like it was infested with the color orange (you told Jack that that color gave you the ‘heebie jeebies’ the first night you slept over at his apartment. Something about your childhood and a party at Chuck E. Cheese, don’t ask about it). “Because… I’m in love with Y/N and she’s leaving,” he mindlessly said, pulling away from Trevor’s grasp and running after you.

He pushed through people on the dancefloor, knocked over a couple of waiters, holding hors d'oeuvres and glasses of wine, jumped over abandoned masquerade masks scattered over the glossy floor, and it was still not enough to get to you. Jack cursed the weekends you guys spent in New Jersey doing 10-mile runs in which you always made it home before him.

Walking up the steps to the lake house, Jack didn’t even know what to say to you. He wanted to tell everyone about you and your relationship, but was he ready for that? I mean, what would his parents say? What would your parents say? His brothers? His friends? Everything would change between everyone if they found out. Was it worth it?

Were you worth it?

Shaking his head, he knocked on the door. It was his family’s home, but you were written over every space on the lot. The place was as much yours as it was theirs, would all of that be ruined if the truth were to come out?

The questions were stupid and the answers were obvious. Jack knew the answers the whole time. Hell, he knew them from the moment you told him you were moving to New Jersey. Of course you were worth it. You were worth the world. You were the world.

It only took a couple of seconds before the door opened, revealing you in pajamas and duck slippers that your dad got you when you were 13 years old. They made ‘quack’ sounds every step you took, and you told your dad that you were too old for gifts like this, but on nights like these, it felt comforting for you. It made you feel safe.

And even though you were clad in duck slippers and embarrassing pajamas, Jack still looked at you as if you were the belle of the ball. He couldn’t help it. You were everything to the boy.

“What are you doing here, Hughes?” you spat, not wanting to look at him while simultaneously wanting to wrap your arms around him and ask him what took him so long.

He shrugged, hands in his pockets, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I live here, too."

"I mean, why are you here instead of dancing with... what are their names? Tina and Marissa?"

“Gina and Teresa,” he corrected. You scoffed, attempting to close the door on him but, him being a hockey player and all, he was able to hold it open for a lot longer than you could manage to close it. “I didn’t have enough time to compliment your dress at the party.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you think you can fix this with flattery, you’ll be sorely mistaken.”

“That’s— that’s not what I was trying to do.”

"So what are you trying to do because, frankly, you're just wasting my time, Hughes—" Before you could finish your sentence, Jack interrupted with a sudden, unexpected kiss. Time stood still as his lips met yours, and suddenly, you forgot about the girls, and the secrecy, and your families. The only thing that remained clear was this: you and Jack were meant to be together— secretly, or not.

Pulling back, Jack’s eyes locked with yours, sincere evident in his nervous voice. “I know that I was scared before, but Y/N, I want everyone to know that I’m in love with you— and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me from loving you any less, like it’s physically impossible,” he chuckled. “I’m in love with you, I’ve been in love with you since we were eight years old, it’s always been you… It’s never not been you, Y/N.”

“It’s always been you, too, Hughesy,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. Before you could envelope him in another kiss, a round of cheers erupted behind you guys— in the driveway, specifically.

“About time you guys finally said something, thought we were gonna have to force it out of you guys,” Eddy laughed, Duker and Turcs joining in with him.

To say you and Jack were confused was quite the understatement.

“You guys knew?” you asked, hiding behind Jack’s shoulder.

“What, do you think we’re stupid?” Trevor asked, a grin dancing across his lips. “It took two girls and a party for you to finally admit it, but God, it feels good.”

“So it was a set up,” Jack added.

“Well,” Cole squinted. “More of a… push.”

“Exactly, a push,” Luke grinned. He walked up the patio stairs and slung his arms over both of your shoulders. “So, when am I calling you Y/N Hughes?”

Laughing, you and Jack playfully pushed Luke off of you. With everyone in tow, you walked back inside the lake house, the sound of chatter filling the air. Grinning, you told the group about the time Jack tripped over a rock while attempting to ask you out. It felt nice that the secret was finally out in the open.

The world finally knew how much you loved Jack Hughes, and how much he loved you. Maybe it wasn’t so much of a cruel summer after all.

#hockey imagine #nhl imagine #jack hughes x reader #hockey fic #jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nhl fanfiction #nj devils #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes angst

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cursedkeyboard · 4 months

Text

Babies shouldn't grow up ☆ Jason Todd & GN!Reader (PT.2)

What does Jason do after stealing a kid from Gotham's slums? Feed and give the little brat a home, of course. [PART ONE ♤ PART TWO ♤ PART THREE ♤ PART FOUR ♤ PART FIVE ♤ PART SIX]

pairings: Platonic Jason Todd & Child GN!Reader

To be completely honest, when Jason reached his apartment, he was panicking a little

The drive had been enough to clear his mind and he realized how impulsive he'd been

He is a damn vigilante, one with a hell of a reputation, and who's always messing with the baddest assholes of this city

Fuck, he's got guns and explosives in his house

But even with all the panic and rationality, Jason wasn't going to abandon you somewhere else

Orphanages were great places for villains to hit, the foster system might as well have been created by the joker, and no way in hell was he going to drop you at Bruce's

Anything but that

So he sucked it up and focused on your small voice full of wonder as you two drove through the city

"I didn't know there was so many tall buildings in Gotham!"

"That church is huge!"

"Holy shit is that a theater?! I only saw them in movies!"

At a certain point he was close to biting his fists in pure cuteness aggression

He knew exactly what you were feeling, could even picture your eyes glittering full of wonder behind the helmet

It didn't help his heart that your helmet also had comms, which were connected to his, so every single one of your little comments meant for yourself only were accidentally shared

Your Gotham accent was so thick too, born and raised in an area were the elite never tried to "cleanse"

Fuking adorable

Oh, also, he'd need to teach you not to follow strangers even if they were famous vigilantes

Because he realized how fucking dangerous it was that you just up and agreed to be taken by a random masked man

Sure, he knew he also did the same with Bruce, but hey, look at where that got him

When Jason finally brought you up to his apartment, still carrying you, he knew he'd have to immediately go out to buy some things

His fridge wasn't stocked with what kids need

Like... apple juice and cereal

Or any kind of vegetables

And, he definitely needed some kid safety stuff, even if he knew you wouldn't try opening the dangerous cabinets

... probably

Opening his door, he took you to the bathroom

Look, as cute as you were, you were also as filthy as a drenched sewer rat

He told you as much when he set you down

Your glare was worth the slap on the arm (it didn't even hurt)

"Can I assume you know how to take a shower?"

"I'm nine, not three, Red Hood."

"Not my fault you look like you're five."

He chuckled as you huffed and puffed

"Jason Todd."

"What?"

"My name is Jason Todd. Can't have you calling me Red Hood if you're gonna live with me, right?"

You gaped, big eyes going wide

He told you his name! And showed you his face! Why did this man trust you so much?

It... it made you real warm inside

You were quiet for a moment before quietly telling you your name, shyly, like you hadn't done that in a long time

"Hm, I think I prefer 'squirt', tho."

Okay, warm moment over, the guy is insufferable

Hissing and pushing him out of the bathroom with all of your strength, you hesitantly took your first real shower since... since you don't even know when

The water was black

You realized your skin could feel soft instead of oily

And your nails finally didn't look like you dug through dirt

Meanwhile, Jason was running around the apartment like a crazed man

Shoving his guns inside high drawers you wouldn't be able to reach

Trashing the cigs he had bought out of curiosity

And making sure any items for... his intimate partners were completely hidden away

He'd found those in Bruce's room one time as a kid and, needless to say, Jason still felt traumatized to this day

After making his apartment slightly less deadly and ordering food, Jason knocked on the door to let you know he'd left a change of clothes for you in front of the bathroom

Damian's clothes the brat left behind once he had stayed over when he was rebelling

they'd be a little too big for you but nothing like what his would look like

Once you came out, looking fresh and clean, Jason immediately carried you to the couch

Biting his tongue because the demon brat's clothes were actually so big on you he could cry

He ignored your complaints again, he knew your little feet were all scratched and they must have hurt like a bitch

Once you finally settled and didn't try to scratch his eyeballs out, Jason started to patch you up

Such careful, gentle touches for rough hands like his

He handled your injuries like you were made of glass

And despite your childish pride... you kind of loved it

It made you feel all tingly and cozy inside, like you were precious

Like you were deserving of kindness

As you started fidgeting with all the bubbling emotions inside of you, Jason tried to calm you down by talking

He learned your mother died from a drive-by shooting and your father was an alcoholic with a taste for physical abuse

"It only got bad bad a year or so ago, I think he blamed me for us being poor."

"And you know that's bull, right?"

You shrugged as he finished treating your injuries and started to dry your damp hair, a little awkwardly but attentive

"He left a month ago–or died, I don't know–so it doesn't matter either way."

Well, that was a healthy mindset for a child!

He had to breathe through his mouth to not get up and go put three little bullets in your piece of shit father's head

or his body, if the bastard was already dead

Jason definitely had a lot of work to do, but for now, ding-dong, he was going to focus on feeding you

And, no, he was never going to delete the photo he took of your face when he opened the huge takeout orders

Nor would he forget the way you cried silently as you ate

That was your first real meal in months

Your first real meal, washed and clothed, in a safe apartment that didn't smell of roaches nor booze, with an adult who looked at you fondly

Jason promised, to himself and God, that he'd make sure you'd never cry over something like food ever again

When you giggled at a joke he made and didn't flinch when he gently wiped a bit of sauce from your cheek, he knew he had made the correct decision

He'd keep you safe

To be continued...

#jason todd #red hood #red hood x you #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x gn!reader #platonic red hood x reader #platonic jason todd x reader #platonic

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rayslittlekitten · 9 months

Text

Can I?

A/N: Okay y'all. It's here, it's done. Y'all voted on this a while back and it was a bit challenging as I made the mistake of starting to write it with Will in mind so I had to make adjustments, but I think I figured it out. Thank you so so much to @musings-of-a-rose for taking a look at this for me. You are a doll!

Rating: E (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6,033

Pairing: Benny Miller x BFF! F! Reader

Plot: A night of unexpected events occur when you and your best friend innocently test out sex toys you had drunkenly purchased for shits and giggles.

WARNINGS: This is the first fic I am NOT including warning tags because I don't want to spoil anything. There's nothing typically potentially triggering like dark stuff (i.e. CNC) but still I wanted to keep it a mystery going in. SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Your friends were supposed to watch the fight with you tonight but they had bailed with some excuse or two except for your best friend. You thought that his brother would at least still be joining as they usually do everything together - like you wouldn’t be surprised if you found out they hold each other’s dicks while the other pisses - but it’s just going to be you and him tonight. Instead of going to the bar like originally planned, you both decided to pick up a case of beer and hang out at your place. It’s cheaper and less crowded.

There’s a rap at your apartment door and you go to open it. As expected, it's your best friend with the supply.

“Hey, Benny! Just in time!”

"Hey, you got a package," Benny says as he hands you the beer. He bends down to pick up the small brown box off the floor by your door. "What did you order?"

"I have no idea what that is," you reply as you make your way over to the kitchen to stick it in the fridge. "I don't remember ordering anything. Where does it say it's from?"

"The return address just says Warehouse, in Ohio," he replies, inspecting the non-descript package and following you further into your apartment after shutting the door behind him.

He hands you the cardboard box before taking his jacket off and making himself at home. You rip open the package and after seeing the contents, you laugh out loud.

"What's so funny?" he asks, walking closer to you.

"This was a drunk purchase. I totally forgot about these!" You reach in to pull out the items and show him your new purchases.

"What are those?" He looks perplexed.

“This one is a vibrator I keep seeing on Instagram, but it's supposed to be like, amazing," you answer.

"How the hell are you supposed to use that?" He takes one of the packages from you and inspects it, looking at the pictures on the box.

"Well, one way you can use it is you insert this side into your pussy and this part is supposed to sit on your clit," you point and explain to him. "It also comes with a detached remote so someone else can control it.

"I don't know if that's a terrible time or a great time."

"The vibration is supposed to be very powerful but quiet," you add. "Supposed to be discreet. They try to sell it by showing women supposedly wearing it in public under their clothes without anyone apparently knowing and their partner has control of it and she's like losing her shit."

"I'm curious now."

"For science!" You declare as you snatch the package from him. You start opening it up and pull the contents out. "Shit, it needs AAA batteries. TV remote!"

You head to the living room and he follows you. You take the batteries out of your TV remote and shove them into the new toy. After turning it on, it buzzes lightly in your hand, moving subtly.

"Let's see how crazy it can get." You start playing with the buttons until it goes up to the highest setting and Ben's eyes get wide as saucers watching it flop around in your palm, practically jumping out of your hand.

"Jesus Christ!" Benny hops back.

"Yeah, now imagine that between your legs."

"I'm not sure I want to. Looks like it would scramble all the sperm inside my balls. Besides, I don't think it was made for my body parts," he points out.

"You just don’t have an imagination," you jab. "Hmm, should we test drive it?" you suggest as you shut it off.

“What do you mean?" he asks curiously.

"See if the hype is real," you answer. "Especially that other one." You point to the other toy that's still in its package.

"That one's supposed to feel like your clit is actually getting sucked on."

"I didn't even know such toys exist," he confesses.

"There are soooo many sex toys out there, you don't even know. Why don't you go get us some cold ones while I figure these out?" you suggest.

"You really wanna do this?” He checks again.

"Yeah, why not? It's not like we have anything else better to do except watch two grown men beat each other up," you state. “Come on, this isn’t any different than the time we accidentally found Will’s porn stash and you got a boner.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t jerk off.”

“You totally did. Not in front of me, but you were not discreet when you snuck off to the bathroom with one of his magazines to ‘take a shit’,” you look at him knowingly.

“Okay, fine,” he shrugs and adjusts his forward-facing cap. “You have a point.” He heads back into the kitchen to grab some beer.

When he comes back with two opened bottles in hand, he finds you reading the manual and reviewing the other toy.

"So how exactly are we testing these?" he asks, settling down next to you on the couch and taking a gulp of his beer.

"Well, I'm not gonna stick it down my pants if that's what you're thinking. Would that be too weird?” You scrunch your nose while looking over at your best friend who looks just as clueless.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking. It ain't going down my pants. No amount of alcohol is gonna get that to happen."

"Okay, I didn't think this through. I mean, I guess we can just test it on our arms or something," you shrug cluelessly, thinking of the first thing that comes to mind and then going back to the manual.

"How would that work?" Benny asks as he takes the remote sitting next to him, inspecting it.

As you begin to answer, he starts randomly pressing buttons and you shriek, jumping in your seat. Benny also jumps back, spilling some of his beer as he reacts to your sudden outburst.

"What the hell?!" He looks over to you.

You instantly reach for the vibrator that happened to be sitting between your legs, snug against the front of your pants and toss it at him. Benny tries to dodge it like it's a dead cockroach, but it lands on his lap and he immediately launches himself off the couch. The vibrator continues to bounce around the cushion of the couch until Benny finally shuts it off.

"What the hell was that, man?" Benny looks over at you.

"It was between my legs when you turned it on, you ass!"

“Well, what the hell was it doing there? You said you weren't gonna test it that way."

"I wasn't! It just happened to be there while I was reading on how to operate the other one. Why'd you turn it on?" You shoot back.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing!" He shouts. "This shit is like rocket science! How do you women even use these things?"

"Men use them too," you correct him.

“Well, clearly I never have," he admits and returns to his seat, flicking the vibrator towards you to make room for himself.

"You're such a prude. It's not like I was wearing it," you say, grabbing it away from him.

"I'm not a prude! You freaked out so I freaked out." He takes another gulp of his beer.

"Whatever," you mumble, still feeling a bit flustered and embarrassed by what had happened. You turn your attention back to the other toy.

"Wait, you've never used any sex toys before?" you shift your attention back to him.

"Nope," he shakes his head.

"Not even with a partner?" You raise a brow.

"Well, one time this girl wanted to make things interesting and suggested a dildo, but it wasn't for her," he starts. "She wanted to stick that up my ass and I was not about that. Especially not after what I had for lunch that day."

"Aww, no peggy for Benny?" you exaggerate a pout.

"Hey, you should think twice about who you're poking fun of.” He shows you the remote in his hand and turns it back on, spooking you when the vibrator goes off between you and Benny.

"Okay, you're having too much fun with that." You reach over to grab the remote from him but he moves it away from your reach.

You lean in further, but his long arm prevents you from getting access to it. At this point, you’re practically climbing on top of him.

“You’re right. This is fun,” he laughs.

When you get close, he transfers the remote to his other hand so you shift yourself but lose your balance, landing back on the still-on vibrator. You shriek and Benny laughs at you. He turns the setting to the highest as you try to get away from it in your awkward position.

"Benny! You can't just go from 1 to 100 instant—" You finally roll off of it and give yourself a moment. With your eyes closed and teeth digging hard into your lower plump lip, you try to get yourself together.

“Are- are you okay?” Benny asks as his laugh dwindles. “Did you have an orgasm or something?” he jokes.

“No…” you start. “But maybe I almost did - maybe!”

His laugh finally dies, but a smirk remains on his face.

“Seriously?!” His eyes grow wide, turning his body towards you.

“That toy is no joke,” you point to it still wriggling on the couch. “And now I really wanna know what it can do.”

Benny shuts it off and his eyes shuttle between the toy and you.

“Uh… like, now?” He questions.

You stare at him for a few seconds, contemplating.

“That would be weird, right?” You ask with a squinted eye. “Never mind, forget it—”

“Have at it,” Benny interrupts. “Now I wanna see what this thing can do, too.”

“Really?” You ask with a raised brow, surprised.

“Yeah, like you said, what else is there to do? For science!” He brings up his beer bottle to celebrate it.

“Dork,” you chuckle, snatching the toy.

“Also, maybe I can learn a thing or two from it,” he replies. “Not that I need any help in that department, but I’m always open to learning new things,” he adds.

You roll your eyes.

“Hey, I’m a fighter and a lover. And I’m great at both,” he winks.

“Are you done stroking your own ego?” You look at him, unimpressed.

“I’m sorry. Yes, you can go on to stroke yourself,” he answers, trying to keep a straight face but ends up cracking a smirk.

“You’re so dumb,” you roll your eyes again and try not to crack your own.

“But I gotta be the one in control.” He holds up the remote in his hand.

“Benny-“

“I may never have the opportunity to ever do this again,” he says. “Besides, isn’t it what makes this fun? Someone else controlling it?”

You stare back at him and think about it.

“Okay, fine, but-“ you point a finger at him.

“I promise I won’t go from zero to 100, okay? Scout’s honor.” Benny brings his three middle fingers up.

“You weren’t a boy scout,” you point out.

“Fuck you. I was one for like a month,” he corrects you. “So are we doing this or what?”

“Turn around,” you tell him.

“What? I can’t watch?”

“Not watch me put this on. Turn around,” you repeat.

He rolls his eyes and turns his whole body around so the back of his head is facing you. You keep an eye on him as you wrangle your jeans and slip the toy inside you until it fits snug. Benny takes a sip of his beer as he waits patiently. He hears you fumbling around and finally you tell him he can turn back around.

He turns to face you and he looks confused.

“What?” You ask him.

“You have it on? Under your jeans?”

“Yes. I wasn’t gonna let it all hang out willy-nilly,” you tell him. “If you don’t believe me, turn it—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Benny flips the switch and you seize up. He can’t hear it, but your reaction confirms you have it in. He watches you as you stay still and quiet for a few moments.

“Can I up the speed?” He asks.

“Is this the lowest setting?” You calmly shoot back.

“Uh, yeah I think so.” He looks down at the remote to see if there’s any indication.

“Okay, go up one notch. One!” You glare at him.

“Okay, here we go.” He turns it up and you twitch.

You start shifting around in your seat until you feel the vibrator is in optimal position.

“How many speeds does this thing have again?” You ask out loud, reaching for the instruction manual and scanning it. “TEN?”

“Well, here’s number three,” Benny says as he ups the speed.

“Ben— ohhhhh…” Your scolding got cut short when the vibrator starts to really hit the right spots.

The tip of the dildo part tickles your g-spot as the outer part flickers over your clit. You close your eyes and bite your lower lip, trying to concentrate and keep your composure.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you mumble.

“Uh… how are you doing?” He asks, not sure what else to do.

“I’m… “ you freeze up for a quick second and then relax, letting out a heavy breath. “Jeeeesus,” you hiss.

Benny remains quiet as he watches you slightly gyrate against the couch. You close your legs together and cross your knees, trying to recalibrate yourself for the ideal position. He notices your breathing has gotten heavier.

“Higher?” He asks quietly, afraid to interrupt your flow.

“I’m already slipping all around,” you answer without opening your eyes, almost forgetting you aren’t alone.

“That’s not a no…” he points out.

Your teeth digs even deeper into your lower lip as you contemplate whether you want to chase your impending orgasm or not. You hate that at the current setting, it’s only enough to edge you and need a bit more to get you over the top.

“Okay,” you finally say. “Do it.”

Benny takes it to number four and you yelp instantly.

"Oh my god," you start giggling. "This is fucking crazy!"

Your thighs tightly clamp together and your back arches off the couch. You throw your head back as your jaw drops open, letting out a silent scream. Your hips rock against the vibrator, trying to get to the finish line.

"I'm not gonna lie. This is getting me hard."

You open your eyes and glance over at him to see him palming the front of his jeans and rubbing himself through the denim as he watches you trying not to lose your shit.

“How close are you?" he asks.

You feel your face get really warm all of a sudden. His baby blues pierce your eyes and you're suddenly feeling more vulnerable than you already are, like you just got caught doing something you shouldn't be doing, but at the same time, it’s kinda hot seeing Benny turned on watching you to the point where he’s quasi-touching himself. Noticing your state of shock, he amps up the vibration and you let out an uncontrolled moan.

"Oh, fuck!“

Your hips buck off the couch as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. You continue to moan as you ride the wave and try to catch the next one, grinding down on the couch. You don’t even care how silly you might look to Ben right now. All your focus is what’s going on between your legs. Suddenly the vibrator gets stronger again.

“Ben, stop! It’s too much!” You shriek.

You’re relieved when the torture stops, but it also feels odd as you feel the residual buzzing between your legs.

“So… how was it?” Benny breaks the silence. “Was it all your hopes and dreams?”

You take a moment to yourself to process the experience before answering.

“This shit is… I don’t think I ever want to experience the highest setting on this thing,” you tell him. “This thing is like a torture device. It feels like I pissed myself.”

You turn to look at him as you catch your breath and you’re reminded that Benny’s having his own fun with this, bringing you back down to earth. He scoots a bit closer to you with his hand still over his crotch. This new tension is clearly mutually felt as you both stare at each other, waiting for the other person to say or do something first. Your eyes ping pong between his face and his crotch, which he is still lazily rubbing.

“So uh… what now?” Benny asks, licking his lips. “Round two?” he brings up the remote still in his hand.

“N-no! No, no! Don’t you dare-“ you reach for the remote again, but he pulls it back behind him.

You chase after it, lunging towards him and end up getting right in his face.

“Benny!” You try again, but pause when you catch him staring at you, his face no more than a few inches away from yours.

It may be the post-orgasm bliss or the awkward position you both found yourselves in, but you’ve never noticed how easy on the eyes your best friend is. He swallows hard as his eyes scan your face.

“Can… can I kiss you?" he asks suddenly, leaning in and nudging your nose with his, testing the boundaries.

You lick your dry lips and swallow as you glance down at his mouth, seeing it slowly closing the distance. He ghosts his lips over yours, stopping short of actually putting it on yours, waiting for your permission. You answer his question by closing the gap, slotting your mouth over his.

He kisses back, gently at first, matching your energy. When you slip your tongue into his mouth, he cups your face and returns the gesture. You’re both now devouring each other as he turns his body towards you to get into a more comfortable position, adjusting himself to accommodate the bulge in his jeans.

You both continue to make out with more urgency. Benny’s hands start cautiously exploring your body, placing a hand on your waist at first. It wanders down to your hip and he gives it a squeeze. Your own hands start roaming Benny’s body, touching his hard chest first. His warmth is welcoming, making you twist your body and lean into him. Feeling bold, Benny’s hand wanders to your thigh, his fingers brushing the inside, but far from your wet patch.

“Can I touch you down there?” He mumbles between kisses while moving his mouth to the side of your face and down your neck.

“Wha-“ You let out a loud sigh when you feel his soft wet tongue on the side of your neck, shivering when he grazes a sensitive spot.

“Can I touch you down there?” Ben repeats, pulling back, his lust-filled eyes looking down into yours.

His fingers barely scrapes your inner thigh, but you feel the jolt of his touch travel up to where the vibrator is still sitting.

“Please?” He squeaks out as his fingers travel up higher and his breathing gets heavier, matching yours.

Even though the vibrator isn’t on, it still brushes against your clit every time you shift and it’s only making you want Benny more, to help you get some relief. Even though you’ve already cum, you are hornier than ever right now.

You simply nod before capturing his mouth again. You moan into his mouth when you feel his hand cupping you, rubbing small slow circles with his fingers. Your hips twitch when he drags his middle finger up and down the thick seam of your pants that’s pressing directly down the center of the outer part of the vibrator which is sitting directly on your clit. He’s barely putting any pressure, but you’re hypersensitive right now and it feels like torture.

Now impatient, you start undoing your pants, trying to quickly get them off. You break the kiss to take a few seconds to focus on ridding your jeans. Benny watches you as he palms himself again, touching himself like he did with you. When you finally get your jeans off, tossing it over the couch, you reach into your underwear to remove the bane of your current existence - the vibrator. Without much effort, the vibrator basically falls out of you. It is drenched in your arousal, a thin sticky string still connects you to it.

It made an audible noise when it slipped out of you, as did Benny. Before you can discard the very used toy, Benny’s hand is back on you, his fingertips teasing the band of your underwear. He keeps dipping further and discovers how slick you really are.

"Jeeeeesus Christ, you weren't kidding. That shit got you so fucking wet," he comments while teasing your opening, slowly dipping his fingertip in, putting light pressure against it but it took no effort to penetrate you.

An audible squelch can be heard when he enters a second finger. You moan, feeling his thick fingers filling you and stroking you inside. He’s definitely reaching places the vibrator couldn’t. He hums watching your face distort when he pushes in further.

Your hand grips his strong forearm, feeling his veins raised and his muscles flexing underneath your palms as he pumps his long fingers in and out of you. The tip of his tongue darts out and licks the corner by his upper lip as he starts curling his fingers up, reaching for that soft spongy spot at the roof of your vagina. Your legs open up wider for him as his fingertips rub your g-spot over and over again. Your senses are heightened watching him watching you with darkened eyes. His thumb starts rubbing your clit as he massages your g-spot and it doesn’t take long for your orgasm to peak. You rock your hips against his fingers as your muscles continually clench and release over his fingers.

"Holy sh-shit," you tremble, feeling the aftershocks.

He pulls his fingers out, dragging them over your clit along the way, making your body twitch at the sensitivity.

“I think I made you cum faster than that toy did,” he jokes.

You crack a half smile but you don’t have the brain power to conjure up a verbal response. After a shared moment, he leans in to give you a quick peck on your lips. As he gets up off the couch, Benny takes his cap off to adjust the position of it, switching it backwards before settling between your legs.

The front of your thin cotton panties are completely drenched through. He can see your outline as the damp fabric clings to your puffy lips.

“Can I taste you?”

His puppy eyes peek up from between your legs. Your brain is mush so you simply nod.

He bunches the top of your underwear in his hand and yanks it up, causing it to brush across your clit. Your hips twitch and as he continues to rub the fabric over you, seeing your reaction to it and drawing out the tease. You moan and gyrate your hips when he puts his mouth between your legs over your underwear. He laps up your juices, licking and sucking as he continues to tug at your panties taut against your dripping cunt, putting pressure on your sensitive nub.

"Ben…" you pant as you push his cap off and run your fingers through his messy dirty blonde hair.

His scruff brushes the insides of your thigh as he continues to eat you out. You gasp when you feel the tip of his tongue breaching your opening, forcing your underwear aside and exposing your core. He puts more pressure with his tongue, slipping in deeper inside you and tasting you. Your hips start rocking against his face, but his tongue can only go so far. He shifts his attention to the swollen bud a little higher, scrunching your panties aside. He circles your clit with the tip before pressing the flat of his tongue and then his mouth over it, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks hard. Your thighs clamp around his head and his eyes focus on your face as his tongue continues to play your clit like a fiddle. He grips your hips and holds you down.

“F-fuck…” your breathing becomes irregular as your orgasm builds.

With his mouth still attached to you, he slips his finger inside you to try to find that spot again. You thrust against his face when you feel your third release breaching. Benny intensifies his sucking and fingering, feeling you clench around him. You cry out when the dam breaks and you convulse around him. He doesn’t stop until you still. As you’re coming down from your high, body slouched from being spent, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean.

“So you wanna try that other toy now to see how it compares to the real thing?” He asks as he stands up and wipes his mouth.

He was right about him not needing any help in the bedroom department. You can barely form words right now. Never in a million years would you think your best friend can eat pussy like an expert. Taking from his brother who he regularly competes with, he always strives to be the best in everything he does, but this is on a whole different level. And now he wants to use another toy on you? You don’t think anything can top what he just did to you.

"W-what?" you ask cluelessly, still recovering the most mind blowing oral sex you have ever received.

Your eyes follow him as he reaches for the suction toy to show you. He tries to figure out how to turn it on as he kneels down, returning between your legs.

"You gotta help me out here--"

He's suddenly interrupted when you grab his face and smash your lips against his, tasting yourself. He abandons the toy somewhere and moves up to the couch next to you. You reposition yourself to straddle his lap as you continue to make out. As your hands wander down to the buttons of his jeans, he grabs your ass, squeezing them in his large hands.

When you successfully get his jeans undone, he lifts his hips and helps you pull down his bottoms until he springs free. You look down and reach for his thick cock, warm and soft to the touch. You jerk him as he’s already hard as a rock. Your thumb brushes the underside of his head.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

Now it’s your turn to torture him. You slide off his lap and on to the floor, kneeling between his knees. Once in a comfortable position, you grab his length, licking a trail from the base to the tip, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When you get to the top, you wrap your lips around him, wetting the head a bit before inching down to taste the rest of him. Your tongue swirls around his smooth and salty skin, lubricating him as you bob up and down.

“Shhhhit…” He throws his head back against the couch.

Feeling frisky, you try to deep throat him and he grasps within arms reach whatever he can as he groans. He looks over when a hand grabs something unfamiliar to him. It’s the vibrator and an idea comes to his mind.

“Wait,” he reluctantly stops you.

You pause and see him holding up the vibrator.

“Put this on while you suck me. I think it’ll be fun.”

You look at the vibrator for a moment and then back at him.

“I promise I won’t put it so high,” he reassures you.

“Fine,” you agree and you take it from him and slip it inside you, orienting it the right way. “You try anything and I’ll bite your dick off,” you warn, drawing a small chuckle out of Ben.

You get back into the position you were in before and put your mouth back on him. As you go back to sucking him, you yelp when Benny turns the vibrator on at a low speed. The noise you made sent a delightful vibration down his cock, making it twitch. He turns it up a notch and your hips move against the vibrator. You start moving up and down on him a little faster, stroking the base where your mouth can’t reach. You deepthroat him again until you gag, but you keep on going, sending your spit dripping down his cock and lubing him up.

“You look so fucking hot,” Benny pants.

His breathing is getting more labored. His hips jerk up and he places a hand on the back of your head. He’s not putting any pressure, but he fists your hair. He doesn’t pull on it, just moves with you as you fuck him with your mouth. You start quickening your pace feeling the vibrator getting stronger, trying to match it. Feeling the beginning of an orgasm forming, you rock your hips and suck him harder.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns you.

Not changing your rhythm, you watch him come undone as he pops in your mouth. He thrust into your face as his moans echo in the small space and grasps the remote in his hand, accidentally jumping it up another level, but it’s what you needed to push you over the edge. You grind against the toy as you moan with him still deep inside your mouth. He spills out of the corner of your mouth as his hips slow down.

When he stills, you suck him clean and swallow the load that remained in your mouth. You reach down to pull the vibrator off and toss it onto his lap. Benny jumps in his seat and shuts it off. You wipe the corner of your mouth and chin with the back of your hand as you get up off your knees. He looks back at you with tired eyes as he tries to catch his breath, cock twitching. You squeal when he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his lap, careful with his half hard cock. You straddle his lap and he kisses you, his tongue thrusting into your mouth, tasting a bit of himself. The two of you lazily make out for a bit until Benny pulls back. You lick your lips and smile, looking down at him.

“We should start making this a regular thing, ya know. The toy testing,” Benny suggests, breaking the awkward silence and lightening the mood.

“Well, I do have a dildo I haven’t tried yet,” you half-joke.

He looks back at you with narrow eyes.

“You’re not putting that in my ass,” he states.

“Not what I was thinking,” you chuckle as you shake your head. “I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to be double penetrated,” you explain.

Benny stares at you with a blank expression, but you see his semi twitch in your peripheral.

“Gi-give me maybe fifteen minutes—“ he finally says, pointing to his softening cock.

“Whoa! Hold it there, cowboy,” you stop him. “Why don’t we just think on that? Besides, I don’t have any condoms or lube for that to happen.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure,” he shrugs. “I-I had a good time, if that’s what you were wonder—“

You silence him with a tender kiss before grabbing the vibrator to remove the batteries and toss them at him.

“I’m gonna clean up. Why don’t you put the fight on? I think It’s starting soon,” you tell him as you dismount him and grab your jeans off the floor while Benny pulls his bottoms back up.

“Look what the guys missed out on. Coulda had an orgy,” you joke.

“If everyone showed up, we’d be at a bar,” he points out, then swishes some beer inside his mouth.

“Fair. Okay, a Miller sandwich then,” you switch it up.

Benny chokes on his beer.

“Kidding!” You chuckle awkwardly. “Kinda. Sorry, you probably don’t wanna think about you and your brother fucking the same person at the same time,” you snort before finally heading to the bathroom.

When you get back, you find Benny putting his phone away and relaxing on the couch like he was before any of the sexy stuff had happened, with the TV on. The awkwardness returns. He hands you your beer as you sit down next to him, settling in. You both quietly watch the fight as it starts, but you steal glances at each other every now and then. At one point, you do a double take.

“Dude, are you smelling your fingers?” You look at him incredulously.

“What? I washed them, but I can still smell you.”

You grimace at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. You smell good,” he shrugs. “It’s actually getting me hard again.”

You watch him adjust himself. The both of you stare each other down, trying to read each other until a knock on your door breaks the trance.

“Who the hell is that?” You ask, but Benny shrugs.

You get up to open the door and find the other Miller brother on the other side.

“Hey, sorry I’m late! I had trouble finding parking. Did the fight start already?”

You look back at him confused.

“Uh… are you gonna let me in?” Will asks. “I brought goodies.” He shows the case of beer and grocery store bag in his hand with a party sized bag of chips peeking out.

“Sorry, I just thought you weren’t coming,” you tell him while letting him in.

“I texted Benny telling him plans changed last minute. Did he not get it?”

“Uh, I-I don’t know. He didn’t tell me anything.” You lead him into the living room where Benny almost looks surprised.

“Did you not tell her I’m coming?” Will asks his brother.

“Oh, sorry, forgot. I was uh, a little preoccupied,” he apologizes.

Will looks at both you and Benny suspiciously.

“It smells… interesting in here,” he comments, his eyebrows furrow with curiosity.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry Will. Let me take that from you.” You quickly change the subject, taking the bag and beer out of his hands.

“Wait-” Will starts.

“Get comfy. I’ll bring you back a cold beer,” you tell him before whisking away.

You stick the beer in the fridge and when you remove the party sized tortillas to pour some into a bowl, you notice some unexpected items in the bag. You take them out for a closer inspection and your eyes widen at the bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Maybe he bought these before his initial plans got changed.

You shrug, throw them back into the bag and return to the living room with a bowl of chips, cold beer and the grocery bag of personal items. When you walk into the living room, the brothers turn their attention to you, eyeing you like they’re expecting something other than the beer and chips. You look back at them suspiciously as they’re both very laxed and spread out on the couch on each end, leaving a space for you in between. As you walk over and settle in next to them, their gaze follows you.

“Here Will, I think these are yours,” you hand him a beer and his bag of items.

He takes them from you as he smirks.

“Thanks. So,” Will turns his body towards you. “Benny tells me you’re curious about some DP action.”

You almost drop the bowl of chips in your hands. Will is usually very reserved and diplomatic so you’re a bit shocked at how straight forward he is right now. You glare at your best friend who shrugs helplessly.

“I had to tell him what he missed out on.”

You glower your eyes at Benny, but then put two and two together, your focus now bouncing between the two brothers and realize that no one is probably going to watch this fight tonight.

#benny miller #triple frontier #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x f! reader #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #triple frontier fanfiction #bff to lovers

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fandomxpreferences · 2 years

Text

Deja Vu

Pairing: Rooster x female!reader

Word Count: 3.8k (this got out of control lol)

TW:angst, description of injuries, fluff,swearing

Based on this request

A/N: I hope y'all enjoy this because its absolutely one of my favorite pieces so far and im so proud of it.Also did I scroll through dozen photos of miles and zoom in to figure out his eye color? yes I did.

Maverick watches everything happen in slow motion. He looks on helplessly as Rooster gets stuck in a jet wash and goes into a tailspin. His voice is stuck in his throat as he's forced to see the son of his former RIO suffer the same fate. The fate he promised Carol he'd protect her only son from. At that moment, all he knows is that Rooster hit the canopy as he ejected, floating to the ground completely limp. He mentally prepares to face you the same way he had to face Carol all those years ago.

You're standing in the kitchen putting groceries away when your phone rings. You close the fridge and look at the caller ID. Your heart rate speeds up when you see the picture of Maverick holding you in a headlock with a wide smile on his face. Rooster has been gone on a classified mission for the last two weeks. You don't know where he is or when he'll be back, but you know it should be at least another week.

You know that this was a no-contact mission, meaning Mav shouldn't be calling you. And if they're able to call, why would Mav call instead of Bradley? You pick up the device and hit the green button, bringing it up to your ear. "Hello? Mav?" You ask cautiously. You're terrified of what's waiting for you on the other end of the line.

"Y/N. I thought I should be the one to call." His voice is nervous, and it causes you to tremble with fear. "There's been an incident. Bradley's on a medevac but he's still a few hours out." On the other side of the phone, Mav is trying his best not to let you know how worried he is. It does no good, you can hear the distress in his voice.

"What happened? Is he okay?" You ask. You're doing your best to stay composed and get information, but the panic is leeching into your voice. Every second that you don't get an answer, you become more frantic.

You're brought back by the sound of Maverick's voice. "I…I don't know, Y/N. He-" there's a pause and you hear him take a shaky breath. "He had to eject and he-" Maverick stops again trying to steady his voice. You about rip your hair out waiting for the man to spit out what he's trying to say.

"He what, Pete?! I need to know what the fuck happened!" You bite out. You know it's harsh. You grew up with Bradley and know Mav is reliving one of the worst days of his life. But you need to know if you're about to suffer the same grief that you watched Carol carry until she took her last breath.

"He hit the canopy. He was limp when he hit the ground. He's alive, but I don't know anything else." He's crying now, but you're barely listening as your ears ring. You feel your blood run cold and your knees buckle, sending you crashing to the ground.

You don't know how long you've been spiraling, but you're launched back into reality at the sound of Maverick calling your name. "Y/N? Are you there?" He's yelling, so you figure he's been trying to get a response for at least a couple of minutes.

"You promised. You promised me you'd keep him safe." Your voice is small as tears begin to roll off your face and onto the hardwood floor. "Where are they taking him?" You ask, already reaching for your keys. You know Bradley's still hours away, but they're out of their fucking minds if they think you won't be there waiting when he arrives.

You vaguely register Mav's answer followed by him asking, "Is there anything I can do? Trust me, I'm doing everything I can to get there. I'm working with Ice now." You shake your head even though he can't see you.

"No," you tell him. "He trusted you, just like his dad. Look what that got them." You hang up, not bothering to wait for a response. You know it was cruel. You know you'll regret it later, but right now emotions are running high and all you can think about is being handed a folded-up flag as people look on with pity.

You get to the hospital in record time, rushing to the front desk. A kind-looking older lady is sitting behind a computer and you momentarily feel bad for startling her with your urgency.

"My husband, Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, was in an accident on a mission. He's being flown here, but I was wondering if you had any more information." The words run together as they rush out of your mouth.

She gives you a warm smile and types for a few seconds. She glances up at you and you hate the sympathy in her eyes. You wonder for a second if that's a look you should get used to before she speaks. "I don't have any information on his condition, ma'am. All we've been told is to have a medical team and operating room on standby."

You thank her, barely holding yourself up as you stumble over to a chair. You plop down and just stare at the white wall in front of you. The sterile smell burns your nostrils and your eyes hurt from the harsh fluorescent lighting. You prepare yourself for the worst. You don't know a lot about hospitals, but you've seen enough TV to know having anything on standby isn't good. There must be hope if they're bothering to work on him, right? At least it was a medevac and not a search and recovery.

You don't know how long you've been trying to reason with yourself, spiraling around different scenarios. It must have been a while because your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a helicopter. You know he won't be coming through the front, which you're grateful for. You don't think you could stand to see the doctors swarming him, yelling out orders and diagnoses that you can't make sense of.

You do, however, see the doctors running when their pagers alert them that your husband is here. The receptionist gives you a gentle smile, and assures you she'll let them know you're here waiting for an update. You must have dozed off because you're awoken by Maverick sitting next to you with two coffees.

You sit up and crack your neck, certain that you'll be sore from being slumped over in the stiff chair. He offers you a cup and you take it gingerly, giving him a remorseful smile. You open your mouth to apologize but you're cut off by the older man shaking his head and putting his hand up.

"Don't. You have nothing to be sorry for. You're scared and it's normal to lash out. It's water under the bridge." You nod your head and meet his eyes. He reaches out to hold your hand and that's all it takes. Within seconds you're crumbling into his arms, sobs wracking your body. He doesn't say anything. He just kisses your head and holds you firmly as you release the terror and panic that you've been swirling in all day.

It takes about an hour for you to settle down. You sit next to the man who's always been like blood to you, sipping your now cold coffee. It's silent aside from an occasional hiccup from you and the normal hustle and bustle of a hospital. There's no need to talk. There's nothing to say. All you can do is wait, and it's torture.

After another few minutes, the doors open and a doctor in scrubs walks out. Your eyes lift up to look at the woman. She looks tired. It's been 10 hours since Bradley arrived. You assume she's the surgeon who holds the rest of your life in her palms. Her eyes land on you and she takes a step forward. "Mrs.Bradshaw?" She questions and you shoot out of your chair, meeting her halfway. "Yes, that's me." You confirm, your voice wavering. She nods her head and looks over the chart in her hands.

"Your husband was in a nasty accident." She starts. You wait with bated breath and feel Maverick come up behind you, prepared to catch you if necessary. "He came in with a shattered clavicle and several broken ribs. His body hit the canopy, and it caused a pretty severe internal hemorrhage." You lean your weight on maverick, feeling your knees start to grow weak.

"I was able to stop the bleeding, but he needed three bags of blood. He has some pretty severe wounds and needed a total of 112 stitches. He's in a medically induced coma to help his body heal, but he is stable. We hope to bring him out of it in the next couple of days if all goes well." You stand there silently, trying to process the information.

She gives you the time you need and after a couple of minutes, you look back up. "Can I see him?" You ask. The doctor looks between you and Maverick a few times. Slowly, she nods and you feel like you've taken your first real breath since this started. "I have to warn you though, he's pretty beat up. It may be distressing." You shake your head. "I don't care. I need to see him." You croak.

"They're still getting him settled in, but I'll let a nurse know to come get you as soon as he's ready." She starts to walk away before turning back to face you. "For what it's worth, your husband is extremely lucky given the circumstances. Had his shoulder not taken the brunt of the force, he would have sustained a spinal injury or a traumatic brain injury. He’s fortunate not to be paralyzed. I've seen this exact situation play out very differently. At the end of the day, you still get to take your husband home and he will be his normal self after some physical therapy and rest. Just try to think of it that way when you see him." She tells you gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Will he get to fly again?” You ask. If he loses his wings, Bradley will never be the same. It’s who he is and it would destroy him. She gives you a kind smile and nods. “It’ll be a while, but yes. He will be able to fly again.” You nod and she goes back the way she came.

Twenty minutes later, you and Mav are following a nurse down a bleak hallway. You stop outside a door and look at the number plate. 402. "You can go in whenever you're ready. If you need anything, don't hesitate to hit the call button." She informs you with a gentle tone. It's well past visiting hours and the hospital is empty. It's not customary for them to bend the rules, but you know Maverick must have pulled some strings because nobody gives you a second look.

You stand outside the door for a minute, bracing your head against it and white-knuckling the handle. You listen to the steady beeping coming from Bradley's room and try to remind yourself that it means he's alive. He's here and he needs you. You take a deep breath and push the heavy door open.

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for what was before you. As bad as the scenarios in your head were, this seemed worse. There was your husband laying on a hospital bed, but if you didn't know better you would have walked right past completely unaware. His usual golden skin was pale and clammy. The curls that he carefully styled every morning were messy and untamed, falling onto his forehead. He looked dead. You let out a choked whimper and collapse. Maverick must have been directly behind you because your knees never hit the cold tile.

Instead, you were lowered gently and cradled in strong arms. You felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest and thrown in a blender. You clasp both hands over your mouth trying to stifle your gut-wrenching cries.

Behind you, Maverick feels his own tears fall. He's heard these deep, primal wails before. It was the same way Carol cried when he held her after Goose's death brought her to her knees.

Your eyes rake over his form, taking in all the wires and IVs poking and prodding his body. He's intubated and covered in bandages. You cry until you throw up, Maverick holding your hair back the same way he did Carol's. Maverick had always jokingly asked when you were giving him an honorary grandchild, but at this moment he's glad no child is waiting for you at home.

Maverick manages to settle you down, and you take your place at Bradley's bedside. The next couple of weeks are filled with updates from the doctors, promising he'd be woken up soon. After a couple days, the rest of the Dagger Squad made it back to solid ground and came first thing.

He wasn't as pale and ghastly by the time they arrived and you were glad. You would be seeing it in your nightmares for the foreseeable future, and you knew they already had their own trauma surrounding the incident.

They all took turns checking in on you. Bringing food and clothes, forcing you to shower and sleep. Maverick, Phoenix, and Hangman were the ones who came most often and stuck around the longest.

Bradley had grown quite close with the blonde aviator since the uranium mission, and in turn, you had too. Hangman promised Bradley that if anything ever happened, he'd take care of you. He was doing everything in his power to keep that promise.

It's been three weeks and the doctors have stopped the medication and removed the breathing tube. He's now in a coma with no end in sight. The doctors tell you he'll wake up when he's ready, that sometimes these things just happen.

You and hangman are having your usual chat and watching re-runs of shitty reality tv. He's brought you takeout, forcing you to take a bite every few minutes. Your clothes are baggy and your eyes are sunken in, the stress clearly taking a toll. You're in the middle of chewing when you see Bradley's hand move out of the corner of your eye.

Hangman notices you freeze and turns to look at you. "What is it? Are you okay?" He asks, giving you a visual assessment. You chew and swallow your food, almost choking. "He moved." You tell him, eyes boring into Bradley's hand.

Jake watches for a few minutes before placing a hand on your back. "Maybe you should get some sleep." He suggests. You shake your head aggressively, messy hair flopping around. "No. I'm telling you. He moved."

Jake is getting concerned you're starting to hallucinate when he hears Bradley's voice. "Did you bring me any or were you just going to eat in front of me?" His voice is scratchy and weak after not drinking any water for almost a month.

You jump out of your chair and grab his hand. "Oh my god. Bradley! I knew you'd come back to me." You're sobbing and he reaches up to wipe your cheek. "Hey, none of that. I'm right here." You lean into him, grasping his large hand in your own and holding it in place.

Jake hits the call button, and a nurse comes rushing in. The staff has become quite fond of you. You have the team bring them snacks and you spent many sleepless nights swapping stories, most of them being military spouses as well. Most importantly, you never hit the call button, not wanting to desensitize them for when this inevitably happened.

The nurse, who was the same one that took you to his room that first night, is smiling so big it looks like her face might split. "Mr.Bradshaw. Glad you decided to join us." She beams. She calls for a doctor and begins taking his vitals. She works around you, allowing you to stay glued to his side. Bless her. You make a mental note to send her a gift basket.

Jake leaves to call the rest of the team, and you sit in the room listening to the doctor. She looks over his charts and gives him a bright smile. "Well Lieutenant, it seems that coma served you well. You're healing up quite nicely. We'll keep you for observation just to be safe, and if all is well you can go home in the morning."

You leave Bradley for a moment and give the doctor a bone-crushing hug. "Thank you. For everything." You tell her. She laughs and returns the hug. "You're welcome. You've been a joy, despite the poor circumstances." She tells you, before turning and pointing at Bradley.

"You. Don't let me see you here again. This poor woman almost withered away. I've never had a loved one not leave the hospital for three weeks. Didn't even take a step outside for a walk or fresh air." She scolds playfully. She bids one last goodbye and leaves to give you two privacy.

"Come here, sweet girl." Bradley calls out and you rush to his side. His voice is almost back to normal since drinking some fluids and he's gotten his color back. He looks like your Bradley. He pulls you down and you sit on his bed careful not to hurt him. He grabs the back of your head and brings your lips to his. It's a bruising kiss filled with fear, relief, and love. You pull back for air and lock eyes with him.

You make a note to never take them for granted again. Five weeks without seeing his hazel eyes. You take in every gold fleck, committing them to memory. You were terrified you'd never see them again. Never look into them and see the love and adoration he holds for you. Bradley is the first to break the silence.

"I was so scared, Y/N." He confides with tears In his eyes. "All I could think about was my dad, and how I was going to leave you the same way he left me and mom. I kept picturing your face when you got the news. Kept seeing Mav hand you a folded flag and dog tags like he gave me at dad's funeral." He cries.

You shake your head, not wanting to think about it. That had been the only thing on your mind while you were waiting to find out if you were a widow. You place his hand over your heart. "No, Roo. None of that talk, okay? You're here. You're alive. You feel my heart? It beats for you. Only for you. I never want to think about that again, okay?" You tell him as a tear falls down your face.

Bradley brushes it away and kisses the wet streak it left in its wake. "No more crying, baby, You're too pretty." You give him a teary smile and pull back. "No more crying." You confirm, leaning forward to give him another kiss.

The room is filled with junk food and laughter as the whole team sits around catching up. You look around and smile, beyond happy that things are back the way they should be. Visiting hours come to an end and everybody says their goodbyes, promising to come to see him once he's home tomorrow.

You shut the door and turn to lean against it, facing Bradley. You give him a small smile and he returns the gesture. He waves you over and you make your way to his side. He lifts the blanket and pats the bed, signaling that he wants you to get in.

You shake your head gently. "You're still hurt, Roo. Besides, I don't think that's allowed." You reason. He scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Neither is you living here, but you're all moved in. I don't give a fuck what the policy is, I haven't slept with my girl for over a month. Get your cute ass in here." He retorts with a teasing tone. You give a defeated sigh, before gently crawling into bed.

You can't deny that you've missed this. You haven't gotten more than two hours of consecutive sleep since the accident. He pulls you tight against his chest and kisses your temple. Your eyes flutter shut as he runs his fingers through your hair, his other hand tracing up and down your spine.

"Get some sleep, sweet girl. You look like shit." You can hear the smirk in his voice and you gasp dramatically. "I thought you said I was pretty." You shoot back with mock offense. He chuckles and you feel him wince. "The prettiest. But that doesn't mean you don't look like you went three rounds with Rocky." He jests.

You're half asleep already when you respond. "You're lucky I love you." He lays his cheek on top of your head, smelling your shampoo. "The luckiest." He whispers, joining you in a peaceful slumber.

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of breakfast and Bradley's body moving. You raise your head to look at him, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "I'm sorry if I woke you, baby. I have to sign this discharge paperwork." He explains. You look at the clock and see it's eleven. You slept for twelve hours.

One of your favorite nurses comes in and gives you a lazy grin. "Morning sleeping beauty." She quips. You groan, gently climbing out of bed and stretching your aching muscles. "I'm sorry if sleeping in the bed caused any issues." You say with a shy smile. She shrugs her shoulders. "I didn't see anything." She giggles, bringing her finger to her lips in a shushing motion. "This is why you're my favorite." You tell her fondly.

A couple hours later, you and Bradley are on your way home. You pull into the driveway and place your car in park. You help him out of the passenger side and go to grab the bags. Being in the coma for three weeks means the worst of his injuries is over. He still has to do physical therapy and take it easy, but he's doing considerably better and should be back to work within a couple months.

You turn around and see Bradley giving his Bronco an awkward hug. "I missed you so much." He whispers and you shake your head at his antics. "Jake came over every couple of days and drove it so the battery didn't die." You tell him. His head whips towards you. "You let hangman drive my pride and joy?" He asks with clear horror.

You scoff. "You trust him to take care of me, but not your truck?" You question with a raised eyebrow. His arms drop to his sides and he admits defeat. "Touche."

"Let's get inside. Everyone is coming over for a bonfire later and we need to get ready." You remind him.

The night is filled with laughter and loud music. Everyone swaps embarrassing stories and you take it all in, pressed firmly against Bradley's chest. You turn around and give your husband a sweet kiss, and he gives you a heart-stopping smile and wink. The next few months are going to be challenging, but as long as you have each other, you can get through anything.

#rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #rooster angst #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #Bradley Bradshaw topgun #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun angst #top gun fluff

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mikareo · 7 months

Text

⌗ ROMANTICISM ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (4k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ there are so many words he wishes he could take back, and he realizes now that he loves you. he loves your colorful laugh, beauty, and passion - all he needs now, is to tell you...and say those three little words. (part two of rationalism - must must read first!!!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, rin hates art, strangers to friends to lovers, swearing, immense fluff, , kissing, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness, happy ending!!! author's note; this was originally supposed to end with reader getting into a car accident and d-wording the day of her art gallery...but i changed my mind :D

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does.

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Rin wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers.

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Sae’s call is distant from the turning gears within Rin’s brain. He’s sure that his brother has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Rin feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk.

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The dim-eyed boy beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Rin had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Sae continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Rin hates him.

“You’re an asshole.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Rin care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful asshole who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being said ‘unhelpful asshole’.”

Sae scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just fucking talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Rin stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Sae holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his older brother chuckles, causing Rin to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Sae continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Rin takes his brother’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him.

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Rin’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other.

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears.

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth.

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Rin doesn’t even know.

It could’ve been when you showed up to his game unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon number ten! I know you can do better than that! Beat their asses, Rin!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Isagi - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of his qualms with his rival from that day. Rin was solely focused on playing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good.

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things.

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Rin’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Rin, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard.

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Rin! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Rin’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Rin feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Sae to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his big brother was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Rin on the back.

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!”

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Sae eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Rin knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along.

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Rin’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing.

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Rin knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you.

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, ______, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Rin can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ‘hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago.

Rin has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you.

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back.

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Rin hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him.

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before.

“Rin?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Rin, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?”

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Rin Itoshi.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Rin fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you.

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Rin relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Rin’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right.

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that, ______.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Rin can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls.

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Rin almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful.

Rin brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it.

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay.

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased.

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it.

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they're a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him.

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel.

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Rin cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss.

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

read the final part here. THANK UUUU

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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jungle-angel · 1 month

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A Cowboy By Any Other Name (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Even in adulthood, Rhett still has the most adorable nickname you've ever heard

Warnings: Mentions of adoptions, plans to start a family etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @sebsxphia @bradleybeachbabe

It was one of those Sunday mornings in early spring where you and Rhett had slept deeply, exhausted from the night before and too tired to have switched into your pjs. Amy had crawled in between you, snuggled in the curve of Rhett's elbow with her little Tiger Lily ragdoll Wes and Nora had made for her. The sun had come streaming through the windows of your shared bedroom, shining right onto your faces as Rhett's eyes fluttered open.

He kissed Amy's head before tossing aside the covers to get up, coming over to kiss you before heading downstairs, drawn in by the smell of Cecelia making breakfast for everybody and the hot coffee percolating into the pot.

"Ah first one up I see," she chuckled.

"M'still fuckin tired Ma," Rhett groaned before kissing his mother on the cheek.

"Long night?"

"Like ya'll wouldn't believe," Rhett answered. "First classes and then a ride after."

"Tell me that was your last one."

"Last one, for good this time," Rhett told her. "I ain't gettin banged up anymore."

"Well, I'm glad ya'll did," Cecelia said, cracking a few eggs in the cast iron pan. "Amy needs you and so doesn't (y/n)."

Rhett knew she was right. Amy was still little and desperately needed him around and although you were fairly independent, you needed Rhett just as badly as he needed you. The last time he had gotten banged up from a bull ride had been the week before Amy was born, landing him in the hospital for a week only to return home with his arm in a sling and heavy duty meds for the days after. Thank God he had gotten the woodworking teacher job at the Amelia County Steiner School when he did. It had been a literal lifesaver.

Rhett poured himself some of the fresh steaming coffee into his mug with a little milk from the fridge before you had come downstairs, still heavy headed and groggy.

"Why don't ya'll go back to bed?" Rhett chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

"Didn't wanna sleep so late," you yawned.

"Sorry to tell you Grumpy," Cecelia said. "But it looks like ya'll are gonna be sharing that coffee."

"Grumpy?" you laughed.

"Rhett bit his lip. "My um.......my nickname."

"Oh my God!" you exclaimed. "That's adorable, how did that one stick?"

"When Rhett was a baby, he'd get all pouty and bore an odd resemblance to Grumpy in Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs," Cecelia explained.

"Aw c'mon Ma," Rhett groaned.

"Oh my God I need to see this!" you said excitedly.

"Oh hold on one sec honey," your mother-in-law laughed.

You and Cecelia went to the credenza in the dining room where she kept all the family photo albums, pulling out a picture of Rhett at three years old with a pouty look on his face.

"Ma what the hell?!" Rhett blurted out.

"Awww look at you and your cute little pouty face," you teased.

Rhett tried to swipe the picture out of your hand but to no avail. When his father came into the dining room, it got ten times worse.

"Hey sugar pea!" Royal called, "Ya'll seen my watch?"

"Fell off the nightstand again," Cecelia answered, holding it up for him.

"Thanks honey," Royal said before he kissed her. "Oh......oh hey now, got the pics?"

"Yeah and I found one of Grumpy with his little pouty face," Cecelia laughed.

"Oh look here's a good one," Royal said as a shit eating grin crawled across his face. "Remember this?"

A laugh escaped your throat as Rhett turned redder than a freshly pulled beet.

"Oh my God I remember that one!" Cecelia exclaimed. "Rhett couldn't have been more than a year old and he went runnin naked through the backyard sprinkler."

"Full moon too!" you blurted out. "You had the cutest lil baby butt ever!"

"DAD PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME!!!"

Royal quickly handed off the photo to you before you bolted up the stairs with Rhett hot at your heels, the two of you laughing as he chased you down, pinning you against the wall outside his parents' bedroom.

"You do know Amy's still asleep," you informed him.

"Then gimme the pics."

You two laughed and giggled before Rhett leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. You wrapped your arms around him before kissing him again.

"Love you sweetheart," he mumbled.

"Love you too Grumpy," you chuckled.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #amy abbott #royal abbott #cecelia abbott #royal x cecelia abbott #outer range

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lovebombs4life · 7 months

Text

corruption - l.r.h

requested: nope. thinking of this as i’m listening to music :)

cw: SMUT. oral (f), fingering, rough sex, choking, unprotected, mentions of alcohol, dom!luke, i’m a slut for luke hemmings

———

“oh come on y/n, you’re telling me that you’ve never had anything interesting happen during sex?” crystal asked. i nodded my head. we were all sitting around in luke’s living room, some of us already drunk, some of us just buzzed. i was one of the only people in the group that was single, besides luke.

“i didn’t know there were interesting things when it came to sex until like two days ago, crystal. and we all know i constantly get ghosted whenever i try and get a date.” i rambled. i looked over at luke who was across the living room. he was slightly smirking as he listened to me.

“y/n, you’re 26. genuine question that’s gonna be real tmi. has a guy ever made you cum?” brandy asked. calum’s eyes widened at her question, but he wanted to know the answer too. everyone looked to me, waiting for my response.

“well i mean.. not exactly? when ever they’d get done they’d usually leave and i’d get myself off i guess.” i said, looking down. i picked at my nails, feeling slightly embarrassed. talking about this in front of my friends was a little embarrassing, but especially because luke kept watching me.

it’d be a lie if i said that i wasn’t attracted to luke. and it would also be a lie if i said i didn’t have a massive crush on him for the past few years. or maybe since we met. at sixteen.

“oh my god. are you serious?” michael questioned. i nodded my head, not wanting to look up at anyone. i bounced my leg, trying to calm myself down.

“okay y/n, let’s get you a drink. calm down those nerves, yeah?” crystal said, standing and grabbing my hand to get a drink. she pulled me to the kitchen, making sure we were alone.

“i’m not supposed to say anything, but i swear on my life, luke has been eyeing you this whole time. michael told me the other day that luke has been crushing on you for the longest time.” she spoke. my eyes almost fell out of my head from how wide they were.

“you’re serious?” i asked. she nodded her head. “dead serious.”

i glanced around the corner seeing that luke was still watching for me. my stomach did flips seeing him. i grabbed a drink from the fridge, popping it open and taking a large sip.

once crystal and i were back in the living room, luke’s eyes went back to being glued to me. “i’ll be right back guys, im gonna get changed.” i spoke up. everyone gave an ‘okay’ as i walked up the stairs. i went to luke’s room where i had left my overnight bag.

i closed the door before slipping out of my jeans and t-shirt. i unclasped my bra, letting it fall to the ground. i threw on my large shirt i used for pj’s, and slid on a pair of shorts. i headed back down the stairs, sitting back down on the couch. crystal handed me a drink, and i thanked her as i grabbed it.

we all sat there and talked for another few hours before everyone decided it was time to head home. i headed upstairs, grabbing my bag from luke’s room, and headed to his guest room.

“i’m gonna head to bed, goodnight luke!” i called from the door before closing it. i was too caught up in getting comfortable that i didn’t realize he hadn’t answered me.

i slid my shorts off, leaving me in my black panties and large t-shirt. i got on the bed, laying on my stomach. i scrolled through my phone, before stopping on a fan account of luke. i scrolled through the photos, squeezing my legs together.

“alright there?” luke’s voice scared me. i scrambled to sit up, covering my lower half with my t shirt. i clutched onto my phone, turning it off.

“oh don’t get all shy now, y/n. you’ve been showing yourself off, talking about nothing but your sex life all night. now i come in here seeing that you’re practically drooling over pictures of me.” he spoke, getting closer to me.

i swallowed hard, pushing my phone away from me. “i don’t know what you’re talking about, luke.” i played dumb. he laughed, shaking his head at me.

“don’t act like you’re all innocent there. if i hadn’t spoken up you would’ve started touching yourself. such a dirty slut.” he teased, crawling onto the bed, towering over me.

my breath hitched, and my thighs were dripping with my arousal. “i still don’t know what you mean.” i pushed. i don’t know where this confidence was coming from, but i could tell he was trying hard not to pin me down from my lies.

“you wanna be a brat? act like you don’t want me to fuck you? thats just fine darling. you can get yourself off alone, never getting what you wanted.” he spoke lowly. he was inches away from my face. i took a deep breathe, awaiting what he was going to do next.

he lowered his head to my neck, biting and licking at my skin. i let out a soft moan, making him smirk as he left marks on me. “i don’t want to hear another noise out of your mouth unless you’re gonna be a good girl.”

“i’ll be good, want to be good for you.” i whined. he smirked, lifting my shirt over my head. the smallest things he did made me wetter by the minute. i’d never felt this way with any other partner i’ve had.

he trailed his hands up and down my body, squeezing my thighs. he found his way to my clothed heat, running his fingers softly up and down. “so wet for me, yet i’ve hardly touched you. tell me what you want, sweetheart.” i gasped at his touch, moving my hips forward.

“anything, do anything to me, please, just touch me luke.” i begged. he chuckled at my need, slipping my panties down my legs and throwing them to the side. he kissed down my thighs, licking a stripe up my pussy.

i let out a groan, wanting more. my hands made their way to his curls, pulling slightly. he moaned at the feeling while his tongue attacked my clit. “fuck, luke, feels so good, never felt this good.” i breathed, my legs already shaking.

without warning, he slid a finger in, pumping in and out of me as he licked at me. i let out a loud moan, clenching around his finger. he slid another in, curling his fingers up.

“oh shit, luke! gotta cumbaby, please, luke, make me cum!” i begged, my thighs shaking harder. “cum for me good girl, wanna taste you.” he praised.

he continued curling his fingers, lapping away at my pussy. i pulled his hair, letting myself cum on his fingers. i squeezed my thighs, slightly trapping him as he kept going.

i arched my back, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure. “f-fuck! oh god, gonna cum again!” i cried. he moaned into my heat, sending me over the edge.

he pulled away once i calmed down, sucking my juices off his fingers. he brought his lips to mine, allowing me to taste myself on his tongue.

“did so good baby, now you can say you’ve cum having sex.” he teased. i blushed at his words. “i want more of you, lu, please.” i asked.

he threw his head back at the sight of me being spread out for him. he threw his shirt off and quickly slid his pants off. i watched as he grabbed hold of his cock, pumping it a few times.

“get on your hands and your knees, pretty girl.” he directed. i did as told, lifting my ass in the air. he slid his tip in, causing me to moan at the brief feeling. he pulled back before shoving his cock fully inside. i let out a yell as he steadied himself.

i buried my face into the pillows, screaming as he pounded into me. he grabbed my hair, pulling my face up. “don’t hide those pretty moans baby. want everyone to know who’s making you feel this fuckin good.” he said as he lifted me so his chest was pressed to my back.

my head fell back onto his shoulder, gasping as he hit my g spot. his hand traveled to my throat, squeezing tightly. my eyes rolled back as i let out strangled moans.

“luke! ugh, fuck! love your cock, never want anything else!” i cried, tears falling down my cheeks. he grunted as i kissed his neck.

“i’ve wanted you, fuck, for so long, y/n, never letting you go, you’re mine.” he growled, holding onto me as he fucked into me.

i clenched myself around him, moaning at how deep he was. he moaned at the feeling, smacking my ass from the side. “gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.” he groaned.

he pressed his hand against my stomach, feeling his cock deep inside me. “feel that baby? feel my cock bulging into your stomach?” he asked, keeping his rough pace. i nodded my head, gasping for air as he fucked me.

i clenched around him again, this time not being able to stop it. “lu, gonna cum again, wanna cum on your cock.” i yelped, feeling his cock twitch at my words.

“fuck baby, go on, cum for me.” he said, holding my hips as he continued to pound into me. a scream ripped from my throat as i came, my body convulsing as he held me close.

“gonna cum baby, where you want me to-” i cut him off before he could continue. “in me, need you in me, wanna feel your cum deep in my pussy. on birth control already.” i gasped.

“fuck, such a cum slut.” he said, releasing into my pussy. i felt the hot liquid fill me up, making me moan. luke pulled out of me, leading me down to the bed.

“just one second darling.” he spoke before leaving the room. he returned with a warm wash cloth, cleaning me up. my body was still shaking, and i could feel my heart pounding.

he returned to the bed, laying with me, pulling me close. “enjoy yourself, love?” he questioned. i nodded, whimpering.

“didn’t hurt you did i?” he asked, worried. i shook my head, looking up at him. “you’ve really wanted me for a while?” i asked, hoping he meant it. he nodded, squeezing me.

“i’ve loved you since we met. wanted you for the longest time. and now im never letting you go.”

i sighed with contentment, falling asleep in his grip.

#5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #calum hood #michael clifford #5sos #michael 5sos #ashton 5sos #calum 5sos #luke 5sos #5sos5 #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings smut

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to-the-stars8 · 9 months

Text

Reviving Love

Jason Todd x Reader AO3

Chapter 3

Jason hadn’t meant to stalk your Instagram page, but it was too tempting. Your profile was public and you posted just the right amount that he could put pieces of your life together from the time he died to the present. Eventually, he had scrolled down far enough that he surprisingly found a picture of you and him.

By the shit mid-2000s Instagram filter and the poor iPhone quality, it had to be right when the two of you started dating. Jason subconsciously ran a hand over his cheek, feeling the stubble and small scar on his jawline as he stared down at the smooth-skinned, rosy-cheeked boy in the photo. It had been before the years got to him, and it was almost an anomaly to see himself so content. He’d forgotten he had been at one point.

Jason shut off the phone, the picture brought him back to reality. Even if he did see you again, he felt too unattractive to ever approach you. No, the scars on his body and the bitterness that hung off every word he said would probably turn you away. He sat on his bed, thinking about how if you saw him again you would probably be deeply disappointed.

And, scared because, as far as you knew, he was dead. That much would be obvious.

Jason cursed Dick again for bringing you up. He didn’t know if it was pathetic or not that he was thinking of an old flame from back when he was a little more than a teenager. Surely, you probably hadn’t thought of him in years as it looked like you had moved on with your life. In any case, he was happy about it and tried to do the same.

The only time he’d ever thought of you before was when you popped up occasionally in his dreams. He’d wake up, and wonder what the fuck that was about. Then he would get up to work out, cook, or anything else so he wouldn’t dwell too much on the thought of you.

This time, Jason got up to get something to eat as hunger was starting to burn at the corners of his stomach. When he opened the fridge, the light illuminating the dark room, there was nothing. Well, almost nothing. There was a pickle jar, expired cheese, and some beers but nothing that would constitute a good meal for a growing boy as Alfred would say. Defeated and hungry, Jason resigned himself to the horrible fate of having to leave his apartment to go to the store. Groaning, he pulled on some pants and a hoodie before grabbing his keys.

It wasn’t too late in the evening so plenty of people were still going about, leaving work to return home or going out for the night. Honestly, Jason didn’t find it all too bad. In fact, in a certain light, Gotham could be nice. In a late eighties neo-noir kind of way. The sound of the people on the street with the traffic in the background under the light rainfall made Jason feel at home. It was the diamond in the rough.

The light rain was a nice relief from the lately warmer weather as summer was finally fading away to let autumn in. Luckily, the store was right around the corner from his apartment, so being outside in the light drizzle wouldn’t be too much of a hassle.

The store owners greeted him as he entered. Another thing he liked was this part of Gotham, the one not seen by people like Bruce. It was familiarity, a general tough, arms-length kindness that was much appreciated by him.

“We’ve got those cigarettes you like so much, Jason,” The old man said. “Those imported ones, ya know?”

“You know I can’t pass those up,” Jason laughed. “Let me grab some groceries and I’ll come back up here to grab ‘em.”

With a laugh, Jason playfully waved off the old guy as he did the same, wandering down one of the many aisles. Bread, cheese, meat, and soda—The meal made for a growing boy. Jason wandered up and down for a little while, pausing at the selection of condoms before laughing to himself. Nah, he wouldn’t need those any time soon.

He was about to turn down another aisle when he bumped into someone. “Shit, sorry,” He said, finally looking up.

Just his fuckin’ luck, he had bumped into you.

#jason todd and bruce wayne #jason todd #jason todd x reader #romance #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader #batfamily #bruce wayne #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fic #jason todd robin #batman #dc batman #alfred pennyworth #dc comics #Reviving Love

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thursdayisfriday · 4 months

Text

ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛ (ꜱꜰᴡ) (ᴛᴇᴀꜱᴇʀ!) ⋆˚✿˖°

⤑ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Husband! Character x GN! Reader

⤑ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Fluff, a little bit teasing and mention of bondage

⤑ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You and your husband find a book on bondage from last Christmas and decided to try it out~

(NSFW version coming out soon)

The air was crisp and warm and the fire cracked sharply, as it danced in the fireplace. The room smell of oak added coziness to the house. The house was well lit with Christmas lights and laughs could be heard in the living room.

“Aww look at this one”, Once again you grabbed another paper film. On the front there was a picture of a little boy with messy hair and what looked like tomato sauce on his face. The little boy was pouting and held a cooking spoon in his hands that was covered in red sauce. You snickered as you moved the picture close to him so he’d be able to view the photo. “What?” He chuckled, taking the photo in his hand and looked quite puzzled. “I don’t remember this at all, but I gotta say I’m still quite the chef” He smirked, moving his eyebrows up and down while looking at you. You grinned. “Sure you are”. You rested your hands on his face, dusting off some cookie crumbs. “But you're still a messy eater, huh?”. He reddened in embarrassment as he swatted you away. “Yeah, ha ha” He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I'm going to go get us some more hot coco real quick”. Pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and getting up. You grinned and looked back at him and shook your head while smiling.

He really is perfect, isn’t he. He’s such a sweetheart, always knowing what to get you when you need it. Looking back at the floor, you notice that all the pictures you guys had been looking at were now covering the rug in a messy manner, but not to worry, you guys could always fix it later. You scanned the photos and bit your lip. “Is that really all of them?”, You asked yourself quietly. Surely that couldn’t be all the old photos, there has to be more in the closet. You quickly got up making your way to the closet and pasting by the kitchen. “And where are you going?” Your husband looked up at you as he grabbed the whip cream from the fridge. “Getting more of the picture. There's more in the closet, right?”. He nodded, fixing the wipe cream on top of the hot coco. “Top left i believe”. You nodded and looked down at the cups of hot chocolate. “What? Needs more whip cream”, He grinned. “You know me so well” You smiled before running towards the closet.

Upon opening up the closet, you ignore the mess you guys had made looking for the photos. Climbing on a random box, you looked to the left for anything that looked like it held photos in it. As your eyes wandered your eyes fell on a dark green box with a red bow on it. It looked like someone had opened it but closed it back perfectly. Curious, you grabbed the box and hopped down the box you were standing on and studied the gift in your hand. Pasted on the box, a paper said: -From, Tonie -To you and your husband Have fun~. You smiled, it must have been from last Christmas you had with your friends.. ‘What could be in here?’ you thought as you tugged on the bow, not bothering to care as it had hit the floor softly. You lifted off the top of the box to reveal-

. A red rope and a book?

You looked at the items curiously and picked up the book. In bold the cover read: 100 ways to tie someone up. Before you could even react you heard your husband call out for you. “Honey? Is everything alright there?” You didn’t even know time had passed by so fast. You grinned walking to the living room again. Your husband was sitting on the floor right where you guys had been sitting to look and picture and was drinking his hot coco, but stopped to look at you. “There you are- what’s that in your hand?” He asked, confused. You waved the book in your hand and held the box in the other. “It’s a book on bondage, wanna try it out?~” You grinned and walked to sit next to him. He almost choked hearing those words come out of your mouth. “Bondage? Now? I thought we were going to look at some more picture” He fake pouted. “I know, but this could be more fun. Come on please?” You begged, sitting in front of him now.

“Nope, begging isn’t gonna work on me you know…”

. “Does it really need to be this tight?” Your husband groaned a little as he felt you tug a little on the rope. “It’s so you won’t be able to get out, remember?”. You snickered as you whispered in his ear. You made one final tug and got up. “Done!” Now he is currently kneeling on the floor with his arms behind his back. You bite your lip and sit on his lap wrapping your arms around his neck. “So..how does it feel?~” You cooed, watching as he tried to get out but failed. “Tight” He said before he gave up struggling. “You really go at tying knots, huh?~”. You rolled your eyes and cupped his face in your hand. “We should do this more often” You looked down at him and smiled as he let out a chuckle. “Yea? Next time the other way around though”. You grinned and moved your hips slightly on his lap making his breath shutter a little. “Please~ I know you like this as much as I do~” You purred.

“Of course I do, I like it when you take control, baby~”

I hope you enjoyed (⁠人⁠⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠ﾟ⁠+

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 months

Text

Hot or Cold

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: You work in a coffee shop, and when you are trapped in the fridge during a robbery, you can only hope that your boyfriend Deacon will find you.

Warnings: armed robbery, violence against reader, angst to fluff & hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

“How’s the handsome boyfriend?” your coworker asks as you wipe down the front counter. “Still dreamy and treating you right?”

You chuckle at the thought of Deacon not being dreamy or treating you right, an impossibility. “Yes, he is.”

The bell over the door of the coffee shop rings, and you abandon the conversation about Deacon to do your job.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask… does Deacon have any single cop friends?”

Reading the name on the latte you just prepared, you shake your head. If you were in her place, and she had a boyfriend like Deacon, you’d want to know where to find one.

“Thanks,” the man says as he takes the cup.

“Have a nice day!” You turn toward your coworker to answer, “Honestly, I don’t know. Street’s still in his ‘will-they-won’t-they’ thing with Chris, Tan is, well he’s Tan… the new guy might be single.”

“I don’t know who any of those people are.”

“You shouldn’t. I can check for you though; if I’m right, you’d be cute together.”

“Is he as easy on the eyes as Deacon?”

“Nope,” you answer with a smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Man, I would kill for an espresso after that,” Rocker groans.

Luca waves his hands in a ‘stop talking’ motion before Deacon hears any reference to coffee. Luca loves you, but Deacon has difficulty stopping once you’re mentioned.

“Too bad you don’t have time,” Deacon answers instead. “We got another call. Up, buddy.”

Rocker rolls his eyes before standing.

“What now?”

“Another bank robbery. You should’ve gotten a coffee when you had the chance; it’s going to be a long day,” Hondo answers.

Deacon nods at the idea of coffee, a picture of you making him feel a little more awake.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is going on today?” someone asks, sitting back after a mad rush.

“Are you referring to the caffeine addiction of Los Angeles or the continuous sirens? Because I have no answer for either,” you answer, leaning on the counter.

“All these sirens and no single cops or firefighters to accept my number,” another voice sighs, joining your small huddle.

“Why don’t you guys head out early? I can close up, I know it’s been a long day,” you offer.

“Are you serious?”

“Sure. You can just cover for me when I don’t want the early shift next weekend.”

They weigh their options before you get a group hug and overlapping expressions of gratitude.

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” you mutter, shoving them toward the small locker room-like area at the back.

“You’re the best!”

“I know.”

As the door closes, their voices fading into the alley, you take a deep breath. You feel like you’ve been on the move all day, with people in and out without a break. Your phone shows no messages or calls from Deacon, but you hope to see him tonight.

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself, pushing off the counter as you prepare to close.

You lay your phone on the counter and turn on some quiet music, focusing on getting finished and home to Deacon’s house as soon as possible. The counters are cleaned, and the dirty dishes are loaded into the industrial-sized dishwasher, so you're nearly done. As you begin sweeping the floor, someone opens the door.

“Sorry, we’re closing,” you say, moving toward the door to lock it. “The Starbucks down the street is open all night.”

“They have better security,” the man replies, keeping his foot pressed against the door so you can’t close it.

You drop the broom and step back, reaching for your cell phone on the counter to call for help. The man barges in, locking the door behind him as he points a gun at you.

“Don’t move,” he demands.

Deacon is in your favorites list, so it would only take two taps on the screen to call him. You raise your hands before stepping toward the counter. You don’t get to your phone before the man hits the back of your head, knocking you into a nearby table. Holding your ribs, you try to stand but kick a chair on accident and fall to the floor.

“Are you going to keep being a problem or can you sit there and be quiet?” the man asks with his gun at his side.

“I’ll be quiet,” you answer lowly.

He cocks his head, looking around. Stepping back, he slides your phone behind the counter so you can’t reach it easily.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he says, pushing you back on the floor.

“No,” you mumble, trying to fight him off of you.

“And you said you wouldn’t be trouble,” he almost growls, bringing the butt of his gun and the hard side of his hand down on your temple.

The impact disorients you; all you can do is grab his hand as he hauls you toward the walk-in fridge. When he pushes you inside and winks before closing the door, the severity of the situation finally reaches you.

“Don’t do this! Take whatever you want but let me out,” you scream, banging on the large metal door.

Your head pounds with each movement, and when you graze your hairline with your fingers, you hiss when you reach the broken skin. Stepping further into the fridge, you shiver under the vent and sink to the floor, fighting dizziness and nausea as your headaches. With no way to call for help, you should try to stay warm, but the pain in your head and fear that no one will find you until morning influence you to close your eyes.

Outside the fridge, the thief sings along to the song playing from your phone as he empties the cash register into his small bag. Nodding at his earnings, he steps toward the door before taking the last muffin out of the display case.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon glances down at his watch. You have a habit of offering to close after long days, but even if you stayed, you should be getting home about now. Deacon smiles at the thought of you doing what you usually do: passing your driveway to pull into his own. You’ve been neighbors almost as long as you’ve been dating, though his house seems to be a landing place for both of you.

“20-David to command,” Hondo radios from inside the bank. “We’re Code 4.”

Deacon sighs, lowering his weapon and standing from his hidden position. He pulls his phone from his pocket, surprised to see no notifications from you. Maybe you had a day like he did.

Rushing home to hold you after a long day, Deacon slows beside your driveway, nodding when he sees it empty. But, when he sees your car isn’t in his driveway either, his brows furrow as he wavers between surprise and concern.

Shifting his car into park, he presses your contact, waiting until he gets your voicemail. He texts you to call him ASAP, and after a minute with no acknowledgment, he calls you again. Taking a deep breath in his attempt to stay calm, he dials the number for the coffee shop and prays to hear your voice. The line beeps before your recorded voice greets him.

“Answer,” Deacon begs as the dial tone begins again. “Hey, Luca, I need your help with something. You got a minute?”

“Yeah, of course, anything for you, man,” Luca replies.

Deacon says your name before running a hand across his mouth. “She’s not home and she’s not answering her cell phone or the coffee shop line.”

“Anywhere else she’d be?” Luca asks, shuffling on the other side of the line.

“Not this late. I’m going to drive over to the coffee shop,” Deacon adds.

“We’ll meet you there. Street and I are only a couple blocks away. We’ll find her, Deac.”

Deacon thanks him as he backs out of his driveway. The coffee shop is a ten-minute drive that feels like an eternity.

✯✯✯✯✯

Street and Luca are coming out of the alley when Deacon rushes onto the sidewalk.

“Hey,” Street greets. “The lights were off when we got here. Back door is locked, and her car is still here.”

“Did you try the door?” Deacon asks.

“Not this one; we just got here,” Luca replies.

“Thank you for coming so late.”

“Of course. We’re here for you and her, Deacon.”

Deacon nods, taking a deep breath as he pushes the door open. He glances at Luca, who tilts his head in concern. Luca and Street enter behind Deacon, their hands at their sides and ready to pull their weapons if needed. There’s quiet music playing from somewhere in the building, and Street nods to Luca as he breaks off to find the source.

“Deacon,” Street calls quietly. He stands from behind the counter and holds up your phone.

Deacon swallows harshly, looking toward the back.

“Let’s clear the building and we’ll go from there,” Deacon instructs quietly.

Street and Luca nod, moving slowly and silently until they’re sure the building is empty. Deacon turns on a light in the back, frowning when he sees your bag in its regular storage spot.

“The cash register is empty,” Luca calls, his voice raised after concluding there is no immediate threat.

✯✯✯✯✯

You hear a voice outside and blink rapidly, forcing yourself to focus. With your arms wrapped tightly around you, your shivers are growing in strength as you grow weak and disoriented.

“Where- go- night?” someone asks, their voice breaking as you strain to listen through the thick metal of the fridge.

The voice sounds familiar, and you summon what little strength you have left to bang on the door. It’s quiet, and as your hand slides down the cold metal, your blinks slow.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Wait,” Deacon demands, raising a hand to quiet Luca and Street. “Did you hear that? Something made a knocking noise.”

He walks toward the fridge, the only place they didn’t check during their initial sweep. Luca nods, standing behind Deacon as Street unlocks and opens the door. Deacon sees you slumped on the floor and rushes in.

“Dea- David?” you mumble, your eyes lidded as you look up at him.

“Hey, yeah, I’m here. I got you, sweetheart,” he soothes, laying his hands on your shoulders.

“I’ll call it in,” Street says before reporting the robbery and requesting an ambulance.

“We need to get you out of here,” Deacon says quietly, pulling you against his chest.

He stands slowly, cradling your shivering form to his chest. Once Luca closes the fridge, Deacon sits on the floor, taking his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders. He moves you gently to make sure all of your clothes are dry. Sliding his fingers onto your pulse point, he calculates your heart rate with a frown.

“Hypothermia?” Luca asks quietly, passing Deacon a nearby jacket.

Deacon nods, laying it over your hips as he lets you lean against him.

“Ambulance is here, Deac,” Street alerts. “Is she okay?”

“She has to be,” Deacon and Luca answer together.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon and Luca follow the ambulance in Deacon’s car while Street returns home, telling the team what happened. They sit together in the waiting room, sharing their concern and sympathies without speaking.

A nurse exits and says your name, smiling as Deacon and Luca rush to her side.

“The doctor wants to talk to you. Relatives?” she asks.

“He is,” Luca answers. “I’m just a friend.”

“Then I’m going to ask you to wait here.”

“No problem. We’re here for you, Deac.”

Deacon nods, whispering, “Thank you,” as he follows the nurse into the hospital.

“You found her in plenty of time, sir,” the doctor says with a kind smile. “She’s suffering from hypothermia and some surface-level injuries. Despite that nasty bump on her head, we don’t see any indications of a concussion.”

“Thanks, doc. How bad is the hypothermia?” Deacon asks.

“We caught it very early. She’s warming up; temperature was right around 94, so it isn't too severe.”

“Can I see her?”

“Of course. Let me know if you have any other questions, and I’ll be back by soon.”

Deacon steps into your room quietly, looking at you with a sad smile. Dressed in the thin hospital gown with heated blankets and heat packs on your chest and neck.

“’S not as warm as you,” you mumble with your eyes closed.

Deacon smiles, pulling a chair up beside your bed. “Working better though,” he says quietly.

You turn your head toward him and smile as you open your eyes. “Thanks for finding me. It wouldn’t be as much fun to get in trouble without you around to save me.”

“Well no more trouble for a while, okay? Because that was terrifying.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Robbery is working on catching the guy.”

“He stole my muffin.”

Deacon chuckles before offering, “I’ll make you a whole batch to make up.”

“You should’ve been a baker, not a cop.”

“I’m not sure I’m the house-husband type.”

“Trophy husband for sure,” you correct with a nod. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you get discharged, Deacon takes you back to his house, and you notice that someone has moved your car back to your driveway. After getting you comfortable on the couch, Deacon begins rushing back and forth, doing everything the doctor recommended and then some.

“Deac,” you call when he rushes by again.

He stops and backpedals into the living room. “Do you need something?”

“Yes. I need you to sit with me. You’ve done more than enough, and I just need your company right now.”

Deacon smiles and whispers an apology as he sits beside you, holding you close. You cuddle into his side, focusing on your favorite movie. When you kick the blankets off, barely moving as you struggle, Deacon stops himself from acting again.

“Need help?” he asks, running a hand down your spine.

You nod slowly against his chest, and he reaches across you to remove the blanket.

“Want to you want for dinner?”

“Not hungry.”

Deacon looks at his watch, furrowing his brows when he notices it’s been nearly twelve hours since you ate at the hospital, and who knows how long before that.

“You really need to eat something,” he urges kindly.

Your weight increases on him as you shake your head and close your eyes. When your forehead hits Deacon’s arm, he’s surprised to feel how warm you are. He retrieves a thermometer from the small care kit he assembled in his concern-filled frenzy.

“You have a fever,” Deacon tells you. “It’s pretty high, so I’m going to call the doctor.”

“Stay here,” you mumble, grasping at Deacon’s shirt.

He wraps his arm around you, tugging you closer as he raises his phone to his ear.

“Hello, this is Deacon Kay… Yes, ma’am… She has a fever of 103.2, she’s not wanting to eat, and she’s very weak... I will. Thank you.”

“What’d they say?” you ask as he sets his phone down.

“They think it’s probably just the stress of what you went through, or maybe an upper respiratory infection from the cold. I’m supposed to keep you hydrated, medicated, and happy, and call if anything changes.”

You nod, nuzzling closer to him as he chuckles. It doesn’t take much coaxing from him to convince you to take some medicine, drink lots of water, and take a few bites of your favorite food, especially when he promises to hold your hand through it all.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up the following morning, wrapped in Deacon’s arms, the fever is lower but not gone.

“More water,” Deacon demands.

“You’re bossy.”

“Trophy boyfriends are allowed to be.”

“Trophy husband,” you correct.

“Are you proposing?” he teases.

You take a minute to consider before asking, “Would you say yes?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Then you just wait until I feel better, Kay.”

He smiles, pulling a lightweight blanket over you as your fever finally breaks.

“You’re still worried,” you accuse, sitting up to look at him.

“Of course, I am. I came home and you weren’t here, and then weren’t answering your phone. It’s only because of Luca and Street that I was able to find you without panicking.”

“Then we should have them over for dinner to thank them. Although, I know you would’ve found me without them.”

“I’ll always find you,” he promises.

“Even when I can’t decide whether to be hot or cold?”

“I love you either way,” Deacon replies, matching your tone as he kisses your forehead.

#david deacon kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #deacon kay fluff #swat cbs #requests

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galaxycunt · 4 months

Text

Say Yes

Buggy crashes a party. He’s not just a pirate, you’re not some townie. There’s no one else, just the two of you

@gayafsatan the clown keeps pulling me back in!!!

Your best friend was going away, finally leaving your tiny village to join the merchant marines. In your childhood, you both wanted to be pirates. Life got in the way, and he wanted a taste of the sea.

Your friend was the kind of person to invite strangers to his parties, plenty of sailors docked for supplies and wouldn’t say no to free drinks. The tiny house was bursting with noise and people, overwhelming you a little bit.

You squeezed your way past numerous bodies, stepping outside to finally breathe. A man you never seen before laughs seeing your face. He would’ve looked normal if it wasn’t for the clown makeup and blue hair pulled into a ponytail.

“I didn’t know we had a clown here. You do uh, balloon animals or something? Whatever clowns do at adult parties?”

“I’m not that kind of clown, saw a party and headed on inside.”

You stared at him, what kind of clown could he be? The man seemed a little annoyed at your attention, turning back around to gaze at the ocean. You lit a cigarette, still staring at him. You felt a little rude, but you were too drunk to really stop yourself.

“So what kind of clown are you?”

“What?”

“You said you weren’t that kind of clown. So? What do you do?”

The man scoffed, “I’m a pirate. Bounty’s worth 15 million, I’ll have you know.”

“Wow. Clown pirate. Don’t see that every day.”

“Take a picture.”

With a grin you mimicked a camera. This actually got a laugh out of him. He shook his ponytail out, letting his hair flow as he posed. The man seemed pretty pleased at getting a laugh out of you too.

“What’s your name, pirate clown?”

“Buggy. Captain Buggy.”

You said your name. He liked it, Buggy sounded like a fake name. You wondered if you should’ve said a fake one too. Something like Synthenia.

You searched his face, “you ain’t bullshitting, are you?”

“Real deal.”

“Who’s the guy under the make up and red nose?”

His mood soured, “me. It’s my real fucking nose, and no it doesn’t honk.”

You never seen hurt like you saw in his eyes, you moved to flick your cigarette, Buggy flinching like he expected you to pull his nose. Even drunk, you didn’t want to be an asshole to a stranger.

“Sorry. Small town, small mind. I guess.”

“Whatever.”

Buggy turned to move, without thinking you grabbed his arm. He didn’t look angry, just surprised.

“I’m sorry, I really am. Lemme make it up to you. I’ll grab you a drink.”

He grumbled but followed you anyway, holding hands as you pushed your way to the kitchen. Buggy was funny, telling jokes to your friends as you mixed drinks. In the better lighting, he looked a hell of a lot better. Handsome even.

“Ever had a Surprise Franklin?” He asked you.

“Nuh uh.”

“Let’s see what we got in the fridge.”

“Buggy, no.”

“What?”

“Please don’t make me drink whatever the hell is in the fridge.”

He smiled, “trust me.”

You shook your head, and he closed the fridge with his hip. You stared each other down, big smiles on your faces. You couldn’t stop giggling, man, he was handsome.

“Close your eyes. Trust me.”

You did even as the worst concoctions possible swirled in your mind, already wanting to gag.

“Buggy. I swear.”

“Sweetie, relax. Okay? Old pirate recipe, passed down by my captain from my days as a cabin boy.”

“Cabin boy? Damn, really?”

“Yes, now keep those pretty eyes closed.”

You were pretty sure you were doing a shitty job at hiding the blush. The drink in your hand replaced with the one Buggy made you. You were scared, no way did he really think you were going to drink this?

You swirled it around, ice clinking.

“Buggy, please no.”

“No? Just drink it! I’ll take a sip first.”

“Can I watch you?”

“No.”

You pouted, “that’s not fair!”

He laughed, you really liked the sound of it. Oh no, was this a crush? On a pirate? A pirate you were never going to see again? Who was going to make you drink ketchup and pickle juice?

“If you drink this, I’ll give you whatever you want. Lots of treasure on my ship, whatever you want.”

You thought a little while, “okay. Fine.”

Water. Ice cold, refreshing. With a gasp you opened your eyes to Buggy’s howling laughter, chest heaving and head thrown back.

“Oh man! I got you good!”

Your cheeks were burning, burying your face in his chest, “I fucking hate you, Buggy.”

He stroked your hair, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Let’s go back outside, it’s hot in here.”

It really was, but you didn’t think it was because of the crowded kitchen. The night air was refreshing, you hoped the coolness would calm the burn of your cheeks and the beating of your heart. Buggy scanned the backyard, finding the couch to sit in.

“So uh, you’re a pirate right? You staying here long?”

He nodded, “well, a few days. My crew is around here somewhere. If I see someone I’ll introduce you. Small towns are nice for guys like me, marines don’t give a shit about the people here. I can relax and restock.”

“Oh cool. Maybe I can show you around?”

Bolder than you ever been before, but fortune favors the bold. Especially with guys who wear clown makeup.

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

For a moment, you faltered, unsure if he even liked you like that. Until Buggy scooted closer to you, snaking his arm around your waist.

“So uh,” you were nervous now, “you weren’t serious earlier, about the treasure, were you?”

For a moment his eyes drifted to your lips, “sure I was, if that’s what you really want.”

“What if I wanted something else?”

His voice softened, unlike his grip, “like what?”

Buggy leaned forward, breathing you in. He took his time, give you a chance to pull away. You couldn’t even if you wanted to, his lips drawing you in. He tasted like cherries, you slid your tongue in for a deeper taste. You didn’t want an audience, suddenly remembering where you were.

Buggy looked like he was about to float away.

“You wanna get outta here?”

#buggy the clown #one piece #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 4 months

Text

Never Say Never

Chapter 6

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 7.5K

1 2 3 4 5

“I’m telling you, she couldn’t get away from me fast enough, Robs,” Steve sighed, grabbing a beer from the fridge before making his way out on the deck, phone tucked under his chin. “Maybe I’ve been reading this all wrong. Maybe I’m just seeing what I want to see.”

He sat down, twisted off the top, and took a long pull, wondering how he could have been so wrong. Either you were not interested in him at all or the boys had terrified you so badly that you'd gone practically mute on him. If it hadn’t been for Eli and Jeremiah’s incessant chatter from the backseat, the car ride home would have been as silent as a graveyard and just as depressing.

You had leaped out of the car as if the seat were on fire, mumbling a barely audible thanks before practically dragging Eli into the house behind you. Even Jeremiah had noticed, accusing him of doing something wrong, asking him what he did to make you mad. Those eyes, so like his mom’s, had glared at him in the rearview mirror, angry that he was ruining what he’d thought had been a faultless plan. Steve claimed ignorance. He didn’t have the heart to tell his son that if anyone had upset you, it had been them.

“Okay, let’s backtrack here for a minute. What exactly happened right before she got all weird?”

“I told you, she fell on the ice.”

“Okay but what about before that?”

Steve closed his eyes, picturing the way your face had looked just before the boys had interrupted the two of you and bombarded you with their well-intentioned meddling. Your lips parted invitingly, eyes sparkling with what he had thought was the same desire he was feeling, your head tilting just so. All of it invited him in, giving him the impression that you wanted that kiss just as much as he did.

“The boys charged at us asking for hot chocolate,” he muttered.

That wasn’t exactly the whole story but he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share with Robin. He loved her but she could be just as intrusive as his son, thinking she knew what was best for him all of the time. If he told her about Jeremiah and Eli’s wish, about the almost kiss, she would only push harder for him to pursue something and after Thursday he wasn’t sure that was the best idea anymore.

Maybe it had been the almost kiss that had you so upset. Maybe you hadn’t been ready to take that kind of a step. Maybe you never even wanted it in the first place. Had he seemed pushy? He didn’t think he had. He’d even paused, said your name, waited for you to confirm you wanted it. The last thing he wanted to do was push you into something you weren't ready for. No relationship would have a chance in hell if one person plunged in headfirst without being prepared for it. He didn’t want to be some rebound, the guy who was your jumping board to moving on. You'd lost your husband and he still didn’t know enough details about that to know if it was too soon or not. Maybe it had been him who’d upset you.

“Steve, come on. You are obviously leaving out details. Details that I desperately need if I have any hope of helping you with your sad excuse for a love life.”

“Oh, don’t get all cocky. It’s not like you have a girlfriend either. You have a crush you can’t even manage to talk to outside of asking for extra caramel and whipped cream with your coffee. Which is not even coffee anymore by the time you’re done with it. It’s just a cup of sugar. You don’t even drink coffee like a grown up. I’m not sure I should be taking advice from a child.”

“Yeah, well I’ve never dated the same girl twice even though I knew it was a mistake and my best friend knew it was a mistake and tried to tell me. But I ignored my friend’s advice and then married the girl, only to get divorced.”

He tipped the beer bottle back, rolling his eyes and raising his middle finger even though she couldn’t see him. Whatever. At least it made him feel better. Robin never hesitated to call him out on his shit. Which was probably a good thing because he needed someone to on occasion. Too bad he didn’t listen to her when it mattered.

But no, he couldn’t say that. He could never wish that he’d listened to Robin. He would never say that he regretted his relationship with Nancy. He wouldn’t have Jeremiah if he hadn’t been with Nancy. And no matter how it had ended, he had loved her. He still did. Maybe not the way one was supposed to love their wife and mother of their child, but he loved her. He wanted her to be happy. He was overjoyed that she’d found her person. He just wished he could find his too.

“Okay, fine, oh wise one. The boys apparently conspired behind our backs and came up with a plan. They think that since we’re both alone we need somebody. So naturally, they think we should be together because to seven year old boys, that just seems like the simple answer. Eli told her that he thought I was a good dad and he would be okay with me being his dad. And then they could live together and Eli would have a dog. They have it all figured out, apparently. Instant family.”

“Oh my god,” snorted Robin. “They are totally trying to parent trap you. Jesus Christ, I love these kids so much.”

“This is not funny, Robin.”

“Oh please. This is so funny and it’s sweet. It’s like one of those gag worthy Hallmark movies that you love so much. Two little boys see their parents are all alone and want them to be happy and have someone. Jeremiah sees how happy Nance and Jonathan are and he wants that for his dad. And he’s picked a woman that you obviously like anyway. What’s so wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with that is I don’t even know if she likes me back.”

“So ask her!”

“So what? Do as you say and not as you do? I don’t see you asking June if she likes you.”

“I’m going to. I have a plan, a good plan,” she stated. “I’m just working myself up to it, hammering out the details. Besides, we’ve been over this. It’s not as easy for me as it is for you!”

“That’s a total cop out and you know it. June was talking about her ex that one day and we both know she was referring to a woman. So, not knowing if she's into girls is a complete non issue. The only thing holding you back is your own cowardice.”

“So says the guy who’s whining because his son is brave enough to do what he can’t!”

“Damn, Robs.”

“Sorry. Too far?”

“Too far…but also not entirely untrue. I make bad decisions when it comes to women. You know I do. I don’t exactly have a great track record, here, Robs. I jump into relationships way too fast and then I either scare them off or they fizzle and burn because they were the wrong girl to begin with. I don’t want that to happen with her, Robin.”

“Okay, I hear you. So, take it slow but taking it slow doesn’t mean moving like you’re in molasses. It doesn’t mean you can’t take her out for a coffee or dinner.”

“I suck at taking it slow. I already almost kissed her for Christ’s sake!”

Robin gasped and Steve winced, pulling the phone away from his ear and smacking it into his forehead. Shit. He had not meant to say that. He should not have said that. That was specifically the one detail that he’d planned on leaving out about their failed evening ice skating. Now she’d never let this go.

“Wait! What!? How did you not lead with that information, Steve? That is the most important piece of this entire freaking thing! You almost kissed! Why didn’t you?”

“Because the boys interrupted to ask for hot chocolate and they must have noticed something because Eli asked if we were going to kiss. You should have seen her face, Robin. She couldn’t deny it fast enough. Then they started going on about us being together and living together and me being Eli’s dad and it went downhill pretty damn quickly after that.”

“But before that…I mean, when you were going to…did she seem like she wanted you to?”

“I thought so but what the hell do I know? I mean, her face looked like she did. Her lips were all parted and her head tilted. She gave me all the signs that a girl usually does. But then she was so cold after everything happened, like we were strangers. I used to be so good at this! Ugh. When did I become so bad with girls?”

“When you stopped being a douche.”

“Seriously?” he sighed, setting the bottle down onto the table with a thunk. Yeah, Robin gave him a dose of reality but sometimes it was far beyond the recommended amount.

“You know I’m right. You weren’t good with girls in high school, Steve. You were just lucky. You were popular and rich and you used that to your advantage. You didn’t have to work to get the girls because the girls you got were the wrong ones. The ones who were only into you because of the big house you lived in, the fancy car you drove, and your royalty status at school. When you grew up and realized that’s not what you wanted and that’s not who you wanted to be, when you started searching for someone worth your time, things got harder. Because nothing worth having is ever easy. Is this girl worth having?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then it won’t be easy. You might have to work harder than flashing those pearly whites and running your hand through those luscious locks, my friend. You’re actually going to have to show her that you’re worth it. She’s been through a trauma, Steve. She lost the man she loved. She’s probably terrified of opening up her heart like that again. And then the guilt. I mean, she has to be struggling. If she dates you, if she falls for you, is she betraying her husband? If she allows you into her son’s life, is she erasing his father? And what if you two don’t work out? Not only does she lose someone again but so does her son. I guarantee you that her heart and her head are at war with each other right now. It has to be absolutely impossible for her in her brain right now.”

“Jesus…can one person really have all of that going on in their head?”

“Steve, just because you’re a dingus who can only focus on one thing at a time does not mean we all are. Women are complicated, my friend. Maybe I’m giving you bad advice. With her, maybe you can’t just be forward and tell her you like her. Maybe you can’t just barge into her life and expect her to throw herself into your arms. You might just have to have to be in her life. Be there for her. Just hang out. Show her she can trust you. Be sly about it. Sneak under her radar and before she knows what’s happening, she’s in love with you. She won’t know how it happened. It will just be true. Because while you might be a moron sometimes, you are an insanely good guy and it is inevitable that she will fall for you.”

“You say that like it’s certain. I tried to ask you out and you shot me down.”

“Well, you happen to have an appendage hanging between your legs that, quite honestly, disgusts me. If you were a woman, then we could both be happy and in a relationship right now. We’d be perfect for each other if you’d just get rid of that thing.”

Steve laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could always count on Robin to diffuse the tension, to ease his soul by saying the most inappropriate thing at the most inappropriate time. She had zero filter and no concept of whether something was better kept in her head or maybe she just didn’t care. Either way, he was thankful for it at the moment.

And maybe she was right. Maybe you did like him but all of that other stuff was scaring you. If it was, there wasn’t much he could do about it but show you that it would be okay, that you could trust him, that he would do right by you. Maybe he’d just give you a call and see if you and Eli wanted to do something this weekend. Keep it casual, like nothing had ever happened. Ignore the massive elephant just sitting in the middle of the room.

“Okay. Play the long game, right?”

“Yep, but not too long. I would like to see you happy before we’re wearing dentures and adult diapers.”

___________________________________________________________

“So, try to help me understand. You have a gorgeous guy who you swear is perfect who obviously wants you. The two of you almost kissed. Your kids are best friends. It couldn’t be a more perfect situation and you ran from him and have been avoiding him because your kids see how perfect it is and want you to date? I mean, wasn’t Eli part of your concern? That he wouldn’t be okay seeing you with someone other than Justin? Shouldn’t this be a good thing? He obviously likes Steve. He approves so what’s stopping you?”

You dropped your head into your hands with a groan, wondering what was stopping you. When Eli had said that he thought Steve would be a good dad for him, it had sent you into a tailspin. What in the hell had Steve thought when he’d heard that? You weren’t even dating. You barely even knew each other and your son was talking about him being his stepdad. It was insane. That was all you could think. It was insane and it was embarrassing and Steve had to be ready to run for the hills. What guy wanted to hear that he could step in as dad after hanging out with someone a few times?

And what about Justin? How could Eli be so ready to just insert someone into the place of dad in his life? Had you failed at trying to keep his memory alive for her son? Had you allowed your son to forget him enough that he was okay with some guy, some guy he barely knew, stepping in?

Or was it because you weren't enough? Did Eli feel like something was missing from his life? No matter how hard you tried to be everything for him, were you failing as a single parent? Were you leaving him lacking, a puzzle missing a piece, a piece you could never be no matter how you tried to mold your edges?

“Janice, come on. It was humiliating,” you whispered through clenched teeth. Eli was upstairs playing but it was not unusual for him to sneak up on you, silent feet racing down the stairs, him suddenly appearing at your side. “Here’s this guy who is just being nice, being a good dad, trying to let his son hang out with his best friend. And then there’s my kid trying to sign him up to be husband and dad.”

“Okay, one, he’s not just being nice. You told me he almost kissed you.”

“Maybe.” You threw your arms up. “I mean, it seemed like it. I thought so but I could have read everything wrong. He was helping me skate. Maybe I just…I don’t know!”

Janice sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. “You didn’t read it wrong. I don’t care if his son and Eli are best friends. He wants to hang out with you. He could have just asked to take Eli skating but he didn’t. He invited you along. He could have let you just drop Eli off for the sleepover but he invited you to stay for dinner. He didn’t have to offer to bring dinner when Jeremiah came over here but he did. He likes you, my friend. You’re just terrified to admit it. And as for what Eli said, why is it humiliating? Didn’t you say his kid said basically the same to you?”

“No. It wasn’t the same thing at all. Yeah, he said his dad was alone and he thought we could be together. But he didn’t say he wanted me to be his mom.”

“Honey, because he has a mom…” your friend said gently, reaching across the table, her hand covering yours.

You snatched it back angrily, “And Eli has a dad!”

Where was this anger coming from? You knew Janice meant well. You weren't trying to act like Justin didn’t exist but suddenly it felt like that was exactly what was happening. Like everybody was ready to just erase him from existence, to wipe the page clean, to pretend like he had never been there. Or maybe it felt like you were and what kind of person were you if you did that? What did that say about your relationship? You'd always said he was your soulmate but if he was then how could you be feeling so strongly for someone else? Wasn’t that the very definition of a soulmate? One person meant for one other person? Nobody got two of them in one lifetime and if you fell for Steve, did that mean Justin hadn’t been yours? The very thought made you want to retreat to your bedroom and curl up into the fetal position.

“Oh, honey, that’s not what I’m saying. I know Eli has a dad. Having Steve in your life would not change that. Justin will always be his dad. But his dad is not around. He doesn’t get to see him. He’s not there to play baseball with or to take him to the zoo or to teach him how to ice skate. Of course the kid would love the idea of a male figure in his life to fill that role and he sees Steve, a guy who’s kind and who makes him feel involved and safe. It’s natural for him to wish for that.”

“I don’t want him to forget Justin. He was so young when he…” You swallowed, unable to bring yourself to say the word. The word that was so final, so irreparable, an ending you'd never wanted and still didn’t want to accept. “I don’t know how much he remembers. I fear eventually any memories he has will be gone.”

“They won’t because you keep Justin alive for him. Sweetie…” Releasing a long breath, Janice rose from her seat and came around to the one next to you. She sat down, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You can’t keep living with his ghost. A ghost can’t love you. It can’t comfort you. You have to drop those shackles of guilt and stop letting them drag you down. Justin’s death was not your fault. It was tragic. It was awful. The two of you deserved your forever. Fate stole it from you but don’t let it steal this chance you have at happiness.”

“I don’t even know if it’s a chance at happiness,” you muttered stubbornly.

But you did, didn’t you? Steve was your chance at happiness all wrapped up in one hell of a pretty package. When you were with Steve, you felt a part of yourself come alive that had been lying dormant, frozen, for years. He was slowly warming you, like the sun thawing the frozen ground in spring, bringing new life. He made you feel things that you didn’t think you'd ever feel again. He was perfect. He was everything you would choose for yourself, for your son, if given the chance. And maybe that was wrong. It felt like a betrayal to your late husband. Maybe you could deny it to everyone else but you couldn’t deny it to yourself.

“Really?” Janice questioned knowingly, one eyebrow lifted. “Because when you talk about him, it’s written all over your face. This guy is the one. You said no one could get lucky enough to have two great loves in their life but maybe you do. Maybe this is fate’s way of fixing its mistake. Seeing that it took happily ever after from someone who deserves it more than anything. So, it’s trying to give it to you now. Don’t be so scared that you miss it.”

You groaned, your cheeks puffing out as you released a long, slow breath. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe fate was trying to show you something, blatantly shoving it in your face because you were putting on blinders, refusing to see it. No. That wasn’t it. You were terrified to see it. Terrified that accepting it meant you were an awful person, that you were forgetting your time with Justin. Terrified to open your heart again to possibly have it shatter once again, to risk losing someone once again. Could you survive it? You didn’t think so.

“Shit,” you hissed, looking at the clock, leaping up from the seat. “I’m sorry but this conversation has to get put on hold. I have to get to the PTO meeting. They’re planning the school carnival and I said I would volunteer and I don’t want to be left with the dunk tank again. You still good to watch Eli?”

“Of course,” Janice laughed. “Isn’t that what I came here for?”

“Thank you. I shouldn’t be gone for more than an hour or so.”

“I got it. No worries. Eli and I have an Operation rematch to attend to. I am going to take him down this time.”

“Sure you will.”

You grabbed your purse, calling Eli down for a quick kiss and a hug, reminding him to behave for Aunt Janice. He scrunched up his face when you ruffled his hair before racing back upstairs to his action figures. You darted out the door, racing for your car, not wanting to be late again. You could not do the dunk tank again. Last year you were practically an ice cube. That Laurie Streeter would not stick you with the worst job this time.

___________________________________________________________

A cacophony of noise burst forth as Steve opened the doors to the elementary library. It appeared as if every mom in Hawkins was in attendance. Some were already in seats, some were milling around the coffee and cookie station, some were standing against the wall. A group of baseball moms quickly looked his way and began whispering, probably about him and you. Those women could not keep their tongues from wagging when anything happened in this town.

Laurie gave him a little smile and a wave and he waved back, fighting the urge to flip her off, knowing she was probably talking shit about you with her little cadre of cattiness over there. He could not stand the way they looked down their noses at other people. Laurie had made her intentions with him rather clear but Steve had zero interest in someone who was so…well, the way he used to be in high school. Thinking they were above everybody else because of the clothes they wore, the cars they drove, and the money in their pockets.

He wouldn’t even be here if it hadn't been for Nancy. She’d had to suffer through the carnival last year, spending hours painting kids’ faces. She had made it clear that it was his turn and that if he wanted options, he’d better show up early or he would get stuck with the worst jobs that no one else wanted. So, here he was, in the middle of his worst nightmare, waiting to offer his services.

“Steve!”

The very sound of that voice was like nails raking down a chalkboard, sending unpleasant shivers straight down his spine. Of course she would be here. She couldn’t pass up an opportunity to be right in the thick of things, to miss out on the latest gossip, which he was sure was about him and you. It didn’t matter that nothing had happened between the two of you. Laurie heard him say he’d see you Saturday and a bunch of the moms had watched the two of you walk off together after practice. Let the rumor mill start churning. They probably had you engaged already.

“Janet,” he managed, teeth locking together as he slowly turned to face his ex.

“Didn’t expect to see you here. Doesn’t the ex-wife usually handle these kinds of things?”

“Well, she did it last year so it’s only fair that I take a turn.”

“Such a good dad!” she gushed, perfectly manicured fingers coming to her cheeks. “It’s one of the things that made me fall so hard for you, you know. It’s hard to find a guy who is so involved in his kid’s life. And Sally just adored you. She was so disappointed when you vanished from our lives.”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“Or sometimes someone just gets scared of their feelings and runs away.”

Those nails traced over his arm and he took a step back. He had to tread carefully with Janet. She saw what she wanted and the slightest wrong move would have her thinking she had a chance again. Yeah, he’d ran away, ran as far and as fast as he could because she was certifiable. She was a stage four clinger.

He should have known better when she would not stop touching him at dinner the first time they had gone out. She even slid her chair right next to his instead of sitting across from him. She called him that same night telling him she missed him already. There were so many red flags that he’d simply ignored because he enjoyed that someone liked him that much, wanted him that much. At least he had until two months in when she started insisting they move in together even though he told her he didn’t want to rush into anything for Eli’s sake. That turned into her constantly telling him they were meant to be together, that they were soulmates, that it didn’t work out with their previous spouses because they were destined for each other.

When she kept turning up at his work, calling his phone and leaving angry messages when he didn’t answer, and then showing up at Robin’s place accusing her of having an affair with him, he knew he had to get out. She wasn’t just clingy. She was bordering on the need for him to get a restraining order. He’d ended it right then but she’d clung for a while, crying on his voicemail, begging him to take her back. He’d ignored it until she finally stopped.

“That wasn’t exactly what happened,” he said carefully, knowing he needed to be gentle but firm so she got the message without becoming an emotional wreck. “Janet, you weren’t the one for me. That was all. We tried but it didn’t work out.”

“But how hard did you really try? The minute I started talking about commitment you shut down on me, Steve. I wouldn’t say that was trying. It sounds more like giving up. I know Nancy broke your heart but you know I would never do that.”

“Nance didn’t break my heart. Our split was a mutual decision.”

“Of course it was,” Janet cooed as if he were a wounded animal, reaching for his face but he stepped back once again. “So, who’s right for you then, huh? The sad little widow?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t think I’ve heard all about you and her? It’s all anyone in this town can talk about.”

“Sounds like maybe people in this town need to get a hobby.”

“What makes you think she’s the one?”

“Janet, it’s really none of your…”

He stopped, his attention diverted, as the very subject of their conversation came walking into the library. You hurried up the middle and slid into a seat as if you were trying not to be seen. Well, not that he could blame you if this town really was running their mouths about you. You brushed your hair back behind your ear, looking as if you wanted to be here even less than he did.

“I guess I’m just not important enough to keep your attention. I really don’t see what you see in her. She’s nothing special, Steve. She'll never be able to make you happy. It won't last,” huffed Janet, her arms folding over her chest as she sniffed dramatically.

Laurie Streeter banged the gavel down on the table up front, alerting the room that the meeting was about to begin and people started shuffling off to seats.

“Sorry, it’s starting,” he whispered, grateful for the reprieve from what was bound to turn into an even more uncomfortable conversation.

Steve grabbed a seat on the end, next to another dad, ensuring there was no space next to him for Janet to squeeze in. The room quieted down as Laurie cleared her throat, giving them a look that was a little too reminiscent of Ms. Click for Steve’s liking.

“As you all know, the school carnival is coming up in two weeks. We have multiple stations where we are going to need assistance. We will need parents to sign up for shifts at the games and the concession stand. We will also need a few parents to sign up to donate baked goods for the cake walk and please, let’s not phone it in this year. We would appreciate actual home baked goods, not something you picked up at the grocery store. We will also need volunteers to take cash as families come in and pass out wristbands. We will also have a face painting station again this year as well as craft space where children can make flower crowns and party hats. And we will be doing a raffle with baskets that some generous donors have provided to the school so we will need someone to run that as well. So, to keep things organized, I will run down the list and if I call out something you’re interested in, simply raise your hand.”

As Laurie began listing things, hands started flying up, parents eager to snatch up the better stuff. Ticket takers were quickly volunteered for, as well as the easier games such as duck pond, bean bag toss, and balloon darts. All a parent had to do was sit in a chair and say next at those games. Of course everyone wanted them. He kept his eyes trained on you, waiting to see what you would raise your hand for. When the dunk tank came up, no one’s hands rose into the air.

“Okay, well then I’ll just jot down Carrie’s name for that one since she couldn’t be bothered to join us. If you’re not here to pick, then we pick for you. How about baked goods for the cake walk?”

Your hand shot up and Laurie pointed at you with a smile, jotting your name down. Steve raised his hand as well. Laurie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Well, he was just as surprised as she was. What the hell was he doing? He’d never baked anything in his life. Well, not entirely true but the one time he’d tried to make Jere a birthday cake on his own, it had ended epically bad.

“Okay then,” Laurie said, “I think we have the baked goods covered with six parents. How about the concession stand?”

Your hand rose up again and Steve instantly raised his hand. You glanced over at him, your eyes narrowing suspiciously. Well, he probably deserved that with raising his hand every single time you did. But he needed another in with you and if you were working on the same things for the school carnival, that would be a very easy reason to need to talk.

“Of course the two of you would want to work the same thing,” Laurie smirked, scratching your names onto what had to be her volunteer paper. She looked back up, eyebrows lifting, amusement plain on her face. “Oh, and Janet? How lovely. Do we have one more person? That will allow you all to take shifts so you can enjoy the carnival with your children as well.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief when the dad next to him raised his hand. He was probably just looking for an easy volunteer assignment but he had no idea how much he’d just saved Steve’s ass. Being stuck with Janet behind the concession counter was his version of a nightmare come to life. This way, he could convince this guy to share his shift with Janet and Steve could avoid her, instead enjoying his time with you and the boys, which had been his initial plan all along.

He sat, leg bouncing, hands running through his hair, anxious for the meeting to end so he could get a chance to talk to you. Finally, just when he thought Laurie would never shut up, she called the meeting to a close with another bang of her gavel, reminding everyone once again that the carnival was only two weeks away. As if any of them could forget. As if she wouldn’t pester every single person in this room. The woman might not like to get her hands dirty but she loved nothing more than ordering people around.

Steve leapt to his feet, eyes scanning the room. You were weaving her way through the crowd in an attempt to get out quickly. He moved toward you, saying excuse me as he slid in between people who were gathering to chat once again. He saw Sarah stop you with a smile and you returned it. Sarah was one of the rare ones in this room. Happy marriage, genuinely kind, sweet to a fault. Steve could have kissed her for getting you to pause your race for the exit.

“Thank you again for giving us the name of that specialist for Jenny,” he heard Sarah say as he approached the two of you. “It’s such a relief to know it’s just allergies. Those allergy shots have worked wonders. Months of sinus infections that turned into hospital visits with pneumonia. We finally have a happy kid again. I really just can’t thank you enough.”

“No thanks necessary,” you replied. “I was just doing my job and I am so pleased that Jenny is feeling better.”

“She’s been able to start dance lessons again. Trust me, that made her…” Sarah paused when she caught sight of Steve standing just behind you. “Oh, hi Steve.”

“Hey Sarah.”

You slowly turned and he tried to read your expression, to gauge how you were feeling. Were you shocked? Annoyed? Embarrassed? The way your skin went a little green, he wondered if you were about to be sick. Were you really that disgusted by the very sight of him after the ice skating incident? He knew it was a bit awkward but you looked like you'd just drank sour milk. Maybe Robin was wrong. Maybe this was a bad idea and he should have just let it go.

“Steve…” you said softly, your throat contracting as you swallowed hard.

“Hey. I was just…well…I was hoping…” Shit. He was stammering like a twelve year old boy trying to talk to a girl for the first time. But that’s exactly how you made him feel, especially when you were looking at him as if he were the last person on the planet you'd ever want to see. “I was hoping maybe we could talk?”

“Oh. Ohhh,” Sarah sighed with a smile, clearly thinking something was going on there that wasn’t. “Okay. I’ll just let you two talk. I need to find Mary anyway to talk about the decorations for the carnival. It was good talking to you. Thanks again.”

“You too,” you smiled, waving.

Sarah hurried off, leaving the two of you standing there awkwardly. You suddenly seemed very interested in your shoes, your eyes focused downward. Steve had no idea what to say. What had he even been thinking? He hadn’t been. The only thought in his head had been trying to fix it but he’d never planned on how to fix it. Did he act like it had never happened or would it be better to address it?

“Could we…?” He gestured toward the door. The last thing he wanted to do was have this conversation around this group of vultures. Someone would inevitably overhear and then the rumor mill would have you married with a baby on the way come morning.

“Uhh, yeah. Okay.”

You headed for the door and Steve followed, his hand moving toward the small of your back and then hovering in midair. Touching you might only make you uncomfortable right now which was the exact opposite of what he was trying to do. He maintained a safe distance, the two of you making your way to the parking lot.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” you asked, your eyes still refusing to look at him, now focused on the playground to the left of you instead of your footwear.

You were so damn beautiful. Steve’s fingers itched to touch your face, to push that strand of hair that was falling over your forehead back into place, to pull you into his chest and make you feel safe. He wanted to be everything for you. He wanted to show you that he could be everything you needed. But Robin’s words came back to him and he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t rush you.

This wasn’t like the other women he’d dated. This woman had lost everything. You'd lost your forever, your happy ending, the person you loved in a traumatic way that was far too soon. This wasn’t something he was willing to risk screwing up because yeah, maybe he’d only known you a short time, but he already had a feeling that this could be something. Something important. Something huge. Something that could be forever and he didn’t want to do anything to mess that up.

His fingers found their way into his hair again, “About the other night, you know, ice skating? I feel like maybe you got a little freaked out by what the boys were saying…”

You laughed, the sound hollow, “Weren’t you?”

Steve shrugged, hoping he was saying the right thing, “Not really. I mean, they’re kids. Everything in the world is so simple to them. They see two people who are alone and think it’s as easy as just being together. It was innocent. It wasn’t…”

“You weren’t completely horrified when my son said he thought you could be a good dad to him?” you challenged and there was that urge to pull you close again as he heard your voice breaking. “I was mortified. I couldn’t believe he said that to you.”

“Horrified? No. He’s a little kid. It was actually pretty sweet. I mean, I took it as a compliment that he likes me that much. Honestly, I think it’s more about the fact that they love each other so much. They just think it would be cool because then they could be together all the time. And then Eli could have a dog. I don’t even know if it’s really about us at all. Were you…were you horrified?”

“I…I don’t know,” you groaned, your eyes slipping closed, a solitary tear illuminated in the streetlight. “I have no idea what I’m feeling. I just assumed that you would be scared off. What guy wants to hear some kid he just met tell him he wants him to be his dad? They already had us married, living together, being a family…and you don’t even really know me.”

"Really, it’s not a big deal. I didn’t take it seriously so neither should you. It’s just kids being kids. It doesn’t have to affect us. It doesn’t actually mean anything.”

You winced and he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Damn. Had he given you the impression that he wasn’t interested? Why was this so hard? He felt like he was walking a tightrope and if he teetered too much in either direction he was going to crash to the ground. He grasped for something to say, something to remedy whatever he’d just done wrong.

“So, uh…” His hand came to the back of his neck, rubbing the tension that was quickly gathering. “I stupidly raised my hand for baked goods and I don’t actually know how to bake…”

Your eyes narrowed, “Then why would you volunteer?”

“Beats me,” he laughed, shrugging. You. You were the reason he’d volunteered but he couldn’t exactly tell you that when he was trying to play things cool. “I think I blacked out a bit in there, actually. Nance did this last year and she told me I had to put myself on the sacrificial altar this year. I had no idea what I was doing. I just knew I needed to volunteer for something. But I tried to make a cake for Jere’s birthday when he turned five. I mean, I bought a box mix. I figured it was foolproof but apparently not because this fool managed to completely mess it up. It wasn’t even completely baked and then when I tried to bake it for longer it burned on the bottom but the top was still somehow soggy. It was awful. Dustin saved the day and ran and got a grocery store cake. Anyway, the point is, if I bake for this carnival, no one is going to want to participate in the cakewalk. So, I was hoping that maybe I could come over to your house and you could help me?”

You looked for a moment as if you were going to turn him down and his stomach twisted in knots. Maybe he’d already screwed this up. Maybe his chance was gone. But then you sighed, rolling your eyes, your lips curving into a smile that he just wanted to taste. God, he wanted to kiss you so badly.

“Alright. I plan on baking the Thursday before the carnival. I have the day off and it’s going to be way easier with Eli off at school and out of my hair. He loves to help me bake but he is more hindrance which isn’t usually a problem, but when I am making that much stuff, it would be. Would you be able to come over in the afternoon or do you have work?”

“I can always move things around if I need,” he replied eagerly.

The boys at school, the two of you alone. You hadn’t been alone without the boys ever, unless you counted the grocery store and he definitely didn’t. Maybe he could finally get you to open up, to talk about your husband and what happened. Maybe he could get you to see that you could be good together if you'd be willing to take the chance.

“Okay, well then I guess I’ll see you then.”

“You know,” he began, stepping toward you, “that’s a long time to wait. I mean, for the boys. I know Jere won’t want to go that long without seeing Eli. So, I was thinking, maybe, if you guys are free, we’re having a cookout this Sunday at my place. Just a couple of my friends and us. I think Jere would really like it if Eli came.”

“Your friends?” you asked with uncertainty, looking nervous.

“Yeah. My best friend Robs and Dustin, my adopted little brother. Nothing big. Just a couple of people.”

“I don’t know…”

“I’m telling you, they’re the best. They are super easy to hang out with. They’re going to love you.”

Your eyes searched his, as if trying to figure out if he had an ulterior motive. He did. He definitely did. He did not want to go a week and a half without seeing you.

“Okay, we’ll be there.”

“Great,” he grinned. “Three at my place.”

“Alright. See you Sunday then,” you said with a small smile and a shake of your head. “Good night Steve.”

“Good night.”

He opened your door for you, waving as you drove off. Maybe he hadn’t screwed it all up. Maybe it was going to be okay. Maybe he still had a shot.

Chapter 7

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