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tightjeansjavi · 3 months

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the feel of coldness only water brings

A/N: so this is the unplanned part two of this Joel drabble I wrote called wildflowers. I just woke up this morning to some lovely reblogs on it, thus inspiring this piece 🥺 oh, and I also thought of @beefrobeefcal and her beefy, fat! Joel fics that are so so good while I was writing this!

~word count: 1.6k~

Summary: you convince Joel to join you for a swim in a lake while on patrol despite his insecurities

Pairing | joel x f!reader

Warnings: implied smut, fluff, angst (so sorry) non specified age gap between Joel and the reader, body insecurities(Joel), self deprecating thoughts, real bodies, natural body changes with age etc, language, teasing, flirting, body appreciation/worship, peepaw!joel, grumpy!joel, sunshine reader, reader has no physical descriptions (outside of wearing a bra and panties) +18 minors dni!

Sweat beads and drips down from the base of his hairline and slowly seeps into the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric naturally. His steel toed boots stop at the water's edge, soft ripples lapping at the worn leather with a soft audible swish. The lake is crystalline, and beneath the glass surface he sees a million different rocks, all shapes and sizes and textures. The mountain air is crisp, refreshing as he inhales deeply.

The high noon sun blinds his vision momentarily, but he welcomes it. The fabric of his shirt is beginning to grow itchy, scratching at his skin from the beading perspiration. He kicks a stray rock into water, watching as it sinks into the shallow depths.

“Joel.” Your voice carries over the water, your head and shoulders bobbing like a cork in the middle of the glistening lake. “You said it yourself, there’s no infected out here, and the water is so refreshing. Won’t you join me?”

His shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his shirt, his jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He squints, bringing his hand over his forehead to block out the blinding rays, “M’fine here, darlin.’” He chuffs out, “Besides, one of us has to be on alert.” He added, rationalizing his decision.

“Is it because you can’t swim?” It was a safe assumption to make.

He shook his head, kicking another rock with the toe of his boot. “It ain’t that.”

“Okay, so you can swim? Well, then what’s the issue? C’mon, baby. You’re practically sweating right through your shirt.” You said teasingly, hoping to see the corners of his permanent set frown quirk upwards, just for you.

“It’s silly.” He wavered, eyes casting downwards to his boots. “M’just—insecure s’all. Don’t want you to uh—see me like that.” He was never the best with communicating, but he tried with you, and that’s all you could ever really ask for.

“Joel, it’s not silly. If it makes you feel any better, you can keep your clothes on? It doesn’t matter to me because I think you're handsome, and your real body isn’t gonna suddenly make me stop feeling the way I do for you.” You reassured him with a soft smile.

“If I keep my clothes on m’gonna sink like a fuckin’ rock.” He forced out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with a huff. “Y’say that now…” he trailed off, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “But ‘m littered with scars, baby. Got grays on my chest and—m’barely fittin’ in my jeans these days. Should probably hold off on extra—”

“Joel.” You sighed, “I’m gonna stop you right there. Cause everything you just described to me?” You lifted your hands up from under the water in emphasis, “is a real fucking body. More importantly, it’s your body. You’re a healthy man, Joel. Your jeans ain’t fitting the same because you’re no longer in survival mode. You’re getting to indulge in a way that you weren’t able to in over 20 years. You're strong, but you're also soft in the right places.”

He doesn't believe you, of course. He would argue that it was because he had grown old and lazy like a house cat. You didn’t give him the chance, however.

“I love how soft and squishy your stomach is. You know why?”

He shook his head, feeling a flush creep up his neck and face,

“Because it acts as the perfect pillow for my head when we’re napping, and I love to grab onto your love handles when we’re cuddlin.’ Love to feel the way it presses into me when we hug. Or when you’re takin’ me from behind.”

“You’re just sayin’ that.” He scoffed.

“Am I?” You challenged him as you pulled yourself out of the water, dripping wet in just your flimsy pair of bra and panties.

“Don’t.” He warned you, taking a step to the side when you reached out to touch him. As if he was a frightened animal shying away. “M’jus’ a fat old man, darlin.’ Don’t gotta lie to me, sweetheart. I can accept the truth.” He was on the edge of snapping, nearly baring his teeth.

“Joel.” You said softly, “stop that. I ain’t have a reason to lie to you. Never have, never will.”

“You don’t have to protect my heart, darlin.’ S’okay. I ain’t deservin’ of your kindness. Don’t know why you even waste your time with a man like me—”

You looped your thumbs into the worn belt loops of his jeans and yanked him towards you swiftly despite his faint protests. “Would you shut up, please?”

Loose pebbles crunched beneath his heavy boots when you pulled him towards you and his hands naturally found your waist, big palms splayed across your damp skin. “Don’t you think you deserve yourself a real man? Someone who—isn’t like me?”

“You are a real man, Joel.” You gently remind him and slowly slip your thumbs from the belt loops of his jeans. “You’re beautiful, and I just wish you could see what I see.”

“Beautiful?” He scoffed, nose twitching when he felt your hands slowly slide up the expanse of his covered chest, “that ain’t me, sweetheart.” He rasped, tilting his chin downwards so he could watch your fingers gently toy with the buttons on his shirt.

“It is you, Joel. And one day you’ll wake up and realize it. And when that day comes, you’ll look in the mirror and tell yourself that you are beautiful, and you are loved, and you are deserving of kindness and softness for as long as Mother Nature lets me have you.”

He could feel himself slowly begin to cave from your words, tears pricking in the corner of his eyes, and he would claim that it was just from the blinding sun and the irritating sweat dripping from his brow. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you, darlin.’ Don’t think I’ll ever understand it. You could have your pick of men in Jackson, and you choose me?” He stifled a chuckle, dipping his chin down further so he could kiss the edge of your fingertips.

“You’re worth more than the whole damn bunch, Joel. Stubborn ass of a man, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Undress me.” He murmured, swallowing the lump rising in his throat, “M’yours.”

You smiled, dragging your thumb against his jaw and slowly tilted his chin upwards so your eyes could meet, “Remember, it’s just you and me out here. Nothin’ but miles and miles of wilderness.”

“Kiss me.” He whispered, tightening his grip around your hips, pulling you in closer.

Your lips brush, testing the waters before you fully kiss him. Tasting the sweat from his brow that had trickled down his lips. Soft, chapped, warm and familiar against your own.

Your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt open, exposing his skin to the warm rays from the sun. You pushed the strained fabric down his shoulders, letting the shirt fall to the pebbles below. You traced his scars with delicate movements, detaching your lips from his so you could follow the path your fingers created. You nipped at the softness of his bicep, pressing open mouthed kisses that trailed down his arm to his hand. You kissed each knuckle, each callous with your eyes staying locked on his.

You squeezed the soft plump flesh of his love handles, imagining yourself using them as an anchor when you would ride his cock in the early morning hours when neither of you could sleep.

You dragged your nose against the swell of his belly, feeling him tense up before melting into your touch like a pad of butter on a hot pan. You inhaled his musky scent, dragging your lips southwards through the dark hair of his happy trail, pressing a kiss there, too.

Your fingers moved in muscle memory as you undid his belt, tugging his too tight jeans over his hips and strong thighs, letting them pool at his ankles.

He watches your every move, brows furrowed together at the sight of you on your knees between his thighs. He hopes to god there is no danger lurking nearby. He wants this memory etched into his brain for the rest of his days.

He breathes out a strained puff of air from between his parted lips when you press the tip of your nose against the underside of his heavy cock, and the drag of your hot tongue through the strained fabric.

A groan bubbles up his throat, spilling over and he presses his hips into your face, the swell of his belly brushing against the crown of your head.

You giggle, nipping lightly at the fabric, feeling his cock twitch and harden. You watch his eyes roll back, words tumbling out in tandem.

“Do. Not. Tease. Me.” He growled and you giggled at his response.

“If you want more…you’re just gonna have to catch me!” You rose from your knees before he could grab ahold of you, stepping back with that glint in your eye.

“Hey! That ain’t fair and you know it!” He huffed, already struggling to unlace his boots so he could pull his jeans off completely. He cursed under his breath when he watched you dive back into the refreshing waters.

“Gonna get you back for this.” He grumbled to himself, fighting the urge to grin at the warmth that he felt flooding in his chest.

You heard a loud splash just as you resurfaced, and two dark brown eyes locked onto you like a target as you playfully swam away.

Your giggles and his deep, raspy laughter filled the hot summer air like a song that you would play on repeat, over and over again.

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spamgyu · 6 months

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BACKBURNER // PART 1

DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice. PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff

"Her or me?"

She never thought they would have come to this – having to ask the man that has loved for the past year and half to make a choice.

She watched as his adam's apple bobbed up and down, nervously swallowing the lump in his throat.

He was silently pleading for her.

"Cheol. Her or me." She repeated, this time her voice firm.

"Baby," He began, reaching for her hand but she wasn't having it; pulling her arm back away from his reach. "Don't do this."

His lack of response was more than enough for her. She wanted to hear him say it; wanting a reason to keep fighting for whatever it was that they had.

The thing was. she didn't know if she even had the right to ask him to choose. It wasn't like they ever established or put a label on their relationship.

If it was even considered as one.

She knew she wasn't his friend. No.... friends don't kiss each other the way they did.

Friends don't go on dates. They don't call them when they're drunk to pick them up, claiming that they missed them and wanted to come home to their cuddles.

But they weren't lovers either.

Because two people who were considered lovers told each other that they loved each other. Lovers don't seek out for others attention and care because there was no need to.

They were in a gray area. They always had been – and y/n had grown tired of it.

Y/n grew tired of alway coming in second. Second to her. His best friend, Sunhee. The reason why he could never bring himself to establish their relationship.

Seungcheol had only been using y/n as a filler and she no longer wanted to be the person that kept the seat warm until the right girl came along. In this case, until Sunhee had given him the time of day.

He stood there in silence, unable to muster up any words.

"Fine, if you're not going to make the decision, I will." Y/n sucked in a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to pool at the brink of her eyes. "We're done. I'm done. I can't keep doing this."

She was finally raising the white flag.

Grabbing her jacket off of the back of the couch, Y/n made her way to the door; taking one last glance at him. He didn't bother moving from his position – standing still in the middle of the living room as the girl he claimed he care about was walking out of his life.

A part of her wanted him to stop her, just one last time.

But seeing as he didn't seem to budge and she knew she had fucked up.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"Kim fucking Mingyu, get out here." She called out as the front door slammed behind her; dumping all her belongings on the couch next to his roommate.

"Geez," Minghao scooted away to the far end of the sectional, clutching the remote in his hand closer to his chest. "You sure know how to make an entrance."

She snapped her neck towards his direction, holding a finger up. "Not. A. Single. Word." Y/n gritted through her teeth.

"Gyu! Get out here! I'm scared!" Minghao cried, eyes wide.

"The hell is going on?" Mingyu chuckled, sauntering out of his room to meet a fuming y/n.

"Make him choose, he'll wake up and actually pick you." Y/n mocked, using a high pitched voice. "Fuck you."

Mingyu had grown tired of listening to her vent about how their mutual friend continued to toy with her emotions, coming up with the bright idea to finally voice her the thoughts that had been flooding her mind. She had unfortunately, allowed her best friend to talk her into giving Seungcheol an ultimatum; in hopes that maybe it will finally make him realize that it had been her all along.

Because maybe.... just maybe, he'll choose her. She should have known better than to listen to him.

Taking a step closer, Mingyu craned his neck to get a better look at her. "Have you been crying?"

"Yes!" She pouted, the tears welling up in her eyes once again – the scene of her standing in the middle of Seungcheol's living room replaying in her head. "You told me to make him pick! Guess what, he did! He chose her!"

He technically didn't choose. He didn't say anything.

But y/n knew that his silence was more than enough confirmation.

Mingyu tried to hold back the laughter the was building in his chest, but it was no use. He had always found her crying face a little funny; earning a smack across his chest as the girl allowed her tears to fall freely down her face.

Just as she had when she was driving on the way to his place, blasting her 'heartbroken girl' playlist.

"Sorry, come here." He pulled her into his chest, laughing harder as he heard a muffled sob against him.

"It's not funny!" Y/n stomped.

"It kinda is." He gave her a squeeze before stepping away from her. "Look, I told you he was a red flag. Hao, told you he was a red flag. You knew he was a red flag..."

Wiping away the remaining tears on her cheeks, she took a seat on the couch; letting out a loud groan. "What if red is my favorite color?"

Mingyu and Minghao exchanged looks before giving the girl the same one they had expressed to each other.

They had heard her defend Seungcheol countless of times and had no shame in freely judging her for it.

They were men, and men knew how men's brain worked.

No matter how many times she tried to make it seem as though Seungcheol's actions were done with no intentions of hurting her, they knew he was not smart enough to do that.

No man was.

When a woman thinks a man is pretending not to care, it was most likely because he actually doesn't.

They were simple creatures.

"Don't judge me. Both of you guys are horrible, horrible men too!"

She had her fair share of overhearing how they talked about the opposite sex – forgetting that she was woman as well. She had been around them for so long that they no longer considered her as a girl. Hell, she doesn't even think they considered her as a person.

Y/n cringed at how they talked about their recent dates and girls that blew up their phones, scolding them whenever they took it too far.

"Hey, we are horrible men who have the decency to tell girls we are not looking for anything serious. So if anything, we are pink flags." Minghao defended as he crossed his arms over his chest.

They were in their 20's, at their prime, and had women practically drooling at the sight of them. They simply had to exist and they fell at their feet.

They were just like any other men in the dating pool.

At least they had the decency to never ghost a girl and give her a heads up on what exactly they were looking for.

Just plain fun.

They didn't string them along.

Not like what Seungcheol had done with y/n.

"I need new friends."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

She knew she shouldn't have agreed on going with Mingyu to this damn party.

It had been three weeks since she had last seen Seungcheol and she would have lasted longer if her best friend hadn't practically dragged her out of her apartment to accompany him to Seokmin's place for a joint birthday celebration he was hosting with Hansol.

A part of her prayed that he wouldn't show up.

Why wouldn't he though? They shared mutual friends.

Of course he would be there.

"Are you going to avoid me all night?" He had finally been able to catch her all alone as she had gone into the kitchen to grab another bottle of beer for Mingyu.

The beer that he had guilt tripped her into getting for him; claiming that it was the least she could do since he had been so kind enough to make sure she was never alone the whole night – deterring Seungcheol from approaching her.

So much for that.

The list of reasons to murder Kim Mingyu is slowly becoming longer and longer.

Y/n was heartbroken and wanted Seungcheol to suffer. She wanted him to squirm and feel restless – she wanted him to break the 'no contact' rule that he had been holding onto since she had walked out on him.

She wasn't going to be the first to crack. Not this time.

"Yes." She flashed him a smile before heading back to the dining room, taking a seat next to Mingyu. "Here, I hope you choke."

"What I do?" He took the bottle from her hand, bring his arm back to rest on the back of her chair.

"He followed me into the kitchen."

Mingyu watched as Seungcheol rejoined the group, making eye contact with him.

"My bad." He chuckled, taking a swig.

The night went on with the room filled with laughter and voices speaking over each other – much like any other time they were all together.

All while y/n ignored the hole that Seungcheol was burning into her skin; feeling his stare from across the table, the rest of the group didn't seem to pay no mind to the tension between the two.

And frankly they didn't seem to care – very aware that the two had an icy hot relationship.

All except Mingyu, who had caught on to this the second he sat back down.

"You ready to head out?" He leaned down, whispering into y/n's ear.

Turning to give him a disgusted look, she nudged his body away. "Ew."

"Play along." Mingyu said, low enough for just them two to hear – his eyes signaling over to where Seungcheol sat. She sneakily took a glance over at him, seeing his jaw tense at the sight of her and Mingyu being at such close proximity.

She met Mingyu's eyes, silently asking him what was going on.

"I'll tell you in a bit."

"Okay but don't fucking do that ever again." She shuddered.

The two have been friends since middle school – having seen each other through all phases of their lives. Including their awkward pre-puberty stages.

Other girls seemed to fall at the feet of Mingyu, thinking he was some gorgeous Greek God; but all y/n could see were the days he would be knuckle deep in his nose digging for gold only to wipe it on her skin right after.

He was pretty, she'll admit to that.

But he was gross.

"We're heading out." Mingyu announced, standing from his seat; holding his hand out for her to take.

A chorus of bye's was heard from around the table as y/n hesitantly placed her hands in his – allowing him to guide her out of the apartment.

Once the door had closed behind them, and was out of earshot, they immediately dropped each other's hands.

"Your hands are cold." His nose scrunched.

"That's not something I can control." Y/n snapped back.

They have known each other long enough for their friendship to turn more into a love-hate one; bickering like their lives depended on it instead of holding a proper conversation.

Mingyu stepped into the elevator, hitting the LOBBY button, "Just saying, geez."

"Wanna tell me why you had your hot breath in my ear?"

A mischievous smile appeared on his face and y/n knew right at that moment that she shouldn't have asked.

Any time he smiled like that, she had always run into some issue that caused her to regret every single decision she had made in her life – it was never a good sign whenever his canines were in full show.

"I know how you can get him."

Or maybe.... this one won't be as bad.

"How?"

"Pretend to date me."

"No."

"Wha– why not?" Offended at how quickly she had turned him down.

"No. Ew."

"It's not for real. We won't even kiss!"

"No."

"Fine. Then I don't want to hear how much you miss him." He stepped out of the elevator with her hot on his heels.

Despite being the one to end things between her and Seungcheol, y/n had spent the past few weeks venting to her friend how she wished he at least texted her. Or maybe fallen into the trap of swiping up on the stories she had posted on her social media.

"Fine."

"Fine." He shrugged, entering his car.

The two drove in silence, allowing the low hum of the engine and radio to fill the air – both of their social batteries at zero percent.

She had been absentmindedly scrolling through tiktok when she began to once again, allow Mingyu's coniving voice plague her thoughts. Y/n replayed Seungcheol's stoic expression in her head, knowing well enough that her and Mingyu's interaction had gotten to his head.

Y/n couldn't believe she was actually considering entertaining the thought of fake dating to make Seungcheol jealous.

But she was far gone from reasonable thinking, wanting to do anything just to make sure she could hear Seungcheol say the words.

She wanted him to pick her.

If he was a red flag, then she could even be redder.

"Can't I just use a different guy to make him jealous?" She spoke up.

Mingyu let out a loud cackle, throwing his head back. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she cracked. "Like who?"

"What about Wonwoo, he's single right?" She recalled to the time in their sophomore year when the two had drunkenly shared a kiss at a frat party. It was convincing.

"He's also not your type."

"You don't know my type." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah I do. You like emotionally unavailable men."

"I do not–"

"Really? Jungk–"

"Okay!" She interrupted him, not wanting to be reminded of her ex who had made her cry for almost every day of the week during her senior year. It was not her proudest moment, but then again, most of the men she dated never made her proud.

"Come on, let me be toxic and mess with him." Mingyu snickered, slowing at the red light to send her a wink.

"No."

"Come on!"

"What's in it for you?"

"Please, making him angry is more than enough for me." A mischievous laugh escaped his lips.

Mingyu had always had some sort of competition with Seungcheol, dating all the way back to their freshman year of college. The two had always been playing a silent game of chess, finding ways to make each other upset over the smallest things.

Whether it was scoring more during a game, or dating the same girls... the two were always neck and neck.

But she knew he was right. If there was anyone that would grind Seungcheol's gears the way Sunhee did for her, it was Mingyu.

Y/n couldn't help but feel disgusted at herself as swayed into the decision. She couldn't believe she had become a pawn in the two's game.

"He better choose me by the end of this."

"Of course, baby."

"Don't call me that."

"Yeah that was gross." He gagged.

He called her baby.

And she only liked it if he called her baby. No one else.

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roosterforme · 2 months

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Covering the Classics Part 9 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: After Anna joins him for dinner, Bob knows he needs to accept that they really are just friends. Even though her kisses are perfection. Even though he's falling in love. But what's going to stop Anna when she realizes Bob's poems are very familiar to her?

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, Bob in gray sweatpants, eventually 18+

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Bob couldn't imagine a world in which he'd go to this much trouble to make the perfect dinner for a woman who he was falling in love with, only to hear her say the words just friends. But apparently it was the world he was living in, because he spent days comparing recipes from both Bradley and Jake, hoping to make something that Anna would find irresistible.

"You should make my lasagna," Jake said for the tenth time at work on Friday morning.

Bradley snorted. "Great idea, as long as you never want to see her again. Make my homemade pasta," he told Bob. "I already gave you the recipe."

Bob just kept nodding and agreeing with whatever they said, hoping they'd eventually be quiet. Anna was coming over tonight, and he still didn't have a solid plan in mind beyond trying to convince her he'd be worth her time. That it was okay to be more than friends.

While the guys argued, Bob got himself ready to get in the air with Phoenix. He must have looked flustered, because she rubbed her thumb gently across the back of his hand when he stood next to her in the hangar. "You seem nervous. Are you still trying to figure out what to make for dinner?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly.

"Oh, Bob. She's not going to care what you make. It could be a grilled cheese sandwich."

"I always burn those," he said with a small smile. "I just feel like this is pointless. I invited her over anyway even though I know she just wants to be friends, but I'm still standing here hoping for more. I shouldn't be doing this, even if we did makeout in her office."

Nat sighed and asked, "Do you want my grandma's recipe for bruschetta chicken? You liked it when you tried it at her house last summer, and it's not that hard to make."

His eyes lit up. "Please."

He'd only have a little bit of time to himself to prepare the meal and cook it before Anna came over, and he listened as Nat called her grandma and asked her to send it over. Before they were even called out of the hangar to start the day, he had a photo of the handwritten recipe in his phone.

"Nat, you're a lifesaver."

"Just save me some of the leftovers."

--------------------------

Friday was going so well for Anna, she almost forgot to be nervous about dinner. She met with the dean to discuss how her classes were going, and he even brought up the word tenure which sent her into a giddy spiral where she treated herself to a candy bar from the vending machine which she couldn't really afford. She carried it out to eat lunch in the quad with her friends along with her regular, uninspired sandwich and ginger ale.

She hadn't mentioned a word about going to Bob's house for dinner, but she was absolutely certain both ladies knew about it. She almost found it comical the way they were trying to get her to say something about it, but Jessica was clearly ready to boil over.

"Hi," Anna greeted, biting into her Snickers bar as she settled on the bench between them. Advanced Calculus casually offered her some carrots and hummus while Jessica's cheeks started to grow a furious shade of pink.

"When were you going to tell us Bob invited you over for dinner tonight?" she exclaimed.

Anna shrugged and said, "I was probably just going to tell you about it on Monday since it's nothing because we are just friends. It's only as exciting as it would be if I went over to your place for dinner."

"That's exciting, too!" Jessica said. "You should absolutely come over for dinner! But you're wrong, because it's not as exciting as Bob cooking dinner for you!"

"Jess. Chill out," came the voice from Anna's other side. "She'll learn soon enough that dinner cooked by one of the Top Gun boys is essentially a marriage proposal on a plate. A very sexy and delicious marriage proposal. You and he will be sleeping together in no time."

Anna chewed up the last bite of her Snickers and shook her head. "You're both wrong. Bob and I are just friends. The dinner means nothing, and we're not going to sleep together."

"Oh, please!" Jessica was back to practically shouting now. "If you think he's actually okay with all the making out, then you've lost your mind. He doesn't want it to be meaningless. He likes you."

Anna looked at her feet. "I know he does. I like him too."

"Then stop stringing him along! I don't understand what the problem is here, Anna."

She sat quietly now, no longer feeling so great as she picked at her sandwich.

"Hey, I know Jess sounds like an excitable terrier, but maybe you need a little tough love," Advanced Calculus said as she dipped a carrot into the hummus. "You can talk to us, you know. You can tell us what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," Anna whispered as her mind flooded with thoughts of Kevin and what he might be up to at the moment.

Jess took a deep calming breath before she said, "There's just no good reason to put your dream man in the friend zone. And don't even try to lie and say Bob Floyd isn't perfection."

"He is," Anna whispered. Other than her infatuation with Sky Writing, Bob was the closest thing to a dream come true that she'd ever encountered before. But she did have her reasons, and she was too embarrassed to talk about it out loud. She was certain that Jess already knew her current financial state was in ruins, and it might be nice to have her friends understand where she was coming from, but she didn't want them to pity her. That was the last thing she needed right now. "You know what, I think I'm going to get ready for my next lecture."

She was on her feet and rushing away as her friends called after her, but she didn't stop walking until she reached her office. She was not going to cry over this, and she definitely didn't want to cancel on Bob. The only thing she could do to calm down was look at all of the books on her shelves, letting her gaze glide over the colorful spines. Then she read the note from Bob that was tucked in her copy of Papillon.

Freedom would feel like being so in love, you'd willingly let another person lock you to their side.

-------------------------------

Bob had a fully stocked kitchen filled with a nice set of pots and pans and sharp knives and anything else he could possibly want, but right now, it was like he'd never cooked anything before in his life. Nat's grandmother actually had atrocious handwriting, and he could barely make out the measurements in the photo he had to work with.

"Basil," he muttered to himself, grabbing the leafy greens from the cutting board and wondering why it looked like he was supposed to use three cups of them. "I didn't even buy that much!"

He took a deep breath and walked around his kitchen, trying to clear his head. Anna was going to grab an Uber. She would be arriving in about an hour with wine and dessert. He wanted to feed her the most delicious meal he could muster, but right now he was just looking at the chicken breast on the plate in front of him like he'd never seen food before.

And he just knew Jake and Bradley never had to work this hard for a woman in their lives. Jake could rely mostly on his looks if he wanted to, and Bradley was the luckiest person he knew, reuniting with the love of his life after ten years and getting married approximately a day later. "No," he whispered, "that's not fair to them." He knew he was wrong. He knew both of them worked to get where they ended up, and he shouldn't be putting himself down so much.

He glared at the chicken and picked up a knife. "This is fine. No problem." He had to fudge some of the measurements which made no sense, and he'd suggest to Nat that maybe her grandmother should take an eye exam, but the recipe really wasn't too terribly hard. Soon he had the browned chicken in the oven, and he set to work on the bruschetta topping and started boiling some water for the pasta. He was just adding another tablespoon of balsamic vinegar to the tomatoes and basil when he heard Anna's beautiful laughter.

Bob nearly knocked the bowl to the floor in his haste to get to her. After grabbing a dish towel for his hands, he rushed toward his front door and saw her on his porch. She was wearing a little sundress that he'd seen her in before with her worn out denim jacket over it, and he froze a few feet inside his screen door just so he could look at her. She was juggling a shopping bag and a bottle of wine, and that's when he realized she was talking to Suzanne.

"Oh, no, I'm not in the Navy," she was saying as she tossed her beautiful, red hair over her shoulder. "I'm a professor at San Diego State University. My name's Anna."

She stretched her hand out, and then Bob heard Suzanne's voice. "I'm Suzanne, and that's my cat, Sylvester. I must say, I had no idea Robert got himself a girlfriend. And such a pretty one!"

He desperately wanted to interrupt their conversation before he could hear what Anna's response was going to be, but he just couldn't. She was standing there in the last rays of the setting sun, blushing as she said, "Bob and I are actually just friends. Just good friends."

There was a beat of silence before Suzanne laughed. "Have you seen him? And he's even sweeter than he is handsome!"

Anna was laughing nervously, and Bob's heart was pounding, but he opened the screen door to bail her out anyway. "Hey," he greeted as naturally as he could, and then Anna's apprehensive gaze met his. God, all he wanted to do was drag her inside, push her up against his living room wall and kiss until she realized he wasn't going to hurt her.

"Bob," she whispered, taking a small step in his direction. Her eyes were wide and perceptive, like she could read his every thought on his face. She cleared her throat and said, "I brought wine and some cookies."

Helpless to do much of anything else, he smiled at her. "Dinner's almost ready." Then he leaned further out the door and said, "Hi, Suzanne."

His next door neighbor looked delighted as she glanced between him and Anna. "I was just talking to your charming friend here, Robert. Cooking dinner for someone certainly sounds romantic to me."

Bob was gripping the door frame as he watched Anna's face fill with panic. Then she blurted out, "Why doesn't Suzanne join us?"

-------------------------------

The only thing Anna could think to do was sabotage the dinner she'd been looking forward to all week. She watched Bob's face fall slightly as he realized she invited his next door neighbor to join them for a very platonic dinner. And since Bob was the sweetest man Anna had ever met, he recovered immediately, turned to Suzanne and said, "You're more than welcome."

Ten minutes later, Bob was opening the bottle of cheap wine she'd brought while Anna watched the veins in his hands. He was graceful and lovely, and Suzanne was talking nonstop as he poured three glasses. She had nobody to blame but herself for inviting a third wheel along. The older woman was really more of a safety net. Someone to prevent Anna from kissing Bob. Someone to stop her from falling completely in love with him.

The whole house smelled amazing, and she knew this dinner was supposed to be just for her. She hadn't eaten a real meal like this, other than at the cookout, in months and months. The first bite of chicken, bruschetta and pasta was delicious enough that she moaned softly. Bob watched her take a second bite, and it was incredible. The third bite left her staring at him in wonder.

"You're the best cook in the world," Anna informed him, cutting across Suzanne talking about her cat. She didn't even care if she was being rude, the food was perfect. And it would have somehow been even better if the two of them were alone.

Bob blushed and took a sip of the wine that Anna wished was better than it was. "Thanks. Uh, it was a new recipe. I've never made it before tonight."

Suzanne took a bite and said, "Robert is an excellent cook and a real gentleman. He always makes sure I have groceries, and he picks up a little something for me if he gets dinner on his way home from work."

As Bob's cheeks grew redder, Anna's heart beat faster. "A real gentleman," she echoed, knowing he'd take care of anyone who needed something.

"Yes," Suzanne said. "You don't see many of them around. Never seen many myself."

Neither had Anna, and after she blew her life to bits, she'd probably never see one again. She listened to Bob and Suzanne talk about their favorite game shows, and she cleaned her plate before either of them had finished. All of the toast and sad sandwiches she'd been eating weren't really cutting it, and she knew that. She also didn't want to get another piece of chicken and seem like a mooch.

"Can I get you more?" Bob asked as he stood on the opposite side of the table in his worn jeans and snug white shirt. "There's plenty left."

Anna shook her head, but he reached for her plate anyway. While he was in the kitchen, Suzanne quickly finished eating and downed the rest of her wine. Softly, just for Anna to hear, she said, "He is a very nice man. I hope I see you around here in a less friendly capacity." Then she called out, "Robert? I need to go. I hear Sylvester outside bugging for food. Thanks for dinner, and enjoy your evening."

"Night, Suzanne," he replied, and the older woman bustled off without another word, leaving Anna alone with Bob when he returned with two plates refilled with food. "She's a character."

Anna laughed, but she could tell Bob was hesitant to say too much now. Probably because she'd dashed the mood in the first place. "I'm sorry I suggested she join us," she told him sincerely, shaking her head. "All week long, I'd been looking forward to talking about books with you."

As she poked at her chicken, afraid of what he was going to say, he said, "Once you finish eating, I could show you my books. I don't have as many as you do, but maybe there's something you'd like to borrow in the mix. And then I'll drive you home."

"I can get an Uber," she insisted, taking another bite of the perfectly cooked dinner.

"And I can just as easily drive you."

He was a gentleman. She wasn't going to leave here in an Uber no matter what she said. "Alright."

----------------------------

"You have books in every room!" Anna exclaimed as she walked around his house nibbling on a cookie. The wine she brought was kind of terrible, and so were the grocery store cookies, but Bob didn't mind. She ate two full plates of the dinner he cooked, and now that Suzanne was gone, she seemed more herself.

"I have a system," he insisted as she sat down on his living room floor to inspect a stack of paperbacks.

"I'm not buying it," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"Try me. The living room is poetry. The extra bedroom is mysteries. The dining room is true crime."

"What's in your bedroom?" she asked, flipping through a collection by Robert Frost.

Bob wanted to tell her that his bedroom was where he wrote his own poetry. And that they had begun to turn into a collection all about her. "Romance," he said.

She laughed softly, such a pretty sound. "I'm assuming you don't have any Vonnegut? No soul massacring, unhappy endings?"

"None," he promised. "You won't find any of those around here."

She was skimming a page as she muttered, "Good. I've had enough of that anyway." Then she stood and carried the Frost poems to another small pile on his coffee table. She rooted around and pulled out a volume by Walt Whitman before asking, "Could I borrow these two?"

Bob was admiring how perfect she looked in his house when she met his eyes with her pretty brown ones. "Of course," he said, dropping down onto the couch as he finished his own cookie. "Anything you want."

She stood and carried the books over to her purse before sitting down a few feet away from him. "What I want is to help you organize your books for real. Have you ever heard of a bookshelf before?"

"Never," he replied innocently. "What's that?"

She laughed and scooted a little closer. "You know those big, wooden things that were holding all the books when we met at that store in North Park? Remember that day?"

He knew she was just joking around, but as he memorized the pattern of her freckles, he said, "I will never forget that day."

Once again, Anna initiated the kiss, and once again, Bob was helpless to pump the brakes. She leaned in close with her hand on his knee and brushed her lips against his. It was so sweet, he was almost able to ask her to stop. Even though it felt too good, he was nearly able to tell her he couldn't do this. But being tortured was worth it. That was the worst part.

He let her do what she wanted, and her soft hands found their way to his face, knocking his glasses askew on their way into his hair. He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid he'd lose himself in these kisses that meant so much more to him than they did to her. He counted to ten slowly in his mind, savoring every touch and taste, letting Anna settle against his thigh. Then he broke the kiss, leaving her hovering there, surprise on her face.

She pressed her lips together, and turned her face toward his front door. "I'll never forget that day either."

He nodded as her hands fell away from his hair and his face, and he whispered, "Grab the books you want to borrow, and I'll drive you home."

----------------------------

"He's a gentleman," Anna groaned in her bed on the floor of her tiny apartment the following morning. It was Saturday, and she didn't have much she needed to accomplish today which would leave her plenty of time to think about the drive home in Bob's truck and the way he walked her to her door. She didn't kiss him again, but he always seemed to be close enough that she could feel his body heat in the chilly night air. Even now, when she grabbed at some strands of her hair, she swore she could still smell his fresh scent there.

She needed to get out. She grabbed her phone and took the longest walk imaginable. Her legs were burning by the time she stopped in a corner store for something to eat for lunch, but the sandwich was almost as bad as the ones she had been making for herself. Nothing would be as good as what Bob cooked, and he served it up last night like it was no big deal at all.

As Anna started the long walk back to her apartment, she groaned while she blasted her music. She had invited his elderly neighbor to join them for dinner, and then she had kissed him again. She was so embarrassing. She'd never been like this when she was in New Jersey, never doing the most mortifying things over and over.

She didn't go home for a long time. She walked through an enormous park and looked at a fountain while she daydreamed about all of her unfinished manuscripts. When that started to hurt too much, she watched the storm clouds that were rolling in from the coast and thought it might be nice to get soaking wet. Then a few fat raindrops started to hit her face as she realized that she wouldn't be able to replace her phone if it got destroyed.

"Damn it," she muttered, starting to run through the park under the cover of the trees. The sky was quickly getting darker as she tried to stay under awnings and overhangs as much as possible until she reached her apartment building. Her clothing was soaked, but her phone was still in working order when she ran inside, dripping all over the welcome mat in the small entryway.

She desperately wanted to cry, but that wouldn't solve anything, so she took a long shower instead. She washed and braided her hair, and then she painted her nails. When she finally picked up her phone again, she had a new message from Bob.

Bob Floyd: Taking your advice and buying one of those bookshelves? Was that what they were called? Which one do you think is better?

He had attached two screenshots of nice looking shelves from Ikea that she'd never be able to afford at the moment. She smiled as she typed back to him while she heated up a can of soup for dinner.

Yes, they are called bookshelves. Are you sure you know how to use them? I like the navy blue one better.

The flavorless chicken noodle soup went well with Anna's mood as she sat on the floor and watched a show on her phone. Part of her wanted to know what her friends were up to, but she didn't want to have to tell them about last night. She knew Bob and Jess would be going out to play Dungeons & Dragons soon anyway, but she dropped her spoon in the bowl when Bob wrote back again.

Bob Floyd: I think I'll pick it up tomorrow and make it my rainy Sunday project. Feel like helping me build it?

"Oh, Anna. Don't."

-------------------------------

Bob pulled up to Anna's building on Sunday afternoon after stopping to pick up the shelf. It had been pouring rain since last night, and he had to wrap his new furniture box in a tarp to protect it in the bed of his truck. But this would be a great way to spend the afternoon. He could make two cups of tea, and she could help him organize his books. They didn't need to kiss anymore. He would see to it that they didn't. He could handle this whole thing without issue.

He left his truck idling at the curb, and Anna came running outside like she'd been waiting for him. He grabbed his umbrella and met her halfway, shouting, "I was going to walk up and get you!" over the sound of the rain. She joined him under the umbrella, her denim jacket pretty wet as she shrugged.

"The rain's okay. It reminds me of New Jersey."

Once he opened the door and helped her scramble in, he ran around to the other side of the truck. He was barely able to find a dry spot on his shirt so he could wipe off his glasses, and when he yanked the hem up, he could feel Anna's eyes on his body. There was no sense in feeling self conscious about the way he looked now, because nothing else was going to happen. Last night had to be the end of that.

"You ready?" he asked, cranking the key in the ignition when she nodded. His wipers were going full speed as he drove her back to his house for the second visit in one weekend. "Thanks for helping with this. I kind of realized that having everything on one big shelf makes more sense. Especially if I keep borrowing books from you."

Her laugh was soft as she said, "If you don't borrow my books, then nobody will."

"Same goes for mine," he replied easily as he headed toward the beach. "But don't you dare dog ear my pages."

Now she laughed louder. "I read most of Whitman last night before I fell asleep, and there's nary a bent page in sight."

"That's what I like to hear." When he pulled up in front of his house, he handed her the umbrella and his keys. "Go ahead and let yourself in, and I'll unload the box."

She just gaped at him in response and asked, "Don't you need help carrying it?"

"Nah," he replied, popping his door open, "I can get it."

Bob struggled a little bit with the tarp before sliding the massive box closer to the edge of the truck tailgate. Every movement was made slower by the pounding rain in his face, but he managed to tip it into his arms. It was heavy, but not too bad, and his grip on the wet cardboard was good enough for him to get it inside the house. Anna was standing on the porch, holding open his screen door with the umbrella folded up at her feet, and he accidentally brushed against her with his arm as he maneuvered himself through the door.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she said, her voice a little breathy as she let the screen door close and helped him prop the box against the wall. "This is massive."

"I guess now I can buy more books," he said with his hands on his hips while he dripped all over the place. "I'm going to get changed quickly, and then we can build the shelf and organize it, and then I'll make dinner."

Her eyes lit up. "You'll make dinner again?"

"Yeah. I was going to see if I can attempt a grilled cheese without burning it. I'll be right back." And then he headed upstairs to his bedroom where he had clean undershirts, some sweatpants and all of his favorite books.

---------------------------

Anna was halfway through unboxing and organizing the shelf pieces on the floor when Bob walked back downstairs. She'd removed her denim jacket, and her leggings and tank top were mostly dry, and she'd settled on the floor with the instruction book. "It looks like we'll need a screwdriver or a drill...."

Her sentence tapered off when she looked up at Bob just casually standing there in one of his white shirts and a pair of gray sweatpants and neatly combed, damp hair. The ability to speak escaped her.

"I can grab my toolbox," he told her, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants before disappearing toward the kitchen. She needed to lie down. She stretched out on the floor and stared at the ceiling as rain pelted the window next to her.

"Oh my god," she whispered before biting down on her lip. She wanted him. She liked every damn thing about him, and then he had to look and smell and sound so good on top of it all. The Walt Whitman poems weren't the only thing she had read last night. Sky Writing's words from her favorite poems were also in her mind, and she couldn't shake them. Anna had just rolled into her side, staring at the instructions without actually seeing them, when he walked back in.

"Are you okay?"

"Great," she said, voice raspy. She was in fact not great. She was the opposite of great. When Bob handed her the toolbox and said he was going to make two mugs of tea, she took the time to pull herself together. Sweaty palms glided along her leggings, and she read the instructions through. It seemed simple enough, and she had the hardware in order by the time Bob returned with two steaming mugs.

"Thanks," she whispered as he settled onto the floor next to her. She knew this was how good things would be if she could date Bob. Hot tea and homemade meals and someone around who loved books. "You're really sweet."

He didn't say anything as he sipped his tea, so Anna did the same. It was raining so hard, she couldn't tell if what she heard was thunder or not, but inside Bob's house, everything was warm and cozy. "Let's get started," he finally said, leaning in front of her to set his mug on the windowsill.

They spoke quietly, mostly about the shelf, while she handed him hardware and tools. Anna found herself distracted as she watched his hair dry and lighten in color as they worked together. Every bump of his muscular arm against hers felt intentional, but she couldn't tell for sure, and she was too afraid to ruin this friendship beyond repair. Especially after what her friends had told her at lunch on Friday.

"I need the screwdriver," he said, bumping her gently with his elbow as he held two perpendicular pieces of wood in place.

"I can get it," she replied, finally refocused on the task before her. "I'll screw it in." She tried to reach in front of him, but he was too tall. When he moved his arms a little further apart, she popped up between them so she was standing between his body and the shelf. "I'll only take a second."

She could feel Bob's warm breath against her ear, and all he could think was that she would fit perfectly in his arms if he decided to just drop what he was holding and wrap them around her instead. "Take your time," he murmured, because of course his arms wouldn't get tired in this position. She fumbled the screw. His body was immaculate, and it was all she could think about as he exhaled and tickled her hair.

"I'm trying," she whispered, fumbling the screw again. Finally she had it in place, and Bob released the shelf, but he didn't move away from her.

"Think you can screw the last two in as well? Then we'll be done."

She nodded and decided to go slower, savor this tiny bit of intimacy and pretend he was hers. Then it was done.

"It looks good."

She barely had to turn to look at him over her shoulder. "It's a nice shelf. How do you want to arrange your books?"

He was still standing close as he said, "Poetry on the top? Since it's my favorite?"

"Yeah," she told him with a laugh. "Banish it to the top where nobody but you can reach it."

He cocked his head and leaned in closer. "Are you insulting the poetry or commenting on my height?"

"A bit of both," she replied right away. The living was darker now from the storm and from the time of day, but she could see his smile perfectly.

"Come on, Anna. We both know you love the poetry. You borrowed two volumes the other day."

She only hummed in response before ducking away from him and reaching for a stack of his books. She handed them to him one at a time, commenting on them like she was giving each a bad review. "Oh, this one is too flowery. Too many words and no substance." She handed him another after he shelved the first one. "This author put all their best works at the beginning of the collection. The second half is terrible."

Bob chuckled as she picked up a book that she knew was a favorite of his. "Hey, you better watch what you say about that one."

She waved it in the air, unable to reach the top shelf, and he snatched it out of her hand. "I'm going to be brutally honest," she said softly, and Bob's hand rested on her back almost like a warning. "I loved it."

He smiled and let his fingers trail along her back as he nodded toward the stairs. "Want to help me tackle the mystery books in the extra bedroom?"

"Sure," she told him, leading the way to the steps. "But first, you have to tell me why you like poetry so much."

"What's not to like?" he replied as she started up. "All of the emotions are there. You're allowed to write about any combination of emotions that you're feeling at any given time. And I think that's pretty cool."

Anna's steps slowed a little as she considered his words. "Write?" she asked, turning to look back at him as he made his way up behind her. "Did you say write?"

"Uh. I did. Yeah."

Truly, she loved reading poetry, but she didn't have much of a knack for writing it. She didn't even think she was good enough for PoetsAmongUs. "What's something you've written?"

Bob laughed, and Anna stumbled on the top step as he said, "Just some amateur gibberish like, 'Devotion woven into every breath I take. Love that knows no boundaries, no end.' Nothing amazing."

She gripped the banister to keep herself upright, and then she spun and sat down hard on the top step. Suddenly she felt like she couldn't breathe. She knew those words intimately. She knew the whole fucking poem by heart. She knew everything else he had written as well, because she'd been reading his poetry for years.

"Bob," she croaked, and he rushed toward her, hands gentle on her ankle and leg.

"Are you okay? Did you twist it?"

"Bob," she gasped, reaching for the front of his undershirt and pulling him closer so he was focused on her face. "You're Sky Writing."

--------------------------

BOB IS SKY WRITING, ANNA. What the hell are you going to do now, babe? Please, make good choices. Thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

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#bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd fic #robert floyd imagine #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x oc #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fic #robert floyd #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #covering the classics

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loveshotzz · 1 year

Text

Constellations

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: under the stars, you just want steve to kiss you.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ even though there’s no smut. sorry kiddos. just some first kiss fluff inspired by season 3 steve who’s kinda lost his confidence.

authors note: another blurb outta the pile! I’m a sucker for late nights at Lovers Lake with Steve 💗. for @superblysubpar cause I know when I came up with this blurb months ago she was so excited. sorry it took me so long!

The sky was clear above the lake, the stars glimmering extra bright against the water illuminating patches of the trees surrounding you. The reflection hits the green and brown specks that lay nestled inside Steve’s eyes in a battle to steal your attention. You try not to meet his gaze as you search for the constellation he promised to show you when he threw rocks on your bedroom window, careful not to wake your roommate.

He was dressed more casual than your first date a few days ago. A date that didn’t end with the kiss you desperately hoped you’d get at the end of an evening filled with warm palms that covered your lower back whenever he’d get the chance, or stolen glances to the pink gloss that covered your lips just for him. Instead, an awkward hug and red cheeks is what you got as he tripped over his own feet from your doorstep to his car.

The gray shorts he wears stop just above his knees, the hair covering his legs matching the patch that’s always peeking out from the tops of his shirts. His sweater was the same color as the car that took you here, tight around his broad shoulders, and snug in all the spots you wanted to explore with your fingers. His honey colored hair was messier than you’d seen before, like he’d just woken up and had to see you, disguising it as late night stargazing by the lake. The thought of how soft it must feel makes your hands twitch at your sides.

Your shoulders are tucked into his jacket that he always keeps in the back seat of his BMW. It was the end of summer — August bleeding into September. The late nights starting to get that little bit chillier, the days a little bit shorter. The faded spice of his cologne swirls around your senses still embedded deep into the fabric from last year. The blanket he’d laid out on the lush grass that still hadn’t disappeared is soft under your hands that keep you propped up at an angle, your legs extend in front of you, crossed at your ankles and the toes of your sneakers bump into his.

The space he leaves between you is just enough to feel the heat of his body radiate off his bronzed skin, freckled and kissed by the sun, his big hands spread out palm down like a mirror with yours. The tips of his fingers are quiet, ghosting against the side of your hand. Leaning his head back to follow your line of sight, the smell of his shampoo reminds you of the woods around you when the wind catches it. He’s so close, but you want him closer.

It only takes a few minutes before you feel his eyes are on you again and you can’t stop the twist of your lips this time.

“Where are these constellations? Or you just wanna look at me?” Your voice is soft, the faint teasing edge behind it isn’t enough to cover up how he’s making you shy when your eyes finally connect with his.

He clears his throat, cheeks blooming and Adam’s apple bobbing under your grin.

“Shit - yeah, sorry. Just like seeing you in my jacket s’all.” Your stomach flutters at his words, butterflies wreaking havoc when he finally crosses the threshold, a big hand enveloping yours. He brings his attention back to the sky, fingers curling purposefully.

You lean in closer under the guise of getting a better look as he starts to trace along the path of a collection of twinkling stars.

“We’ve got Orion’s Belt right over here.” His shoulder brushes against yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles.

Water laps against the shoreline and the distant coo of an owl drowns out the fading chirp of crickets while he gives you a tour of the night sky. His voice calms your nerves, talking low enough just for you to hear while your bodies inch closer like magnets until there’s no space left, fingers daring to intertwine.

“And this…” he breathes and you know he’s not looking at the stars anymore, spearmint and a little bit of the joint you both shared hitting your nose “Is the big dipper.”

Your eyes dare to leave the wide expanse above you only to confirm your suspicions. The corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk when he gets caught for the second time tonight, but this time he doesn’t move to look away. You can see the stubble lining the sharp line of his jaw from this close, a collection of moles you think you could trace into the same patterns he just showed you coming into view. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips when his eyes shift down to yours and it makes your breath catch in your throat. He’s gonna do it.

“Are you gonna kiss me Steve?” Your impatience comes out in just above a whisper.

There’s a new air of confidence about him now, shifting so he can lean against his elbow, the new position has him looking up at you. The moon shimmers, wrapping around you punching the air out of his lungs. You’re beautiful. He’s gentle when he cups the side of your face, your skin heating up under the softness of his palm. His thumb traces the line of your cheekbone before moving to the silk of your bottom lip, tugging it down gently, watching it pop back into place.

“Is that what you want, baby?” His eyes darken when he sees the pinch of your brows. A pout.

The nickname makes your heart soar and your chest tighten, only letting you offer a nod and the sweetest “please.” It fills the empty spaces in the air around you, an electricity begging to explode around it.

His hold finds its way to the back of your neck, long fingers curving just below your hairline before pulling you down without a fight to meet him. Nudging his nose against yours, you can feel the brush of his lips from this close.

“I should’ve done this the other night.” His breath mingles with yours, teasing you in a way that you like. “You forgive me?”

You match his smile despite trying to fight it and he takes that as his answer, finally putting you out of your misery with the kiss you’ve been waiting for.

He takes it slow at first, his eyes fluttering shut while his hand finds your jaw. He asks you to open up for him gripping your chin while his tongue licks at your top lip. Granting him the kind of access you’d never deny him, a groan vibrates deep from his chest when you meet him in the middle to deepen it.

Your fingers find their way into his hair when he lays back on the blanket taking you with him, and it’s even softer than you imagined. Of course it is. You grab at roots on the nape of his neck when he nips at your bottom lip already addicted to the sound he gets from it.

The kisses get sloppy, all the tension coming to a head when he tugs at your hips. Your leg slots between his so the muscle of his thigh presses to the most sensitive part of you, and it takes everything not to rock against him. His hand moves to squeeze at the curve of your waist, teeth scraping together when you both start to get needy. More, more, more.

A high pitch whistle from the other side of the lake breaks you two apart with a jump, the culprits hidden by distance and darkness. A loud splash of water tells you they are none the wiser to the company they keep. A late night rendezvous like you and Steve.

He huffs out a low chuckle beneath you, with that signature hand running through his hair when his head hits the ground with a low thump. Keeping a hold on your hip to make sure you don’t go anywhere, his eyes are brighter than before when he looks at you with flushed cheeks and that smile that started your crush all those years ago.

“Took you long enough.”

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader

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foreverrandomwritings · 1 year

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Oral Fixation

Summary: The five times Bradley takes note of your oral fixation. Then the one time he decides to say something to you. (I was watching both Legally Blonde movies when writing this last night so it turned out kind of pink)

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x afab!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, rough deployments, insecurities, alcohol, bars, clubs, sex MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

Word count: 3660

Masterlist

One

The first time you met was also coincidentally the first time he noticed your oral fixation. You had been transferred into fightertown from an overseas position. You were a new Psychologist and had been tasked with going around to pretty much everyone on base to inquire about their desire for a therapist. You had found most of the dagger squad in the rec room. Payback, Fanboy and Coyote were all up in the sky and the rest of them were lounging around the room.

Bradley had turned his head away from the movie on the tv in front of him at the sound of your closed toe pink heels clicking along the tiles of the ground. His eye’s worked their way up from your feet, to your light gray slacks up to the pretty pink silk button up tucked away inside of them. When his eyes finally landed on your face you had been sucking on your cheek. As your eyes connected to his own you let go of your cheek and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Hi, I’m the new clinical psychologist on base. Vice Admiral Simpson suggested I go around and introduce myself.” You stuck out your hand expectantly. He gave you a smirk wrapping his much larger hand around your own.

“Bradley Bradshaw, callsign Rooster, Ma’am.” His hand was still clasped with your own, but you didn’t seem to mind. The screams of victory from Phoenix and Bob as they won a game of foosball against Yale and Harvard had your hands separating reluctantly.

“Here’s my card.” You pulled a stack of them out of your pants pocket. Slipping one out of the pink rubber band they were wrapped in you handed him the small white rectangle.

“I already have a therapist off base. But is there any way I can call you for dinner?” The boldness of his question had your cheeks heating. You pulled your lip between your teeth, debating how to respond to him.

“I don’t see why that would be a problem.” You gave him a sweet smile before slipping away from him and working to the other aviators in the room. He watched your every move admiring the way you so easily conversed with the group. He noticed your eyes light up when you got to Hangman and his lips pulled into a frown. He couldn’t hear what you were saying as the two of you were on the other side of the room.

Jake reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small container of toothpicks. He shook one out and handed it to you with a smirk. You said something to him before passing him one of your cards and taking the toothpick from him. Bradley watched you place the little piece of spearmint wood between your teeth. Your shoulders relaxed as you closed your lips around the object. Then you were walking his way again and he quickly flicked his eyes back to the tv not wanting to get caught staring. But you had felt his eyes on you the whole time you were in the room.

Two

The second time he notices your oral fixation is while you are about a month into dating. He had asked you to go to the hard deck with him. It’s a slow night so you are sitting at the bar talking to Penny. Bradley is at a table with Natasha while she goes on about the double date she and Bob just went on the night before. He was only half listening however. His eyes were focused on your form clad in a pair of high waisted light wash ripped skinny jeans and a bright pink cropped tank top.

Penny had a customer so she had been helping them which had left you alone briefly. You plucked the cherry from the bottom of your glass and pulled the fruit off the stem. You chewed it quickly before slipping the stem into your mouth. You absentmindedly worked the stem around your mouth as you scanned the bar. Your eyes met Bradleys and you gave him a toothy grin showing him the knot you had made proudly. He sent you a wink and a thumbs up.

“Are you even paying attention to me?” Natasha huffed out at him dramatically. He turned to his best friend sat across from him and gave her an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry about that. What were you saying about your date?” The female aviator rolled her eyes before continuing her story. He listened more intently this time actually nodding along and conversing with her as she spoke.

“I’m gonna go grab another beer. You want one too?” He asked her as he stood up, their conversation had ended a moment ago and they had just sat in comfortable silence. But Bradley was desperate to be next to you so he could take in the smell of your floral perfume. Natasha grunted in response, handing him the empty bottle she had been peeling the label from.

“Hi there cherry blossom.” The long nickname had stuck like glue when he had first laid eyes on the pink flowers tattooed across your back.

“Roos.” You giggled at him, the silver chain with a single delicate pearl around your neck moving along with your chest.

“Are you drunk?” His eyes took in the knotted stem filled napkin beside you. He knew Penny had to have been doubling the cherries with the amount he saw.

“Just a little tipsy. Penny makes amazing drinks, Roos.” You punctuated the sentence by taking a sip of your drink loudly. Bradley let out a laugh at your dramatic show, shaking his head playfully. As you pulled the glass away from your lips a few drops fell along your chin. He moved his thumb up quickly, swiping the drops away. He was going to wipe it off on his jeans but you pulled his thumb up to your mouth and sucked his thumb between your lips. You gave it a small bite before pulling your mouth away.

“Feel like taking a walk to the Bronco with me real quick.” He blinked at you slowly as you uttered the words.

“Uh yea... Yeap. That sounds good.” He all but dragged you out of the bar, his and Natasha’s drinks forgotten. You eagerly pushed him into the backseat before climbing in beside him. He experienced the best blow job of his life that night.

Three

The third time he noticed your oral fixation was when he had walked into your office on your lunch break. You were sitting at your desk biting off pieces of twizzlers aggressively. You hadn’t noticed Bradley yet so he sat in the doorway admiring the way you looked. Your eyes were narrowed at your paper and your pen gilded across it making harsh marks along it.

“You’re gonna rip your paper if you press any harder.” Your hand came up to your chest quickly, eyes widening.

“Bradley, I didn’t hear you come in.” You glanced at your watch, sat upon your wrist and flenched. Eye’s slowly moved from the screen up to your boyfriend.

“I didn’t realize what time it was. I’m trying to get through some patient notes. I’m so sorry.” You were supposed to meet him in the cafeteria and have lunch with him there. But you had just had a group come back from a rough deployment and had been swamped with paperwork from their sessions.

“It’s alright. I knew work has been rough lately so I figured I’d bring lunch to you.” He held up the bag that you had worked together to pack the night before.

“What would I do without you?” You asked him as you rolled your chair back standing up and coming around the desk. Bradley closed the door and moved farther into the room. He opened up your cabinet where you had hidden a microwave and popped in your pasta.

“You’d be left severely unsatisfied.” You hummed at the double meaning sitting down on the couch usually left for patients to sit on.

“How was work today?” You questioned him sweetly, smoothing out the material of your checkered pink pencil skirt.

“Went pretty well. We’re going over a new manual for a few tester planes we might get the chance to fly.” You had heard rumors around the base that the aviators were going to get some cool new toys to play with soon. The microwave alerted Bradley, it was done and he pulled the food out of it before closing the cabinet back.

“Here you go.” You took the food from him eagerly as he held it out for you. Spinning the pasta around on your fork before taking a large bite. You both sat and ate in silence enjoying the other's company and the good food. As you took the last bite of your pasta you held the plastic fork to your lips. The prongs slipped between your lips and you started to slowly gnaw on the material. Your watch furiously buzzed where it was sitting on your wrist. That seemed to jerk you from your thoughts. You looked at the clock hanging on the wall opposite you and groaned.

“I’ve got a patient coming in five minutes and I still need to pull everything up from our last session. I hate to cut this short but I’m gonna have to kick you out.” Your lips were set in a pout as you gazed at him. He closed the gap between you, giving you a few quick pecks on your lips before pulling away, listening to you whine pathetically as he did.

“That’s alright pretty girl. I’ve gotta get back to the hangar anyways.” He stood up and grabbed your container before slipping them both into the lunch box. He grabbed your fork as well and went to throw it away, taking note of the teeth marks embedded in the plastic. He’d have to ask you about your constant need for oral stimulation one day.

Four

The fourth time he notices your oral fixation he kinda blames it on you being drunk. You’re out celebrating your friend's birthday at a club and Bradley had volunteered to be the designated driver that night for you and your three friends. You were going through shots like it was your job. He had sat at a booth in the corner keeping an eye on you guys as well as keeping an eye on your stuff sat on the table top.

You had bumped into Jake at some point through the night and had conned him into giving you some of his toothpicks. You had then proceeded to chew through all of them in under an hour. Bradley watched you throw away the last one as it had snapped between your teeth with a pout on your lips. You then scanned the crowd quickly before your eyes landed on him and your face lit up. He watched you weave through the sea of dancing bodies quickly before you were sliding into the booth next to him.

“How can I help you, pretty girl?” Your already warm cheeks warmed even more at the compliment.

“You’re so handsome, Roos. Have I told you that already?” You hiccuped as you took his hand in your own.

“Doesn’t matter much if I did. I’ll tell you till I can’t breathe anymore.” You looked at him with hooded eyes as you brought his hand to your mouth and started to work your soft lip gloss coated lips across the rough skin in open mouthed kisses.

“You’re smearing your lip gloss everywhere cherry blossom.” He didn’t mind that you were getting it on his skin but he knew you’d be a little upset with the way the pink glitter was coating your face.

“It’s alright.” You threw his arm over your shoulder and sidled up next to him. He groaned as you laid your lips on his neck. You nipped and licked at the skin languidly.

“Come on, it’s girls night. He’s not here for you to play vampire with.” You pulled away from him slowly at your friend's words.

“I’m taking this.” You plucked the small black straw from his glass of Coke, before slipping from the booth. You adjusted your glittery pink dress as you stood and wiped your lip gloss off your face with a napkin. You placed the straw between your lips and gave him a wink.

You shimmed your way between two of your friends and danced with them for a while. Your teeth chewed on the straw as you lost yourself to the songs. Eventually your friends slipped back to the bar and you took the opportunity to slip back to your mustached boyfriend. He was going to playfully scold you for leaving your friends again but you didn’t give him a chance.

You scooted into the booth and planted your lips against his. He brought one of his hands up to rest against your face as you pulled his bottom lip between your teeth and sucked on it for a moment. He thought briefly about where your straw had gone but his thoughts were cleared as you slipped your tongue between his lips. Drunk you just couldn’t keep your mouth busy enough it seemed. But he wasn’t complaining one bit.

Five

The fifth time he had noticed your oral fixation had been one of the funniest. You were both covered in sea water sitting inside an ice cream shop that was along the strip of shops on the coast of the beach. You had gotten done with your ice cream cone way before the tall man sat beside you. He had insisted on getting the largest size they had. You told him you were worried about it melting everywhere but he had shooed you off.

“I’m gonna go get some gum.” You had spotted a gumball machine when you had first walked into the a/c filled building.

You dug out a few quarters from your purse and inserted them into the slot. You turned it a couple times before lifting the flap. The handful of pink gumballs filled your hand and you hummed in delight. As you sat back at the table with your boyfriend you slipped two gumballs into your mouth. You chewed on them animatedly, occasionally telling him about something funny that had happened in the show you were watching.

“Fuck.” He had been much slower with his ice cream than he expected and it had started to melt all over his hand.

“Oh here let me get that.” He thought you were gonna reach for a napkin but instead you pulled his fingers to your lips. You popped each one into your mouth, licking all the Chocolate and sprinkles off his fingers. He gave you a bewildered look as you nibbled on each finger tip gently.

“There ya go all clean.” You seemed proud of yourself for the way you cleaned him off. You grabbed a napkin out of the silver napkin holder and wiped his mustache clean as well.

“Thank you pretty girl.” You gave him a toothy grin before popping another pink ball into your mouth. You continued on with the funny story you were telling him and he continued to eat his ice cream. Neither of you mentioned what just happened.

Six

The sixth time he noticed your oral fixation was also the time he decided to ask you about it. It had been the morning after a few intense rounds of sex. You had been out of town for a week at a conference and had just gotten back and the night had been passionate. He had woken up before you which wasn’t a surprise, the jet lag from the trip paired with the activities of the prior night had caught up with you quickly. He slipped on a pair of his shorts he grabbed from the floor. Then he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. His sleepy eyes took in his shirtless form in the mirror and dropped his toothbrush into the sink.

There were blue, purple, green and red marks all over his chest, neck and arms. Some of them looked like hickies, others looked like teeth marks. His finger came to run across every mark he could see. He was used to the occasional mark after sex with you but this was another level for the two of you. But he didn’t mind one bit. He was actually ecstatic to have the marks splayed along his body.

His mind flashed to a tiktok he had seen recently about something called an oral fixation. He thought back to all the times he realized your need for oral stimulation. All the dots seemed to connect as he recalled the information from the short video. He decided to do some research before making breakfast for the both of you. He sat downstairs with his laptop for almost an hour taking notes occasionally in a notebook he kept around the house.

After about an hour his stomach started to rumble and he closed his laptop. He slipped on an old navy crew neck he grabbed from the dryer before starting on the French toast, eggs and bacon. He knew you’d be hungry after your intense session last night so he made plenty of food. He was just getting done with your matcha latte when you made your way into the kitchen. You had on a pink babydoll nightgown and your hair was a mess.

“Smells good in here.” You told him as a yawn slipped past your lips. He gave you a peck on the lips when you wrapped your arms around his middle and laid your chin on his chest.

“I’m almost done with your matcha latte. Why don’t you go sit down and eat?” He nodded his head over to the kitchen island. You puckered your lips at him, batting your lashes at him lazily. He placed his lips upon yours once more before you slipped out of his arms. He landed a smack on your ass as you walked away causing you to gasp.

He was sitting on a stool next to you after a couple of minutes. You moaned as you put the first bite of French toast in your mouth. He felt pride swell in his chest as the thought of you loving his food so much. He had learned everything he knew from his mother so it always made him happy when you showed how much you enjoyed it. The many cookbooks in the pantry held so many recipes that you were more than pleased to try.

You guys conversed easily, talking about your seperate week. You took another long sip from your latte as you fixed your eyes on him. He was telling you a funny story about something stupid Maverick had said. You hadn’t realized you had zoned out until Bradley laid a hand on your leg. You stopped chewing on the rubber bit wrapped around the tip of your metal straw. Eyes refocusing on the man in front of you.

“Do you have an oral fixation cherry blossom?” Bradley felt bad saying it so bluntly when you stopped drinking your match latte and pulled the straw out of your mouth. Your eyes focused on the floor beneath your pink slipper clad feet. You played with the hem of your night dress giving him a nonchalant shrug.

“It’s okay if you do babe. I just gotta know what I can do to help you.” His finger hooked under your chin bringing your face up so he could see it.

“It’s something that started as a kid. I normally do it unconsciously. Most of the time it’s when I’m stressed out, tired or need something to do.” You had been told by people before how weird it was. You were constantly chewing on random stuff, eating or chewing gum. Sometimes when you were with a partner you liked to give them love bites. It hadn’t crossed your mind however that you hadn’t told Bradley about the quirk.

“I love you very much and you are valid to need to stimulate yourself. I’m not judging you. I did some research on it this morning while you slept. Just in case you did, I’d understand it better.” He could tell you were feeling uncomfortable thinking he was making fun of you. You were speechless at his words. No one had ever gone out of their way to understand your unique way of needing stimulation.

“I’m guessing from what I learned this morning that the marks you left on me last night was your need to feel close to me and grounded during the vigorous activities.” You cocked your head to the side looking down at his shirt. You noticed some hickey marks along his neck but those were pretty normal for the pair of you. He reached for the hem of his crew neck and pulled it up. You gasped a hand coming up to your lips as you looked at the marks decorating his tanned skin.

“Oh Bradley I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You carefully placed a hand on one especially harsh mark on his chest.

“It doesn’t hurt, pretty girl. I like that you were comfortable enough with me to be able to stimulate yourself the way you needed to.” He gave you a reassuring smile as he dragged his shirt back down.

“If you want we can go for another round. You can leave some on my back too.” His eyes held mischief as he looked at you.

“I love you so fucking much.” You giggled before launching yourself out of your stool and collided with the solid mass that was your boyfriend. You were on cloud nine from the open communication from the man you were lucky enough to call your own.

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @eternallyvenus @loving-and-dreaming @princess76179 @kmc1989

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw oneshot #rooster imagine #rooster oneshot #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick oneshot #fluff #smut

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artstatues · 21 days

Text

I promise. - g.h × reader.

wc : 545

pairings : grayson hawthorne x fem!reader, from the inheritance games.

synopsis : in which you find your boyfriend in a situation where he thinks hes worthless, that you'll leave him one day.

warnings : nothing really, js angst and fluff, and grayson being grayson ( hes depressing so thats the warning ), also reader using "baby" bc i cant think of a pet name to call gray

a/n : wrote this as a drabble ish but think im happy with it. reader's kinda fine this time ngl

taglist : @never-enough-novels, @reminiscentreader, @urbanflorals, @kozumesphone, @reyna-obsessed, @lxvebelle, @shuhuaspookie, @off-to-the-r4ces, @pockyyasii.

You entered the room to find Gray sitting on your shared bed, staring blankly at a wall. “Gray?” You called, walking closer towards the bed. “Hm?” He softly answered, snapping out of his trance, finally looking at you. “You okay?” You sat down next to him, reaching out a hand to place on his soft cheeks. He slightly flinched at the contact before answering. “Mhm, I’m okay, love.” He gave you a soft smile and a reassuring nod, but you’ve known Grayson for too long to think any of it was real. “Tell me? Please baby?” You pouted, looking up at him, eyes locked with his gorgeous icy ones. “I’m okay, really princess. Thank you.” He insisted with a soft peck on your lips. Any other girl would have thought he was perfectly fine, but you didn’t think so. It was a habit of his, to distract others and divert their attention to something else rather than himself. “Grayson. I’m serious, please, tell me what’s wrong?” You practically begged, trying to form the softest, most convincing puppy dog eyes ever. “Mmmm,” Grayson softly groaned, breaking eye contact. You moved closer, now straddling his lap. “Look at me, please baby,” The whine in your voice was now more evident. You’d know better than to push Gray, but you couldn’t see him like this. He was going to be distant, again. He was going to close himself off, again. He was going to lock his heart up in a steel cage, again. You gently reached for his chin before tilting it towards you. “Please, don’t close me off, not again.” You were becoming so desperate at this point, maybe too desperate. “I’m sorry, princess. I won’t close you off again, I promise, I won’t.” His eyes quickly returned to yours, but you could see the void behind those cold blue eyes. “Talk to me then?” You begged. “Fine– sure, yes, sorry. See this is fucking why–” He finally talked, before apologizing then harshly whispering to himself. His hands found his hair, softly yet aggressively pulling at it. His first sign of panic. “Hey, hey, Gray, breathe, breathe. Yeah just like that, breathe. Talk to me?” You panicked as well. “You’re going to leave, once you really figure out who I am behind all of these fucking layers, you’re going to leave, aren’t you?” He quickly sputtered. You were still trying to figure out what he just said. “You’re gonna leave, trust me love. You’re going to leave once you realize that I really am worthless below all these layers I display.” He took a shaky breath. “Grayson, please, look at me.” You gently pulled away the hands that were in his hair. “You mean so much to me, Gray. I’d never leave you. I would never. You mean the world to me, leaving you would be my biggest mistake.” You explained, some parts of you begging for him to realize it. “Really?” His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, so did his gaze. “Yes, truly, I mean it. All of it. I promise with my life that I’ll be here for you, baby.” You smiled up at him. “Promise?” He whispered. You extended a pinky in response before he interlocked his own with yours. “I promise, handsome.”

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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Got Ink? 💉 | Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x tattooed model!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of pain as a result of tattoos. Slight suggestive content if you blink | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Art comes in many different forms. And when you technically think about it, your body is a canvas that can be become a mural if you find yourself drawn to the beauty that tattoos bring. For WSO Bob Floyd, he appreciated art in every form and loved how patterns and colors could create something beautiful. When his sister invites him to a party for her job shortly after returning from a special mission with the Navy, Bob meets a woman who was the perfect canvas he’d ever seen.

Note: I cannot tell you how much I loved doing this request. As soon as I got it I was like, ‘I’m gonna love this,’ especially as someone who has tattoos and wants to have a lot (I have at least twenty planned) this was feeding my love for tattoos. To the anon who sent this request I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing this for you and I hope you’re okay with me choosing Bob since you said you wouldn’t mind if it was him or Jake—since I just did a Jake imagine I wanted to give Bob some love 🥹 Also I made it where reader was born in 1989 so if we were to go by Bob being born in 1993 like Lewis then she’d be about four years older since the events of TGM take place in 2019.

——————————

They often say that when you get your first tattoo it will either be the one and only time you subject yourself to the temporary pain of permanent ink…or it becomes one of many.

“It’s an addiction”, people defend, though they should probably look up the term addiction before using it in such context.

For many it’s the appreciation of art. Whether expressing it by becoming a tattoo artist or wanting to capture the beauty by etching it onto their skin like they are its own personal canvas.

Tattoos come in many different forms. There’s the traditional/old school style that is very recognizable with its bold black lines outlining bright colors. People in their old age, having grown up in the 60s and 70s, are the ones usually seen with these types of tattoos. Neo-traditional is not that far off from traditional, just the lines are not as bold. Delicateness is seen with fine line tattoos. In recent years it’s become popular amongst the younger generation—not just because they are pretty to look at but if one has a job that’s strict on policy then they can hide them better.

The oldest style would be the tribal tattoos. Beautiful elaborate patterns in various sizes, they represent the culture one comes from. Like fine line, watercolor tattoos have become a popular style—taking away the traditional black ink used as an outline so the colors have the spotlight. No color in a piece is blackwork and then there’s realism where it’s pretty much a picture that was printed onto the skin. Go on Pinterest and you’ll find multiple images of patchwork style where a collection of pieces put together can be any style already mentioned.

Japanese style, patch, geometric, black & gray, anime, portrait, the list goes on and on. So many ways to put a design on one’s body where it will remain until they go to the next life. Some people stick to pieces that represent sentimental value, like family or childhood nostalgia, others will simply see something they like and go, “I think it looks cool.”

When looking at Y/n’s tattoos, both aspects were seen in the array of artwork coating her body. After getting all the pieces that represented a person, place, or thing that impacted her life, Y/n started to get whatever the hell she wanted—not having an explanation for anything other than, “it looked badass so I got it. No value behind it, I just wanted it.”

Like many newly turned teenagers itching to get their first tattoo, Y/n was bold and got an intricate design on one of the most painful spots. Her reasoning was if she did it, then any other place in the future wouldn’t be as bad. All through college whenever asked what she wanted for her birthday or holidays the answer was always money to get a tattoo. An artist herself, she majored in drawing while attending Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York, also taking on an apprenticeship for a local tattoo artist. There she would get to work on her skills and tattoo people, progressing to doing tattoos on her legs and non-dominant arm. Anytime she traveled to a different state or country during the semester she studied abroad, Y/n got a new tattoo, wanting to have an array of styles from different artists on her body.

By the time she was 26, she had accumulated over 50 tattoos and still had room for more. From her neck down, artwork ranging from fine line to bold and traditional decorated her skin. Both her arms were half sleeves, ending just above her elbows with patchwork along her forearms and hands. The only place free of ink on Y/n was her face, though she did have her inner lip tattooed. If you asked her, it’d be the only place she regretted getting ink because it faded so quickly. But then again, she could get it redone if she really wanted to.

There were looks from people anytime she went out. Y/n loved dressing up in little black dresses and two piece sets to unapologetically show off her tattoos. Older, conservative couples or people who thought tattoos looked trashy on women would look down upon her. Getting hit on was normal, though she never gave the time of day and sending one look that read, ‘get lost’ had men scurry. Sometimes she'd be approached by teenagers asking about certain pieces, saying they wanted to get tattoos once they were of age and were looking for advice. Biker bars were a place she felt comfortable in, Y/n even taking a part-time job as a bartender so make some extra cash. People from all ages—well at least 21–were covered in tattoos like her.

In 2014, shortly after her 25th birthday, Y/n noticed an inbox notification in her instagram. She was used to getting messages on occasion. Being featured on the bar’s and tattoo parlors business instagram pages and accumulating her own following of potential clients had Y/n reach up to 80 thousand followers. The tattoo artist she worked for was very popular, having done work for celebrities and being featured in Inked Magazine.

Speaking of Inked Magazine…..

When Y/n clicked on the icon to open the message, the first thing she spotted was the blue checkmark. Then beside it was in bold lettering inkedmag. Coffee nearly spilled onto the floor when her grip faltered, gasping lightly at the name. She didn’t even realize the page was following her, confirming this by searching herself under their following and found her username staring back at her.

Heart pumping, Y/n opened the message. “Hi, Y/n, my name is Manda Williams and I’m a representative at Inked Magazine. We’re a fan of your profile and would love to work with you on our upcoming campaign. Would you be interested? Please email me at [email protected], I look forward to talking with you soon.”

Never did she think she’d become a model, let alone a tattoo model. She was taller than the average woman, standing at about 5’10 and strikingly beautiful. On countless occasions family members would say, “if you didn't have all that on you maybe you’d been discovered. You’ve got the height, the style, and high fashion look. Plus you’ll never get a well paying job with all those tattoos.” All they were met with was a roll of the eyes from the woman, annoyed with the constant nagging.

“I’m an artist,” she would defend. “I got accepted into one of the most prestigious art schools in the country and I work for a very renowned tattoo artist who has had Snoop Dogg, Angelina Jolie, and Lady Gaga as clients. Not to mention I work at a biker bar where the people there love me. Want me to go further?” the look on their face would read they didn’t but Y/n would put the nail in the coffin with, “Let me point out the fact I get paid more with both those jobs combined than you working a nine to five in your little office job. Also you should educate yourself. Tattoo models do exist.”

If only those family members could see her now. Posing on a motorcycle in nothing but a bra and booty shorts as the camera flashed in front of her.

“You’re a natural, Y/n,” the photographer complimented, making her flustered.

She adjusted her position, running a hand through her hair, “If you think so I trust your judgment.” Being in a studio felt very different than when she would set up her phone on a tripod in her apartment. It took many tries for her to capture the perfect angle, often deleting fifteen out of sixteen photos. Here with this guy calling out movements, “a little to the left,” “bring your hand up—just under your chin, perfect,” “Now act like you’re suntanning on the beach—tilt your head back as though the sun is in your face,” Y/n felt what it was like to be a model.

Not many tattooed individuals got the chance to sign with top agencies like Ford and IMG. Very few were recruited so it came as a big surprise when an agent from IMG Models contacted her following the release of Inked Magazine’s issue. When she took the job she thought it would be a small section in the magazine itself. Instead, she was on the cover.

“You don’t have an agent?” Bonnie’s tone was confused, staring back at Y/n from behind her desk as they sat in her office at the IMG headquarters. Bonnie had seen her cover on Inked, immediately going to Y/n’s instagram where she contacted her though the email listed on the tattoo parlors page. From there she asked the artist to bring a portfolio, which she was shocked to find out wasn’t much. “That was your first model job?”

Y/n shrugged, making a face like it was obvious, “Unless you count the dozens of comments I get on instagram beggin for my next post, yeah it was. I’m a bartender and tattoo artist, modeling wasn’t something I thought was in the cards.” She refrained from adding, “also didn’t think IMG scouted people like me.”

It was safe to say Y/n was unlike the typical runway model. Every now and then a high fashion show would hire a man with tattoos to walk for them. Very rare would you see a woman on the runway. For Y/n, that seemed to be the case in the beginning of her career. She did walk in the Marco Marco show that year which was the highlight of her life. Inked Magazine got so much response on her first feature that they made her their staple girl. Y/n worked with them the most on campaigns and even got to do a cover shoot with celebrities like Travis Barker and Kehlani. Those features got her a lot of recognition to the point she hit one million followers on instagram.

It wasn’t until Y/n went viral on the internet for her Sports Illustrated cover and becoming the first inked model to be featured in a Victoria Secret campaign that the top designers were booking her. Before long she was auditioning for brands during fashion week, securing Tom Ford, Calvin Klein, and Oscar de la Renta. Due to her tattoos being the star of the show, there were hardly any clothes on her save for tiny tops and skirts or dresses with intricate cutouts. She didn’t mind of course. After all, her tattoos were a part of her and the reason she was getting the opportunities of a lifetime.

Milan, Paris, London, New York. Fashion week was gonna have to get used to a new face in town.

Vogue, GQ, Vanity Fair, Inked. Pick up an issue and you’d find Y/n on at least one page, if not the cover.

Every now and then she’d get asked to appear in music videos for bands. The Weekend once asked her to be the cover art for one of his singles, bringing her more attention as "The Inked Beauty from Blinding Lights cover art.”

She appeared on the Inked Magazine YouTube channel several times. The most popular video being when she did a Q&A released shortly after walking in the last ever Victoria Secret Fashion Show in 2018, becoming the first inked model to walk the VS runway. Though it had low ratings, Y/n’s bit was plastered on every social media site, many tweeting: “the best thing VS could’ve done for their final show was put Y/n L/n in it. She carried the damn thing.”

“Hello, I’m Y/n L/n,” she smiled shyly at the camera, her agent Bonnie and publicist giving a thumbs up. “I’m a tattoo and high fashion model from New York City. You may recognize me from the cover of Inked Magazine, or discovered me through some of my other projects over the last couple years—hell maybe I even tattooed you at one point,” chuckling as she feels her nerves slowly evaporate. “Today I’m here with Inked Magazine, the owners of my heart and career, and I'm gonna answer some questions sent in by you guys about my tattoos and career.”

The producer gives a nod, “Ready, Y/n.”

“Let me hear them, sonny boy.”

“What was your first tattoo and at what age did you get it?”

Thankfully she was wearing a tube top beneath her jacket, removing the clothing to reveal the many inked designs on her chest, and stomach. Pointing to the one just below her ribs, Y/n says, “So this was my first one—as you can tell by how faded it is compared to the others. I got it when I was eighteenth birthday, literally wasted no time and my family is actually who inspired it.”

“As of right now, how many tattoos do you have?” The question has Y/n think for a moment, tilting her head back slightly.

“I counted just the other week and I think it was close to…. seventy,” nodding she adds, “yeah I think that’s right. I know I had fifty when Inked contacted me four years ago for my first feature. So I’ve added twenty to the collection since.” She made a mental note to count again when she got home that night.

“Do you have any tattoo regrets?”

A nervous chuckle escaped, “Fuck, uh….yes,” she looks down shamefully, but gives a shrug like, ‘I can explain.’ Lifting her head back up, Y/n takes her two index fingers and gently pulls down her bottom lip to reveal the messy smudged ink that once read, ‘baby girl’. The camera zoomed in and once they got a good shot of it Y/n let her lip fall back into place, “I don’t know if you were able to read that but when it was freshly done eight years ago it said,” she pulled a face showing she was too embarrassed to say it. “It said ‘baby girl.’ I got it when I was twenty on a dare and frankly I thought it would be hot, but it faded so quick—which,” she raised a finger, “that’s the one place I would say don’t get a tattoo. Even though it’s technically temporary…you’ll end up with a blob of ink like mine and it’s not cute.”

“Where were the most painful spots you got tattooed?” Immediately she lifted her arms to show she had ink on her armpits.

“These basterds right here,” the producer and crew laughed, nodding along with her. “You feel me? Yeah, I thought the ones on my stomach and ribs were bad. Those were a tickle compared to my armpits—-oh and my elbows. I think I actually broke a sweat when I got those done. It’s why I have yet to conquer my knees,” patting the covered area, Y/n shakes her head, “I don’t know If i can do it. But funny enough, these tiny little hearts on my palms,” Y/n flashed her palms up, the camera focusing on the two red lined hearts in the middle of each hand. “These hurt so bad. Thankfully I’m not putting anything else here because I strictly wanted the hearts, so I’m sparing myself.”

“What do they mean?” The producer asked, taking a pause from reading out the next question. The little smile Y/n gave was shy.

“I was told a lot growing up that I keep my heart in the palm of my hand,” while she explained Y/n kept glancing at the hearts, “kinda like the saying, ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve,’ but with me it’s literally in the palm of my hand. So I got these little hearts on my palms—that way when I hold someone’s hand, they can feel the love and care I have for them,” sending a wink to the camera she finishes with, “because my heart is in my palm.”

“Have you ever dated anyone with more tattoos than you?”

“Noooo,” she snorts. “Not because I’m not open to it—I’m very attracted to people with tattoos. And I have dated people with a lot…it just seems that anytime I do get into a serious relationship, I’m the one who has more than the other. And if you’re thinking about who I think you are—,” Y/n points directly to the camera, like a mother scolding her child, “the answer is no, he did not have more than me. Louis has thirty-three, I believe, since the last time he and I talked—which was,” she pauses to think, “I think around New Year’s.”

“Do you find yourself enjoying campaign shoots or runway shows more?”

“That’s hard,” Y/n pouts, causing her agent to chuckle since she knew the answer first hand. “Both are fun in their own way. I love being able to come into a studio or go out on sight and do a photo shoot—except in the fucking winter because I’m usually half naked freezing my ass off.” She pauses to laugh with the crew before continuing. “And then there's this feeling of ‘wow, that just happened,’ when I step off the runway. Getting to work with designers I’ve idolized since childhood and being the face of Mugler is a dream come true. If I had to choose…..it would be campaigns and photo shoots. There I can express myself more freely.”

“Do you see yourself still modeling in ten to twenty years time?”

There was a question she had to think about, taking a moment before answering. “I sure hope so. I love my job and definitely see myself continuing in the future. As long as my agent Bonnie and Inked don't get tired of me,” she laughs, winking at the woman who blows her a kiss. “But honestly I have experience as a tattoo artist so I could see myself opening my own parlor. I’d love to start my own blog or get other tattoo models into the industry. There’s a lot to think about what the future holds, but for right now I’m gonna have fun in the present.”

While home in New York when not booked, Y/n continued to work part-time at the tattoo parlor. She left the bar shortly after signing with IMG, but still visited whenever she could. There was even a picture of one of her Inked shoots framed above the bar.

With her new found fame the parlor had little to no openings each month. Regulars and new clients had to call in to reserve an appointment the second the schedule was dropped, which was sometimes weeks in advance. Several of the friends Y/n made in the modeling industry would get tattoos from her, though they always tended to go for the fine line style. More celebrities booked with her boss, adding Cardi B, Rihanna, and Louis Tomlinson to the list. The latter whom, as mentioned, Y/n actually got romantically linked to in mid 2017. It only lasted a few months, but the photo of the two on the Inked instagram was the most liked on their page.

Louis wasn’t the only high profiled person Y/n was involved with. Unfortunately the downside to fame meant her personal life was to be blasted on every inch of the internet. From starting her modeling career in 2014 to spring of 2019, she’d been spotted with actors Michael B. Jordan, Tom Felton, and fellow model Vladimir Ivanov. Like Louis, they only lasted a couple weeks to months—save for Vladimir which lasted almost over a year—and ended on good terms where they remained friends.

Frankly when it came to settling down Y/n hoped to find someone who was sweet and down to earth. Who was a hard worker—passionate about what they did for a living and wanting to share that with her. Someone who could make her laugh and feel like she was the only girl in the world. It was hard finding someone like when the spotlight follows you around. Y/n had been in the public eye going on six years and due to her connections with big named people she never seemed to catch a break when it came to romance.

All those qualities she desired in a life partner came to her in the form of the adorable weapons system officer she met at a party in November of 2019. The poor guy felt so out of place. From behind the bar Y/n could see him at the corner glancing around like he was searching for someone. Only getting a glimpse at the side of his face, she didn’t recognize him. The party had many from the fashion industry to celebrate Anna Wintour’s 70th birthday. What was ironic was Y/n took up the task of working the bar, kicking into her skills from when she was a bartender at a popular biker club in Manhattan. With her view she was able to see the entire floor as people entered.

The man she’d been eyeing must’ve come in when she was busy making the Hadid sisters their drinks. He wore a white dress shirt with some slacks and a matching blazer. His glasses reminded her of the popular style from the 80s. Come to think of it, they were probably the aviator style. He was tall, roughly six foot so she’d be eye level with him considering she was wearing two inch kitten heels.

Seeing his flustered demeanor and the fact he looked like he didn’t know what the hell he was doing there—not to mention he was handsome from what she could see, Y/n waltzed over, “May I get you anything?”

When he spun around she was met with the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They blinked rapidly, like they were trying to decipher if she was in fact real. Then they snapped straight to her neck, following the ink of the exposed skin on display from her red latex mini dress—which his face mirrored the color of since he was making it quite known he was checking her out. He had a baby face to him, which was kinda adorable, and Y/n assumed he was maybe a year or two younger than her.

Offering a smile Y/n said, “So what will it be?”

“Huh?” He said confused before remembering what she initially asked before he got distracted. “Oh uh, just water please.” Still smiling, Y/n took a clean empty glass and filled it with ice before adding the water. Finishing it with a straw she placed it on a napkin in front of him.

“Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he took the glass, glancing around briefly before letting his shoulders drop.

“You seem a bit out of place,” Y/n wiped down the countertop, catching his attention again. The man nervously laughed, adjusting his glasses.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A bit,” she teased, nodding her head to the crowd in front of them. “All these people walk around like they own the place. You’re the first person I’ve seen tonight who doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing. Are you here with someone?” Part of her was hoping he’d say a friend invited him, feeling a sudden rush of butterflies at the way he looked at her—like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“My sister dragged me along,” he confirms, the model mentally sighing in relief. But she couldn’t get her hopes too high. For all she knew he may have a partner back home. “I was visiting her this past week and she begged me to come. I told her it was a bad idea since I’m not….part of this crowd.”

“Ah,” she hums, biting back a grin at the way he described the industry. “Not a model or influencer, I take it?”

“Nooooo,” his laugh filled her stomach with butterflies. “Not at all. I don’t know how to work social media. Are you?”

Y/n refilled a guest's drink and handed over a beer to another, “I dabble here and there,” it was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t familiar with her work. Usually at events like the one they were at she had people coming up to her already knowing who she was. “You’re probably like, ‘thought she was just a bartender,’” she giggled at the flustered look taking over him. “I was one before being discovered. I’m doing this for fun honestly—-and because Anna likes what I make her.”

His eyes went to her neck and collarbones, lingering on the ink. She assumed he’d never seen a model with so many tattoos before. “You can look,” she smirked, when he glanced away from being caught staring. “You’re only seeing a small portion of the canvas,” his eyes went wide at her words, making her giggle, “these babies are the reason I’m in this business.”

“You're a tattoo model?”

Y/n raises a brow at the surprise in his tone, “Didn’t know they existed, handsome?”

“No-no,” he quickly apologizes, “sorry I meant no offense. I knew there were models with a lot of tattoos. My sister told me that the industry was starting to expand by signing more people with them.” His words have Y/n intrigued. Obviously his sister was someone in the business, she wondered if she knew her.

“Is your sister one?”

“No, she’s an agent,” Y/n stops what she’s doing, towel long forgotten.

“For a modeling agency?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one?” Just as the question left her lips, Bonnie’s voice interrupted the two, “Bob, there you are! Oh good—,” she grins wide when she sees who he’s talking to, “You guys met!”

Snapping their heads toward each other, the two have the same expressions of, “wait what?”

Bonnie claps her hands, coming beside Bob at the bar and motioning between the two, “Y/n, this is my brother, Robert—the one I was telling you about last week,” mouth slightly agape, remembering the conversations the two had about Bonnie’s brother—in which the agent suggested setting up a date between the two—Y/n watches Bob react the same when Bonnie then says, “Bob, this is Y/n L/n. One of my clients at IMG—I know I’ve mentioned her before to you.”

Not knowing what to do at first, Y/n extends her hand to formally introduce herself, “So you must be the famous, Bob,” butterflies swarm her stomach again by the warmth of Bob’s hand when he goes to shake it. “I’m Y/n. So nice to finally meet you—Bonnie’s told me a lot about you.”

“W-wow,” Bob stutters, mentally hating himself when he does. “It’s really nice to meet you too, ma’am. I wasn’t expecting to meet you tonight, but now I see why Bonnie was so adamant I come.” A pointed look is thrown at Bonnie, who shrugs with a smile like she did no wrong.

“Well seeing as you two found each other without me, I’ll leave you both to it. Bob, let me know if you plan on riding with me back to the house or if you catch a ride. And Y/n I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.” Winking, Bonnie takes the Cosmopolitan Y/n made for her and scurries off, leaving the two alone.

“I should’ve known,” Y/n laughs lightly, topping off Bob’s water. “Your sister has brought you up the past couple times she and I have gotten together,” lips curl into a smirk, “she wasn’t lying when she said you were a cutie.”

Bob turns red, smiling shyly, “when she told me about the inked beauty she worked with, she left out the fact you’re a walking piece of art.” His boldness impressed her, Y/n leaning closer to him against the bar top, resting her elbow on to so she could lean her head on her hand.

“How long are you gonna be in New York?”

“Till Wednesday,” part of her was disappointed that it was only four days away considering it was currently Saturday. But it was enough time for something to blossom.

“Tell me about yourself, Bob. The night’s early and I could listen to you talk for hours. Let’s see if Bonnie was psychic when she said we’d be quite the puzzle when put together.”

Ever heard of the type of couples where the girl radiates black cat energy and the guy is a literal golden retriever?

That was Y/n and Bob to a tee.

Out in public they stood out—even in a city like New York. Then when Y/n went to San Diego to meet his friends for the first time after four months together—which also resulted in her being stuck in California due to lockdown from the covid pandemic—it was like everyone couldn’t believe someone like Bob was with someone like Y/n.

He was a quiet, reserved naval officer and she was a sharp-tongued, world renowned tattoo model. They were the definition of the couple in high school you’d never expect would hit it off.

When Bob introduced Y/n to the squad, they instantly knew who she was, but had different ways of discovering her. Nat saw her walk in the VS Fashion show, Mickey and Reuben recognized her from The Weekend’s cover art, Javy remembered her from an episode of Ink Master she appeared on, Jake saw her on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and Bradley actually got a tattoo from Y/n when he was in NYC.

The entire period Y/n was in San Diego she grew close to the squad, even Maverick who had a lot of questions about her work and tattoos. “You think I’d look good with them at my age?” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the question, ensuring the Captain with a pat on the back.

“Some of the sexiest men I’ve met have been your age with ink more in than me,” she giggles when he goes red. “I worked at a biker bar in New York City. Believe me, Pete. Anyone can look good with some ink.”

Needless to say when it came time for Mav to get a tattoo, Y/n was the one doing it.

A lot of the squad ended up getting work done by her. Jake, Mickey and Rooster had a few already so they were familiar with the process. Nat only had one from a drunk night in college, which Y/n redid on her behalf since it had faded. Payback was a man who liked bold, meaningful tattoos so sometimes Y/n had her work cut out for her but she always came through.

“Yo is this gonna hurt bad,” Javy was practically sweating as Y/n removed the stencil from his shoulder. The design was a geometric sun about the size of an airpod case.

“It’ll sting, but this area generally isn’t too painful. If this was your bicep then it’d be a different story.”

Javy didn’t look convinced, turning to look at the guys while the stencil dried, “How was it for you guys?”

“Didn’t hurt at all for me,” Rooster shrugged, “my bicep was worse—like she said.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine,” Payback waved a hand. “You see how tiny it is? It’ll be over before you know it.”

Going over the details once more to confirm the colors and shading, Y/n moved her chair closer after turning on the tv to an episode of Chopped. “You ready, Jav?”

“Ready,” he didn’t really sound like it but it was too late to back out. The buzz of the needle filled his ears and soon the stinging sensation they all said had him clutching his first.

“Try to relax, man” Bob sat on the chair next to Y/n, “being tense won’t help.”

After over a year of dating Bob had his fair share of tattoos. His were mostly small and easily hidden by his uniform. When they first got together, Bob loved learning about her tattoos. When she got them, why she did. If there were any meaning behind certain ones and if she planned to get more.

She was like a walking art gallery. So many colors and styles. Large and small. Y/n told him stories about almost every one—even if they were embarrassing like the inner lip tattoo.

“Biggest mistake,” she wiped a tear after she was done, the two laughing so hard. “Not only did it hurt but it faded not even a year after I got it. Now it looks so bad—I should get it redone but what’s the point when it will just end up looking the same.”

Bob hated when people would give her looks of disproval when they’d go out, usually from those who were unfamiliar with Y/n’s work. One time he nearly got into a bar fight with a older gentleman who thought it was okay to call Y/n a Jezebel. Rooster and Mickey had to hold him back, but Y/n simply looked at the guy and said, “Baby, I’m a fucking millionaire because of these bad boys. While you’re about to kick it the dust I’m gonna be on the cover of Vogue magazine next month. So eat shit and die already.” The man was left speechless, making her and the squad smirk in victory. The equally tatted bartender who knew of Y/n whistling and even given her a free round.

“That was so fucking hot,” Bob pulled her into a searing kiss when they left the bar moments later, Y/n smirking against his lips, “You think that was hot? I’m a mess under these pants from seeing you so worked up, baby. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Whenever he and Y/n would cuddle she’d trace the raised ink with a finger, Bob doing the same to hers and committing them to memory. He loved to kiss the ones on her neck and collarbones, but his favorite were the tiny hearts on the palms of her hands.

“What do these mean,” he asked one day during the early days of their relationship. They were laying out on the hammock, taking her hands to admire the collection of small tattoos along her fingers and wrists. He hadn't even realized she had any on the palms until he flipped them over. There his thumbs traced over the red outline of each heart.

“If you ask any person I’ve ever loved or cared for they’d tell you I carry my heart in the palm of my hand,” she flips her hands so they are holding Bob’s, the tattoos against his skin. “So when I hold people’s hands, they know a piece of my heart lies with them.” Letting her head fall back against his shoulder, Y/n shifts so her lips are against his jaw. “And I’m kinda hoping you’re the only one who gets to hold them from here on out.”

Anytime after that Bob would press a kiss to the hearts whenever he held her hands. Then when asked about what tattoo of Y/n’s was his favorite his answer was always, “the hearts.”

His family adored her. At first they were put off by her striking image but learned quickly Y/n was perfect for Bob. The children of his siblings loved taking washable markers to color in the tattoos Y/n had that were black and white. “Can I draw you a tattoo someday?” Little Emma asked shortly after the couple celebrated one year. She was a little artist who loved asking questions about the pretty pictures on Y/n.

“Of course, my love,” she promised. “Draw me whatever you desire and I shall get it done.”

The first fashion show Y/n booked after the pandemic Bob had front row seats. With his phone out he was the ultimate cheerleader, though he refrained from whistling or making noise so as to not embarrass the model, but would be in absolute awe when she strutted past him. It was the Tom Ford show, Y/n had walked out in a long black trench coat, coming to the end of the runway first before removing the item to reveal a silk dress underneath. It was spaghetti strapped with an open back, thigh slit to compliment her legs and the cameras loved it. She walked a few steps back up and turned to strike one last pose before making her exit.

Bob was mesmerized. It was the first time he’d seen her walk the runway and my God if he wasn’t already a simp he sure was then. A photographer captured his reaction to her discarding the coat and it went viral on Twitter.

@ inmyreputationera: if my man doesn’t look at me like @inkedbyY/n bf at NYFW then I don’t want it.

@ Inked✔️: We’re all Bob Floyd when @inkedbyY/n steps onto the runway.

When it came time to pick out her wedding dress Y/n was unsure of the route to go. It’d been five years the two were coming up on, one year of being engaged with the wedding to take place in North Island. A beach wedding in the late fall, Y/n wanted to look elegant and classy.

“Whatever you choose you’ll gonna look amazing, darling,” Bob kissed her head after she sighed when shuffling through bridal magazine pictures of dresses she’d cut out. “You know I love your tattoos—they are a part of you and I don’t want you feeling like you have to cover up for the sake of pictures. Baby, you’re one of the top models in the world. Like you told me when we first met, those babies are what got you discovered. Show them off.” Rubbing her shoulder exposed from her tank top, his lips pressed to the ink covering the skin. “But if you like this,” he pointed to the dress she kept going back to in her pile, it was elegant and pretty with neckline that fell just below her collarbones. “Then you should get it because you love it.”

The ceremony dress ended up being the one with a high neckline. It had open back with Y/n deciding on a her veil cascading down to the floor to become a small train rather than having the dress itself have it. Lace covered her arms, the ink peeking out from beneath to make the material stand out more due to the contrast.

She was stunning. An actual goddess that had Bob’s jaw drop the second his eyes landed on her. For the reception Y/n changed into a white two piece set that showed off her legs.

And you best believe she hired local tattoo artists to do a ‘spur of the moment’ tattoo booth at the party.

It didn’t take long for Inked Magazine to want to do a bridal shoot with Y/n. And if you look at it one way, it was a full circle moment. The issue marked ten years since they discovered Y/n and blessed her with the career of a lifetime that led her to meeting the love of her life.

All because she had a knack for getting ink.

……………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa

#Spotify #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman #tattoo!reader #tgm fluff #tgm imagine

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eagerbby · 2 years

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night moves | e.m

pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| realistically, you can only run from your feelings for so long. being trapped at steve harrington’s lake house with eddie munson during the worst storm of the summer presents an interesting opportunity.

an| just some late summer vibes. once again not canon, but i imagine it would take place after the events of season 4. lightly inspired by one of my favorite songs; bob segers ‘night moves’. 18+

warnings| 9k+ words, lots of angst in this one, drug use, jealous! eddie, skinny dipping if you squint, hand job, oral (male receiving), PnV (wrap it up folks), lots of fluff, light sub! eddie, light dom! reader

You didn’t want it to seem like you were running away, because you weren’t. But you did need to escape the confines of Steve’s lake house before you went crazy. You needed to get high, which wasn’t an easy feat at the moment.

The late summer breeze rolled through the trees, cool against your damp skin. You wanted to enjoy the way the summer humidity faded into the night sky as the early tips of autumn shook the leaves of the massive trees covering the property. But every time you tried to light your bowl, the wind blew it right out. Extinguishing the flame instantly. Which led you to your current position, huddled under the gazebo next to the lake covering yourself with the hoodie you grabbed as you made your escape. The hoodie was the perfect block and you finally lit the bud in your precious purple glass bowl and took a long toke. You held the smoke in your lungs long enough to peel the gray material from your body, exhaling a plume of white fog as you sat down in the hammock that hung from the gazebos trusses.

The weed made your fingers tingle and you took a much needed deep breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Again and again until your shoulders eased and the tapping of your foot ceased. It had been a long couple days.

When Steve approached you with the idea to gather the masses and go spend a week up at his lake house, you thought he was brilliant. The kids needed the escape, the ability to just be kids after the hell they’d gone through. When you asked who was all going to be there, Steve clammed up a little, offering you a quick, “Oh, you know. You, me, Robin, the kids.” before begging you to come. He didn’t have to beg, you were in the moment he started talking.

But the day of, Steve arrived with a car full of kids, and Eddie Munson.

Eddie. Fucking. Munson.

It was almost enough to make you not want to go. Not because of Eddie, although he definitely played a role, but because you knew it was a set up. You knew by Robin’s manic smile and the way Steve couldn’t even look at you as you glared at him through the rearview mirror, smushed in the backseat between Dustin and Eddie.

When you had arrived, you grabbed your friends by the collars of their shirts and pulled them to the side, away from the children and Eddie.

“What the actual fuck?” You hissed.

“Whatever do you mean?” Robin was trying, and failing, to act perplexed by your annoyance.

Steve came clean fast, never one to offer himself up to your wrath, snitching on Robin and Dustin. As much as you wanted to be surprised, you weren’t. Robin had snooped through your journal so often she could probably write a book about your life, and Dustin, well he looked at Eddie like he put the moon in the sky. Eddie was his idol, his mentor, and Dustin was nosy. He’d over heard you and Steve one night and had refused to let the little tidbit he found out that night go. Much to your chagrin.

Steve begged you to be nice, which you were offended by, because you were nice. A little rough around the edges, but definitely nice. Robin, on the other hand, might as well have been rubbing her hands together menacingly. You could see the cogs turning in her head. Her master plan finally coming to fruition.

The first night was easy, the ten of you sitting around the fire roasting marshmallows, swimming in the lake, Steve telling the worst ghost stories you’d ever heard. Of course ghost stories were nothing in comparison to what all of you had already lived through. You fell asleep next to Robin that night listening to the crickets chirping and the wind through the leaves.

Day two, you wavered just slightly. You woke up alone, the house oddly quiet. It gave you the chance to smoke, take a shower, and eat something with a little more substance than pizza and s'mores. When you finally walked out onto the front porch you could see your group splashing in the lake, the sun bright and warm. And then you heard it.

It was soft, just the simple strumming of the guitar. You followed the sound blindly, barefoot against the cool wood of the wrap around porch. It didn’t take you long to find him, but it sure did knock you a little breathless at the sight of him.

He was sitting against a wooden pillar, one long leg hanging off the side of the porch, his acoustic perched on his lap. He was wearing shorts, which was rare, and his Hellfire Club shirt. Admittedly, it was a weird outfit choice but it was undeniably him. He had his eyes closed, not even watching as he strummed the chords of a song you instantly recognized. It was his guilty pleasure song. A song he’d rather go to his grave than admit he liked. But here he was, lazily swinging his leg and smiling softly to himself.

You thought, for a split second, about going over to him. Sitting down cross legged in front of him like you used to. Back when you were a part of his life. But you hadn’t spoken to Eddie in a long time. Things were different. So you walked away from him, much like you had almost a year before.

Day three and four were full of awkward exchanges and sideways glances. It didn’t take long for the kids to realize something was amiss. The tension every time you two were in the same vicinity was palpable.

Day five, you came to the realization that everyone was in on Robin’s masterplan. Everyone, except you and Eddie. The two of you were teamed up at every chance possible. It started innocently enough, but soon it became glaringly obvious. You tried to roll with it, refusing to be the reason the week was ruined, but it wasn’t easy being around him. Looking at him proved difficult enough, but being able to smell him, to physically feel his presence, it was starting to unravel you. Especially after the two of you won a game of fruit punch pong and Eddie scooped you off your feet in a victorious hug. It had sent lightning zinging through your body. But then he all but dropped you to your feet. You stood like a statue as he scratched at his head, avoiding looking at you. You could hear the snickers from the kids, see the way Robin smiled proudly.

Day six came a storm so bad it flooded the driveway separating the property from the main road. Steve promised that that water would rescind soon enough, that you’d only be here a couple extra days. The kids didn’t care, but you felt that knot in your gut. That anxiety at not being able to leave. You all spent the day inside, watching movies and playing board games. Listening to Eddie play guitar and the kids have an impromptu karaoke battle. It was still raining on day seven, and Steve left Eddie in charge as you, him, and Robin walked down the muddy path to the end of the driveway. Except the entire bottom half was completely covered by a steady stream of water. Too deep to drive through. You were stuck. The three of you arrived back to the house with the news, dripping on the porch like a couple wet dogs with mud covered paws. The kids cheered. You and Eddie shared a fleeting, knowing, look.

So here you were, a day after you were supposed to leave, high and alone as thunder rolled in the distance. You could feel the rain coming in, that slight pulse in your foot, the telltale sign of a storm rolling through. Eddie always thought you were crazy when you told him your foot told you it was going to rain. But that small ache in the bone that you had broken back when you were in middle school was never wrong.

The day had been spent taking advantage of every brief moment of peace from the rain. Steve was being his normal self, which was a total mom, refusing to let the kids out unless they promised to stay out of the mud puddles. Made them go down the row, one by one, saying “I promise not to play in the mud.”, until every last kid had said it. When he finally opened the front door to let them out, they ran out like a herd of bulls, straight for the mud. Steve had the audacity to act surprised, waving his hands and stomping his feet as the kids defied him.

What a shock.

Robin and yourself were doubled over, laughing so hard not a sound was heard until you both were gasping for air. Eddie chuckled and clapped his hand over Steve’s shoulder, shaking his head in disappointment before he followed after the gaggle of children, sparring with Dustin whose face was mud brown and cakey.

After showers and a dinner of spaghetti, which you cooked, everyone gathered in the living room. Mike had not so casually suggested a game of truth or dare. You were forced to play. It was fine. Fun even. Lucas dared Steve to lick the bottom of Robin’s foot, which he did, but not without gagging and whining the whole time.

Dustin was determined to make everyone miserable, dare or not. Two fights had almost broken out between the boys. Once when Dustin dared Mike to eat the very questionable pickles in the back of the Harrington fridge. The problem? Mike hates pickles and swore up and down that he was “very susceptible to food poisoning”. Dustin called bullshit. No pickles were eaten. The second time, Will chose the truth. The question was something about Will purposefully losing the last DnD campaign, which started a whole, very heated, argument. That ended when Steve screamed at everyone to shut up before bopping Dustin upside the head. “Quit being a butthead.”

When it was Eleven’s turn to ask a question, she turned towards you with her big golden brown eyes. She was so innocent. So sweet. You picked the truth, just to appease them since you really didn’t want to play, and she thought to herself for a second and asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

It was almost like a movie, the way every head in the room had snapped towards you, waiting for an answer. You couldn’t speak at first, pretending like you were seriously thinking about it, while trying to calm your creeping anxiety. You could feel Eddie staring at you like the others, watching the way you shifted on the beanbag you sat on. All that time you two had spent together, those words were never said. But you felt them. Had felt them from the moment he had laid his head on your shoulder that night in his van when he picked you up because you just couldn’t be at home anymore.

“Yeah, I’ve been in love..” You looked directly at El as you said it, absolutely refused to look anywhere else. It wasn’t an obvious admission, but to the few people in the room that knew, you might as well have sung it from the rooftops. El had smiled at your answer, unaware of the dam she had just shattered, and the game went on. You sat there for another couple rounds before it felt like you were gonna crawl out of your skin. You excused yourself, power walked to your shared room to grab your weed, and grabbed the hoodie off the hook as you raced out the door.

You didn’t have high hopes that it’d be easy, but you never thought it’d be this hard. Things ended badly between you two. After that night, when he almost died, Eddie was a different person. You understood how hard it was on him. Coming back from the Upside Down irrevocably changed. Injured and still wanted. You stood beside him as he healed, as he and Hopper fought to clear his name. But you felt him pulling away. Could feel yourself losing him no matter how hard you tried to hold on. Then that night, when he told you he couldn’t do it any longer. That whatever you two were, was over. You thought, okay maybe he just needs space. So you gave it to him. Waited around for him to call. Days turned into a month and then another. You knew what he was up to, because despite removing you from his life, he was still friends with your friends. Hanging out, playing gigs at the Hideout, getting high with Robin next to the dumpster behind Family Video. It became all too real. He didn’t need space. He just didn’t need you.

The rain was pouring down in sheets as you sat in the hammock, nursing your bowl easily now that the wind had shifted. It felt good to be high. To feel the electrified numbness take over your senses. Thunder rumbled in the distance and you swung happily, relishing in the wet smell of the earth, in the swell of the breeze and the occasional cold drop of rain on your toes. You loved storms. Felt like you had one living in your chest. You’d become good at masking the pain of being tossed aside. Leaving it to brew like black storm clouds in your heart.

You had never put a name on your relationship. You were just friends. Friends who spent maybe a little too much time together. Friends that bonded over music and shitty parents. Friends who fooled around while high or drunk but acted like nothing happened when sober. It was a little confusing, but you grew accustomed to the mystery of it all. It was you and Eddie. That’s the only title it really needed.

There were moments during the week where things felt like they used to. But then you’d lock eyes with Eddie and the fantasy would come crashing down around you. You couldn’t ever read the expression on his face in those moments. You could tell something was simmering under the surface, but you couldn’t make it out. Your doubt said it was disdain mixed with a little hatred. Your hope said it was longing. That’s why you had to get out of there. The storm clouds in your chest crackled with lightning the moment you said what you did.

Yeah, I’ve been in love.

He was sitting in that very room. Watching you say what you’d been too scared to. You grew up thinking love was a hopeless, fickle, thing. You swore it off completely. But Eddie had weaseled his way in, made himself at home.

And then ripped it right out from under your feet.

Yet stupidly, those feelings still remained. So maybe the weed could bury them back down. At least for the night.

“Are you alive?” No such luck.

You raised your heavy head to peer up at the voice. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, but it was a pleasure to see him standing in front of you with his curls all wet.

“I’m alive. Just high.” You said into the wind.

“Shit you have weed? I ran out four days ago.” He shuffled closer, eyes darting from the bowl in your hands to your red eyes. That’s a pretty long time for him to go without, so you reach your hand out, offering the bowl to him as you swung to and fro.

“Really? Shit, thanks.” He takes your offer quickly, taking the bowl and holding it to his plush pink lips. You could still remember the way they felt against your skin. The memory made you shiver.

The two of you stayed in a peaceful silence, passing the bowl back and forth. Your fingers would brush every other pass, his fingers cold against the palm of your hand. It was exhilarating. You missed his touch so much it made your chest heavy. After a while you heard your names being called. Couldn’t quiet the disappointment as you sighed loudly, struggling to leave the hammock. The two of you walked the cobblestone path back to the porch, lingering on a look as you were pulled your separate ways. You went with Robin to the kitchen, Eddie with Dustin to the living room.

You laid in your bed next to a snoring Robin, hours after everyone had gone to sleep, rubbing the path his fingers had taken on your palm. You could still feel him, the lingering tickle of his skin against yours. Your ability to keep your distance from him was dissolving, fluttering away on butterfly wings every time you caught him watching you with furrowed brows and his big doe eyes. You missed him. Missed him so badly you hated yourself for it. Because you shouldn’t miss someone who threw you to the side without a second thought.

Maybe you were a glutton for punishment.

—-

“So what, you’re just gonna stay out here all night?”

Steve tossed you another pillow, which you fluffed before placing it on the makeshift bed you’d been building in the gazebo for the past hour. The sun was setting, tinting the cloudy sky in shade of red and orange. You had spent the day curled up in the hammock, watching the kids splash around in the lake. Steve and Robin had joined them, getting too competitive at chicken and marco polo, while you read the book you had forgotten you’d packed.

Eddie had taken up camp just in front of you. Six feet away. Laying on the ledge of the gazebo in only a pair of shorts hung so low on his hips you could trace the hill of his hip bone with your eyes. He’d brought his guitar out with him again and a very worn copy of Dante’s Inferno. He touched neither, instead he laid there for hours with the sun casting bright warm rays against his pale skin. You tried your best to keep your eyes on the pages of your book but your resolve wasn’t the strongest. You couldn’t stop yourself from peeping at him from behind your paperback. The black widow tattoo next to his collarbone, the demon just underneath it. His chest was a little more defined, his soft tummy a little firmer, the trail of dark hair leading to his thick pretty co-

Snap out of it.

You weren’t trying to objectify him, but when he looked like *that, you couldn’t help but to stare. To roam your eyes over every expanse of skin you could see. You were looking at him like a whore, clenching your thighs together and growing wet at just the sight of him. He never failed to make you horny. He could simply place one of his big, calloused, ring covered hands on your thigh and you’d be wetter than the amazon.

He caught you at one point with your book held against your chin, teeth biting into the flesh of your lips. Your eyes had been focused on the slight bulge in his pants. He wasn’t hard, just big, and it made your mouth water remembering the way the heavy head of his cock tasted in your mouth. Your eyes snapped to his when he cleared his throat and you hurried to stuff your nose back in your book, absolutely petrified that he caught you.

“I’ll be fine, Steve. The house is right there.” You busied yourself in your task, ignoring the sound of Eddie’s white Reeboks as he walked past with Max. “Look, if I have to sleep next to Robin, the Snore Queen, one more night I might smother her in her sleep.”

Steve laughed at that, walking over to the lattice walls of the gazebo and turning on the fairy lights.

“It looks good.” He said, standing next to you to admire your work. “What if it rains?”

“I tested that theory last night. I’ll stay dry as long as I stick to the middle.”

“Is the hammock gonna be in your way? I can take it down.” He offered, moving to do just that, but you held his elbow and shook your head.

“No, I’ll probably end up using it.”

“Mm, okay. Robin’s gonna have a cow that you’re leaving her, you know.” Steve nudged you with his elbow as the two of you made your way up the cobblestone towards the house.

“She’ll live. She can always bunk with you.” You smiled at him when he turned to you with a glare.

“What, so I can deal with Miss Snores a lot, no thanks.” The two of you laughed together.

“To be honest, I just want to get really fucking stoned and relax in peace.”

“Well, I’ll try to keep all the children contained so you can get some much needed alone time.” Steve held the door for you, waving his hand for you to enter first. You offered him a curtsy, turning back towards him as you entered.

“You’re such a good dad.” He rolled his eyes at this, shoving your shoulder lightly. You tossed your head back in a laugh, your favorite pastime was bugging the shit out of Steve.

Eddie was quiet the rest of the night, seemingly irritated if the drag of his fork against his plate was any indication. You could feel his eyes on you every time you talked to Steve. Catching him in your peripheral with his jaw clenched, his head low but his eyes locked onto you. He was jealous, you could tell. He was always jealous over how close you and Steve were. He told you once he couldn’t understand how Harrington had never made a move with the way you threw yourself at him. But you weren’t doing that, your feelings for Steve had always and would always be platonic. You were just a touchy person when it came to your friends.

It was wrong the way his jealousy made you dewy between your thighs. Eddie was a protective, maybe a little possessive, person when it came to those he cared about. So it was definitely wrong of you to laugh a little harder at Steve’s jokes. To run your fingers down his arm as you talked about him getting a tattoo. It was just a fun little game, a cruel but fun one. He had no right to be jealous.

He left you, remember?

But then his chair scraped across the hardwood floor so loudly it made everyone jump and he stormed out of the dining room leaving his food mostly untouched. You felt it, that disgusting guilt in the pit of your stomach. The kids were confused, watching after him and calling his name, but you all heard the way he stomped up the stairs to his room. It wasn’t until the chatter of the kids resumed that Steve leaned over and whispered into your ear, “Is that what you wanted?”

“What?” You whispered back, Steve rolled his eyes.

“You were so obviously trying to make him jealous, even I noticed it.”

“I was not.” It was easier to just deny it.

“Whatever,” He hissed. “Just go up there and fuck each others brains out already. I’m over this whole will-they-won't-they shit. You two obviously still like each other. You just need to get over yourself.”

You just need to get over yourself.

His words played on repeat through the rest of dinner. They still echoed through your brain as you helped build a giant blanket fort in the living room for the kids. Eddie never came back down and when you walked by his room on the way to yours you could hear the sound of music blaring through his Walkman. You stopped at his door, hand hovering to knock, but thought better of it. You were wrong for what you did, but that didn’t mean you wanted to apologize.

After grabbing your things and saying goodnight to the group in the living room, you made your way back to the gazebo. It was pretty and you felt a sense of pride at it. The hammock blew softly in the breeze and your makeshift bed was dry and warm, the whole space lit up by the soft orange glow of the lights hung around the space. You should have done this earlier, maybe you would have gotten some decent sleep. As much as you loved Robin, sleeping next to her was next to impossible. But out here it was just you and the crickets. The soft twinkling of windchimes off in the distance. No one could see you nestled under the blankets, your book in your hands. You caught yourself a mild high, just enough to feel the buzz under your skin but not too much that you couldn’t focus on the winding romance you followed from page to page.

You lose track of time deep in your book, but you hear the sound of shoes against the path, hear the heavy exhale as they stop at the steps in front of you.

“Uh, hey.” It’s Eddie, dressed in his usual black jeans and shirt combo, but he’s wearing a red flannel now. He looks pretty, and tired.

“Hey?” It’s more of a question as you set your book down next to you.

“Do you, uh, do you have any more weed?”

“I do.”

“Mind sharing? I could really use it right about now.”

You pass the bowl to him, watch him take a long hit and hold it deep in his lungs. The breeze takes the smoke as it billows out his mouth and in the distance thunder rolls. Just like the other night, you two pass it back and forth in silence until you can’t take watching him shift around uncomfortably.

“You can sit, if you want.” You said as you scoot over, patting the spot beside you. He lingers for a minute before kicking off his shoes and crawling in next to you. Your heart beats a little faster as he makes himself comfortable, his shoulder grazing yours as he does so.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, taking the bowl back from you.

“Yeah, of course.”

He goes to pass the bowl back to you, but you hold up a hand, telling him to finish the bowl pack. You’re watching him, not even being secretive about it. Fuck that. You didn’t care anymore, not when he looked this fucking good doing something as simple as smoking weed.

“Hey, Eds?” He almost snaps his neck with how fast he turned to look at you. It was the name. Eds. You were the only person that ever called him that. You could see him shiver under your heavy stare.

“Yeah?” He was unsure, eyes a little wider than usual.

“I’m sorry I was so clingy, after- well you know- after everything that happened.”

He looked confused, so you went on.

“But I wish you could have just told me you didn’t want me around anymore. It really hurts that you just dropped me like I meant nothing to you.” You were fiddling with your fingers now and he watched, aware of your nervous ticks.

“Bunny,” His nickname for you. It used to drive you crazy when he called you Bunny, but you couldn’t help but relish in it at the moment. “It wasn’t you.”

“Huh?”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I thought I was fucking helping you, Bunny. When we came back to Hawkins, all I wanted was to be with you but I was fucked up and everyone thought I was a fucking serial killer… I thought if you stayed with me you’d end up resenting me.”

“They cleared your name, Eds.”

“Yeah, and yet I still get dirty looks and yelled at in town. Not everyone believed I was innocent. Especially not your parents.”

“My parents?” Of course they had something to do with it.

“They came into Family Video one day, told me if I didn’t break it off with you that they’d keep your college fund from you. That they would disown their own daughter. I- Bunny all you ever talked about was getting the fuck out of Hawkins, if they did that you’d never be able to leave. I couldn’t let that happen. You were gonna leave me anyways, go off to college and get your dream job. I felt like I was just holding you back.” His eyes were searching your face as he finished, looking for a reaction before you could even process the words he said.

“Eddie, you should have told me.”

“You wouldn’t have listened to me. I wasn’t gonna be the one to take that away from you.”

You laughed darkly, looking out over the pitch black lake. “Eds, they took the fucking money away from me anyways. I crashed my dad's car while driving out to Forest Hills a couple months ago. Completely totaled it. It was never about you, Eddie, my parents are fucking horrible. They were just waiting for a reason to take that money back. I think they’re gonna use it to get divorced.”

“What? Were you hurt?” His whole body is turned towards you now, searching every inch he could see for any sign of injury, as if it had just happened.

“I broke my wrist.” You held it up in front of his face and he gingerly took it between his large hands, tracing the small scar with his thumb. “I’m fine now. I’m surprised the peanut gallery didn’t tell you.”

“I asked them not to tell me about you.” He said softly, gauging your reaction to his words. “It hurt too much to think about you out there without me.”

“You can be really dense, you know that?” He gives you a look you can’t help but giggle at. “I’ve missed you, Eddie.”

“Have you?” He asked, hands still holding your wrist. “Couldn’t tell. You’ve been avoiding me like the plague since we got here.”

“Can you blame me? You broke my heart.” The words escape you before you can stop them.

“I’m sorry.” He said and you know he meant it just by the sad expression he wore, his frown almost upsetting. He was so pretty when he smiled, it almost killed you to see him frown.

“S’okay. I’m okay. It was hard but I got over it.” Lies.

“I heard.” That stops you in your tracks and you squint your eyes up at him, suspiciously.

“What’s that mean?”

“What? Nothing. I just heard that you’ve been dating, s’all.”

He heard you’ve been dating? From who?

“Yeah, thought you didn’t keep tabs on me?”

He shrugged. “Dustin lets things slip.”

“Dustin’s a child. He thinks he knows more than he does.”

He nodded. “So you aren’t going out with Chris Younger?”

Fucking Dustin. That nosy little punk.

“I wouldn’t call it going out.” You said, cocking your head to the side. The orange glow made his eyes look lighter, a more honey brown, but the clench of his jaw was unmistakable.

“What would you call it then?” He asked slowly, each word spoken like he was forcing them out of his mouth.

“Eddie…” It was a warning. You knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

“Bunny.” It was a firm order of your nickname; he wanted to know.

“I fucked him senseless and never called him back.”

There it was, the flare of his nostrils, the clench of his jaw so tight you feared it would lock up, and his eyes so narrowed all you could see in the dim light was his black pupils.

“Is that what you wanted to hear, Eddie? That I fucked him in the backseat of his car? That I let him call me baby as I rode his cock?” You were getting a rise out of him. He shook his head and looked away from you, his hands balled up in fists in his lap. His anger wasn’t enough to shut you up however. You had him right where you wanted him. So you grabbed his chin with your fingers and pulled him into you, your breath fanning over his face.

“Or maybe you want to hear about how I imagined he was you the whole time. That I called him by your name as I came. Because it doesn’t matter who it is, no one can fuck me as good as you can, Eds.”

You kissed him before you could think twice about it. Kissed him so hard he gasped, toppling onto his back in surprise, his hands coming up to hold your face to his. You bit his lip, slipping your tongue into his mouth when he moaned. You were never the one to take the lead, that had always been his job, but you weren’t gonna be submissive to him this time. He had to earn that.

You pushed him until he was propped up against the pillows, looking all pretty with his hair splayed over the pillow and his cheeks all red. Crawling onto his lap, you sat right on his hardening cock, feeling the bulge so clearly through the thin fabric of your shorts.

“Tell me, Eddie. Use your words. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Bunny.” He only whispered as he gazed up at you.

“Bunny.” You mocked him, pouting over exaggeratedly down at him, before an evil thought crossed your mind and you ground your hips down onto him. Your clothed pussy dragging up the length of his hard cock. His hands clapped down on your waist, seizing a hold of your hips with bruising force. He moaned. Long and languid, his eyes falling shut and his mouth parting wide.

“Eddie, focus.” You teased him, grinding against him even harder. Even slower. Circling your hips on top of him at such an agonizing pace it drove even you crazy.

“I can’t.” He whined, eyes still pinned shut, his heartbeat pounding through his chest underneath the palm of your hand.

“I want an answer, Eddie. Is that what you wanted to hear?” His hands flew from your hips to pull at his hair. You could tell how hard you were making this for him. He didn’t want to say it. To say that it made him hard thinking about you cumming over some other guys dick while you screamed Eddie’s name. It made him furious, but it also made him throb. “Say it, Eddie.”

“I-I can’t.” He cried out, slamming his fists down onto the blankets underneath you two.

“Okay.” It was all you said before you removed yourself from him, kneeling between his spread legs instead. His eyes sprung open at the loss of you, propping up on his elbows with a cute little frown.

“Why’d you stop?” He pouted, reaching out for you with his ringed, greedy, fingers. You swatted him away as he pulled at your shirt, giving him your best disapproving look. Inside, though, you were a live wire, crackling with electricity.

“I’m not gonna give you what you want unless you answer me.” You stated. Eddie groaned.

“Why does it matter, Bunny?”

“Because it does. Because for months I waited for you to come back and you never did. Because I had to sit there and listen to Steve talk about Heather Mott coming into the fucking video store every week just to flirt with you. Because I couldn’t *stop thinking about you taking her out to lovers lake and fucking her in the back of your van like you did with me.”

Your chest heaved with every breath you took, spilling your heart out to him as he sat there and looked at you with those big brown eyes that you loved so much. You needed him to say it, because you couldn’t be the only one suffering through your separation.

“Bunny… Dustin didn’t tell me about you and Chris.” He paused, shook his head, and laid back down. His eyes burned holes into the rafters of the gazebo. “I saw you two, at the movies. He had his hand on your thigh and you were whispering to each other and I stood there and I watched you kiss him. It felt like shit seeing you like that with someone else. So I left, went into the parking lot and punched a dent in the side of my van.”

There it was. You had felt like you were going crazy, knowing he didn’t need you but still beating yourself up with the thought of his hands on someone else's body. It certainly wasn’t healthy. But knowing he felt it too made you feel a little less alone.

Your fingers began unbuckling his belt, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it to the side. Eddie’s hands came down on yours, stalling your work on his zipper.

“Bunny, w-what are you doing?” Once again you swatted at his hands, grabbing him by his wrists and pinning them to his sides.

“I’m gonna suck your cock and you’re not gonna touch me until I say so, understood?”

Eddie was visibly shocked by your words, but he still nodded his head and laid as still as he could as you pulled his jeans down his legs. His cock sprang free, laying against his stomach, precum dripping down the sides of its head. You wanted to lick it all up, savor every drop. But then something else caught your attention.

“What, no boxers?” It was only a tease as you worked his jeans off his strong legs. Eddie shook his head, cheeks heating in a blush of embarrassment.

“Ran out.” He grunted, watching your fingers dance up his shaft.

“Of course you did. Let me guess, you didn’t pack enough?” You wrapped your hand around him fully as you spoke, following the shaky inhale he took at the feeling with lustful eyes. You bit your lip as he arched into your stroke, pressing his head back into the pillows with a groan.

“No,” He said after wetting his lips, his mouth dry. “No, I… I just went through them fast.”

You narrowed your eyes at this, stroking your thumb over his wet tip. “How’d you do that, Eds?”

“Ah shit, that feels- fuck, I-I’ve been jerking it like crazy since I ran out of weed.” A funny feeling grows in your chest at his words, a wide smile pulling at the corners of your lips. You continued the slow caress of your thumb to his most sensitive part as you leaned back on your heels a little, offering him a naïve look.

“Whatchu been thinking about, hmm?” He met your look with one of his own. It was an attempt to look irritated at what he thought was such an obvious question. He knew you knew. But that look wouldn’t hold, not with you swiping the precum from his slit before smoothing the salty taste down your tongue. Because you already knew the answer. You fucking knew.

“Y-you, Bunny. I was thinking about you. I always think about you.” His voice falls off at the end, if you weren’t paying such close attention to him you probably wouldn’t have heard it. But you did, and it sends heat right to your core. His hands shake at his sides.

“What am I doing, in these thoughts of yours?” You flatten your tongue against his tip, keening at the way his brows knit together and the way the head of his cock is warm against your tongue.

“Can’t tell ya. S’too dirty for me to say.”

“I already know you’re a dirty boy, Eddie.” You wrapped your lips around his head, hollowing your cheeks as you coaxed him into your mouth. You took him as far into your throat as you could, gagging on his thickness. You weren’t sure if it was the sound you made or the feeling that got him, but as you pulled up his length his hands sprung to your head. He didn’t force you back down, no, he grabbed your head and stroked your cheeks gently. Peering up at him you found he was gazing down at you so intently, so much affection radiating off him. He broke your rule, but only to silently thank you.

“That feels incredible, Bunny.” Another gentle stroke of your cheek before he lays his hands back down at his sides, allowing you to continue your trail up his shaft.

You go back to the task at hand; slowly unraveling his wits with your hot wet mouth and tongue. Eddie was getting more talkative, a sure sign he was close, and you didn’t want that yet. He wasn’t allowed to cum yet. One last swirl around his tip, his hands found your elbow and you pulled away from him fast. His hands blindly followed after you, reaching out into the orange glow around you. You were already on your feet when he sat up, his hard cock bobbing as he shuffled forward.

“Wh-where are you going?” His voice was strained, his face pinched together.

You pulled your shirt over your head, looped your thumbs in the waistband of your shorts as you wiggled them over your thighs and down your legs.

“Skinny dipping. You coming?”

“What? Bunny, I was so close.”

“I know. You can wait though.” You tried to hide your smile while taking off your bra and throwing it into his face. “Now, are you coming?”

“I’m trying to.” He was starting to whine and you felt so powerful. Loved the way he looked ready to get on his knees and grovel for you. “What if someone sees?” He asked, eyes taking in your bare body, his own hand now wrapped around his cock. You push his hand away with your foot, tsking at him.

“Stop that.” You chastised. “And no one will see, with the day they had they’re probably all asleep. Come on Eddie, don’t you want to see me all naked and wet?”

“You’re already dripping wet.” So he noticed. The slick between your legs was starting to trail down your thigh, leaving you sticky and uncomfortable.

“Come. Don’t come. It’s your choice.” With that you sprinted to the dock, ignoring him calling after you as you jumped. The warm water swallowed your whole, caressing your heated skin, relaxing your muscles. The water was too dark to see but you felt the rumble of water as Eddie jumped in behind you.

You broke through the surface with a laugh, smoothing your hair out of your face and searched the dark expanse of the lake for him. He popped out beside you, grabbing you by the waist and anchoring you to his chest. He kissed you sweetly, letting his tongue trace the shape of your lips. You didn’t push him away, chose to let him kiss you as passionately as he wanted, because this was all *you wanted. To be with him like this again felt too good to be true. But Eddie was sturdy under your touch, there was no doubt that this was really happening.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help the giggle that flew out your mouth. His hair was wild, soaking wet, little curls glued to his face.

“Hi. You came.” You said as you pushed the hair from his eyes.

“Yeah, how could I not?” He let you finish fixing his hair before he laid your head against his shoulder, a firm hand holding your body to his. His cock was still hard, pressed against your hip, and as much as you wanted to reach your hand between the two of you, you felt content just letting him hold you like this.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He cooed into your ear, kissing the wet hair at your temple.

“Next time, just tell me, Eds. All this angsty teenage bullshit was for nothing.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing, Bunny.”

“I know. I know.”

“I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“Me too, Eds. So lonely without you.”

He squeezed you tighter, holding in his warm embrace until the sky opened up and rain poured from the dark clouds in rivets. You shrieked as a pierce of lightning hit the sky, thunder bursting around you making the water shake with the vibration. The two of you raced back to the shore, running through the cold rain toward the gazebo in a fit of laughter.

When you finally reached shelter, you snatched up his red flannel, pushing your arms through the sleeves with chattering teeth. Eddie grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around his shoulders like a giant cape, pulling you into his warmth. You wrapped your arms around him, nosing the slight patch of hair between his pecs as he held you close, eyes watching the rain pound the water.

“What the fuck just happened.” He chuckled, rocking his body back and forth. You jerked side to side with him, poking him in the ribs when he took you off balance.

“I guess it was time to get out.” You mused kissing his sternum, taking advantage of the blanket you were both wrapped up in, to slip your hand between your bodies and stroke his softening cock.

His head fell into yours, humming at the feeling of your cold hand slowly jerking him off.

“Eddie, lay back down.”

“I’m all wet, Bunny.”

“Don’t care, want you inside me. Now.”

You figured you wouldn’t have to beg and you were right. Eddie dropped the blanket and settled down into the pillows. You crawled into his lap, placing your pussy right down against him. He was already hard, hips rutting up into your slick folds as you teased his length. It didn’t take long for him to get needy, impatient. Whining to himself and digging his nails into your thighs. How could you have missed out on this. On teasing him until he couldn’t form a single rational thought other than “fuck me”.

His hands went to your tits as you sank down on him, keening and groaning as you took him to the hilt. It was a little too much, he hadn’t been inside you for so long it felt like the first time all over again. Eddie must have thought so too as one of his ringed hands left your breast to grip your hip, holding you down on top of him. This was always his favorite part, the stillness before he fucked you senseless. Except he wasn’t in control this time, and despite the need you felt to ride him until the sun came up, you wanted to savor this.

So you sat on his cock, pulsing deep inside you with every clench of your walls, and slowly starting to roll your hips. You used the already quivering muscles of your thighs to guide yourself up and down. Slow at first, making sure you were ready, and then faster until your tits were bouncing in his face. He sat up, meeting you halfway, his mouth closing around your pebbled nipple. He flicked his tongue against the bud and your head lolled back, his flannel slipping from your shoulder.

“Jesus, you’re so beautiful. So fucking pretty like this, bouncing on my cock. Feels just like our first time, can’t believe how fucking tight you are.” He’s breathless as he rambled, palms splayed against your back, helping you fuck his cock at a steady, brain rotting, pace.

“So good, Eds. So good.” You cried out when his hips snapped up into you causing you to fall into his sweaty chest. Your thighs were shaking and your knees ached, but you wanted to be on top. Wanted to be in control, but his cock was hitting you in all the right places and he was looking you dead in the eye. Eye contact was a favorite of his. Loved being able to see the moment you came, the way your eyes squeezed shut.

“Let me take over, Bunny.” He whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “Let me take care of you, show you how much I missed you.”

“No.” You growled, shoving him back against the makeshift bed. You paused your hips to lean over top of him, getting comfortable in this new position with your hands next to his head. You sank down fast and hard once you were ready and Eddie choked on whatever words he was about to say.

“I’m in charge, this time.” You punctuated your words with a slow roll of your hips, sighing as you hung your head forward, unable to tear your eyes away from your pussy greedily swallowing his cock.

Eddie was the one to pull you back to him, kissing you deeply, your tongues swirling together in your mouth. You whined when his thumb started making small tight circles around your swollen clit, snapping your hips down on him at the same pace. The fire in your belly felt like it was gonna burst, your thighs shaking as they desperately tried to carry on. But the approaching wave of your orgasm had you losing rhythm, stalling your hips at their own accord. Eddie saw but didn’t say a thing, only rolled you onto your back and hitched your legs over his hips.

You went to complain, but Eddie shushed you, covering you with his body and cradling your face.

“You’re still in charge, Bunny, M’just helping you.” His hand dipped between your bodies, fingers resuming their tight circles. “You’re such a good boss.”

“Don’t-” You whimpered as his thrusts made your back arch and your toes curl. “Don’t patronize me.”

Eddie chuckled, sucking a hickey to your chest. “I’m not, Bunny, I promise. You did such a good job being on top. My good girl.”

His good girl. Fuck you missed that. Forgotten how good it felt to be called his. You clenched around him causing his thrusts to falter. You were so close, you could feel it burning just under the surface. You wanted to tell him, let him know how good he felt inside you, but there was no reason to. You took one look at him and knew he knew. He could feel it in how wet you were getting, as if it was humanly possible for you to be even more wet, could see it in the pout of your lips and the pinch in your brow.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me. Cum all fucking over my cock. I know you want to, baby. Just let go.”

Your nails dug into his hips as you came, hard. You didn’t make a peep, the air trapped in your throat prevented any sound that tried to escape your open mouth. Eddie fucked you through it wildly, his fast thrusts and your wet core making a sloppy sound when he buried himself to the hilt and pulled back out.

“I’m so close, Bunny. W-where do you want me to cum?” Eddie’s voice was ragged, sweat beading down his chest as he fucked into you.

“Inside, Eds.” You were still out of breath, but you had regained at least a small part of your senses back. “Cum inside me.”

Eddie was dumbstruck, groaning at your words, but that rational side of him made him say, “But, I’m not wearing a condom.”

“I’m on the pill, Eds. Been on the pill since you took my virginity.” And since you took his. “I wanna feel it inside me, Eds.”

“Ah, shit. You- You can’t just say shit like that, Bunny. So dirty. My little freak. Gonna make me come too fast.”

“I thought you were close?” You hiccupped, holding onto him like your life depended on it.

“I am. Just wanna h-hold off a little longer.” He was so focused, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips as he watched the way your soaked pussy continued to take him. “M’not ready to cum yet. Keep thinking about what you said, h-how you thought of me while you fucked that punk Younger.”

You caressed his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours. “Stop thinking so much, Eddie.”

“Can’t, shoulda been me. Can’t believe you fucked someone else. Hate the thought of it. Hate that it makes my cock twitch.” His pace was brutal now, his hips slapping against yours so roughly the sound echoed through the trees.

“I wanted it to be you, Eddie.” You spoke softly against his ear, carding your fingers through his tangled curls.

“F-fuck, say my name again. Please, Bunny.”

“Cum inside me, Eddie. Fill me up. Make me yours, Eddie. I wanna be yours.” You chanted in his ear all the praise he’d been desperately missing for months now, clenching down around him when his hips stuttered and his breath caught in his throat.

He came with a shaky grunt, his arm wrapping behind your waist to hold you in place as he fucked himself through it in a few hard, sloppy, jerks of his hips. His cum painted your insides, leaking out around his base as he collapsed on top of you.

“Jesus Christ, that was fucking amazing, so much better than my hand.” Eddie joked as he kissed up the column of your neck, licking at your pulse point and chuckling when it made you shiver under him.

“You really didn’t fuck anyone else after you left?” You asked because you wanted to know, because if he hadn’t you’d feel like shit about the fact that you *had.

“No,” Eddie said, raising to his elbows to look down at you. “I didn’t want to. Felt wrong even thinking about someone else.”

Well, that made you feel like shit. Because you did fuck someone else, and it didn’t matter that it was horrible and your regretted it immediately, because you knew it felt wrong and you still did it.

“Hey, Bunny, don’t cry. Why are you crying?” Eddie rolled off you and pulled your head against his chest, cradling you in his arms while he stroked your hair.

“I was so lonely, I fucked him because I was so lonely and just wanted to be touched and y-you didn’t and I’m such a shitty person.” You were blubbering into his skin, hot tears streaking down your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t do that. We weren’t together, you’re allowed to sleep with other people.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t. You could have and you still didn’t.”

He said your name, your real name, so softly and so lovingly that you nuzzled closer to him, too scared to look him in the eye. The moment reminded you of the night you took each other's virginities. How he held you so close afterwards, stroking your hair, and he hummed your name. Said it in a way you’d never heard before. That night, the sex had been okay, you were both new to it all working together to figure out what felt good and what made your eyes roll back into your heads. Every time after had been better than the last as you learned together what sex could be. But it didn’t matter how high he was, how wrecked and worn out he was, he always held you after. Said your name like it was the only thing that mattered. It was his thing, a thing you never even asked for but it made you feel whole inside.

Eddie was always just doing these things for you without you even asking because he wanted to do them.

“Hey, look at me.” He lifted your chin until he could see your sad face. “I don’t care that you fucked someone else.”

“But-” You tried to interrupt but he put his hand over your mouth, efficiently shutting you up.

“I don’t care about that, at least I’m trying not to. I’ll work on it but you need to stop this ridiculous hate fest going on in that pretty little head of yours. It only took you fucking one person to realize the truth.”

“What truth is that?” You asked with a weak voice, muffled by his hand over your mouth.

“That I’m the fucking god of sex.”

He says it with such a straight face you can’t help but laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.” You snorted, shoving at his chest so you could roll onto your back. You were still giggling as you wiped the tears from your eyes, that ball of guilt in your chest a little lighter.

“Am I wrong? Seriously, Bunny. You can’t say I’m wrong.” He’s trying to be serious but he can’t stop the toothy smile that spreads across his face when he hears you snort again.

“I taught you everything you know, Eds. Shouldn’t that make me the sex god.”

“You know what, you just have to steal my moment, huh?” You coo at him when he says this, patting his cheek with so much condescension he bats your hands away and grabs you by your cheeks with his fingers. “Don’t be a brat, Bunny.”

You smooch at him and he rolls his eyes, drawing you up to his lips. He dropped his hand to your jaw, kissing you so tenderly it made your already wobbly knees weaker.

“Eddie?” You asked as he brushed his nose against yours.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t leave me like that again, I don’t think I could take it.”

He turned serious as he said, “I promise, Bunny. I’ll try to use my brain a little harder next time.”

“Good.” You ran your thumb over the sharp edge of his jaw. “Good, your brain needs the exercise.”

Eddie tossed his head back against the pillow, dark curls flying into his face and you giggled even harder, loved how dramatic he just couldn’t help being.

“God, you’re such a brat!” He laughed along with you, pulling you tight against his side, and you knew right then that you didn’t have to worry about missing him so deeply it tore you apart ever again.

He wasn’t gonna run away this time.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fan fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson fluff

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mothdruid · 11 months

Text

The Physics of Love - Part One

series masterlist | prologue | part two

pairing.

robert 'bob' floyd x afab!reader

word count.

2.3k

warnings.

kind of fluff, insecurities, swearing, mild sexual content, this content is meant for those who are 18 and older.

authors note.

our two cuties finally met! and they both have a few lesser than holy thoughts about each other. these two are big nerds, so let's not forget that there will be a lot of big nerd talk in this series.

A hiss passed your lips as you hurried across campus. Coffee had spilled out of the hole of the lid of your cup, searing your hand a little. You weren’t sure why you thought you had time to get coffee, but you did anyway. After a late night of studying stats you needed a little kick. What you hadn’t needed was waking up fifty minutes late. You only had forty minutes to get ready, get coffee, and run all the way to the study room.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to a study time so early. It felt like you couldn’t say no. This guy was helping you after all. So whatever time he picked, you agreed to. You just hadn’t expected the time to be nine in the morning. There was a reason why you mainly took afternoon classes, and this ‘Bob’ guy was about to find out.

This was going to be the first time the two of you met. It had only been emails up to this point. A rush of excitement flowed through you at the thought. The way Professor Coleman had described him to you set your expectations high. An extremely smart kid from the Carolinas who was on the path of becoming an astrophysicist, just like Professor Coleman. A part of you was worried though, wondering if he might treat you how a majority of the other douchebags in the STEM fields did.

You quickly, but quietly, opened the door to the library and rushed to the study rooms. Once you found the room you took a congratulatory sip of your coffee before entering. The handle of the door was cold against your skin, reminding you this was the only point you could back out. After you entered that room you would be stuck, getting tutoring lessons from a genius. And if you didn’t, well, you’d be giving up your hopes of becoming a hydrologist.

Cool air filled your lungs as you took a deep breath. Your grip tightened on the handle, turning it slowly, then opening it.

It was quiet, save the soft rustling of a few papers. The scene itself was intriguing. A lean looking guy leaned over the study table, fingers flipping through pages of a book. He didn’t even budge to look up at you, as if you weren’t even there. So you took more time to take him in.

He had soft brown hair that waved and curled slightly at the edges. A solid gray colored flannel covered his upper body, a white t-shirt on underneath it. Wire rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. These beautiful ocean-like blue eyes that were staring at you.

Oh fuck.

“Oh, hi, you're the hydrologist, right?” His voice had a soothing tone to it.

“Yeah, and you’re the astrophysics guy, right?”

He let out a little chuckle, smiling while adjusting his glasses.

“That’s me,” he offered out his hand as he stood up, “but you can call me Bob.”

You took his hand and shook it. It was softer than you anticipated, the shake and his skin. “It’s nice to meet you, Bob.”

The corners of his lips seemed to be pulled up in another smile, making your heart flutter. A part of you wished Professor Coleman would have told you he was this cute, but finding out on your own was proving to be entertaining. The soft pink tint to his cheeks was more than amusing, giving you a small boost in confidence. You slung your bookbag off your shoulder, setting it near one of the table legs while reaching for your chair. Without warning Bob scurried around, heading for your chair. He kindly pulled it out, offering the seat to you with a gesture of his hand.

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that,” you assured him.

All he did was nod as you sat down, helping push your chair in as you scooted closer to the table. Professor Coleman said he was nice and patient, but someone this gentlemanly was not what you expected. You rubbed the patch of skin behind your ear, a nervous tick you had had since middle school. Bob made his way across the table, sitting down across from you. He grabbed a few loose papers, fitting them into the book he was reading. It was only after he closed the book, pushing it off to the side that he focused on you again.

“Coleman said you were having trouble with some physics?” He looked over at you, a more serious look on his face now.

The pink tint to his cheeks had evaporated from his skin. The pad of your middle finger paused, softly sitting on the skin behind your ear. The nail of your middle finger scraped your skin lightly as you brought your hand down. After placing both of your hands onto the table, stretching your fingers out lightly, giving him an awkward look.

“It's not really just some physics,” you broke an awkward smile, “it’s more like most of it.”

Bob raised an eyebrow at you.

Yeah, you knew it was a lot. A part of you panicked, wondering if he was going to back out now. Or even make a comment about how physics tended to be harder for ‘your type’. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to say that, but men had surprised you before.

“Okay,” Bob made a contemplative frown, “what physics are you good with?”

There was a flutter in your chest. This was different. He was different. No one had ever asked what you were good at before, especially with the subject you struggled the most with. The closest thing you had got was Professor Coleman encouraging you after barely passing an exam.

“I wouldn’t really say I’m good at any of it, more like what I’m okay at.” You offered him an awkward smile.

“Okay, what are you okay with then?” Bob crossed his fingers, hands settled on the table.

God, those hands were gorgeous. You thought everything about him was gorgeous, but his hands were an exceptional characteristic. The way they flexed in the slightest while he was flipping pages earlier. Veins prominent and begging for your attention. Your mind wandered for a moment, wondering what his hands might feel like to be all over your body. Roaming and grabbing at the expanses of your skin. You pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, then slowly pulled your fingers in to form a soft fist. You knocked your knuckles on the table lightly before responding.

“Fluids and thermals,” you looked at him with a more serious look this time, “basically the only stuff that’s needed for my field of study. Or at least the stuff that I might use.”

“I can work with that,” Bob smiled as he adjusted his glasses.

A part of you panicked. What did he mean he could work with that?

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t help the concern that bled into your tone.

“Oh I, nothing, just trying to get an idea of what I’m going to study up on.” Bob said.

Bob’s cerulean eyes stared into yours, a sincere look settled on his features. You could tell he was being earnest, no malicious intent behind his words. You hadn’t noticed the tension in your shoulders until then. Your guard was up and he just happened to be the one caught in the crossfire. His eyes flicked down to your hands, curled in fists. His hands parted, laying them palm flat on the table.

“Why geology?” Bob asked with a smile.

It seemed out of left field, but it helped to relieve your tension. Physics was the last thing on either of your minds for the rest of the session. The next two hours were filled with sips of your coffee and bouts of laughter. You spouted on and on about how even though the world always bounces back, we still need to put in the effort to maintain it while the human race is here. By the time you left you felt relieved, ready to trust Bob with teaching you the ways of electric currents and quantum physics.

Bob felt like the breath had been knocked out of him from the moment you walked in the study room. Your disheveled appearance, backpack haphazardly slung over your shoulder, and coffee cup in hand was breathtaking. He didn’t mean to be awkward, but it couldn’t be avoided. Bob knew that he had always been awkward. So when Professor Coleman approached him for a tutoring opportunity, he was a little shocked. But he knew that Professor Coleman trusted him, so he would put his best efforts into this.

Which was a little hard at first. Bob was so taken with you, wanting to know everything about you. He couldn’t help resist the urge to get up and get your chair for you, mentally kicking himself for such an odd gesture it came off as. He had barely known you for two minutes and he was already acting awkward.

Bob could tell you were a little on guard, especially after the chair incident. The way your shoulders had tensed when he asked what type of physics you were good at. He wasn’t trying to shame you or anything of that nature, god no. He just needed to truly know what parts of physics you were decent with. It would allow for him to brush up on some of the other subjects he hadn’t used in a hot minute. Yeah, he was an astrophysics grad student but that didn’t mean he used all types of physics daily.

Then he asked the fateful question of ‘why this degree’.

Bob had been fascinated with space since he was a young child. Growing up he was gifted lego rocket sets for christmas, a telescope for his birthday, astronaut ice cream randomly. He had his eyes focused on being an astronaut as a child, but that all changed in middle school. After a field trip to a nearby museum with a space exhibit, he realized that being an astronaut wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to go to space, he wanted to be the person sending people to space. Being able to understand space enough to build something and have it survive the vacuum of space? That was the true dream.

Hearing why people choose their degree and field of study always interested Bob. From his friend Mickey picking world languages to ‘bridge the gap’, or Bradley picking political science to travel the world, or Nat chemistry because it just clicked for her. But no matter who it was, they always had a compelling reason for him. Yours was the most compelling by far.

Minerals and rocks had always fascinated you, but water? The way it was all interconnected? Now that was your favorite thing, and it was captivating to Bob. The way you talked about how you knew you had been spoiled growing up in the Great Lakes region. Fresh water being so abundant that the idea of a drought or water shortage had never crossed your mind. Bob could feel your passion ebb and flow as you spoke about it more and more.

Bob had to take geology for his undergrad, but nothing in depth. Hearing you talk about a section of science he was familiar with but not completely knowledgeable of was exciting. All the gaps from his class years ago were being filled. Water was so simple yet so complex. They way you animatedly talk about it, making barely decipherable diagrams with your hands, trying to explain to him in the best way. It was cute.

Bob flushed at the thought. Only to be saved when you checked your phone. That led to him checking his own, realizing you two were five minutes of the allotted study time.

“Ah shit, I’m sorry I used up all the time,” you apologized while getting out of your chair.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t keeping track of the time either.” Bob grabbed his books, placing them in his backpack.

He watched you stand up, tossing your coffee cup in the wastebasket then tossing your bag over your shoulder once more. Bob couldn’t help but stare at you, focusing on more of your features. The way the harsh fluorescent lighting made you glow like an angel. The college campus sweater you had on must have been one size bigger, creating a little bit of a baggy look. The way your athletic leggings were hugging your legs, making his mind wander slightly. He wanted to know what your legs might look like uncovered, potentially wrapped around his waist too.

Bob looked away when his eyes flicked back to yours. He still had to give you his number after all of this too. He scratched the back of his neck, “Can I give you my number?”

“Oh yeah, of course, I meant to ask you for it earlier,” a big smile pulled across your lips.

Bob felt his heart swell when you smiled. Bob took your phone after you offered it to him, typing his number in under the new contact layout. You took it back from him, adding a little pair of glasses after his name unknowingly to him, before typing out a small text.

“There I sent you a text.”

Bob checked his phone seeing a new text notification.

“Got it,” Bob said with a smile.

“So, I’ll see you next time?” You asked.

“Yeah, you’ll see me next time.” Bob answered.

He watched you leave the study room before he grabbed his own book bag. He placed a strap on each shoulder, making sure his bag was secured to his back before leaving. He made his way out of the library and into the hallway, heading to meet with Professor Coleman. Before he walked into Coleman’s classroom he checked his phone to properly read your text.

hey starboy

Without a second thought Bob created your contact, adding the wave emoji after your name.

taglist:

@wkndwlff

@thedroneranger

@callsign-sprout

#bob floyd #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #tutor!bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x afab reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfic #the physics of love

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reveseke · 1 year

Text

Bob the raccoon

PT. Bob the raccoon. PT end

— Request? No

— Criminal minds; Penelope Garcia & teen bro! Mute! Reader

— No warnings! Fluff

— Note; don't bring raccoons into your home from the wilderness. :") Reader's designed to be mute in this and as such uses sign language in the moment. Reader's body & gender ambiguous, enby & trans friendly.

The silence was quite defeating as the boy stood in the doorway with a big gray, white and brown creature in tow staring or rather challenging Penelope's wide gaze. If there was something the blond didn't expect was to see her brother standing with a ducking raccoon in hands held like a cat just sniffing around. Having just gotten out of the shower after a quite challenging day, was a calm evening anything to ask for?

Well, it seems she had to be praying for one at this point to ensure one, but today was not one of those nice evenings.

"(Name) why have you brought a raccoon?" Shifting to look better at her brother, Penny put the mug of coffee down she had in her hands. Sighing heavily as the boy signed with one hand as best as he could so as not to drop the now wiggling creature with a bright, sweet, and innocent smile.

"His name is Bob, do you like bob?"

#criminal minds x reader #penelope garcia x reader #teen!reader #child!reader #teen reader #male reader #masc reader #masc!reader #penelope garcia #criminal minds #penelope garcia x teen reader #sibling!reader #penelope garcia x male reader #penelope garcia x masc reader #penelope garcia x nonbinary reader #penelope garcia x trans reader #🗞️. original

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kykyonthemoon · 4 months

Note

Could I have an Xavier x Reader fluff? Like they make him wear bunny ears and Xavier makes them wear wolf ears? I wanna see smth soft and fluffy for my man…If you can’t totally ok! You’re lovely!

Fluffy Trapped

In this game of two, Xavier is definitely not the rabbit.

Thank you for requesting. 🌻 Xavier x Reader Masterlist

Request something?

“Why do you have that funny headband on your head?” The strange boy asked, one hand pointing at the top of Xavier's head.

He raised his hand and touched the two long, soft rabbit ears attached to his head. He was sitting in a corner of the arcade when this kid came from nowhere and began to laugh at what he was wearing.

“It's a bet.” Xavier replied with a sigh.

“A bet?”

“Yeah. I lost a bet with someone in a claw machine game.”

The child kept giggling while covering his mouth, showing absolutely no manners. Then, to his surprise, a little girl of a similar age called in this way.

“Oh no! That girl has found me!” His face became pale in an instant. He pushed something into Xavier's palm with haste and said, "Keep this. You can make your friend wear it if they lose to you at the kitty cards game. That girl over there made me do that too!”

The boy threw his little friend a glance that left it unclear whether he hated or loved her. He then sprinted in her direction, and the two of them walked away while holding hands. Xavier turned to face the object he was holding. It was a hair piece almost identical to his, but instead of pink and white rabbit ears, it was dark gray wolf ears.

“Kitty cards, hmm…” Xavier whispered to himself. His eyes found you in the crowd, happily ordering drinks for both of you. A very dangerous smile appeared on his lips for a moment, then disappeared when you turned your head to find him. He appeared to be an obedient rabbit waiting for his "master". That made you even less suspicious of the trap he had just set for you.

That afternoon, Xavier invited you to play kitty cards.

“The loser will have to wear bunny ears for another twenty-four hours!” You grinned. Claw machine or kitty cards were both your best games.

Xavier let you go first, and as usual, he lost miserably to you in the first round. He claimed to have picked up a few new skills but was only able to win one round. By the third round, he seemed rather sleepy.

Xavier put one arm on the table to support his head. The heavy eyelids slowly closed. You called softly: “Xavier? Xavier?” But he still did not open his eyes. You glanced at the cats on the table. There were only two more cups left and the game would end. But your cards were not that great. You were about to lose to Xavier!

You looked up at the rabbit ears that Xavier had on his head, bobbing slightly with each nod. Anytime, anywhere, he could fall asleep, even while he was playing cards. You reminisced about the days when you were both on missions and he could fall asleep while still upright! Xavier had dozed off for real. The opportunity had come to you.

This was the decisive round. You could not lose to Xavier, because you still wanted to see him wearing those bunny ears for a long time. Those bunny ears affixed to his head was your trophy. You used to cheat while he fell asleep before, and you knew a trick of swapping cats in the cup so your opponent got points deducted. The important thing was to be skillful and quick. To double verify, you attempted to wave a hand in front of Xavier's face. When you saw that he did not react, you lifted up the red cat in the cup that he had received double points on.

"Good kitty…"

You hushed the cat so it did not cry out loud. Then you picked up the green cat next to it and prepared to drop it into the cup. Little did you know that all your actions were being observed by Xavier with a half-open eye. Immediately, he grabbed your wrist, causing both cats to fall.

“Ughhh!”

You screamed because you were startled. Xavier firmly grasped his hand, preventing you from backing away. The corners of his lips curled up into a perfect and cunning line.

“Got you!”

“Xavier!… You…”

You could not deny it, not when the two cats which you had just dropped were leaping around the table and meowing loudly. More than the fact that you were discovered cheating, the reason your face felt heated was because Xavier's hand was holding your wrist.

“How clumsy you are, Miss Hunter.” He smiled, his eyes filled with mischief, making you feel like you were put in danger. A bewildered and sleepy Xavier in an instant became a trap setter. He had been waiting for this opportunity since the beginning, even pretending to be drowsy to catch you red handed. Was he really asleep the other times or did he do it on purpose so you could win?

It was your turn to feel extremely naive. Kitty cards were originally your game, but with Xavier scheming like that, it was intolerable.

“This round doesn't count. Let's play another one!”

"That's fine. But first,” Xavier replied. He took out the pair of wolf ears he had hidden earlier. “Those who cheat ought to face their punishment.”

His voice was so soft, but you were left with shivers. Your arms and legs became weak, your face was burning again. Xavier loosened his grip but did not let go completely. He stood up to move closer to you.

"Please no! Oh! Where did those wolf ears come from anyway?

“Stay still.”

He said while you kept shaking your head, refusing to cooperate. At last, he had to lean down so close that his breath caught your cheek and you could not avoid his gaze anymore. Then he put the wolf ears on your head.

"Good girl."

He patted your head. His index finger gently pressed the tip of your nose and he smiled with satisfaction. You were not sure who was the rabbit and who was the real wolf anymore.

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lizaluvsthis · 5 months

Text

The Girl in Fatal Lavanders

Fanfic Written and Illustrated by @lizaluvsthis

Idea of creation by @itsajjanea

First (Prologue)

Author's note: I'd like to thank @itsajjanea for drawing three that describes out the song Heathers by Conan Gray (I loved that song before and still do) the song gave so many feels <3

For now- onto the fanfic!

Summary: SMG4 has found someone new, much to Three's dismay. He couldn't help it but feel like something is wrong with his new "Girlfriend" and that there is something more going on with her than just being all 'kind' and 'polite' to people, especially with SMG4.

will SMG4 still end up being inlove with the Lavender Girl? or does he end up with Three's open heart

Tags: Enemies to Friends, Sun and Moon, angst, betrayal, catching feelings, comfort, hurt/comfort, drama, enemies to lovers, enemy, fluff, oblivious, slowburn, fruityass, gayness

Relationships:

SMG4/SMG3

Mario & Meggy Spletzer

Meggy & SMG3

SMG4 & Original Character

PuzzleVision(TvAdware) & Original Character

SMG3 & Mario

SMG4 & Mario

Beginning Chapter - 1 New Person, 1 New Goal

An announcement breaks out from the castle of SMG4's as he calls everyone. "The hell did you bring us here for?" Bob angrily asked, ruining his dating plans with another chick.

"Whatever it is, I don't care." Three calmly said sitting peacefully on the couch waiting for SMG4 to say something. "Prepare yourself to be blinded by this but..."

"But first- promise you guys won't laugh..." SMG4 held back in reassurance from his crew's support. Boopkins being the bright one of the team, spoke.

"Awe don't worry SMG4! We won't laugh or judge you!" SMG4 gave Boopkins a weak smile and proceeded, taking a deep breath.

"I know it has been a few weeks now since I've gone out for a few or most days, I never bothered to check the castle much because I went away. Now that I'm back again... I wanted to surprise you all with something..."

"Ohhhhh is it spaghetti-os?" Mario cheered in excitement, but with a disapproving look on four's expression, he wasn't talking about that. "No, but it's something else... I uh- I've met someone new"

Four gave a nervous chuckle at the end. The whole crew felt silent as they all began to laugh. SMG4 felt embarrassed and humiliated himself, grunting and blushing down. Mario spoke up.

"Are you sure you're not high or anything S-M-G-4 ? Or haven't you gotten enough B-tches from the past few years you've attempted dating a girl? Oh no wait- you don't have any!" This caused the whole crew to laugh even more, except for Boopkins and Meggy.

"C'mon, guys! At Least Four is trying his best here- say- SMG4, we haven't met this person yet- what's their name?" SMG4 looked at Meggy bringing his smile up again.

"This is a surprise everyone- but... here she is!" A door opens from the entrance, with a first footstep from the opening. Is seen with purple scandals following on with a pair of white socks exceeding up to the leg reach.

Slow opening, the person dressed in dark magenta overalls. With the length of the pants put a match near the sock's leg reach. With cute navy blue buttons, and lilac color of cloth from their shirt.

Up to the face with a smile, oddly enough with a non-patterned color of red as the hat's signature. Almost near to Mario's similar color but gave off soft and dark.

The symbol from the top spots out a "#" Then the hair gave out a brunette color, and the excess ends to the shoulder length gave out curls.

Oddly enough, Lavender colored eyes are rare to have. And a mole near the corner of the left cheek.

She gently closed the door, seeing from her second hand, it was a phone with the color of cyan. "Hello there everyone! Wow! I'm super excited to meet you all!" Everyone went silent.

"Guys, meet my new girlfriend..." SMG4 let out his hand extending to the brunette. She gladly accepted the handhold, getting pulled slowly by SMG4s. She looked at everyone who still smiled, side-hugging SMG4 with his hand touching her back.

"Haha- very funny SMG4-" SMG3 crossed both of his arms, there is no way SMG4 could pull out someone with the likes of HER... (plus- she looks kinda mid...) SMG3 thought to himself squinting his eyes at Four's new 'Girlfriend's' face.

"Are you brain damaged?" Three pulled out his sarcasm to see how his 'girlfriend' would react to that and how she'd deal with it. Unfortunately for three, however, She was pretty aggressive for action so he brought back what he said.

"Aren't you emotionally unstable?" The crew went on with the hums of "oohs" as Four quieted them down pushing three out of the way. "Hey- slow down- we don't want to settle up fights here, right "Three"?"

SMG4 tilts his head, side-eyeing at Three. He just wished that the man wouldn't do anything stupid. "Right." Angered by the purple and black.

"Anyways- six, you have the microphone" SMG4 lets go of her to make the brunette feel welcomed and comfortable. "Hello everyone! My name is T-A-G-6, I'm just a lovely and polite girl who loves to play video games and helps out with editing videos! I do find memes funny too besides with this cutie"

Six looked at Four with a smirk and winked at him, four giggled like a blushing boy from high school. This made Three's brows change out with a more angered expression giving her the looks.

"My name stands for 'Totally-Average-Girl' then there's six! You can call me Tag or Six if you prefer it that-" SMG3 decides to break in again, approaching her confidently smiling.

For three who wanted to show her who's boss at being close with SMG4.

"how about bombers? You sound like a horse and you play like a hooker tiny wrink-"

TAG6 took a step back summoning a big solid grey hammer, whaming Three's chin then up to the roof where he gets thrown out to the space leaving him screaming.

"So- any questions?" Her left eye twitched from Three's sudden call from her. (Why he... better get a taste of his own medicine! ) Six pouted her mouth just putting a thought about Three's immediate reaction.

"Ooh! Ooh! How did you two meet?" Tari asked intrigued with TAG6's special skill and appearance. "Funny to answer that but- we met online" SMG4 walked in looking back at Tag's lavender eyes.

Four and Tag explained to the crew how they met while on a public server from multimedia works. Four noticed Tag has the same interest as him, and a few more days of him taking her on dates.

The two finally made it official. "Wait wait! Did you both kiss?" Saiko looked at the two with an amused look when Four and Tag struck eye contact and then back to her. "Umm- no we- haven't yet... we're taking this whole thing- slow..."

TAG6 made a sheepish grin and with Four scratching his back, "We uh- we're not there yet..." SMG4 looked down sadly but forced a smile just for TAG6 to not worry her.

"But- that's okay! We can- do that if... we're both ready..." simply patting Four's back gaining comfort from her.

The crew showered her with questions and conversations, as Meggy left in hopes of finding where SMG3 had gone right after TAG6 blew him off the roof.

"SMG3? Are you here?" She said following three foot tracks from the mud. "SMG3!" Meggy shouted his name to be left with faint sobs near the bush.

Meggy quietly sneaks in, to see SMG3 crying silently hugging both of his knees. "What am I gonna do now? Four has a girlfriend and he didn't even tell me... I don't even know WHY this bothers me so much-"

Meggy felt bad at Three, he didn't deserve any of this. She began to back away but snapped a twig from under, getting Three's attention as he looked at the sound.

"Squid. What are you doing here...? Came to make fun of me?" SMG3 wiped out his tears after seeing Meggy, getting up properly from the ground.

"I didn't mean to barge in like that, I saw you crying and... well- sorry..." Meggy held her left elbow in a single shell of comfort.

Three sighed, but seeing him not pushing or telling the orange squid to go away. She continued. "He means so much to you if that's what I would've guessed"

Meggy stood next to him, looking down at the ground. "Ever since before and after three, I know. I saw how you acted... you know, you can't keep your feelings in there for too long"

“I can’t say that I’d let it all out only idiots do that.”

Meggy turns around. “It’s your choice, only you decide what you pick. Please remember SMG3… it’s not healthy to cover up wounds without someone doing so.”

“But at all costs, you’ll be okay three” Meggy placed her hand to his shoulder. “I can’t promise that sh-t.” SMG3 shrugs off Meggy’s hand leaving her out of the way.

—-

In the castle, SMG4 enjoys getting compliments on how he just got a girlfriend along with them congratulating him. For Mario however, he doesn’t see anything changing from the man.

“Boy, you sure know how to charm a woman SMG4” Mario gave out a laugh to which SMG4 gave along. “Guess I bring out my luck to 'em” he finger guns at TAG6 with a wink.

TAG6 played along to her role, acting in love, acting happy, acting fine, acting okay. Everything was fake behind the mask, she felt anger, disgust, hatred, and pity with his crew and SMG4 to himself.

(How cheesy could this guy get along with his members? It’s so boring…) The goop who controls its own human body, rolled its eyes for who knows how many?

But no matter… I still have the Meme Guardian in our grasp, there is no way of escape for the man and the plan itself…

TAG6 made a sly face behind his shoulder. This plan is just getting started…

“Hey! U-uh- Meggy Spletzer… was it?” She caught the orange squid’s attention by surprise. “Yep, that's my name! You know me from somewhere?” Tag gets too excited and squirms, hugging Meggy tightly in results crushing her ribs.

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD- OH MY GOD!!! I’M SUCH A BIG FAN! I SAW YOU ON TV, YOU WON ON SPLATOON FEST!” Tag shook her from side to side, nuzzling under her neck. “Sorry- heh…Again- I’m such a big fan!” Disgusting.

Meggy swoons her head from left to right, trying to recover her strength after Tag lets her go. “How long have you been a fan? Now that's a shock, but- well- it’s an honor to be known as your splat star!”

(Everything is going smoothly as it is… remember the plan… get close to his friends and never let them know about his disappearance.)

With a quick glance on the brunette’s, it is now Mario’s turn again to speak with his closest friend. “Don't you feel a bit happier now that you got a girlfriend SMG4?” Mario asked, in such a simple question.

This made SMG4 rethink about his whole life, yeah he is happy that he got a girlfriend. But why does he feel like something else is missing? Why did it feel so wrong? Where does he even get this? It couldn’t possibly be SMG3.

The SMG3 he knew wouldn’t be having these kinds of feelings to him… right…? He's never been the intimate guy that he knew who would be pulling these stuffs... or would he...? Nah- three doesn't have these stuff its just SMG4 being an overthinker...

But really tho... he doesnt have these feelings to him right...?

…

Right…?

“Pshh- You’re talking nonsense Mario- TAG6 is a perfect girl and a perfect person to me! Why would I be less happy about this?” SMG4 re-arranged his hat and pulled his collar.

It felt that something inside of him cracked, from this hurting and deep tingling he’s touched. He couldn’t get a hint.

Mario points up his hand, speaking of his joy rate. The more the red italian spent the time with SMG4, the more he knew every move and every breath of his best friend.

There is a high difference on how he acts around them, yet this one is giving him a vibe that- he couldn’t understand.

Something is telling him that this person does NOT have a soul… nor this person is even living...

——

Next Chapter - One is off, theres two but one

[PENDING...]

#lizaluv #smg34 #smg4 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #tgifl #my fic

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sungbeam · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬

lee sangyeon x reader

2.3k words, suggestive, fluff, reader wears a bikini top, discussion of hookups, kissing, drinking, mentions of food, sangyeon shirtless/with a tank top on lmfao, i pay too much attention to his arms, one swear word, sss (soft sexc sangyeon)

a/n: LISTEN 🧍🏻‍♀️ i'm trying to tackle my crisis and writer's block at once okay :') I LITERALLY LOOKED UP THE ANATOMY OF A PICKUP TRUCK FOR THIS. also i kinda forgot how to write sexy sorry if it's awkward i tried; for @winterchimez skfneknfkdnf

"Can I get you anything, sweetheart?"

The question—no, it was the voice—that had your head jerking up so fast you were surprised you hadn't gotten whiplash. You were met by an eye full: lean and confident stature with bulked biceps of muscle, framed by a gray tank top that left little to the imagination. You didn't know a piece of cloth could cover so little until now, and you swallowed. God, it was always the color gray—

Lee Sangyeon's dark eyes glittered as he smiled at you, one hand tucked into the pocket of his board shorts and the other holding a spatula in his hand. "Hi Yn. Long time no see."

You hadn't even realized who had been stationed at the grill until now. "Hey," you said, still slightly stunned, "yeah, long time no see."

It hadn't really been that long. In retrospect, two months wasn't all that long, but with the things that happened two months ago… yeah, two months felt like two years. You had to snap your eyes away from the blatant amount of arm that was in your vision. And you also pretended you didn't see that he saw just how much you were struggling.

"Well? Can I get you anything?" He asked once more, flipping the spatula in his hand and catching the handle as easy as one plus one. (Oh no, why was that so attractive—) The action drew your eyes to the veins in his hands—no. Everything was coming back to you from that one night. You really needed a drink.

Shaking yourself back into reality, you tried for a smile, holding the paper plate stacked with fruit and junk food in front of you. "Oh, uh, that's okay. I ate lunch before I got here, so I'm not super hungry."

"Ah," he answered good naturedly with a nod of his head. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. "If you find that you need anything though, come let me know, okay?"

You bobbed your head in understanding. "Got it! This is your cabin, isn't it?" You asked him, inclining your head back towards the cozy little cabin seated in the foreground of the patio space. You had been invited to a lake bonfire to celebrate the end of summer, and so here you were, in your bikini top and shorts, attempting to soak up the remaining bits of sun. The invitation had been extended to you via your good friend Haknyeon, who you had accompanied here, but had lost as soon as you realized that he was going to join the cannonball contest at the dock.

Haknyeon had mentioned something about Sangyeon owning the cabin, but you hadn't confirmed that it was your Sangyeon. (Maybe not "your" Sangyeon, but just the one that you had in mind.)

The golden hour light painted the entire outdoor space in a wash of amber, and it made Sangyeon's features sharper as the light silhouetted his outline when hitting his back. He broke into a boyish smile, the kind that made his eyes turn into happy little crescents. "Oh, uh, yeah! It's a family member's, but I think I use it more often than they do. I guess I just like the space a lot."

"I imagine it's nice just to have the place to hang out," you commented.

He nodded. "Yeah. Both with friends and family, and alone."

"Ah, so you come here alone often?" Peace and quiet out here must have been a whole other level.

"Mhm," he hummed. "Though, sometimes it's nice to have someone to be around, too. Have you been inside yet?"

You blinked. "Oh, inside?" You stammered. "No, not at all. Haknyeon and I came out here as soon as we got here."

"Then I'll have to give you a tour sometime." You could have sworn you'd seen a sheen in his eyes. Or maybe that was the sunlight. "Or, y'know," he lifted his shoulder in a shrug, lips curling into a smile as he winked, "whenever you're bored of the lake."

"I'm literally going to hit you—!"

You managed to scramble out of the way as you narrowly missed Kevin Moon's flying hand of doom, bound to swat your shoulder for whatever atrocity you'd committed this time. "What did I do?" You squawked, holding your pouch of spiked Capri Sun (don't ask) close to you.

Kevin groaned as his head tipped back toward the darkening sky. The two of you were seated in the back of Sangyeon's family's pickup truck, parked along the bank of the lake. The space was lined in nice blankets and pillows, and was illuminated by small light bulbs strung on wire, similar to the situation on the patio. Kevin's cropped black hair was damp from his adventure in the lake, a blue and white beach towel hanging around his bare shoulders. He nursed a bottle of beer in his hands.

"You're an idiot."

"Well, you have to at least tell me why that is—"

"It's because you're missing the obvious!" Came Choi Chanhee's voice as he clambered into the back of the vehicle with the two of you.

Oh, great. Now you had both of the brutally honest boys with attitude present. The spiked Capri Sun had been a good decision on your part.

"Do enlighten me," you drawled with a flourish of your hands.

Kevin passed Chanhee his beer bottle and fixed you with a look. "Yn, Sangyeon literally hinted that he wants to get with you," he smiled out of the complete ridiculousness of the situation. "Which is crazy exciting because neither you nor Sangyeon ever hook up with anyone—"

Well, you couldn't just let him slander your name. "Wait, I do hook up with people! I literally did it with Sangyeon like two months ago." As soon as you realized your mistake, you slapped your palm over your mouth.

Kevin and Chanhee exchanged wild eyes with one another, and you could see the gears whirling spinning twirling—

"YOU AND SANGYEON HOOKED UP?"

"Heyheyhey!" You interrupted frantically, hands waving in front of you to get them to stop while you ensured that no one else over by the patio or the dock heard the two. "Now who are the idiots?" You hissed. "I don't think Mars heard you two!"

"Did Mars hear you two?" Kevin asked pointedly; Chanhee covered his mouth delicately as he snorted.

You had to admit… that he got you with that one. Even though you were flustered to no end and laughing at your own misery, you still shook your head. "Can I trust you two to keep this on the down low?"

"Can you trust them to keep what on the down low?"

Your soul nearly rocketed out of your physical body as Sangyeon himself appeared at the back of the truck with the most amused and stupidly devilish smile on his face. Now that the sun was no longer hanging in the sky, most of the people had retreated out of the water to dry off and spend time on land with everyone else. That included Sangyeon with his dark hair dampened and swept back, his shirt—

Where was his shirt.

"Oh, you two—" Sangyeon gestured to Kevin and Chanhee, who both looked far too entertained for your liking, "—Cobie's calling you back. Something about owing him a game of beer pong."

"Oh shit," Kevin swore. "I totally forgot." He and Chanhee shuffled out of the back of the car, but you didn't fail to catch the way they wagged their eyebrows at you on their way out.

"See you guys later," Chanhee giggled with a wiggle of his fingers.

"Or not," Kevin coughed.

You were about to throw a pillow at them, but your attention focused directly on the man standing at the end of the truck bed. The music from here was muffled out, and someone had changed the rager song playlist to something more mellow. You scooted your way down the bed until your legs hung off the edge and Sangyeon could move between them.

"Hi," he said to you again, much lower and softer than the last time, hands braced against the tailgate.

You could feel his body warmth radiating from his bare chest, which was a comforting sensation against the cooler evening temperature that made your skin pebble. You leaned to that warmth just a little. "Hey," you said back.

Despite having definitely dipped into the lake, you could pick up the lingering bits of cologne on his skin, or maybe that was just the pretty way his hair smelled. You could remember the similar sensations of two months ago: damp, sweaty hair; the smell and feel of his bed sheets; the weight of his body; his hot breath at your ear, across your skin, everywhere.

You were melting like butter and he hadn't even touched you yet.

"So," he drawled, tongue peering through his cheeky smile, "what's this I hear about us hooking up?"

You let out an exhale, head hanging in acceptance. "In my defense, Kevin and Chanhee are both very easy to talk to."

He chuckled, and your skin was even more sensitive to the sound than it was to the breeze. "I guess I can't exactly argue with that. But you know why we needed to keep it a secret, right?"

"Mhm, I do," you answered with an amused nod of your head. Your mutual friends always meant well, but you and Sangyeon figured that if you two had told anyone about what happened two months ago, there would be questions that neither of you would be able to answer just yet. Plus, you'd both figured you needed time to really think about those answers first.

He let out a little sigh and he rested both of his warm palms on either of your thighs, gently rubbing the flesh there in a soothing manner. "I know keeping this between us feels wrong, and it's difficult… I don't mind you telling them as long as you're comfortable with it."

"You're comfortable with them knowing?"

"Just as long as you are," he affirmed. "But if you're not, I'll pull the Oldest card and tell them to shut up."

You both shared a small smile at that, and you had the sudden realization about how long you had been away from him.

He seemed to feel your subtle shift, and he grabbed the underside of your legs to pull you closer to him. "M'sorry this took so long for me to say, but you look good enough to eat."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "Well, I guess we're even then."

"Hm?" He asked, hand coming down to feel your foot hook around the back of his waist and press him closer.

"I forgot to tell you that I'm bored of the lake," you said as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and played with his hair. "And I want a tour of the house."

Sangyeon chuckled, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Just a tour of the house?"

"And whatever else you'd like to show me."

He leaned in, lips hovering over yours so you could feel the warmth of his breath intermingling with yours. His hands smoothed down the sides of your hips, pressing against the small of your back. "Anything you'd like to show me?"

"Nothing you haven't seen before," you teased, before leaning in to press your lips against his and relish in the familiar feeling of his plush mouth. Your legs locked around his waist until you practically weren't even seated on the tailgate anymore, and his hands held you securely to his body.

You breathed him in until you were suffocating on him and everything else had faded to glorified white noise.

And when the two of you broke for air, he continued to deliver kisses to your mouth, unable to be away for too long. Your hands moved from around his neck to feeling the muscles rippling in his shoulders. Your hand couldn't even wrap around his upper arm, and you had a feeling two hands wouldn't find much luck either.

"Love what—you've done with the place," you laughed, catching his last kiss.

There was a smugness to his expression. "Wanna sign a lease?"

You broke into giggles. "You're so…" you shook your head with a grin, "I don't even know. I missed you."

He beamed with that boyish smile that made your chest feel fuzzy. His hand came up to cup your cheek, brush his thumb over your cheekbone. "I missed you, too, baby."

A cooler, sharper breeze flew past you, and you instinctively leaned further into Sangyeon's hold. You pushed out a breath. "Ooh, I should find where I put my shirt."

"I thought that was the opposite of what we were doing."

"Aye," you chided half-heartedly, swatting at his shoulder. "Are you not cold?" He was wearing much less than you were, but it wasn't like either of you was wearing much at all.

He wrinkled his nose as he feigned a thoughtful look. "Well, I had an activity in mind that could warm us up."

You hummed. "Ah, a tour of the house?"

"A tour of the house," he affirmed, lips pressed together to express his excitement. He stepped back then, but offered you one of his hands. "Shall we?"

You gladly grabbed onto his hand and let him help you down from the truck bed. "Always the gentleman aren't you, Yeon?"

"Of course," he said easily. "Unless you don't want me to be." The pointed look your way was enough to make you want to run up to the cabin for shelter.

As he wrapped an arm around your shoulders to help keep you warm on your trek up to the cabin, you replied offhandedly, "You can disrespect me any day of the week."

He seemed to miss his footing on that last step. "You sure about that, baby?"

"Positive."

Sangyeon's arm moved from around your shoulders and down to your waist. He squeezed your side, and if you could have curled your toes, you would have. "The tour might just become a free trial," he leaned over to murmur to you.

Oh, you could hardly wait to get started.

a/n: i know that's not how house touring works 🥴🥴

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roosterforme · 9 months

Text

Batting Practice Part 33 The Epilogue | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Some things never seem to change for Bradley. But maybe he worked at keeping them the same. Baseball, Everett and you.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Seventeen and a half years later...

"Happy birthday, Coach," you whispered, slowly coaxing Bradley awake. He could feel your warm breath on his cheek and the weight of your hand resting on his chest.

"Mmm, Kitten," he rasped, placing his bigger hand on top of yours as he cracked his eyes open. And there you were, fresh from sleep yourself, and so beautiful with the early morning sunlight catching on the angles of your face. "It's Sunday. Why won't you let me sleep in?"

"Because it's your birthday. And we get to see Ev."

Bradley stretched and rolled over so you were pinned deliciously underneath him. "We won't get to see Ev until later this afternoon. He's going to have a very busy day."

"I'm not so sure about that," you said with a smirk as you dragged your fingers through his hair. Bradley knew he was going gray, but you claimed you liked it, including the few stray strands that found their way into his mustache.

"You sound like you've got something up your sleeve. Wait, Molly's not coming over to break the stove again, is she?"

You started laughing as you wrapped your legs around his. "Not that I know of. But anything's possible with her."

"Poor Bob," he said, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "And the kids, too. She's an absolute menace."

Bradley pulled up your shirt and kissed his way along your breasts. If he was lucky, he'd get round one of birthday sex now and round two tonight after the game.

"Wait," he whined as you tugged your shirt back down. "What are you doing? It's my birthday."

"Yes," you agreed, kissing him once and then slipping right out of bed. "And I've been told I need to keep you on a very strict schedule. So come on. Get up."

"A strict schedule?" he mumbled. "Baby, I'm retired. My schedule revolves around making you breakfast, packing your lunch, coaching tee ball, and watching every single Phillies game."

"Well, I'll be making your breakfast today. And you can eat nachos or a hot dog for lunch even though you should be watching your sodium intake. And we will definitely catch the Phillies game," you said, reaching out to take his hand.

With one more groan, he let you lead him downstairs where you told him to sit at the kitchen counter. He passed his display case on the way and paused to look at his first Coach of the Year trophy and the baseball covered in little faded hearts that he used to propose to you. He smiled at the collection of other baseballs, including the one from the first time his son pitched a no hitter.

"Seriously, Bradley. We have a schedule to keep."

A few minutes later he had his World's Greatest Dad mug full of coffee in front of him. You kept checking the time as you pulled eggs and vegetables out of the refrigerator. Once 8:00 hit, you grabbed his phone from where it sat on the counter and entered his passcode as he sipped his coffee.

"Read this," you said, voice full of excitement.

"What is it?" he asked as you thrust the phone into his hands. It looked like he was going to have absolutely no say over what went on today, so he was just going to go with the flow.

"An article. In the Philadelphia Inquirer. It just got released two minutes ago."

"Okay," he muttered, setting down his coffee and as he started to read.

WILL SEASON FOUR BE AS LUCKY AS ONE, TWO, AND THREE?

by Harrison Boyd

June 27, 2039

From his draft day nearly four years ago to now, Everett Bradshaw has been turning heads. We had collectively wondered as baseball fans from the City of Brotherly Love if we would ever have a truly elite pitcher again after Ronson's career ending injury. But as soon as the franchise acquired Bradshaw, we were allowed to stop wondering. We have reached elite status once again. And Bradshaw shows no signs of stopping.

When I asked the freshly twenty five year old ace about the secret to his success, the first thing out of his mouth was, "My dad."

Bradley rubbed his eyes with his fingers and took a deep breath against the swell of emotions rising in his chest. "Kitten, what is this?"

You just shrugged as you cut up a green pepper for an omelette. "A feature article on Ev. Keep reading."

Bradley took a deep breath and picked up where he left off.

So I asked him, "Was your dad the one at your games who was cheering the loudest? The one who kept you motivated since you were a kid?"

"Not exactly," Bradshaw replied with a smile. "He was my very first coach. He actually still coaches tee ball in San Diego. He wins Coach of the Year so frequently, I think we've all lost count of how many of those little trophies he has at home. But anyway, I met my dad on the very first day I ever played ball. The very first time I swung a bat with instruction was from him. And he's the one who taught me how to pitch. His slider is still really hard to hit."

"You met your dad through tee ball? Through baseball? That's fascinating."

"Yes. I begged my mom to let me play. I was already obsessed with the Phillies by the time I was six. My mom took me to see them clobber the Padres at Petco Park, and I just thought they were the coolest team. So when she let me play tee ball, and I met my coach and learned he also loved the Phillies, I just wanted to spend as much time with him as I could. Turns out, they also wanted to spend time with each other. They got married a few months later. And then my dad adopted me."

While his birth name wasn't Bradshaw, Everett said he never had a close relationship with his biological father. "Really, he's not even worth mentioning. The only one I've ever considered to be my dad is Bradley. I can barely remember a time before he was taking me to the park to hit balls and teaching me how to keep stats. We did my homework together and collected baseball cards. He helped me apply to colleges. The video of him losing his mind when the Phillies drafted me went viral. My mom and my aunt and uncle are awesome, too. But my dad has always understood me in a way probably nobody else ever will."

During his four years at Vanderbilt, Everett earned a reputation as a fun loving, team oriented pitcher. But his stats were enough to catch the eye of every major league team. He pitched a no hitter against Stanford when he was nineteen, and he hit his first grand slam when he was twenty. And he's only cleaned up his form since then. For anyone not keeping track at home, Bradshaw already owns an incredible record in the MLB: he is the only player to pitch a no hitter as well as hit at least one grand slam for every year they played in the pros. His batting averages are practically unheard of for a pitcher.

It's no wonder he was heavily scouted. And he assures us that his dad was there with him every step of the way. "I didn't know anything about contracts. I just wanted to pitch. But I spent a lot of time talking things through with my dad before I made any decisions. And now everyone is making a huge fuss about my new 440 million dollar ten year extension with the Phils, but to be honest, I still just want to pitch as many games as I can."

The 'huge fuss' is being made, because Bradshaw is now the highest paid pitcher in league history. The Phillies went all in on him, however Bradshaw did adjust his deal to assure that the team would be able to keep top catcher Sanchez as well. "If Miguel Sanchez isn't catching for me and the other guys in the rotation, then that's a big problem. The team needed to retain him as well. And to be honest, Harrison, nobody needs 440 million dollars."

Bradley set his phone down, rubbed his eyes, and said, "I still can't believe our son is the highest paid pitcher ever."

"I can," you replied, adding cheese to the omelette. "He's incredible. Keep reading."

When I asked him what he plans to do with 44 million dollars per year, he kind of shied away from the answer at first. "Well my girlfriend runs a nonprofit organization back in San Diego. She helps fund underprivileged children and schools. So a lot of my income goes back to kids in the city where I grew up and beyond. But I've also been working on a bit of a project myself."

When I asked him for more details, he folded his hands on the table in front of him and took a few beats to answer. "We talked a lot about my dad and what he means to me personally, and how he has impacted my career. But I also think it's important to remember that I'm just one guy. I'm just one kid who went through tee ball and little league. There are thousands of kids across the country who benefit from those types of athletic programs every year. And some of them, just like me, really need the positive influence that the coaches bring. So my dad doesn't even know about this yet, but I'm starting the Bradley Bradshaw Foundation, which will help fund a handful of youth tee ball programs every year. This is something I've been thinking about for a long time. The coaches bring the love and dedication; they shouldn't have to worry about equipment costs and field rental fees."

Bradley dropped his phone onto the counter and tried to wipe his eyes as he sobbed. "I can't even finish reading it."

You slid his birthday breakfast onto a plate and set it in front of him. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him cry against your shoulder.

"Why is he doing this?" Bradley asked you. "He knows how fucking emotional I get, Kitten."

You kissed the top of his head and whispered, "Yes, you're always very soft for us. But you're also soft and sweet for all the kids you've coached. Keep reading."

So he pushed his breakfast aside and picked up his phone once again. And once he blinked away most of his tears he read the last part.

When pressed about how he thinks his stats will pan out by the end of his fourth season, Everett 'Grand Slam' Bradshaw laughed and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just trying for consistency. I'm trying to be a good teammate. I'm trying to make the best of every game I get to start. I'm trying to spend as much time with my family as I can. But if you really have a specific question about my stats, you should call my dad. He probably knows better than I do."

Bradley stood up from the kitchen counter and walked away from you. "I need a minute," he said, raking his hands through his hair. The love Bradley felt for his son was just simply part of him. He never took the time to try to pinpoint it exactly, because it was just built into him at this point. But he supposed it really was quite simple to reach back in his mind and pull out the moments when he started to fall in love with you and Everett. And it really was just because of the Tiny Eagles tee ball team.

If he hadn't agreed to help Bob coach that first season, his life would be fundamentally incorrect right now. He didn't even like thinking about it. But it was because of his love for Everett, and you, and baseball that he stuck with coaching. He'd spent time with countless six and seven year olds over the last eighteen years. He'd missed some practices and games for deployments here and there, sure. But giving a little bit of his time and attention to a roster of kids each spring ended up changing his life. Because while his family owned his heart, Bradley found he had quite a lot of patience and love to share with more kids.

"Bradley?" you asked softly, standing next to his untouched breakfast. "We can go see Ev when you're ready."

"I'm ready."

Bradley took a quick shower and put on his favorite jeans and his Phillies jersey with Bradshaw and the number 1 on the back. You were dressed similarly in your own Everett Bradshaw jersey; it had taken until your son was playing for the team for you to have what Bradley considered an adequate amount of Phillies clothing in your drawers. Once Bradley added his backwards hat, he was ready to go.

You took his hand and led him out to the new Bronco, and Bradley handed you the keys. He still felt like he was on the verge of tears again. "I need you to drive."

"Okay, Coach."

When you turned onto the Private Parking Only ramp at Petco Park, Bradley chuckled. "I still can't believe Ev is playing the Padres in San Diego on my birthday."

"You screamed like a small child when the schedule came out," you reminded him as you parked near the players entrance where the three of you had entered on your ballpark tour eighteen years ago.

"Yeah, I know, but we hardly ever get to see Ev during the season unless we fly to Philly." He was already climbing out before you turned the engine off, and then he took your hand as you laughed. "Shit, Kitten... it's 10:00. The game doesn't start until 1:00. Are the gates even open?"

"We can get in," you assured him, and you pulled a lanyard out of your pocket with VIP printed all over it.

"How did we get that?" he asked, leaning down to kiss you as you approached the gate together. "Ev usually just sends us box tickets."

But before you had a chance to answer, the security guard looked at the VIP pass and asked, "Which player are you here to see?"

"Everett Bradshaw?" you replied. "He plays for the Phillies."

The guard's face lit up and he said, "He just autographed a ball for my kids about ten minutes ago! Nicest guy."

"He's our son," Bradley said with pride in his voice, and you squeezed his hand a little tighter.

"Come on in," the guard said with a bright smile, unlocking the gate and sliding it open. "You can wait in the VIP lounge right up this ramp to the right. Scan the pass to unlock the door. I'll call down to the locker rooms and let him know you're here."

"Thanks," Bradley replied, and you led the way up the ramp. "Baby, I'm still a little confused about why we're here so early."

"You'll see in a minute," you replied, scanning the badge. Bradley pulled the door open when it unlocked, and he followed you into the lounge full of plush seats, TV screens, and refreshments. And at the far end, perched on the edge of one of the long tables, was Everett. He was smiling as he tucked his phone in his jeans pocket, and Bradley thought he looked impossibly taller and stronger than he had two months ago when they visited him in Philadelphia.

Bradley's eyes filled with tears as he started closing the distance to his son. "Happy birthday, Dad," Everett said with a laugh in his deep voice, but Bradley was already wrapping him up in a tight hug. He just wanted to hold all six foot two inches and two hundred and twenty pounds of his son, and Everett let him.

Bradley had to fight the onslaught of tears as the familiar feel of Ev hugging him back filled his senses, and the words from the article he read earlier flooded his mind. When he finally released him, he patted him on the shoulder. "You look good, Kiddo. Did you eat enough for breakfast? Are you still starting today?"

Ev smiled at him and nodded, "Yeah, I'm feeling good, Dad. I could probably use some of your pancakes though."

"Well why didn't you say something? I could have brought some with us. Kitten, why didn't you say something?" he asked you as you walked over to join them.

As Everett gave you an enormous hug as well, he said, "I'm thinking about sleeping over at the house with you guys tonight, since I'm not starting tomorrow. You can make me about a dozen pancakes tomorrow morning. Hi, mom."

You kissed his cheek and adjusted his backward Phillies cap. "I like your hair this way. You look so handsome, Ev.

"Of course he does," Bradley agreed. "He looks like you." And then he was rewarded with the twin smiles that you and Everett bestowed on him at the same time. "Listen, if you're coming back to the house later, I need to stop and get groceries. You ate everything in the refrigerator and drank all my beer last time."

Everett just smiled at him. "Damn, I really do miss your pancakes."

"Ev, that's an adult word," you scolded.

"Mom. I am an adult," he scolded back playfully. But he was grinning when he turned toward Bradley. "Did mom make you read the article this morning? From the Inquirer?"

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding his head. "You didn't need to do that for me, Kiddo. But thank you."

His throat was tight with unshed tears as Everett gave him another hug. "I didn't do it just for you. I did it for the other coaches and kids, too. You were just my main inspiration. You always are, dad."

"Please, Ev," he said, sucking in a deep breath as he rubbed his son's back before releasing him. "I might never stop crying."

And he was once again met with Everett's smile and yours. "You're a softie, Coach," you told him, cupping his chin in your hand and kissing him.

"Always for the two of you." Bradley kissed your fingers and then laced them with his as he looked around the room. "How much longer can you hang out with us, Ev? You need to warm up soon?"

"Pretty soon," he replied. "I'll walk you up to the box to meet Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob and the cousins, but we need to stop and take care of something first."

"Take care of what?" Bradley asked, but Ev was already heading for the door past the tables and unlocking it with his own badge. Hand in hand, the two of you followed your son down a long hallway that ended near the locker rooms at a door that said PRESS AND PLAYERS ONLY. "Are we even allowed back here?"

"Well," Everett said, stopping in front of the door, "if you remember the tour we took when I was six years old, this is where we met some of the players."

"Of course I remember," Bradley said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "That was one of the best days of my life. I told your mom I loved her that day."

"He did," you confirmed for Everett.

"You two have always been sickening," Everett replied with a smile. "But yes, we're allowed in here. Actually dad, you're the man of the hour."

"Man of the hour?" he asked. "Kiddo, you're the star pitcher. It's just my fifty-fifth birthday."

But as soon as Everett pushed the door open and Bradley stepped inside, about twenty reporters and photographers started buzzing with excitement.

"Ev, I'm still confused," Bradley said as his son rested a hand on his shoulder. He watched you smile and head to an empty seat at the back of the room. "What's going on?"

Ev rubbed his shoulder before giving him another hug and releasing him. "Every interviewer asks me how I became successful. And my answer is always the same. It's because of you, Dad."

"Ev," Bradley choked out, his throat tight with tears once again.

"So you're in high demand, Coach. I told a few media outlets we would give an interview together. Nothing too crazy. As long as you want to."

Bradley glanced around the room, and as soon as he found you with a bright smile on your face, he said, "Okay."

So he sat down where the players sit, and Everett took the seat next to him. They had on matching jerseys and backward caps, and it didn't matter that he adopted Everett, this had always been his son. They were cut from the same cloth. They understood each other. They were a family.

Everett cleared his throat and announced, "Hey, everyone. This is my dad and my very first coach, retired naval Captain Bradley Bradshaw. He taught me literally everything I know about baseball. Everything I know about anything, really. He showed me how to pitch sliders and curveballs at Myers Park here in San Diego. He made sure I could lose a game with the same attitude as when I won a game. He and I met the first day I ever played tee ball and the very first day he ever coached. And he's been coaching the Tiny Eagles ever since. So I guess if you want to know more about me, then he's the man to talk to."

Bradley was still wiping tears from his eyes when the first interviewer raised her hand, smiled at him, and asked, "Can you tell us how proud you are of Everett?"

He turned to look at his son and smiled. "How much time do I have?"

------------------------------

Well, that's it! The tale of Coach Bradley! I can't thank you enough to everyone who has been lovely to me as I worked on and posted this fic. I can't get enough of these three. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32 (and thanks for the banner, Mak!)

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Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

Still want more? Read Draft Day!

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960 notes · View notes

boxofbonesfic · 2 years

Note

Guide + don't be nervous I'll guide you through it with Sierra six? 👀👀👀

Title: It don’t wash clean

Pairing: Sierra Six x Reader

Summary: Some things don’t fade so easily—including the way Six feels about you.

Warnings: Smut, Angst, A little Fluff, Mentions of Canon-typical violence, Light Choking, Light Overstimulation

A/N: 👀 i’ve not written for Sierra Six before, but there’s a first time for everything! divider by @firefly-graphics

The rain beats down steadily against the roof, the sky rumbling angrily above it. Water rushes through the gutters, pouring out of the spout near the porch like a geyser, splattering against your now much over-watered roses. The warm mug in your hands steams in the cool, moist air as you watch the world turn to runny watercolor through the sheets of water pouring from the sky.

You love when it rains like this.

It leaves the mountain roads in a thick, impassable slurry of mud and gravel, but you don’t mind it. You lift the mug to your lips but stop halfway, squinting out into the rain.

Are those headlights?

Bobbing in and out of sight through the rain and the trees lining the little road leading up to your porch, you can clearly see two bright lights. You listen hard, and sure enough, underneath the sound of thunder and rushing water, you can hear the engine of a car trundling up the mountain, wheels spinning in the muck. Your heart seizes in your chest, your fingers loosening from the handle of the mug. Hot tea spills over your hands, but you barely feel it in the wake of the sharpness of your fear.

He’d told you no one would no you were here when he’d brought you, that it was secure, safe. You suppose that two years was good, a long stretch of relative safety, considering. The sound of gravel crunching beneath heavy tires grows closer, louder, and you swallow against the terror blocking your throat. You drop the mug, and it rolls to a stop against the bannister, forgotten as you yank open the door.

There’s a sawed off in the front hall closet, and your fingers leave prints in the dust covering the stock. It feels heavy and unwieldy in your uncertain grip, but you try and hold it how he taught you, pointing the heavy muzzle up and out as you take a shaky step back out onto the porch.

The lights are closer now, just around the bend. You can hear the truck struggling through the muck, the gears grinding thunderously as it rounds the corner, and your porch is flooded with bright light. All you can see through the downpour is the outline of the black pick-up, it’s shape looming ominously over your little cabin. The doors swing open, and a figure swings out of the driver’s side, landing with a thud.

“S-stop!” Your voice is barely audible over the rain. The figure pauses, holding its hands out placatingly as it steps closer. “Stop or-or I’ll shoot you!” You pull back the hammer to illustrate your point. “I-I mean it, I’ll—”

He steps through the waterfall of rainwater pouring from your roof to stand, dripping wet on the creaky wood of your porch. The gun goes limp in your hands as tears of relief gather in your wide eyes.

“You’re holding that all wrong,” Six says softly, tapping the double barrels with a finger. “Not gonna kill anybody shooting like that.” A girl peeks out from behind him, her long dark hair slicked down to her skull from the rain. “Come on out, kid.” Slowly, nervously, she does, stepping out from behind him to stare mistrustfully at you.

“Can we trust her?” She asks quietly, and Six chuckles. His gray-blue eyes flick up to yours, and he nods.

“We can.”

——

Dinner is a mish-mash of leftovers you can’t stop apologizing for as the two of them dig in hungrily, still dripping water all over your kitchen floor. Six has come in dripping worse though, and water is much easier to mop up than blood, so you don’t complain. Afterward, Claire insists on helping you clean up, mopping up the muddy water from their clothes with towels.

“So how’d you two meet?” Claire asks as you’re gathering fresh towels and washcloths for the two of them from the bathroom closet. The abject bluntness of her question makes you fumble, almost dropping everything in your arms to the floor.

“On a job,” you say after a moment. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Blood, gunfire, the sound of people screaming—

“Oh.” Claire doesn’t ask for more details, and you’re not sure if it’s because she already knows, or because it’s easy enough to infer. You both know what kind of work Six does. You hand her her towel and washcloth, and exit the bathroom. Six is leaning against the wall just down the hallway, thick arms crossed over his chest. It’s been years since you last saw him. There are new scars on his handsome face now, a notch in his eyebrow that you don’t remember, and a silvery line at his temple that looks less than a year old.

But still the same Six you remember.

“How is she?” He asks, and you rub the back of your neck.

“Tired.”

“We came a long way.” The silence that hangs between you is almost as loud as the storm outside. It feels strange to stand in the same place as him again, especially when as recently as this morning you’d been wondering if maybe he had forgotten you. The emails had stopped a year and a half in, the phone calls around the same time. He had to have forgotten you, you’d decided, because the other option was unthinkable—

Six isn’t the sort of man you can kill.

The proof of which is him standing in front of you now, in the same safe-house he’d left you in three years before.

“I, um. I put your towel on the couch. Claire’s sleeping in the other bedroom,” you reply, and he nods. You almost want him to stop you as you turn and make for the big bedroom, but he doesn’t, and you feel his eyes on you until you shut the door.

—

The steady sound of the rain is maddening. The sound is normally comforting, but tonight it keeps you awake. Maybe it’s the presence of others in the house that’s making you antsy, two other people sleeping under your roof who aren’t normally there at all. You stare at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come.

Instead, there’s a quiet knock at your door.

As you shrug into your robe, you pretend that you aren’t sure who’s on the other side, even though you can practically feel him through the wood. You hesitate, your fingers lingering above the doorknob before you turn it, tugging it open. You have only a moment to register Six standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his bare chest before he’s on you.

He surges inside like a tidal wave, his hands tugging at the silken tie to your robe as he shoves it from your shoulders. You relish the rasp of his beard against you as he drags his mouth over the curve of your cheek to find your lips.

“Door!” You gasp against his mouth, and he grunts as he kicks it shut behind him. Six’s calloused hands tug up the hem of your tank-top to skim the skin of your belly. He groans.

“So soft, you’re so soft—” His teeth pull at your plump bottom lip, and you whine. It’s not fair that he remembers you so well, not after three years. You want to be angry at him, even though he’s explained to you a thousand times why it has to be this way, why you have to be a secret—his secret.

“I fuckin’ missed you, baby,” his voice is low and gravelly in the shell of your ear. “You don’t know how bad I fuckin’ missed you.”

He cups your breast, finding your nipple with calloused fingers. You hum low in your throat with pleasure, and he chuckles. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him in easily. It’s so familiar, the feel of his hands on your body, pushing up your shirt, palming the weight of your ass through your shorts.

“I thought you forgot me,” you murmur when he pulls away. You expect Six to belay your fears by dismissing them, to call you silly—he doesn’t. The understanding in his eyes sears you to your core. It is a pain you understand—he would forget you. To keep you safe, he would forget.

Maybe that’s why it took three years for him to come back.

There are no reassurances when he tips your face up to his. Only truths.

“I love you.”

You know it’s true because Six only deals in absolutes, things he knows and doesn’t know, and it breaks your heart. Because his love means he would do anything for you, including staying away for the rest of his life.

“I wish you didn’t.” Your honesty cuts him the same way his does you. “Because then you would stay.” Six smashes his lips against yours, dipping his tongue into your mouth and tasting you like he’s starving for you.

“Too bad,” he growls into your lips, swallowing your choked moan. “You’re stuck with me.”

You love him too. He knows it, but you say it anyway, staring up at the ceiling as he drags his teeth down your throat.

“I love you too, Six.” His laughter warms your skin, his lips moving against your throat.

“I know, baby.”

You hit the mattress with a soft oof, and his body covers your own. In truth, you’d been wondering if perhaps in forgetting, he had forgotten other things too, but he didn’t. His hands still know your body as well as his own, tracing the curve of your hip as he pushes your shorts down. His lips have not forgotten yours, his mouth hungrily pressing against your own. Six’s teeth sink into the plumpness of your bottom lip, and you moan.

He lifts your hips to drag your panties down too, and your cheeks heat at the way his eyes visibly darken at the sight of your pussy. It’s embarrassing, how wet you are without him having really touched you, but Six looks pleased beyond measure as he draws a thick finger down your slit.

“You’re dripping for me, Sweetheart,” he murmurs lowly, and your cheeks burn as his eyes flick up to yours from between your thighs. You whimper as he presses a soft, messy kiss against your throbbing clit. Your thighs tremble as he pulls your tender flesh between his teeth, flicking at it with his tongue. Six wraps his arms around your thighs, pressing his face into your weeping cunt as you writhe.

“Fucking greedy cunt,” he mutters, pressing a finger against your entrance and groaning as it stretches around him. Your pussy sucks desperately at his fingers, and he chuckles against your cunt, pulling away with a pop. “I think she missed me.” You want to stubbornly insist that you didn’t, that you haven’t been waiting for him every day for three years, that you’ve spent your time with other people, let them do to you what Six is doing right now—but it would be a lie, and he would know it instantly. Your contrarian response is swallowed by the choked moan that escapes from your throat as he devours you.

Instead, you whine his name pitifully, your fingers knotting in his hair as his beard scrapes against your inner thighs. You want to be embarrassed at the way you rut against his face, your hips pressing insistently into his mouth because fuck it’s like heaven, and—

“F-fuck, Six, I—” You whine, bucking up against his iron hold as he presses you back down to the bed.

“I know, baby. Give it all to me.”

You do, your entire body jackknifing and trembling as you cum, hard. The blissful tide drags you down, and you go willingly, chanting Six’s name like a sinful prayer. Your hips buck softly against his face, little strained noises building in your throat as he continues to nurse at your clit, scissoring his fingers against your spasming walls. Six fights against you as you try to close your thighs around his head, dull the sensation—but he won’t let you.

He wrings pleasure from you like a limp rag, dragging out two, three more sobbing orgasms from your trembling body. You’re barely able to sit up on your elbows to look at him with bleary eyes as he rises from between your legs, the fruits of his labor practically dripping from his chin. You don’t know why you’re nervous, why you feel like things are different now than they were before. It’s like Six can sense you retreating inside yourself, and he leans down to brush his lips against your temple.

“Don’t be nervous, Sweetheart,” he chuckles as he slots his hips between your thighs. His sandy hair falls across his forehead, casting his eyes in shadow. “I’ll guide you through it.” The weeping head of his cock slides against you, and you shudder, fingers tangling in the sheets above your head.

“See how hard you got me?” He asks as his cock presses against your clit wetly. You nod dumbly, drawing your lip between your teeth. Six pauses to watch as you do it, his eyes hungry. “Been fucking dreaming about you,” he admits, air hissing through his teeth as he begins to sink inside.

The burn of your cunt stretching around his throbbing cock always feels good, but tonight it’s exquisite, perhaps because it’s been so long. You know he feels it too, a low moan building in his throat as he throws his head back. Your hands are on his shoulder and chest, drawing jagged red lines on his skin.

“God, Six,” you whine. It’s like Six is glorying in splitting you open, inch by inch. “F-feels—” The words die in a garbled moan as he seats himself all the way inside you. You’re so full, the sensation of it sending pleasurable tingles up your spine. His thrusts are slow and heavy, and you can feel every vein as he drags his cock out and pushes back in.

“Aw, Sweetheart,” he replies, drawing out only to slam back in with a loud, slick squelch, “Look at you. All fucked out already.” He’s right, you know he is as you stare up at him with glossy eyes. He draws his thumb across your bottom lip, and your tongue darts out to lick the pad. Six traces a wet train down your chin, and rests his hand on your throat. Your oversensitive cunt grips the invading length of his cock like a vice as he squeezes.

More sticky wetness leaks out to coat him as he lays into you. Six allows you a brief gasp of air as he releases your throat, and then clamps back down. His own eyes roll as your walls milk him, tightening around him like a fist. Six’s hips stutter against your own as he speeds up, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. You’re deaf to it though, your ears buzzing with the sound of your blood in your veins as he bears down on you.

You’re cumming again before you even realize it, strangled moans building under the hand on your throat as tears leak from the corners of your eyes. Six is mesmerized by it, staring down at you with dark eyes as he talks you through it.

“Good girl, baby,” he mutters lowly. “Fuck, so good, you can give me another one, can’t you Sweetheart?” He’s not even really talking to you, not really asking as he reaches feverishly between your bodies to thumb at your clit. You sob, shaking your head as you tug at his arm.

“I-I can’t—!” You wail, even as your cunt sucks desperately at his cock.

“You can.” Air rushes into your lungs as Six pulls his hand from your throat, steadying it against your hip. “I know you can.” Despite your protests you can feel it building too, white-hot pleasure so fierce it borders on pain broiling in your belly. You sob as it crests over you, your thighs trembling and back arching up off the bed.

“Good girl, so good for me,” he grunts. Six pulses inside you, his fingers digging hard into your soft skin as his hips still. A low, animal noise leeches out from between his clenched teeth as warmth seeps into you, bathing your overtaxed walls. He pants above you, tawny hair spilling over his eyes, obscuring them in the dark. When Six does finally pull out of you, it’s with obvious reluctance. He settles his much larger body over your own, laying his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around your torso.

You run a hand through his hair as your heart slows, thought and function gradually returning to you like light filtering through a window. The sounds of both your breathing are all you can hear over the rain still beating down on the cabin steadily.

“I have to leave tomorrow.” He says the words against your sternum, and though he isn’t looking up at you, you turn your head away anyway—you don’t want him to see you cry. You’d been expecting it, really. He never stays long, a day, three at most. It’s all he can afford.

It never hurts any less, though.

“I know.”

—

You wake in the morning, and the bed is cold beside you. Tears threaten to gather in your eyes, but you press them back with the heels of your palms. You press and press and press until white spots appear behind your closed lids, dancing against the darkness. You don’t know how long you stay in bed like that, breathing in the muted scent left behind on your sheets while hot tears leak out around your palms.

I love you.

Swallowing against the lump in your throat, you sit up, pushing the sheet off. You shrug back into your robe, discarded at the foot of the bed. The bedroom door is ajar, and you push it all the way open, stepping out into the hallway. You make for the kitchen, rounding the corner into the small room. It’s like you’re on autopilot, your body moving without you directing it. Your fingers feel numb as you reach into the cabinet for the box of Earl Grey you keep there, fishing out one of the bags. You reach for the cabinet, your fingers catching the edge of your favorite mug.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

The mug shatters against the wood flooring as you gape at Six, his large form filling your unceremoniously small doorway. You blink owlishly at him, looking from the shattered pottery at your feet back up to his lopsided grin.

“Y-you left,” you say, and then immediately wish you could slap a hand over your own stupid mouth. He laughs.

“I had some calls to make.”

“To who?”

“A friend. A friend with a plane.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “Are you… taking Claire overseas, somewhere?” This is more information than you’re generally privy to, and you aren’t quite sure what to do with it. Six crosses the kitchen in a few long legged strides.

“Three seats.” His meaning dawns slowly on you, your eyes widening as your mouth falls open. You snap it shut audibly when you realize you’re gaping at him like a fish, and he chuckles.

“Where are we going?”

“Flight lands in Changmai, but—”

“No, that’s, that’s good,” you stammer, disbelief still dripping from your words. “But Six, I don’t… I don’t have a passport.” His brows crease in confusion before a deep laugh erupts from his chest.

“You don’t need it.” He maneuvers you away from the stove, and you jump as a horn blares from outside. Six rolls his eyes. “Damn kid.” You let out a weak laugh.

“I guess I better hurry up.” Six’s lips graze your cheek.

“Pack light.”

fin

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