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#also i tried whiskey sour and liked that
mattitties · 3 months
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Boyfriend - matt sturniolo
creepy guy at a bar, matt pretends to be your boyfriend and flirting ensues
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“Vodka cran for me and a whiskey sour for my friend,” I tell the bartender, looking around for said friend. My best friend and roommate was invited to this event tonight through her work, so of course I came along with her, but now she’s nowhere to be found. I pull out my phone not only to text her, but also so I can look occupied so nobody comes up to me.
wya
bathroom brb
I put my phone in my pocket as the bartender slides me the drinks and a check. I shoot him a quick smile, pay the tab, and pass it back to him. I grabbed the drinks and turned around, wanting to find a table where I can wait for her to return to me, but instead I’m met with a tall blonde guy smirking right down at me. He’s muscular, has piercing green eyes, and has to be at least 6’3. He towers over me, and I’m immediately intimated and slightly annoyed as I really had no intentions of talking to men tonight. 
“Hey,” he smiles. “I’m Ben. I saw you from over there and wanted to introduce myself.”
“Uh huh…” I nod. I’m usually a very friendly person, but this has not been my week and I wanted nothing more than to not be talking to this man. “Well, nice to meet you Ben, but I really gotta get back to my friend.” I begin to shift to the left so I can make my way around him, but he moves to block me. I stare up at him, silently begging him to move.
“What, you can’t even give me a minute? Come on, just tell me your name,” he insists.
I sigh. “I’m good, thanks for asking though!” I soon realize that playing the sarcastic card was a mistake, as he starts to lean in, his arm blocking me from moving anywhere. 
He’s about to open his mouth when I feel someone come up behind me and put his hand on my arm. I turn my head and am met with another guy who is basically the polar opposite of the man in front of me: brunette, blue eyes, fairly skinny, and probably about 5’8. Despite me saying I didn’t want to talk to men tonight, whoever this mystery man is is exactly my type. I couldn’t help but stare not only because he’s hot as fuck, but because I definitely recognize him from somewhere. 
“Hey baby, sorry the line for the bathroom was crazy,” he says. “Who’s this?”
I pause for a moment, not realizing at first what was happening. “Um… sorry, what was your name again?” I ask the blonde.
“Ben,” he says, clearly pissed off that I didn’t remember. “And who’s this?” He gestures toward the brunette.
“I’m her boyfriend,” he gives him a big smile. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her but I got it from here.”
“You didn’t mention you had a boyfriend,” Ben says pointedly. 
“Well when you’re busy trying to corner her it gets a little caught in your throat,” the brunette shoots back. “You’re done, thank you, bye bye now!”
Ben rolls his eyes and finally walks away in defeat. The brunette turns to me, his hand still on my arm. Now that I’m actually looking at him, I see that he is one of the most attractive people I think I’ve ever seen in my life.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, thank you,” I nod.
“Sorry if that was weird, you just looked really uncomfortable,” he says. “I was hoping that wasn’t actually a boyfriend because that would have made things worse…”
“No, no, I don’t. Um, I really appreciate that.”
He does a quick scan of the bar to make sure Ben wasn’t looking, then puts his hand out. “I’m Matt.”
I tell him my name and we begin to make small talk. When there’s a lull in the conversation, my curiosity gets the best of me.
“You know, I recognize you from somewhere, I feel like TikTok or something…”
“Oh yeah, my brothers and I are YouTubers.”
It all clicks in my head. “Oh right! Yeah, I think one of my friends showed me a video one time. And I definitely remember thinking, that guy in the driver’s seat is hot,” I smirk at him. 
His cheeks get bright red, but he tries to play it cool. “Ohhh really? Or are you just saying that to flatter me?”
“No, no, definitely not, but if it’s working then…”
“Oh, it’s working.”
I smile. “I’ll have to check out some more of your videos so I can see more of you.”
“You could… or we could just hang out and you could see more of me in person.”
My heart nearly falls into my ass at that. I have never been great at flirting, but the conversation is just coming so easy with this guy that I can’t help myself. “Hmmm… I think I like that idea.” 
“Good,” he smiles while pulling out his phone. “Give me your number and I’ll text you later.”
Once I give it to him and he slides his phone back into his pocket, he leans against the pillar behind him and crosses his arms. “It’s crazy how I was just telling my brother how lame this event is. Not so much anymore.”
“I was just telling my roommate the exact same thing. I’m glad I stayed.”
He pushes off the pillar and stands up straight again, closer towards me. “The attendees usually aren’t this pretty.”
Now it’s my turn to blush. “Ohhhh you think I’m prettyyyy?”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t already know.” He pauses for a second, then opens his mouth. “Let me buy you dinner tomorrow.” Before I get a chance to respond, his eyes get wide. “Uh oh, your boyfriend’s looking. How do we make it believable that I’m with you?”
I don’t know where all my confidence is coming from right now. Something about him is making me a completely different person. I sit in one of the bar stools so I reach his height more then wrap my arms around his neck. “Like this?” I ask innocently.
He’s clearly at a loss for words for a moment, then he regains his composure. “Yeah, no, uh… yeah, this works.” I start to play with his hair on the back of his neck to try to fluster him even more. “So,” he says, trying to play off the fact that he is staring straight at my cleavage, “where do you live? So I know where to pick you up tomorrow night?” 
“We’re by The Grove, not too far from here. I’ll text you the full address,” I tell him.
“Oh perfect. We live right by here too, how convenient. Then I can see my girlfriend whenever,” he teases.
I nod in agreement. “Is he still looking?” I ask, referring to Ben.
He shrugs. “Don’t care. If I bothered looking at him then I wouldn’t get to look at you, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
I tilt my head and smile. “No, we definitely wouldn’t want that.”
He leans even closer, putting both his hands on the bar behind me. “So as my girlfriend,” he says, “I would assume you have a favorite tattoo of mine, right?” He put his arm out and rolled up his sleeve. “Which one would that be?”
I try to keep my composure as I look at the tattoos covering his arm. His forearms and hands are ridiculously veiny and I’m trying to keep the disgusting – but hot – thoughts running through my head at bay. “I like this one,” I say, tracing an anchor he has near his wrist. “Orrrr… this one.” My fingers run over one on his bicep, an owl with his wing covering a skull. He’s already insanely attractive, but his tattoos are making me legitimately sick to my stomach. 
“Do you have any?” he asks.
“Yeah, I got a few.” I show him the ones on my arm. “I have one on my rib too, but you’ll have to see that one another time.” I look up at him through my eyelashes and smile sweetly.
He smirks. “Oh will I?” 
“Mhm.”
“I have one on my chest,” he says, taking my hand and placing it on the left side of his chest. 
“Am I gonna see that one too?” I ask.
“Yeah, I don’t have one there,” he says dryly. “Just wanted an excuse to have your hands on me.”
My jaw drops a little as I slide my hand up his chest slowly until it’s back on his neck. Our faces are inches apart. “Do you think it looks believable that we’re together?” he asks.
“I think so,” I shrug. “It could always look more believable, but I don’t know your thoughts on PDA, so…”
His face is moving closer. “Where are you going with that?”
“Where do you think I’m going with it?”
He responds by giving me a soft kiss on my cheek. “That’s all you get for now.”
I pout in response, then move back and place my elbows on the bar behind me. My chest is a straight shot from his face, and I can tell he’s having a hard time focusing. “So where should we get dinner?” I ask.
“Um… we can go to… um…”
“I’ve never been to um, what do they have there?” I mock.
“Shut up,” he lets out a little laugh. “Let’s go somewhere higher end so I can treat you.”
“Ohhh, you got the big YouTube bucks, huh?”
He shrugs. “Gotta stay humble. I’ll treat you on a few different dates and we can find out just how much YouTube can pay for.”
“That sounds good,” I run my hand lightly through the curls on his neck as I give him the world’s nastiest fuck me eyes. 
He steps between my legs. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Why? I can’t look at my boyfriend like this?”
“Not with this many people around, no. Alone, though… well, we’re gonna be doing a lot more when we’re alone.”
I’m melting into a puddle in my seat. There’s no way this is happening. “I’m looking forward to it,” I reply, not breaking eye contact.
“I’ve gotta get back to my brothers,” he says in a near whisper. “I’ll text you, okay?”
I nod as he kisses my cheek one last time before he winks at me and walks away. 
---------------------------------------------
pt 2 coming soon (probably)
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fatecantstopme · 4 months
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This Isn't Real
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader
Summary: When you get kidnapped by a Djinn, Dean and Sam risk everything to save you.
Warnings: canon violence, talk of death, cursing. Shit ton of angst. Some fluff. SMUT, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V).
You woke up in an unfamiliar room as the sun began to peek through the curtains. Your eyes took a moment to adjust as you glanced around the room, desperately trying to remember where you were and how you got there.
Your mind flashed to a dark warehouse and vague memories of searching for something there, but the harder you tried to remember, the farther away those memories became.
You sat up with a groan and began to rub your temples. Where the hell am I?
You felt someone stir in the bed beside you and realized you weren't alone. You turned to look at the person, but you heard his voice before your brain could process what you were seeing.
"Hey baby, you okay?" he asked groggily.
"What?" you managed to croak out--shock settling into your bones as you stared at the man beside you.
He sat up, revealing his bare, toned, muscular chest. You looked away quickly, not wanting to be caught staring. Why the fuck am I in bed with Dean Winchester?
He touched your cheek and turned your head towards him. "You okay? I heard you groan."
"I--um...I'm fine," you stuttered. "What, uh--what happened last night?"
He raised his eyebrows as he regarded you. "We came home from the party early because you were feeling a little...frisky."
"Party?" you asked in confusion.
"Damn, baby, how much did you have to drink?" he asked with a chuckle.
Your face must have show how deeply confused you were, because he seemed to take pity on you.
"It was Sam's birthday party, babe. Remember? We came home, had some damn incredible sex, and fell asleep. Any of this ringing a bell?"
"Sam's birthday?" you muttered, then belatedly yelled, "WE HAD SEX?"
Dean laughed. "Girl, you gotta lay off the whiskey sours. They're messing with your memory." He kissed you on your forehead before dragging himself out of bed.
You were now faced with a very naked Dean Winchester and you averted your gaze out of habit.
"I'm gonna take a shower. Wanna join me?" he asked with a smirk.
"I...uh--I...not right now."
He looked a little crestfallen, but he simply shrugged. "Suit yourself."
As soon as he'd entered the bathroom, you jumped out of bed and looked around the room. Something had to be going on. Something insane. This wasn't real life--it couldn't be.
You glanced down at yourself and realized you were completely naked. You quickly threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before continuing your search around the room.
You saw a couple framed pictures sitting on the bureau near the bathroom door. You picked one up and felt your jaw drop. It was you and Dean on a beach. You grabbed the second one and found it was also of you and Dean, only this time you were apparently in Paris. The third and final picture was, of course, of you and Dean. It looked like some kind of park and he was on his knee in front of you, holding a small blue box in his hand.
You glanced at your left hand in disbelief, but there it was--a very large, very beautiful diamond ring. "We're engaged?" you mumbled in shock.
You set the picture down and collapsed onto the bed. Your mind was reeling and you had absolutely no memory of any of this.
You knew Dean--you'd known him for years--but you were just friends. You hunted together. That was all. Sure, you'd always liked him more than you should have, but he didn't reciprocate it. You certainly didn't wake up in the same bed, and you definitely weren't engaged to him.
When you woke up yesterday, you'd been in a motel room with Sam and Dean...you were hunting something. You closed your eyes and desperately tried to remember what it was. It was almost as if something was blocking that specific memory--no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't grasp it.
Dean appeared from the bathroom, clad in nothing but a towel around his waist. He saw you sitting on the edge of the bed with your head in your hands. Concern knotted his eyebrows together and he immediately crossed the short distance between you.
"(Y/N/N)?" he asked softly when he reached your side.
You looked up at him and felt your heart skip a beat. He was beautiful and perfect...and it was downright offensive. How anyone could look that good was a mystery. An even bigger mystery was why in the hell he was engaged to you.
He knelt down in front of you and took your hands into his. You stared at them, feeling the warmth spread throughout your body.
"What's going on with you?" he asked gently.
Tears filled your eyes as you looked into his beautiful green ones. "I don't know where I am," you whispered. "I don't...I don't remember any of this. I--I don't think it's real."
Dean's face lit up in surprise. "What do you mean? Of course it's real." He squeezed your hands comfortingly. "Do you feel that, baby? I'm real and so are you."
"Then why can't I remember?"
He looked sad. "I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe you just need to give it a little time and then your memories will come back."
You shook your head. "I was in a motel yesterday. A motel with you and Sam. We were going hunting."
Dean looked confused. "Hunting? I've never been hunting and I'm pretty sure you haven't either. Are you sure that wasn't a dream?"
"It felt--real. It was real," you insisted.
"Okay," he said soothingly. "What makes you think that was real and this isn't?"
"I remember it," you whispered.
"And you don't remember our lives together," he finished softly.
You nodded.
He reached up and tucked a hair behind your ear. "I don't know why you can't remember, but I'll be damned if I don't help you figure it out."
He stood up. "Why don't we go see Sam? Maybe going to his house will jog your memory of last night?"
"Okay."
He grabbed your hand and helped you to your feet. "Let's get dressed, pretty girl. Everything's gonna be okay."
You nodded, feeling a little more confident that everything might really be okay.
**********
When Dean pulled up in front of Sam's house, you looked out the window, but didn't have any rush of memories. Nothing about it looked familiar.
Dean came around and opened the car door for you and took your hand as you stepped out. He watched your face for any sign of recognition, but he saw none.
"Come on, beautiful," he said gently, leading you to the front door.
A few moments after Dean rang the doorbell, Sam appeared at the door with a warm smile. "Hey guys! Come on in."
Dean led the way and you followed gratefully.
"So, uh...Dean mentioned you're having some memory problems?" Sam asked gently.
You nodded. "I--uh--I don't really remember much of anything really."
"Hmm," Sam hummed. "Sit. Let's talk."
You and Dean sat on the couch and Sam sat across from you on a chair. Dean explained the morning's events to his brother, while you sat quietly. There wasn't much more to say.
"So what do you remember?" Sam asked you.
"Hunting," you answered honestly. "I remember hunting with you and Dean. We've been doing it for years together."
"Hunting?" Sam asked in surprise. "We've never been hunting in our lives--and certainly not all together."
"Do you believe in ghosts?" you blurted.
Both men looked shocked. "I'm sorry, what?" Sam asked.
"Ghosts, goblins, ghouls, vampires, werewolves...all the things that go bump in the night. Do you believe in them?"
Sam and Dean exchanged worried looks. "No, (Y/N)...those are just stories," Dean said gently.
You sighed sadly. "That's what we hunt," you whispered so softly they almost didn't hear you.
"We hunt monsters?" Sam asked incredulously.
You just nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything else.
"Baby, that really does sound like a dream. An intense dream, perhaps, but a dream nonetheless," Dean said calmly.
"Then why does it feel so real?" you asked softly.
He looked sad. "I don't know, sweetheart. I really don't."
"What about right now?" Sam asked. "Does this feel real?"
You nodded.
"As real as hunting monsters?" he prodded.
You nodded again.
"Then why would you think this isn't real?"
"I guess I don't have a good answer for that," you admitted. "Hunting monsters does sound kinda crazy, doesn't it?"
Dean offered you a soft smile. "A little bit, baby. Especially for a lawyer, a mechanic, and a veterinarian."
Hearing the careers the three of you apparently had sparked another question in your mind. "Dean, how did we meet?"
"What?" he asked in surprise.
"How did we meet?"
"We met when Sam found that stray dog with the broken leg. He asked me to drive him to the nearest vet office...you happened to be the vet on duty that day."
You closed your eyes and tried desperately to remember meeting him, to no avail. You also couldn't remember veterinary school or even having a job at all.
"Hey, it's okay," Dean said sweetly, upon noticing your distress. "You don't have to remember right now."
Tears filled your eyes again, upset and ashamed at your inability to remember your life.
Dean wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. He kissed the top of your head and whispered, "Everything's okay, baby. I love you. You're safe."
You knew without a shadow of a doubt he was right about one thing--you were safe. You had never felt safer with anyone in your life than Dean Winchester and it didn't matter that you couldn't remember this reality...you still knew he would protect you with his life.
**********
Dean's POV:
It had been three hours since (Y/N) went missing and I was losing my mind. Sam and I had looked everywhere...we should have never let her wander off on her own.
My brother was clearly having similar thoughts as he said, "You shouldn't have let her go out there alone."
"Let her?" I asked in annoyance. "I didn't let her do anything. She got mad at me and stormed off. That's not my fault."
Sam glared at me. "You're the one who pissed her off and you didn't go after her."
I kicked a rock that was at my feet as hard as I could. I hated that he was right and I hated myself for upsetting her. I was terrified of what would happen if we didn't find her in time. "I know," I admitted softly.
Sam's expression softened. "We're gonna find her, Dean."
I looked up at him and sighed. "We've looked everywhere. It's like she just disappeared."
"She didn't just disappear. Something or someone took her."
"We've been in this town for 6 hours. It's not like we've pissed anyone off yet," I grumbled.
"Yeah, I know. Besides, (Y/N) could fight off most humans she came across..."
"She went looking for the Djinn, Sam. I just know it."
"Why would she do that on her own? She's not stupid."
I groaned loudly. "Because she had something to prove!"
"What are you talking about?"
"I was mad at her, okay? I was mad she was so reckless during our last hunt and I lashed out at her. I told her there was no way she could do this job without us, but we were perfectly capable of handling it on our own. I wanted her to stay at the motel while we took care of the Djinn."
"Dean, she saved your life!"
"I know!" I yelled. "I didn't ask her to do that! She could have died."
"That's the life, Dean. We all could die at any time."
I glared at him. "If she died saving me, I would never forgive myself. Never."
Sam sighed. He knew what I was trying to say without me having to say it. I wouldn't admit the truth and he knew it. "You should've known telling her she couldn't do something would make her want to do it."
I closed my eyes. "I'll regret it for the rest of my life, Sam."
Sam shook his head and opened the passenger door of the Impala. "You won't have to because we're going to find her."
I watched my brother get in the car and I took a deep breath. "I hope you're right," I whispered before getting into the car myself.
**********
It had been a couple days since you'd woken up in a strange place. You weren't sure why your memories were gone, but you'd started to feel comfortable. You'd settled easily into a routine, and those memories you'd had of hunting had begun to fade.
Dean had suggested you take some time off of work until you felt more comfortable...and perhaps your memories would return during that time. You'd taken his advice since you had zero memory of college and you didn't feel comfortable having animals' lives in your hands.
Dean had been the perfect boyfriend--fiancé. He was incredibly patient and sweet and it warmed your heart to know just how much he cared. Any time you forgot something that had happened, he would gently remind you about it without making you feel embarrassed or uncomfortable.
It surprised you to realize how deeply you cared for him--how much you truly loved him. He loved you, that much was clear, but you had yet to share those feelings with him. At least, not in your recollection.
You'd spent the day relaxing on your back deck with a good book. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt this happy. An hour before Dean would be home from work, you went inside and began preparing dinner. You wanted to make him something special as a thank you for being such a good partner.
You were standing in the kitchen finishing up dinner when Dean got home. He came into the room and inhaled deeply. "Smells amazing, babe. Whatcha making?"
You turned to him with a smile. "Lasagna."
He grinned. "I freaking love lasagna." He came over and kissed you softly. "And I love you."
You smiled warmly. "I love you too, Dean."
His beautiful green eyes lit up at your words. He stepped forward and pressed you up against the counter. His arms snaked around your waist and he kissed you deeply.
You squirmed a little when it became hard to breathe. Dean chuckled as he broke the kiss, allowing you to inhale rapidly.
"You're covered in grease and you're getting it on me," you teased. "Go shower and dinner will be ready by the time you're done."
He smiled and kissed you again. "Fine, fine. I'll shower." He stepped away from you and turned to go towards the bedroom.
"Oh, and Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"I've got a surprise for dessert. I think you're gonna like it."
He grinned ear to ear. "Is it you?" he teased.
"Dean Winchester!" you yelled with a laugh. You threw a hand towel at him and he ran from the room to escape, laughing all the way to the bathroom.
You rolled your eyes and went back to finishing dinner. You also pulled a pie out of the fridge and set it on the counter to finish defrosting. You'd gone to the store earlier that day and picked up an apple pie--Dean's favorite.
15 minutes later, Dean came into the kitchen looking refreshed and clean. You were setting the table, so you told him to have a seat and you'd bring out the lasagna.
"Do you want a beer?" you called from the kitchen.
"Water's fine, babe," he called back.
You froze for a moment. In all the time you'd known Dean, he had never turned down a beer...certainly not in favor of water. A voice in your head was screaming that something wasn't right, but you ignored it. You shook your head to clear your mind and quickly poured him a glass of water instead.
The two of you ate dinner, enjoying each other's company. You listened to Dean talk about his day and he asked about yours. It all felt very mundane...very domesticated.
You kept a smile on your face throughout dinner, even though something was bothering you. You couldn't help but feel like you were meant for something more--like your life had a different purpose. Maybe you were just in your head too much since you weren't working at the moment. That had to be it...
"Sweetheart?" Dean asked, interrupting your thoughts.
"Hmm?" you hummed in response.
"You okay?"
You smiled. "I'm fine, Dean. I was just lost in thought."
His eyes scanned your face for a few moments, but he eventually smiled. You were doing a good job of hiding your thoughts from him, but you weren't sure if that was a good thing.
Once dinner was done, you began to clean up. Dean insisted on helping, which you appreciated. You kept him busy with packing the lasagna away in leftover containers so he wouldn't notice the pie on the other counter.
"Ready for dessert?" you asked sweetly.
He smiled. "Sure, baby. What'd you make?"
"I bought it, but I think you'll still like it. Go sit back down and I'll bring it out."
He nodded and went back to the dining room.
You cut a generous slice of the pie for him and a much smaller piece for yourself. Pie had never been your favorite dessert, but Dean loved pie more than he loved anything in this world. You didn't mind having something that wasn't your first choice because you knew it would make him happy.
You came into the dining room and placed the large slice in front of him before sitting down with your own.
He was quiet for a moment and you felt that same voice creeping into your head again. "Dean? It's apple pie..."
"Yeah, thanks (Y/N/N). Kind of a big piece though, don't you think?"
The voice in your head got a little louder. "Sure, but you never turn down a big piece of pie. I've seen you eat an entire pie before." You chuckled at the memory...except Dean looked different in your mind. Rougher, but somehow happier.
"I suppose you're right. I can make some room in my stomach for it. I guess I'm just not the biggest fan of apple pie."
You froze and the voice began screaming at you. SOMETHING IS WRONG! "Apple pie is your favorite," you said quietly.
His face changed as he looked at you. He smiled warmly and said, "You're right. It is my favorite. Thank you for thinking of me."
Your heart was beating so quickly you thought it might actually explode. The man in front of you had gone from 'not the biggest fan of apple pie' to 'apple pie is my favorite' in the span of 30 seconds.
In that moment everything changed. It was no longer just a voice inside your head screaming at you to leave...you realized it was your voice.
"This isn't real," you whispered.
"What'd you say, sweetheart?"
You looked up at Dean--the man wearing Dean's face. "None of this is real." You stood up. "I'm sorry, but I have to go."
He sat there in shock as you rushed towards the door. You weren't exactly sure where you needed to go, but you had a feeling you would find it. You were out the door and running down the street before he even realized what had happened.
**********
Dean's POV:
"This is the last vacant warehouse in this godforsaken city and I swear to God if she's not here, I'm going to kill someone."
"Since I'm the only person here, maybe you don't kill anyone," Sam said calmly.
I glared at him, but didn't say anything. We'd been searching for hours and we hadn't found a damn thing. Not even a clue. This was a last ditch effort to find (Y/N) and I didn't know how I would handle it if she wasn't there. I wasn't sure I could handle it.
I parked the Impala a little ways away from the entrance to the warehouse, just in case the Djinn was there. I didn't want to tip it off. We grabbed our weapons from the trunk and headed inside.
We'd only been inside the building for a few minutes when I heard a sound that sent chills down my spine. It sounded like blood dripping and my only thought was of her before I took off running.
Had I been thinking rationally, I would have realized it was just the sound of water dripping onto the floor, but I was far past rational. There aren't many people in this world that I would die for, but (Y/N) was second on that list right after my brother. She didn't know it, but she meant the world to me. I had to find her--alive.
Sam grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop. He gave me a look like I was being reckless, which I suppose I was. He pointed to a room up ahead that appeared to be dimly lit. He started walking towards it and gestured for me to follow.
The moment we turned that corner, my worst fears came to life. The only thing I saw was the woman I loved strung up from the ceiling by her wrists, feet barely touching the floor. She was extremely pale and I could see blood slowly draining from her body into an IV bag.
I moved towards her with a speed I didn't know I had. Terror filled my lungs as I reached for her, worried that I was too late. There was a lot of blood in that bag and I had no way of knowing how many had been filled already.
I touched her cheek with shaking hands and I whispered her name. My voice sounded foreign to my own ears as I begged her to wake up. I tried to feel for a pulse, but my hands were shaking too much to tell.
Sam came up beside me and pressed his fingers to her neck. I watched him in terrified silence, waiting for him to shatter my heart into a million pieces.
"She's alive," he whispered in relief.
My eyes widened in surprise and my heart practically flew out of my chest with joy. "We need to get her out of here," I whispered back as I unhooked the IV to stop the blood flow.
Suddenly, Sam went flying across the room and I turned around in surprise. I came face to face with the Djinn, who was reaching for me with blue electricity crackling from his fingertips. I ducked to avoid his hand and the fight began.
**********
You had no idea where you were going, but your feet were on a mission. You felt like you'd been walking for days, but in reality it had only been an hour or so. You belatedly realized you could have just stolen a car, but on the off chance you were wrong about all of this, you didn't want to commit a crime.
After almost two hours of walking, you found yourself standing in front of an old abandoned warehouse. Something about the imposing building felt strangely familiar, but you couldn't put your finger on why.
You entered the building cautiously, silently cursing yourself for not bringing anything that could be used as a weapon. You'd been so focused on getting away, that you hadn't done much--any--planning.
The building was dark and you didn't have a flashlight, but thankfully you'd had your phone in your pocket when you left the house, so you pulled it out to use the built in flashlight.
When you looked at the screen, you saw you had several missed calls and texts, mostly from Dean, but several from Sam as well. You ignored them both and turned on the flashlight.
You began to wander through the giant space, looking for something--anything--that felt out of place. It was a lot harder to find something when you had no idea what you were looking for.
After several minutes of wandering aimlessly, you noticed a room up ahead that appeared to be dimly lit. Well that's weird. You slowly made your way closer, trying to be as quiet as possible.
As you rounded the corner, everything changed. You nearly dropped your phone at the sight before you. You were hanging from the ceiling by your wrists, feet barely touching the ground, blood slowly filling an IV bag to your left.
In an instant, everything fell into place. Your memories--your real memories--flooded your mind. You remembered your argument with Dean and your foolish arrogance as you sought out the Djinn on your own. Clearly you'd been unsuccessful in your attempt to kill it--so here you were, trapped in a dream in your own mind while your body slowly died in the real world.
"(Y/N), stay," you heard Dean's voice say from behind you.
You turned to face him, knowing he wasn't real--he wasn't your Dean. "I can't...this isn't real."
"You're right. It's not. But it will feel real. You'll live out your whole life with me. We'll be happy and normal. Isn't that what you want?"
You thought about it for a moment. "No," you answered honestly. "I wasn't meant to be normal, to live a normal life. I'm a hunter...I save people. If that means I'll never be truly happy, if it means I'll die alone, then so be it. I can't stay here no matter how badly I want to...my real life is out there. The real you is out there."
"The real Dean doesn't love you the way I do."
Tears filled your eyes and you nodded. "I know...but at least he's real."
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, desperately trying to wake up.
In the distance, you heard a voice yell your name. You focused on the voice, but you couldn't figure out whose it was. The voice begged you to wake up, to fight..."come back to me," it pleaded.
You began to sink into darkness, unsure of whether you were about to wake up or die. In the moments before the darkness overtook you, you realized who the voice belonged to. "Dean..." you whispered.
Then, blackness.
**********
Dean's POV:
"Sam!" I yelled as my brother was once again tossed across the room. This Djinn was seriously starting to piss me off.
I knew I needed to get (Y/N) out of here, but I was a little preoccupied trying not to end up strung up beside her. I'd managed to disconnect the IV, so at least she wasn't losing blood anymore.
"Shit!" I yelled as I once again dodged the Djinn's hands.
Son of a bitch! I saw Sam's silver knife lying on the floor, a short distance away from me. I moved towards it quickly, grabbing it before the Djinn noticed.
The creature approached Sam, clearly about to zap his ass into dreamland. I rushed up behind it and stabbed it in the back, bringing it to its knees.
The Djinn seemed surprised and I smiled ruefully. "Lamb's blood and silver--lethal combination, you son of a bitch."
Sam started to pull himself off the floor, retrieving his knife from the dead Djinn's back. One glance at my brother told me he was fine, so my focus turned back to (Y/N).
I rushed over to her and held her up while Sam started to work on the chains tying her to the ceiling. "(Y/N)? Can you hear me?"
She didn't respond, not that I expected her to, but that didn't deter me. "Come on, (Y/N). I need you to wake up."
Sam finally got the chains removed from her wrists and she slumped into my arms. I sunk to the ground, holding her close, and continued to beg her to wake up. I knew I sounded pathetic, but I didn't give a damn.
"(Y/N), please. I know you're mad at me, but I need you to wake up. I need you to fight. Please." I laid my head against her forehead and I whispered so softly only she could hear, "Come back to me."
To my surprise, I heard her whisper, "Dean..."
My head shot up and Sam's eyes widened. (Y/N) didn't say another word, but I knew she was alive. I picked her up and carried her to the car, gently placing her in the backseat before speeding off like a bat out of hell.
I pulled into the nearest hospital in record time, throwing the car into park without a thought. I carefully pulled (Y/N) from the backseat and carried her into the ER.
Sam had gone ahead and gotten a nurse to get a gurney, which I placed her on gently. I watched as the nurses took her back to an exam room and I sent up a silent prayer that she would be okay.
**********
You awoke to the sound of beeping and it didn't take you long to realize you were in a hospital. With that realization came a flood of memories. You had no way of knowing how long had passed here in the real world, but for you it had been days.
You began to stir and you let out a groan as your eyes started to adjust to the brightness in the room.
"(Y/N)?"
You turned your head towards the source of the voice, but you couldn't quite make out the person's face.
"Hey," the voice said again. "You're okay. It's me."
Your eyes were still struggling to focus, but you recognized the voice. "Dean," you mumbled.
You didn't see it, but he smiled warmly. "I'm right here, sweetheart. You're okay."
Your body tensed slightly, unsure of how to feel. He didn't normally call you by any pet names and you suddenly feared you were back in the dream. "What happened?"
"You were captured by the Djinn. Sammy and I found you."
Your whole body relaxed and you let out a relieved sigh. Dean didn't understand why that would calm you, but he didn't question it.
"Thanks for saving me," you whispered. Your eyes finally focused on his face and you knew in your heart this was your Dean. He just looked different and your heart tightened at the sight of him.
"You don't have to thank me. It was my fault you ran off in the first place."
You shook your head. "I was an idiot."
"No you weren't. You could have taken him if you weren't distracted by my asshole comments."
Surprise lit up your face. "So you're admitting you were an asshole?"
He chuckled grimly. "It's a one-time deal, so don't get used to it."
You smiled. "I expect nothing less."
Dean shifted slightly, clearly wanting to say something, but he remained silent.
"What?"
He seemed to debate for a moment, but finally asked, "What did you dream about?"
You sighed. "It doesn't matter."
"Of course it does," he insisted. "The Djinn lets you live out your dream life...so what's your dream life, (Y/N)?"
"Technically, the Djinn grants you a wish and the life you see is based around that wish."
Dean rolled his eyes. "You're avoiding the question."
"It was my dream, Dean. You don't need to know about it." You spoke a little more harshly than you'd intended and you hated yourself a little for it. Especially when you saw Dean wince.
He quickly recovered and threw his hands in the air in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I won't press, I promise."
"Thanks."
"Let me go talk to the doctor and see when we can get you outta here, okay?"
It was like he knew exactly what you needed. It warmed your heart and broke it all at once. "Thanks, Dean."
"Sure, (Y/N/N)."
**********
"Will I ever not be tired?" you complained grumpily two days later.
Sam laughed from the small table across the room from the bed you were currently curled up in. "It'll just take a little time. You lost a lot of blood, so your iron levels are low. Be patient."
"I hate being patient," you grumbled.
Sam chuckled again. "You sound like Dean."
As if he'd been summoned, Dean himself walked through the motel room door. "Dinner is served!" he announced happily.
You sat up and started to get out of the bed, but Dean ran over to you. "You can eat in bed, (Y/N). You need your rest."
"I appreciate that, Dean, but you're smothering me. I'm tired of laying in this bed."
Sam laughed and Dean just shook his head. "Alright fine."
He helped you to the table and you sat down across from Sam. You were grateful for his help, even if you didn't want to admit it.
"I got you a burger," Dean began. "I wasn't sure if you'd be feeling up to eating one, but you could really use the energy."
You smiled warmly. "A burger sounds amazing, Dean."
He handed you your food and gave Sam his. He pulled out his own, then reached into the bag and pulled out a small item, which he handed to you. "They, uh...they had freshly baked brownies, so I got you one."
Your eyes lit up as you took the neatly wrapped brownie from him. "Thanks," you said softly.
"They're your favorite, right?" he asked.
He remembered. "Yeah. Especially with the--"
"--little chocolate chips," he finished for you.
You stared at him for a moment, a soft smile gracing your features. Your eyes began to water, so you looked down at your food to keep from embarrassing yourself. "This looks delicious."
The three of you ate your dinners in companionable silence. When you were finished, you got out of your chair and started to make your way back to the bed. You were still tired, but you felt stronger than you had in a few days.
Dean immediately jumped out of his seat to help you, but you gently told him you were okay. "I'm alright, Dean."
His hands seemed to twitch as he watched you walk away, clearly wanting to make sure you were okay. He didn't relax until you sat down on the bed and started to unwrap your brownie.
"She's strong," Sam said lowly.
Dean turned his attention to his brother. "I know. I just worry about her."
"You know I can hear you both, right?" you said from your bed.
Both men chuckled lightly.
"The room's small and voices carry," you teased.
"You're not wrong," Sam said as he got up with a stretch. "I actually think I'm gonna hit the bar. I could use a drink after the week we've had."
Sam looked pointedly at his brother, which didn't go unnoticed by you. You watched as some sort of nonverbal exchange happened between the two men.
"I'll be back later," Sam said, getting what appeared to be the final word in whatever discussion they had been having. He walked out the door with his jacket and Dean locked it behind him.
"Since when does Sam go to bars by himself?" you asked.
Dean shrugged, but didn't meet your gaze. "Guess he really needed that drink."
"Or he wants to get laid," you mumbled.
Dean groaned. "Gross."
You laughed. "He's not a monk, Dean."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want to think about him getting jiggy with it."
"Did you just say 'getting jiggy with it'?"
"I was trying it out."
"Maybe don't," you said with a laugh.
He grinned and flopped down on the other bed. "I'll make a note of it."
The two of you fell into silence, but unlike during dinner, this one felt uncomfortable. The tension hung in the air and there was so much you wanted to say to him...and so much he wanted to say to you.
"Do you wanna watch TV?" you asked, breaking the silence.
"Not really."
"Okay."
The silence continued to drag on until Dean finally couldn't take it anymore. He sat up and looked at you, gaze seeming to bore into your soul. "Can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
"When you saved my life, I was pissed. Beyond pissed. I haven't been that angry in a long time. But it wasn't because I wanted to die or anything like that...I just didn't want you to. When that vampire sent you flying and I heard you hit the wall, I was terrified. More terrified than I've ever been before."
He took a slow breath before continuing. "Once the vampires were all dead and you started to get up, I felt relieved--you were okay. But then all I felt was rage. I was so angry with you for putting yourself in harm's way like that...for risking yourself to save me. I'm not entirely sure I deserve saving, but I do know if you had died to save me, I would have never forgiven myself."
You stared at him in silence, lips parted, eyes full of emotion. "Dean..."
He held his hand up to stop you. "That's why I yelled at you...that's why I said everything I said. I didn't--I didn't know how to explain what I was feeling, so I lashed out at you. You didn't deserve it and I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry, (Y/N)."
"I appreciate your apology," you said softly. "But I won't apologize for saving your life. If I'd let you die? I wouldn't have forgiven myself."
He looked a little surprised. "I didn't think about that."
"You never think you deserve saving. You don't think you deserve happiness or peace, a normal life--god forbid love... You think you're some kind of monster, but you're not, Dean. You're the best person I know. You're loyal to a fault, strong and brave, but also kind and gentle. No one hates you the way you hate yourself, Dean Winchester, and I'm tired of you projecting those feelings onto other people."
This was absolutely not the direction he'd imagined this conversation going...but here they were. "I don't know why you think that...you've seen me at my worst."
Your expression softened. "You're right. I have. But I've also seen you at your best--and that is a sight to behold. You're incredible, Dean...in all the ways that matter."
His eyes roamed your face searching for any sign of deception. When he saw none, he decided to seize the opportunity to ask you the only question he was dying to know the answer to..."What did you dream about?"
"What?"
"What did you dream about?" he asked again.
You inhaled sharply. It wasn't that you didn't want to tell him about the dream...about the life the two of you had shared...it was just that you were afraid. Afraid of how he would react, what he would think, what he would say...you weren't sure if you wanted to risk it.
You looked into his eyes for what felt like eternity. They seemed to swirl with emotion while silently begging you to tell him the truth.
You sighed. "I dreamed of a normal life...nice house, good job, friends, a fiancé...the whole nine yards."
His lips parted in surprise. He wasn't sure he wanted to ask, but he needed to know. "Fiancé?"
You nodded. "Yeah...I, uh--I was as surprised as you are."
"Is that what you want? A normal life with some random guy who doesn't really know you?"
"He wasn't some random guy," you admitted quietly.
"What?"
"In my dream...my fiancé was someone I know."
"Like in the real world?"
You nodded.
"Who?" Please don't be Sam. Please don't be Sam. Please don't be Sam.
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to you or you wouldn't have dreamed it...the Djinn wouldn't have chosen him."
You hated that he was right and you didn't want to tell him. You were afraid it would ruin your relationship...you loved hunting with Sam and Dean. You loved traveling the country with them, hunting monsters, saving people, living in shitty motels...you loved it all, but most of all you loved Dean...and that was something you had never shared with anyone.
"It wasn't real," you whispered. "It was just a fantasy."
Dean decided to take a risk and he prayed he wouldn't regret it. "It doesn't have to be a fantasy."
"What?" you asked in surprise.
"If you tell him...maybe it can be real."
There was something in his eyes that gave you pause. After a few seconds, you realized it was fear. He was afraid of what you were going to say...and it gave you hope. Why would he be afraid of what you were going to say if he wasn't hoping it was him?
"It was you," you admitted quietly.
His lips parted and he inhaled deeply. "Me?"
You nodded slowly, suddenly unable to speak.
He stood up and crossed the short distance between you. He very gently pushed you back against the pillows and crawled on top of you, hovering mere inches from your face. "Do you love me?"
Your eyes widened in surprise. This was not at all how you imagined telling Dean how you feel, but you found yourself incapable of lying to him. "Yes," you breathed out.
"Say it," he whispered.
"I love you, Dean," you said softly.
He closed his eyes and laid his forehead against yours, his breathing labored and his hands shaking slightly. "(Y/N)..."
He stopped thinking then and let his body guide him. He'd loved you for so long--wanted you for even longer--and now he was finally going to have you. He pressed his lips against yours and kissed you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your lips.
The kisses you'd shared with the fake Dean in your dreams were nothing compared to the real thing. Actual sparks flew, igniting a need for him deep within you. Your hands clung to his flannel shirt, pulling him even closer to you.
He moaned softly against your lips and you parted them to allow him entry. His tongue dominated yours in a passionate fight for power. His hands began to roam the soft curves of your body, eliciting low moans of desire from you.
"I don't remember a time when I didn't love you," he admitted against your lips. "I don't want to remember before."
Your heart seemed to sing at his words. Dean had always been a deeply emotional man--he felt things more strongly than anyone you'd ever known, but he bottled up his emotions and hid them from the rest of the world. Hearing him finally confess his deepest secret made you feel incredibly special.
"I love you so much, Dean Winchester. So, so much."
He smiled. "I love you more, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."
He kissed you again and you melted into him. His hands continued to roam your body, and yours did the same to his. A passionate need for one another had been ignited within each of you and neither of you could deny it.
You began to peel off his clothing and he did the same to you. The idea of being completely naked with Dean would have normally terrified you, but you could feel the waves of love oozing from the man above you. You knew you weren't the kind of girl Dean normally brought home, but none of that mattered--not when you could feel the love he had for you.
By the time you were both naked, you were overwhelmed with the desire to feel him inside you. He, however, had other plans. He began to slowly work his way down your body, stopping to show your breasts some attention.
"You know, I always loved these," he mumbled as he nipped and sucked at your breasts, earning sweet moans from you.
He continued his journey down your stomach, placing kisses to the scars and stretch marks littering your skin. You felt worshipped in a way you'd never experienced before.
Finally, Dean landed right where you wanted him, but he didn't give into you easily. His lips kissed along your inner thighs, appreciating the soft skin, biting gently to see your reaction.
Your breathing was ragged and you began to beg him to do something, anything. "Dean please," you murmured. "Stop teasing."
He chuckled lightly, but he didn't deny your request. His lips pressed against your core and he pushed your legs as far apart as he could without hurting you. His tongue darted out and licked a stripe up your pussy.
He let out a deep growling sound and dove into you like a man starved. He dug his fingers into your hips as he tugged you closer to him, feasting on you like you were the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.
Your moans spurred him on, the sweet sounds like music to his ears. He could have happily stayed here between your legs until the end of time, but he had a feeling you would make him stop eventually.
Your fingers were interlaced in his hair and you were begging him not to stop. Not that he would have, but you didn't know that. "Dean...I'm so close."
He moaned in response, sending shivers of pleasure up your spine. His tongue focused its assault directly on your clit and you cried out. Your legs began to shake and he could feel you nearing the edge.
He sped up his ministrations, earning another cry from your lips. Your hips bucked slightly and he shifted his arm to hold you in place. "Oh god!" you yelled.
You tightened your grip on his hair as you felt the impact slam into you, orgasming with a cry of his name. He worked you through your high, only stopping when you squirmed out of his grasp.
"Dean," you murmured as he crawled back up towards your face.
He kissed you softly. "I wanna be inside you so badly, baby," he whispered into your ear.
"Please..."
"I don't have a condom," he said softly.
"I don't care. I want you, Dean. Please."
He could never deny you, especially when you begged him so prettily. He lined himself up with your entrance and sheathed himself inside you with one quick thrust.
You gasped his name and dug your fingers into his shoulder blades. The feeling of him filling you up was enough to push you closer to a second orgasm.
Your pussy gripped him like an iron vice and he had to take a deep breath to control himself. He hadn't felt like this since he was a teenager. He needed to get a grip or he was going to cum embarrassingly early.
Your hips shifted beneath him and he hissed softly. "Dean," you begged. "Move."
He started to move and the sounds of wet skin against skin began to fill the room. Those were soon overpowered by your moans and his low groans.
"Fuck, baby...feels so good," he whispered. "Such a sweet, tight, little pussy."
You moaned and your pussy clenched even tighter around him.
He groaned and his hips stuttered to a stop. "You gotta stop doing that baby, or I'm gonna cum."
You grinned wickedly. "Isn't that the point?"
He nipped at your neck playfully. "Not until I get another one from you."
He started to move again, which wiped the smirk from your face in an instant. You wrapped your legs tightly around him, effectively locking him into place inside you.
"Normally I'd have you in a hundred different positions," he muttered, "but I wanna see your face when you cum. I wanna watch my pretty girl fall apart because of me."
Your pussy clenched and you moaned softly in response.
"Yeah? You like that? You like that I wanna watch you?"
You nodded.
"Words, baby."
"Yes, Dean," you gasped.
"That's my good girl."
You practically preened at the praise and Dean made a mental note of it for later. For now, he was focusing on drawing another orgasm from you and staving off his own.
"You're so tight, sweet girl. Feels so good."
Your moans spurred him on, forcing him to keep up his pace. He pulled himself up slightly, tugging your hips with him, allowing him to reach your g-spot with each thrust.
You let out a cry a pleasure that he knew he would die to hear again. He closed his eyes for a moment as he sped up, desperately trying to keep himself from cumming before you did.
"That's it baby, I know you're close," he murmured.
"So close," you cried out.
"I know," he whispered. "I want you to cum for me, baby. Cover my cock with your sweet juices."
Your legs tightened around his hips and your nails dug deeper into his back. He watched your face as you began to shake--orgasm mere seconds away.
"Eyes on me, baby," he demanded.
Your eyes flew open and met his gaze. You gasped--the intensity of it all pushing you over the edge. You yelled his name as you came, explosions of light flashing behind your eyelids as they fluttered closed.
He watched your beautiful face as you rode out your high with him. He shifted focus to his own quickly impending orgasm. His breathing became more ragged and you opened your eyes to find his again.
"Feels so good, baby," you murmured.
His eyes locked onto yours and he panted heavily.
"I know you're close, handsome. I want you to fill me up."
His green eyes widened. "You sure?"
You nodded. "I need it, Dean. Please." You clenched down on his cock to emphasize your words.
That was all he needed in order to reach his peak. He moaned your name as he started to cum, whispering it into your skin like a chant as he emptied inside of you.
You held onto him tightly as he came down, his body shaking slightly from the intensity of his orgasm. He finally collapsed on top of you, unable to hold up his own weight.
You placed a soft kiss to his head and listened to his breathing begin to regulate.
Eventually, he rolled off of you, leaving you feeling strangely empty. He managed to drag himself off the bed with a murmured "I'll be right back."
You watched him walk to the bathroom, and for a moment you worried he'd regret it, but your fears were assuaged by his reappearance with a wet washcloth.
Your face must have betrayed your thoughts because he knelt before you and said, "I love you, (Y/N), with everything I have."
You smiled. "I love you too, Dean."
He returned your smile and began to carefully and gently clean you up with the washcloth. It was warm and it felt nice to be cared for like that.
Once he was finished, he threw the washcloth into the bathroom and crawled back onto the bed. He tugged you close to him and pulled the covers up over you when you started to shiver.
"Anyone ever tell you you're beautiful when you cum?" he asked softly.
You laughed lightly. "You would be the first."
He kissed your hair and tightened his grip on you. "I intend on being the last."
You turned your head to look at him and felt your heart melt a little. You didn't have a good response for that, so you simply kissed him, hoping your emotions were conveyed in the action.
He leaned into the kiss and whimpered slightly when your lips left his. You kissed him one more time and he let you pull away after several seconds.
"You should get some sleep," he murmured. "I'll keep you safe."
You knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would die to keep his word. You settled back against him, a silent response of trust and gratitude. He gave you a soft squeeze as you began to drift off to sleep.
This life might be hard...it might be full of pain and loss, but it was real. The man holding you in his arms was real. The love you felt for each other was real...and you wouldn't change any of it.
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suugarbabe · 6 months
Note
HI! i saw that your requests are open?
could i request fic where y/n is drunk at a party and mattheo(her enemy) is just silently watching over her? and then maybe she gets ontop of a table and starts dancing and like after a while mattheo js like “nope thags too much lets go” and drags her to his room and maybe things get a lil spicy with reader confessing and saying how much she hates him to the point hes the only person she can think about. maybe something like “i hate you so much i wish you weren’t so beautiful, because maybe then i wouldnt be inlove with you”??
you dont have to write this if youre not comfy with it🫶🏼🫶🏼
mwuah mwuah much love!
🦈
anon
yes yes yes yes yes yes yes thaaaaank you
it's a party, you're having fun, you don't give a fuck about anything or anyone else, and that has nothing to do with your sour mood from five hours earlier.
So you down your drinks like you've been walking through the desert, fire whiskey after fire whiskey until you feel nothing but the music around you and the taste of cinnamon on your throat.
Mattheo see's you get wobblier as the night goes on, every fire whiskey you grab he gets more and more angry with anyone that even looks at you, which he would never admit, because he hates you and you hate him.
But when he sees you climb up on one of the tables, your skirt riding up and leaving little to the imagination he pushes himself off the wall, long strides getting him to you in less than twenty seconds.
You're so drunk it takes you a second to notice that you've not only been pulled from the table but also thrown over somebody's shoulder. You pound on his back, shouting to let you down and that they're ruining your fun.
"You've had enough fun for everyone at the party, princesa."
The nickname helps with your recognition just in time for Mattheo to place you down in front of him before he sits on the edge of his bed.
You crossed your arms, swaying a little as you pout at him, "W-what exactly do you think you're doing, Riddle?" You tried your best not to slurr, but it was a losing game.
Mattheo leaned back on his hands, "I saved you from embarrassing yourself, you'll thank me in the morning." The smirk he was wearing made you roll your eyes.
Your drunken state made you walk closer to him, standing right between him legs. You grabbed on to one of his thighs for stability, using your hand to point at him, "I hate you Mattheo Riddle."
His face was unchanging and you felt the need to go on, "I hate you, you big beautiful dumb idiot boy." Matteo quirked an eyebrow, mouth slightly agape with his smirk now.
"What did you just say, love?" You grabbed on to his thigh again, this time Mattheo grabbed hold of your waist to help stabilize you. "I saaaiiiddd...I wiiish that you weren't so bloody beautiful."
Mattheo couldn't help but chuckle, "I'm beautiful huh? Well you're one to talk, princesa."
You shook your head. "N-no," you placed a finger over his lips and he couldn't contain the smile that spread across them as you continued, "don't look at me with your dreamy eyes, call me that special nickname and make me fall more in love with you."
If you were more sober you'd regret the confession you'd just made. But instead you just pouted, mad at Mattheo for making you feel the way you did. You fully anticipated him to laugh, to make fun of you for what you just said, but instead you saw a softness in his eyes.
"Say it again."
Your head titled in confusion at his words.
"Tell me what you just said again," he repeated himself with more clear instructions.
You stood there, no longer wobbly due to Matteo's hold, but definitely sobering up the longer you've been talking. Your cheeks were beat red, whether that was from the alcohol or your confession was unclear, but regardless you did your best to stand up taller, look him straight into his deep brown eyes.
"I'm in love with you."
His lips were on yours as soon as you finished your last word, hot and heavy and messy. You're clawing at his shirt and you climb onto his lap, his hands squeezing and grabbing at your ass. You trail your lips across his jaw, down his neck and bite and lick, marking him as yours and the thought of others seeing is driving him crazy.
You go to push him down on the bed but he stops you, holding your wrists against his chest, "What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"
The pout of your bottom lip makes Mattheo weaker than he'd ever admit, "No, princesa, you did nothing wrong. But you're drunk, we can't go any further than this. I'm a dumb idiot boy but I'm not a scumbag."
He lifted you off his lap and on to the bed next to him. You watched him walk over to his wardrobe before stripping down to his boxers, grabbing one of his t-shirts and bringing it over to you.
"Put this on," you pulled your top off, Mattheo biting the inside of his cheek at your bare chest before you pulled his shirt on. As you shimmy your skirt off he pulled his duvet back, climbing into the bed next to you.
You sank deep into the covers, Mattheo wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close until your head is resting on his chest. Only then do you realize how tired you really are, how heavy your eyelids are and how thankful you are for the warmth of Mattheo's chest.
Your breathing steadied out as Mattheo's fingers trailed lightly up and down your arm. Mattheo kissed the top of your head, whispering softly to himself, "I'm in love with you too, princesa."
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sydnikov · 13 days
Text
Being Bold || S. Jarvis
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Author: Sydney / @sydnikov
Pairing: Seth Jarvis / fem!Reader
Word Count: 7.4k
Summary: Seth has a crush on you. A bad one, and he makes it very obvious throughout the years he’s known you, though you’ve still never taken him seriously because of his immaturity and energetic personality. Much to his chagrin, you keep denying him—until one night, scorned by thoughts of your most recent ex who never knew how to touch you right, you give in to Seth’s advances.
Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v (birth control usage), oral (f receiving), very slight age gap (reader is 2 years older), alcohol mention, alcoholic consumption, minor mention of violence including blood, cursing
A/N: Wow. This one is something (it’s just smut with a small bit of plot don’t mind my dramatics). Here’s the jarvy debauchery as promised ✨ until the next, thanks for the support as always!
*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.
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You’ve only seen Seth Jarvis as a kid.
Well, maybe ‘kid’ is too strong of a word to describe the immaturity gap. You’re only two years older than him, but it’s just that how he acts gives you the impression of a boy.
Not a man, but a boy. And it drives Seth absolutely insane.
He first meets you the year he joins the Hurricanes because you’re friends with the social media director (he later finds out you’re close to Lottie, Jesperi’s girlfriend, as well). He remembers the night vividly, what you were wearing, how soft your hand felt against the calluses on his own. How you looked at him, amusement and softness in the smile you flashed him.
Seth was smitten. Still is, actually, because you’re around more than ever. He sees you everywhere. After games, and even just around Raleigh because you live in the area.
He tries asking you out. Numerous times, but much to his chagrin you always turn him down.
“We just met, Seth.” A week after you first shake his hand.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Well, he did. But, in his defense, he’d just broken up with her after he moved.
“I’m too old for you.” That one hurt, because that’s when he finds out you’re only two years older.
Seth is nothing if not persistent, though. He doesn’t give up even after all the rejections. He’s also pretty sure your reluctance is because you think he’s never touched a woman in his life.
Presumptuous, right? Andrei thinks so when Seth tells him after playing Call of Duty for several hours, but he recounts a conversation you had with Lottie (he still owes her and Jesperi a drink for that, actually) after Seth begged her to slide a good word in.
“You’re not into the mustache?” Lottie had giggled, taking a sip of her martini.
You were drinking a whiskey sour, which he knows because he bought it for you but had Lottie say it was from her. Your face burned red, either because of the alcohol or the question, he doesn’t know.
“No, no,” You laughed. “I like mustaches. And a nice stubble. They feel good on the thighs.”
“So what’s the problem? He’s in love with you, basically.”
“Isn’t he, like, I don’t know… Nineteen?” You had drawled, faking indifference while mixing around the olive in your drink with the little straw it came with.
“He’s twenty-two, babe.” She smirked. “Only two years younger.”
Lottie says she thinks you’re just wary of his immaturity. When he tries defending himself, Jesperi reminds him that he scored a goal the other night, pointed at you behind the glass where you sat with Lottie, and then proceeded to griddy.
Word on the street is that you weren’t impressed.
Nonetheless, Seth can’t change his personality for you, as much as he considers it. He thinks the sun rises and sets on you, but if you truly think you’re too good for him then he does have enough self respect to walk away and get over it.
But… He just doesn’t think that’s the case, here. You only seem reluctant—that’s it.
“You can’t force her to sleep with you, Jarvy.” Andrei tells him, breaking him out of his thoughts. 
“I know.” He groans, his chin falling into his hand. “What do I do, then?” And truly, he’s run out of ideas. He’s played silly, nice, gentleman… What else is there left for him to do, other than give up?
Seth thinks of your radiant smile, then groans to himself because fuck. He really doesn’t want to give up.
“Give her space?” Andrei suggests. “Have you tried, just… Going away?” He frowns for a moment, trying to think of the right words in English. “Not ‘going away’—”
“Space? You think she just needs space?”
“Well, not too much space—”
“Svechy you're a genius.” Seth interrupts, jumping out of his seat with renown vigor. “I’ll buy you a drink for this, remind me!” And then he’s springing up from the couch, grabbing his keys and sprinting out the front door.
Andrei blinks. Once, twice, then shakes his head with a laugh. He feels like he should warn you, then promptly decides this is not something he wants to get in the middle of.
Seth takes his teammate’s advice to heart, and gives you the space he thinks you need to process his zealous pursuit of you. He can tell it catches you off guard because he’s stopped following you around like a lost puppy, along with all of the antics normally associated with his creative flirting.
In fact, it’s such a sudden change from what you’re used to that it freaks you out. Hurts a little bit, too, because did he just wake up one day disgusted by the thought of you?
You tell yourself you’re disturbed because you miss the attention. It’s been a while since you’ve had a guy foam at the mouth for you, after all, so now that it’s gone you’re just going through withdrawals.
It’s more than that, though, and you won’t admit it to yourself but when you spy him chatting it up with other girls your stomach twists in a way that you know screams trouble.
Maybe it’s because you just ended things with your latest boyfriend - a bore of a man who couldn’t make time for you outside of his work - and the vulnerability of being alone yet again is getting to you.
Is Seth really so bad? You think about him sometimes, when you’re alone in your apartment or even right in front of him. You’ve always had a soft spot for him, sure, but nothing more than friendly affection.
You’re questioning this now, when his attention is no longer being directed at you, because you distinctly remember him getting into a fight with some other player on the ice, and that’s the first time you remember thinking man and not boy.
The team it was against escapes you, but you remember someone getting in Sebastian’s space with a raised arm, and then Seth came flying in with a fist to the opposing player’s face and a lot of colorful words. Your jaw had dropped as the referees tore them apart, his hair dripping with sweat and a cut welling with blood dripping down his forehead.
The moment forces you to think that maybe altogether, his energetic personality, a smile that never leaves his face, and the unwavering loyalty for his friends combined isn’t such a bad thing after all. The revelation leaves you shaking and feeling quite awkward when he’s around, or even just being brought up.
“Do you miss Scott?” Lottie asks you one day when you’re out for lunch at Perry’s - a steakhouse near her apartment in North Hills - referring to your aforementioned ex-boyfriend. Even his name is boring.
You laugh a little, unable to not roll your eyes though your ire isn’t directed at her. “No. I knew it wasn’t going to last when I got into it, anyways.”
“It’s been about two weeks since you broke up with him.” She says, a statement rather than a question. The look on her face tells you she’s trying to go somewhere with this. “Has anyone caught your eye lately? You’re too pretty to be single, you know.”
It’s obvious that Lottie is trying to ask if you’ve reconsidered Seth at all. It’s been the talk of your whole friend group, including the guys, that he’s suddenly stopped in his bold pursuit of you, though none of them think it’s because he’s lost interest.
“I don’t know.” You whine, begrudgingly stabbing a piece of potato with your fork. “I mean, he’s… Seth.”
“Seth, who has spent his entire time on the Hurricanes trying to win you over?” She says with a raised brow. “Just because he’s had his fun doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.”
You don’t have a response to that, so instead you just nod. She is right, as much as you hate to admit it. Seth is a successful professional hockey player in his prime, of course he’s been with his fair share of women and will continue to do so as long as he’s single.
If that was your case you’d certainly be having fun, too.
“If his casualness towards dating really bothers you, you should just talk to him.” Lottie says after a moment. “He’s dying for you to speak to him, I swear it.”
You concede. “I’ll talk to him the next time I see him.”
Fortunately for you, that ‘next time’ doesn’t happen for quite a few more weeks, and when you do finally run into him again it’s when you’re slightly tipsy, drinking at a bar near to PNC Arena after the boys have won a game.
You don’t even take note of his presence at first, in the middle of gossiping with some of your friends who just so happen to know the players.
The gossip? Your ex-boyfriend, Scott, and his inability to make you come.
“I mean, he wasn’t bad or anything.” You say. “He had all the knowledge and stuff, just, like, couldn’t do anything. Y’know?” You’re slurring your words a little bit, but everyone around you nods like you’re making some big, important speech.
“So did you have to fake it?” Someone asks. You can’t even remember how Scott was brought up in the first place.
You giggle; you can’t help it. “Oh my god, yes, sometimes it was so bad I had to say I was cramping just to get him to stop trying.” That sends everyone into boisterous laughter, and in your slight drunkenness you can’t help but join in.
The song changes then, and it must be one everyone knows because it scatters you and the rest of the girls into smaller groups, some running to the dance floor while others wander back to the bar. You stay seated, however, content to watch as you sip your drink.
“Whiskey sour?” That’s when Seth makes his presence known. His voice murmured in your ear catches you off guard, and you jump a little as you turn to face him. “Seth.” You greet, not unkindly. “Yeah, but it’s only my second.”
Just as soon as he appeared, he’s jumping back up from his seat next to you. “I’ll get you a third.” You don’t have time to protest as he disappears, and your affection for this rambunctious man only continues to grow as he bounds back moments later, sliding you your drink with a smug grin.
“Thank you.” You smile, a little shy, a little bashful, as you take your first sip. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Anything for my girl.” Ah, there it is. You’re unable to hide the obvious roll of your eyes, but Seth’s smile doesn’t waver. “Not your girl, Seth. Just got out of a relationship, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” He says. “Scott, right? Sounds like that was doomed from the start.”
You narrow your eyes, unsure of the knowing tone he’s taken on. “And how would you know?”
“He couldn’t make you come, yeah? What a tool.”
Suddenly, your throat is very dry, and you’re taking a very large sip of whiskey that has you wincing. So… He heard you say that, then. Is it hot in here? You have the sudden urge to fan yourself. Fuck fuck fuck. Seth, of all people, should not be making your thighs clench.
You don’t realize how silent you’ve gotten until he speaks up again. “I could make you, you know.”
That has you choking, and you quickly throw back the rest of your drink to soothe your throat. “What?” When you finally meet Seth’s eyes, he’s still grinning at you, though it’s more carnal. His eyes darken as he responds.
“Come. I could get you to come so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.”
Your reply is meek, knowing deep down inside you’re fighting a losing battle. “Have you even touched a girl before?” He scoffs, and you know as well as he does that he’s been with his fair share of women. It’s one of the reasons you’re so hesitant to take him seriously.
Seth is undeterred, though, as he slides even closer to you. You stare straight ahead, determined not to meet his eyes even though you’re positive there’s a red flush creeping up your neck as his breath tickles your ear.
He says your name, a low purr that’s almost mocking like he can see right through your bullshit because finally, he’s breaking through to you. “You know I have. None of them are you, though.”
You squirm in your seat as his hand creeps up your shoulders, grasping the back of your neck as he gently turns your head to face him. He squeezes reassuringly, and now you’re melting into his embrace as a gasp falls from your lips.
“I want you. You know that, baby.”
“Seth…”
“Let me show you, please?” Then those warm eyes are bearing into your own, and now you’re getting a glimpse of the boy you first met all over again. This time, though, instead of feeling innocent affection all you feel now is heat.
You were stupid to think the adoration he never hesitates to show for you wouldn’t win you over eventually.
Blinking owlishly, you move one of your hands to grip his arm, looking so dainty against the rugged muscle under his skin, and, well. You cave.
“Okay.”
Seth doesn’t expect you to give in so easily. He freezes, doesn’t move until you gain your wits back and pinch his thigh with a gentle roll of your eyes. “Are you just going to sit there or should I find someone else to entertain me?”
That gets him moving. It’s his turn to look anxious as he runs a hand through his hair, still processing the fact that he didn’t have to convince you more. He wasn’t actually expecting to get this far with you—quite literally, the woman of his dreams.
“Shit, okay.” He laughs, jumping out of his seat and lacing his fingers with yours. “You’re serious, then.”
“Somehow.” You deadpan. Somehow your legs are still clenching and your heart is beating a little too fast to be normal. “Don’t fuck it up.”
He looks to you, a little terrified, and you can’t help but break the irritated front and send him a small smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly even as your words are all snark. Truthfully, you’re also scared, but not of the sex, but rather the developing feelings that might grow deeper afterwards.
You just got out of yet another disappointing relationship. You don’t want whatever this is with Seth to end with the same result.
He does a good job of distracting you from your destructive thoughts, though, as he pulls you out of the bar like two teenagers trying to sneak away from their parents. You suppose it’s not unlike that same feeling because Jesperi catches your eye as you exit the doors, and he sends you such a shit-eating grin it has you ducking your head to avoid his obnoxious stare.
You suppose you do owe him a favor now after all.
For the first time ever, standing outside in the biting cold, Seth kisses you as you’re waiting for an Uber. You being busy trying to look like you’re not about to go hook up, he suddenly grabs you by the waist and smooths his lips against yours so good your toes curl.
“Fuck.” He murmurs into your mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.” His teeth catch your bottom lip, and you unabashedly moan. You run your hands up his chest, around his shoulders, and to the back of his neck where you card your fingers through thick strands of hair, tugging from the roots.
“Seth…” You gasp when he detaches his lips from your own only for him to smooth down your jawline, then down to your neck where he sucks wet kisses into your sensitive skin. “Fuck, we’re in public.” With a hiss, you pull him away from your neck and pointedly ignore the wetness in your panties when he groans at the loss of contact.
He looks at you like a baby getting its favorite toy taken away, and you can’t ignore how his desperation turns you on wildly. It takes everything in you to not let him go back to feasting on your neck.
“When’s the Uber getting here?” You ask after a moment. You’re both panting, tipsy from the taste of each other’s lips as you try to catch your breath.
Seth pulls out his phone, and as you admire the way the light illuminates his face you completely miss the words coming from his mouth.
You flush. “Say that again?” Seth grins wickedly, brings you in by the back of your neck and kisses you, then pulls away too soon for your liking. “The Uber. It’s right here.” He then wraps an arm around your waist, digging his fingers deliciously into your skin, and leads you into the Uber as it arrives right on time.
He rattles off his address to the driver, then settles back into the seats. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and you hum your appreciation as you sink into his chest. You feel him kiss the top of your head in response.
You could fall asleep, if you really wanted to. The sudden switch in mood from carnal desperation to gentle affection would give you whiplash if you weren’t so at ease resting against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The drive passes fairly quickly, and Seth doesn’t stop touching you as you make your way up the elevator to his apartment. His hand sneaks to your ass, giving it a squeeze before you slap his arm away.
“Cameras!” You hiss, though it’s with little mirth as a small smile curves up your lips. Seth merely laughs, slides his hand back down to rest on your lower back. “They don’t care. Now c’mere.”
You make out until you can’t breathe, and as you pull away it’s just in time as the elevator doors open. Your heart rate picks up, and you hide your nerves as he grabs your hand and practically sprints out of the elevator with you.
“We have all night, you know.” You giggle, absentmindedly rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand. Seth groans playfully, but his words strike you as serious even as he masks it with a grin.
“Not long enough, babe.”
You don’t respond, partly because you don’t know how to and partly because he’s just unlocked his door, and you’re too busy taking in his apartment. You’ve been to Andrei’s house numerous times, Jesperi and Lottie's apartment, Jordan’s for his famous house parties… It’s just now that you’re realizing you don’t actually know Seth all that well.
What you do know, though, is that he’s eyeing you like he can’t wait to devour you, and the reminder that you don’t even know his favorite color exits your mind as you sidle up to his chest, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit to drag his lips down to yours.
“Time to impress me, lover boy.” You hum into his mouth, fighting a shiver when he nips at your bottom lip. Seth chuckles, one of his hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass, the other tugging your hair back to expose your neck.
He kisses your cheek once, twice, mouths at your collarbone with teasing bites that have your eyes fluttering shut, and then it’s like he loses patience as suddenly his hands are picking you up by your thighs and curling your legs around his waist.
You squeak in surprise. “Seth!” You admonish, because of course it turns you on that he’s able to throw you around effortlessly. He seems to have that effect on you.
Seth maneuvers the two of you through his darkened apartment with ease, knowing the route to his bedroom like the back of his hand. Your attempts at distracting him include sucking a bright red hickey on his neck, fully intending it for it to be bright enough that his teammates give him hell for it the next day.
Once he pushes open the door with his foot, he brings you to the foot of his bed and unceremoniously drops you. You scoff with indignation at his manhandling, though you know he knows you like it if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.
A tiger stalking its prey, Seth crawls on top of you and meets your eager lips in another kiss. His hands smooth down the curves of your hips to your thighs, slowly spreading them open. He mumbles something, and you miss it completely.
“Hm?” You run your hands through his hair, enjoying the way the black strands are moussed from your touch. Your shirt is also already halfway up your torso as he helps you tear it off. “I said I’ll wear your marks proudly. My girl.” He coos, flicking open the clasp of your bra and immediately moving down to your chest.
“Fuck.” He groans. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”  Your laugh quickly turns to a gasp as he sucks your right nipple into his mouth.
Your other nipple is taken by his fore-finger and thumb, rolling the sensitive nub between the calloused pads. Between him sucking on one tit and playing with the other, you’re practically a whimpering mess, trying to simultaneously wiggle out of his grip yet get closer at the same time.
“Seth,” You whine. “I need you.” You’re admitting it openly, foregoing coyness in favor of your own pleasure. Yeah, so what? You like this overgrown puppy of a man, and you really want to fuck him. Pulling his head back by his hair, you eagerly slam your lips back together.
“Need me?” He grins against your lips. “Where do you need me? Gotta be specific, babe, because I can be here,” He emphasizes a quick squeeze to your tit. “Here,” The other hand smooths over your ass. “Or here...” He trails off into a low rumble, parting your eager thighs.
Based on the tortured groan he lets out, you assume he can probably feel the wetness that’s soaked through your jeans. You’re too turned on to be embarrassed, though.
“Damn it, Seth, just touch me.” You hiss, keeping his hand pressed between your thighs while the other is already working open the button of your jeans. “Fucking tease.” You mutter, though it’s light-hearted and he knows it based on his snicker.
He helps you peel off the rest of your jeans, throwing them somewhere behind you. It’ll be fun trying to hunt for those in the morning. When he sees the dainty white lace covering your pussy, he lets out his most needy sound yet.
“Shit.” He breathes. “Wore these for me? So pretty. My pretty baby.” He murmurs as he thumbs the lace, running two fingers over the soaked fabric. If you could see, you’d guarantee his pupils are blown wide.
Your hips rise at the friction, wanting more. And because you’re still hellbent on resisting him, apparently, you roll your eyes, spitting out your next words. “You knew I was coming home with you, didn’t you? Asshole.” Though your words are all snark, your tone screams laughter.
Strangely enough, the banter gets you off more than any dirty talk in the world. It’s familiar, relaxing, and Seth clearly doesn’t mind either as he merely chuckles. “I just know you that well, don't I?” The look on his face offers no room for argument.
And, well, you suppose he isn’t wrong. You are here in his bed at the end of the day, right?
You grumble something that to his ears sounds like ‘shut up’ and then you’re sliding your panties down your thighs, letting him take care of the rest as, like your other clothes, he tosses them somewhere behind him.
If you thought the sight of your covered pussy would get the best reaction from him, it’s nothing compared to the way his entire body freezes at seeing it bare.
You’d had a feeling something big was going to happen after Lottie's sly words, so you took the liberty of shaving everywhere just two nights before. You’re glad for that, as Seth is looking at the heat between your legs like he doesn’t know where to start.
Teasing him in a normal setting about not knowing how to touch a woman is one thing, but making a remark now as anxious anticipation is all over his face just feels wrong.
You do like him, after all—quite a bit, you’re coming to find.
Reaching out your hand, you wait for him to grasp it before you pull him down to hover over your awaiting form. “C’mere, baby.” The pet-name slips without thought, but you can’t make yourself regret it because the way his face lights up is a look you won’t forget any time soon.
He laughs a little as your eyes finally meet, like he can’t believe he’s actually about to fuck you and you’re going to let him. “Tell me how to touch you?” He asks, not a demand but more of a request.
Taking his right hand, you lead him down the length of your body, over your breasts and down your stomach until your hands are resting just below your navel. “You know how to find the clit?” You tease, partly joking and partly serious.
Seth scoffs like the very thought offends him, and the mild dig does its job of making him forget his earlier nervousness.
“Of course I know where the fucking clit is,” He replies, pointer and middle finger already sliding down and gathering the slickness lathered in your lower lips. “Scott is such a dumbass.”
Well, it seems the familiar, cocky Seth is back now.
“...didn’t even realize what a bombshell he had right in front of him.” You miss the first part of his sentence because he did, in fact, find your clit, and unlike your ex, knows exactly how to touch it.
Your mouth opens into an ‘o’, and Seth hums a pleased noise as his fingers work your sensitive clit into a swollen, throbbing mess. Your hips move in time with the flicks of his fingers and you don’t even realize you’re panting until Seth leans forward and licks a stripe all the way from your navel down to your soaked opening.
When you start bucking into his mouth, he grabs your hips and holds them down to the bed, forcing you to take it. You whine, hands finding purchase in his hair as his tongue laps at you like you’re his favorite meal. He dips into your entrance in time with the quick circles he’s drawing over your clit, and oh, suddenly you’re much closer than you thought.
“Tastes so good.” You hear him grunt. “Can’t get enough of you.”
“Seth,” Gasping, you can’t decide if you want to keep him close or shove him away. “Shit. Seth, fuck, I’m close.”
“Yeah? Already?” Your confession only seems to reinvigorate his efforts, and the next thing you know two long fingers are sliding their way into your cunt. “Gonna come for me?”
Quicker than you expect he finds the sensitive wall of flesh inside you, and his fingers curl up against it which sends you keening. Loudly. You slap a hand over your mouth, but Seth quickly tears it away.
“Nobody here but me and you.” He grins, and just to rub it in, presses a hot kiss to your clit. “I wanna hear you scream.”
“What a gentleman.” You manage to squeeze out, and in revenge for your snark he immediately sucks your clit between his lips and rapidly curls his fingers inside you.
Seth watches with hooded eyes as your own squeeze shut, teeth biting into your kiss-swollen lips while your hands tug at his hair. Your thighs are shaking on each side of his head, and suddenly he wants you to come for him like his life depends on it.
“You gonna come?” He asks. Your walls clamp around his fingers and he knows you’re close. “Yeah? Can you come for me? I know you want to.”
Your entire body shakes all while he keeps you tethered to the bed. Your mind, though, is floating, and you can practically see white as his lips don’t stop sucking, his fingers don’t stop curling, and it’s too much but also not enough and you want to shove him away yet demand he never stops touching you.
And your high is right there, you can practically taste it, but your body is wound so tight and you can’t remember the last time you’ve let go that you remain stuck right on the edge.
There are tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you tug at his hair. Seth meets your eyes, looks a little concerned after reading the desperation on your face, and then understands when a broken moan tumbles past your lips.
Seth, a little shit as always, brings you back to the edge with his words alone. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” He slips in a third finger. “Bet you haven’t had anyone make you feel like this. Just me. Hopefully always me.”
“Seth,” You croak. “Please.”
“I’ve got you.” He urges. “Let go for me. You’re right there, I know it. You’re so tight, fuck, there you go.”
His mocking words echo in your mind with the low drawl of his voice, dark eyes staring at you like you’re a feast, and his damn fingers curling just right against your spongy wall.
His free hand suddenly moves, presses down over your lower abdomen, and oh. “Such a good girl.” Seth croons as you fall apart.
It’s the last thing you hear as your vision goes white, and the heat in your body explodes with wave after wave of ecstasy pumping from the tips of your toes all the way to the hair on your head. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you’re pretty sure you’re making some sort of strangled noise as you ride your high that seems to go on forever.
By the time you come back, your legs are still shaking and Seth is still gently stroking your inner walls with careful circles around your clit. He's my gazing up at you with pure, unbridled adoration and the emotion in his eyes makes your heart thump.
You don’t even realize your fingers are still tangled in his hair until you have to let go because they’re cramping, and then Seth finally removes his fingers and slowly crawls back up your body.
You’re still catching your breath when he presses a long, soft kiss to your lips. “How was that?” He questions almost shyly. His need for reassurance might have had a past you rolling your eyes, but right now all you want to do is hold him and thank him for making you feel so good.
Especially after Scott. Asshole.
You shudder, clit still throbbing as you wrap your arms around his heavy shoulders and bring his weight down on top of you. His very hard cock brushes against your hip with the movement, and you’re reminded that he hasn’t had any semblance of relief yet.
“Thank you.” You whisper. It’s definitely weird to thank someone after they eat you out, right? Probably, but you don’t really care.
His lips brush against your cheek in response, heart swelling at the gentle vulnerability you’re showing him. He’s planning on running to the bathroom to get you a towel, but freezes when he feels your hands peeling off the suit he totally forgot he was wearing.
“Babe?” He mumbles, a little confusingly, but all you do is kiss him and that shuts him up. He doesn’t break contact even as he shrugs off the rest of his suit, peeling off his undershirt until he’s more than halfway bare. Your hands carve lines over the hard planes of muscle on his chest, scratching lightly with your nails over his nipples which has him flinching into your mouth. Snickering, you make your way down the rest of his chest, past his waist, under his boxers, and then you’re wrapping your hand around his hot, pulsating dick.
Seth groans, almost collapsing on top of you as you squeeze lightly. It’s a dream come true, him touching you and now you touching him. He wants to close his eyes at the feeling of your gentle strokes, but he insists on keeping them open to watch the enraptured look on your face.
Then your other hand moves, unbuttoning his slacks and sliding them over his hips and that’s when he jerks back to the present. “Sweetheart,” He gasps. “You… You don’t have to.”
You smile at his breathlessness. “You don’t want to fuck me?” You pout, though it quickly turns back into a grin when his eyes widen in panic. Another day you’d blow him, when you aren’t so desperate to get him inside you.
Seth briefly removed himself from on top of you to lean over his bed, rifling through his nightstand drawer. You assume he’s looking for a condom and that his efforts fail when he eventually closes the drawer with a curse.
He looks back to you, all messy hair, swollen lips, and glistening eyes. “I don’t have a condom.” He informs regretfully.
“I’m on the pill, if you’re…” You trail off, unsure. “If you’re okay with that. And I’m clean.”
“Hell yes I’m okay with that.” He breathes. His cock hardens even more at the thought of feeling you raw, if even possible. “I’m clean too.” And then he’s kissing you again, long and slow and deep, and you’re happy to let him take the lead as your brain is still trying to play catch-up from your orgasm.
Seth eventually breaks away only to reattach to your neck, nipping at the skin likely already covered in his marks, hands now making their way back down your body. He playfully flicks your nipple as he does so, grins when you flinch upwards.
“Have I told you how much I love your body?” He says in-between kisses, almost like an afterthought. He’s in the middle of spreading your thighs open, fingers slipping through your leftover wetness and brushing your clit when you respond.
You help in his endeavors, raising your legs to curl over his hips as he situates himself on top of you. “You’ve mentioned it a few times, I think.” You reply, breath hitching when his cock presses against you.
“It’s perfect.” He continues, like he didn’t even hear you. “You’re perfect.” He wraps his hand around his dick, guides the head to your entrance and pushes in. All words escape you, and your head falls back with a moan.
He sinks into you with a pleasurable sound of his own, eyes squeezing shut as your warmth envelops him. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he thrusts slowly into you, bottoming out. “So tight.” He hisses.
“Oh, fuck,” You whimper, digging your nails into his back. Seth stills, thinking he's hurting you. “Shit, am I—”
“Don’t you dare stop.” You quickly interrupt, crying out when his tip rubs against your sensitive inner walls just right. Seth relaxes at your words, a cocky grin spreading over his face. “Sorry, sorry.” He chuckles, picking up the speed of his thrusts.
Like before when his tongue was in you, it doesn’t take you long before noises are escaping your throat uncontrollably or for your legs to tremble from where they’re wrapped around his waist. The sensations are more because you’re already so sensitive, so strung-up, and so eager for another release that you give up any pretenses of trying to play cool.
Your head lolls back onto the bed, all strength leaving your body as Seth happily does all the work on top. Quick, short pants are coming from his mouth, and his chest is heavy where it presses down against yours. With every thrust his pelvis is rocking into your clit, sending sparks up your body as you clench rhythmically around his cock. It’s burning you from the inside-out in the best way possible, and very quickly you’re already approaching the edge.
You try to express your impending release, but all that’s able to come from your mouth is one long moan. Seth, somehow, knows exactly what that noise means, and is suddenly pulling out. “What the fuck?” You practically shout with indignation, glaring at the man on top of you with squinted eyes.
Ever the comedian, he only laughs at your irritation. “Hold on, bear with me.” His hands grab your waist, then rolls you over onto your stomach. He raises your hips, pushing down on your lower back into an arch, and all previous complaints leave you as he’s unable to help himself and runs his hands over your ass.
You’ll think later on why him being unfazed with your attitude makes your heart warm.
“Spread your legs for me.” He murmurs, tapping at the junction between your thighs. You do as he says, and shiver when his fingers go to part your cunt once you’re open. You can’t see his face, but imagine the look on it to be one of enrapturement. You turn your head finally, pressing your hips down onto his hand where it remains touching you.
Your earlier guess was right; his pupils are blown wide, jaw hung open just a little bit at having this view of you from behind. Meeting his eyes, you stare imploringly.
While the sudden need for him scares you, you don’t shy away. Rather, you meet his desires head-on in the form of pushing your hips back against him when he finally pushes in, smothering a whimper as his body looms over yours.
Neither of you talk in favor of letting your pleasure speak for you. The new position feels more intimate, oddly enough; his chest presses onto you from every angle, and you can feel his breath every time he pants into your ear. At the same time his arms are wrapped around your waist, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips while he thrusts into you from behind.
All too soon you’re reaching your peak just like before, and the buildup feels so sweet because he’s hitting you deeper, unrelenting in his thrusts despite how your arms collapse from underneath you. Seth doesn’t flinch, merely picks you back up and presses a hand to your abdomen to keep you there.
With your arms free, you realize that your clit is feeling neglected, and as you sneak your right hand in-between your legs he’s suddenly beating you to it, slapping your own hand away and replacing it with his own.
When it’s all said and done, you don’t think you’ll ever forget the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub so deliciously. Between his dick rutting into your sweet spot mercilessly and the rough pads of fingers stimulating your clit, your eyes are slamming shut with your mouth opening in a silent scream as for the second time that night, Seth is sending you into release.
He carries you through it with noncommittal praise while you’re lost in white noise and starry vision. The sight of you crumbling beneath him sends sparks throughout his body, and it doesn’t take long between the rhythmic clenching of your cunt and the pleasured sounds falling from your lips for him to flood your insides with his cum.
“Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck.” Seth loses any semblance of restraint of trying to be gentle, as his last thrusts rattle your frame and have you whimpering by the time he’s done releasing, your overstimulated clit throbbing in time with the slow rocks of your calming bodies. “So good. You did so good, yeah?” Seth is rumbling into your ear, voice hoarse and tired as he carefully slides out of you. Eyes still closed, you flinch at your sensitivity. “Sorry, babe.” He whispers, having to regroup for a moment as his softening cock meets cool air after being buried inside you.
You attempt to speak, but the only sound that leaves your mouth is a groan as your aching limbs stretch. You don’t bother opening your eyes yet, either, perfectly content to lay in your post-orgasmic pleasure and not think about the future.
Seth doesn’t let you wallow for long, however, as he’s suddenly leaning over you again. “Can you turn over? I have a towel, it’s warm.” He asks, back to shy and unsure. Now that you’re not caught up in the throes of sex, he’s not quite sure how you’re going to act. “You also need to go pee.”
Your default moods of snarky and mildly irritated is what he gets. “No.” You grumble, though it’s not mean as you bury your head in his pillow, still flat on your stomach. Having no energy to move, you don’t expect Seth to do anything about it, either.
He raises a brow at your sass, not quite sure if he should be relieved or concerned. Huffing, he makes a grab for your hips. “Guess I’m carrying you to the bathroom, then.”
“Seth!” You shriek as he attempts to manhandle you, a burst of energy fueling your efforts in trying to get away. “You little shit, no, fine, fine!” And Seth wins just like that, as you concede the battle and roll from your stomach onto your back. You glare as he leans over your torso, bringing the towel down to clean up the mess in-between your thighs.
His confidence comes back, little by little, as the banter returns naturally and your dynamic doesn’t change despite indulging in your bodies’ most primal desires. “You’ll thank me in the morning.” He grins when he finishes, sliding off the bed to bring it back to the bathroom. You follow, doing your business so quickly you leave before he’s done with his own.
When he comes back you’re in the same position he left you in, like you never left. “So I’m staying the night, then?” You prompt as he goes to sit next to you, a little teasing, a little serious. Where do you stand with him now?
He shrugs, masking his nervousness. “If you want to.” He sinks his teeth into his lip, eyeing you from where he sits. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, and it slightly unnerves him.
Your mysteriousness is also what captivated him about you in the first place too, though. With that, he realizes he wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t liked him at least a little bit. Taking a deep breath, he takes the bold route, grabs your hand, and does what he does best:
Be bold.
“I want you to stay though, like, really badly.” He admits, meeting your curious eyes. You suck in a breath at his words, and Seth continues. “You know I like you. A lot. And I think you like me too.”
As if knowing he’s waiting for your reassurance, you reply quietly. “A little presumptuous of you, yeah?”
Seth grins, and you can’t help but wonder how you were able to resist it for so long.
“So… You’ll stay?” He tilts his head, reminding you of a puppy. You go to respond, maybe with another sarcastic reply, and he seems to know this even before you do. “Please?”
And, well, you can’t deny him when he’s looking at you like that; soft, brown eyes full of adoration gazing at you like you’ve hung the stars and the moon. “Okay.” You relent, grinning happily as he mouths something like ‘fuck yeah’ and rolls over next to you.
“Do you want to shower?” He suddenly asks, after you’ve already curled underneath his sheets with your body pressed against his. He makes a nice furnace, and you’re mad at yourself for not indulging in him sooner. “Because I have a big one. It has these jets that spray from different angles, and you can go alone or I can join or—”
“Seth.” You interrupt, poking his chest to get his attention. He gulps at the amused expression on your face. “Stop talking.”
“Okay.”
It’s silent for several minutes, and you’re almost asleep until he speaks up again.
“Can I be your boyfriend now?”
“Oh my god.” You hiss. “If I say yes will you let me go to sleep?”
You can’t see his face but you know for a fact there’s a stupid grin on it. “You know, I think you’re gonna fall in love with me one day.”
“Keep dreaming, babe.” You say.
But you both know he won’t be dreaming for long.
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A/N: I like this one a lot tbh. But my lord I didn't realize how repetitive writing smut is so I need to have at least a little plot established before I can just jump into it 😭 regardless, I hope this is everything y’all wanted in terms of me writing for him and more! Please be sure to reblog and comment, thank youuuuu
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booppooo · 3 months
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what’s going on here? pt.1
*warnings: not a whole lot tbh, friends to lovers, kissing, pining, w33d, lemme know if I missed any
-
“Ugh, it tastes like hot garbage.” Ellie stuck her tongue out, a few auburn strands loosening from her tiny pony tail. She passed the joint to me.
Several sets of eyes locked onto me. I held the joint between my fingers, trying to distract myself from the curiosity piquing in Jesse and Dina. I flashed my eyes at Ellie one last time, catching her still making a sour face and sticking her tongue out like a disgusted cat. My heart made the tiniest of leaps. My trembling fingers place the end of it between my lips and inhale deeply. In hindsight it was too strong of a drag - especially for my first one - since i coughed out all the smoke foolishly. My chest ached, my throat burned, and my mouth was annoyingly dry. I turned away from my friends to hide my watery eyes, sticking my arm out behind me to hand the joint to whomever was next.
“See - tastes awful!” Ellie pointed out.
“Okay but, is it really supposed to taste good?” Dina tried to rationalize, “Every time I heard Eugene talk about it, he says, ‘Oh - this tastes good.’”
“Eugene is also half off his rocker.” Jesse quips, taking his turn at a puff. He coughs hard like me.
Half nauseous from coughing so hard, I return to my friends and recline further into the ski lodge seating, “God, we look like a bunch of amateurs.”
Dina groans, “This is our first time smoking weed.” It’s obvious she’s fed up with the collective group complaining.
I look to my right to see a dip in the red cushion. Next I hear clinking and a familiar freckled face returning with an intricate bottle and some small glasses. She sets out the glasses and adds just a splash of the amber drink, sloppily getting some on the table. “We’re not even going to get high anyway…”
“Jesus Ellie..” Jesse mumbles, still reaching for his glass, “How did you get this?”
“A magician never reveals her secrets.” We all raise our glasses and choke down the whiskey.
Within the next handful of minutes, there’s a record playing and every object my eyes came across had a mild swirl to them. Ellie’s arm was draped over my shoulders and holding me close as we chanted along to the song we somehow still know (muscle memory?), my hand lazily on her frail hip. With hot cheeks and ears my night continued on with my closest friends, singing songs and slurring empty sentences. Delightfully, this wouldn’t be the last.
-
“That doesn’t taste too bad.” Ellie mentions, her chest puffed up from holding the smoke in her lungs, then letting it slowly slip out through her pursed lips. Internally I laugh - I can’t help but feel seventeen every time we smoke together and she mentions the quality of the weed to some degree. I wonder if she will ever think it tastes like ‘hot garbage’ again. The bong is in my palms now. Music is already playing and Dina is shuffling cards.
I’ve never been able to shake the habit of coughing from my first hit, but I’ve been able to control it so I don’t sound like a lung and a half are coming up on my shirt. Just like routine, next is Jesse. Dina is now caressing the small of his back, watching as he takes a rip and continuing to pass it along. My eyes find Ellie, as per usual.
Emerald is already studying my figure. Her ankle is crossed over her knee, cards fumbling in her bony fingers. She’s worn her hair down today, some of it curled around her ear and brushing the collar of her graphic band tee. When our widening pupils lock, she wets her lips - on cue like this simple gesture triggers a Pavlov response. My knee begins to bounce and brush against her leg…yet, she shuffles closer.
Only to grab the bong from Dina of course. I had to remind myself my imagination likes to get extravagant anytime weed is involved. The entire time she takes her rip, I watch with intention. Is there a warmth crawling up my neck? “Here-“ her voice pulls me from the clouds.
I turn to face her, taking the bong from her grasp, “Let me pull for you,” she offers. To anyone else this seems sweet, but I know the mischievous curl at the corner of her dopey lips.
“Yeah - so I can take the biggest bong rip in the world and die?”
“You’re so smart.”
My sarcastic chuckle comes across more nervous, but I oblige nonetheless. As the flame from the lighter reaches the weed and creates orange embers, I begin to inhale softly. There’s a milkiness forming below my lips, and at this point I’d wrap it all up, but Ellie is teasing when she’s going to pull out the piece. I furrow my brows at her seeing as that is all the further I can communicate with her, and she gives in with an anticipatory laugh. Most of the smoke disappears into my lungs, and I feel it sting instantaneously.
“Shotgun shotgun!” Dina chants.
I already had a mild high buzzing my body, but Ellie’s beyond friendly proximity with her half lidded eyes and parted lips basically on top of mine sobered me up quick. Leaning in just a few more scandalous inches, I blew some smoke into her lips before having to quickly turn and hack up the rest of it. If I wasn’t having a flashback to my first time smoking - I was certainly now. The only new element was the high. It hit me hard and fast, I was forced back into Ellie’s futon, my head falling against her shoulder by chance.
“Hey, you okay?” Her red rimmed eyes observing me with concern.
“More than…” I grinned uncontrollably, “Just a little light headed from coughing.” I tried to quickly cover my tracks, straightening my spine.
With that we (tried) to begin a game of rummy, my mind in six different places and mostly unconcerned with winning or losing. Most of my attention couldn’t be pulled away from Ellie’s palm conveniently falling to my bouncing leg every time her turn was up. I was already fried, but her mindless - and surely friendly - gesture seared what was left of my braincells. To keep me slightly presentable, I tried to focus on the music humming somewhere in the room. Ellie’s music of course. It only took two rounds for the group to collectively call it quits and just chat. A sense of relief gripped me, but on the next beat was released when I noticed Ellie’s gaze fixating on me. Was I greening out or was she watching my lips?
“Oooh…” Jesse hummed, beginning a thought, “I have jerky back at my place, I think I’m gonna grab it - I’ll be back.” Like clockwork, Dina was hopping up and slipping out the door with him.
“Be right back!” She cheered, securing the latch behind her.
My head lulled back to the girl seated beside me, my eyes just open enough to drag over her features and notice the allure that they carried. The squeeze on my thigh made me bite back my gasp, bottom lip pinched between my teeth.
I hesitated to speak, “Hey man…” was there even a starting point with the conversation I wanted to have? Was there even a conversation?
“Okay listen, I just want to throw something out there, and if you’re not interested you just let me know.” She blinked slowly, letting me know I wasn’t the only one embarrassingly high, “I think we should fuck.”
I choked, back tightening and eyes bulging from my skull. My body began to create some orange embers of it’s own in my chest; relief? No, shock? No.
“Oh shit…” Regret was heavy in Ellie’s raspy voice.
I waved my hand reassuringly, “No! You were just very blunt-“
“Blunt? I can’t smoke anymore.”
I rolled my eyes at her sly grin. Even toasted she was cracking jokes. Despite the ridiculousness of it all, the longing glances and lingering touches finally had an answer, and at the end of that tunnel was a possible orgasm. Not to mention the fact that I had always thought Ellie was insanely too hot for her own good. Without much more thought, I quickly leaned in and had my lips smashed against hers.
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vanfleeter · 1 month
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Coffee Cup Apologies
Characters: Jake x Fem!reader Warnings: 18+. Angst. Anger. Language. Heated argument. Yelling. Alcohol consumption. Jealousy. Embarrassment. Tears. Apologies. Smut. Allusions to sex. Fluff. Kissing. Happiness. Author's Note: I probably missed some grammar mistakes, my apologies. Also if I missed something on the warnings list, please let me know so I can add it!
Valentines Masterlist
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You hadn’t seen or spoken to Jake for a few weeks since the horrible goodbye a few weeks ago before the band departed for Europe. What was supposed to be a happy goodbye full of hugs ended with a sour argument over failed confessions. He tried to confess to you his feelings but instead jealousy overpowered when he saw you with another guy. A guy who you kept claiming was just a friend but he refused to believe you. So instead of an intimate, private moment that he hoped to have with you, it turned into a very public conversation.
“Where’s Y/N at?” Jake asks as he pours himself a drink. “I was really hoping to see her before we left.”
“I told you she’s coming,” Josh says as he pops the cork on another bottle of champagne. “She’s running late though. Got out of work later than she planned, but I promise you she’s coming.”
“When she does, can you let me know? I really want to talk to her.”
“Are you finally going to tell her?”
Jake nods his head, his cheeks flushing red and his chest running warm. “I know now wouldn’t be a great time, considering we’re leaving tomorrow for a month-long tour in Europe but I know it can’t wait.”
Josh smiles and lays his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you for finally doing it. You’ve been pining after her for nearly a year and if I’m being honest, it’s painful to watch.”
“Shut the fuck up..” Jake says as he playfully shoves Josh to the side. He chuckles and shakes his head. “There have been multiple instances where I’ve wanted to tell her but I couldn’t.. I chickened out every time.”
“Well tonight is not the night,” Josh says. “I believe you’ll be just fine. This isn’t like being on stage in front of thousands of people.. This is just Y/N.”
Thirty minutes drag by and Jake has downed four glasses of champagne. Normally this wouldn’t be affecting him but tonight he’s feeling it all. The nerves and the alcohol mixing in his bloodstream make him a little tipsy.
Josh appears again in the kitchen. “Y/N just got here.”
“Perfect..” Jake responds as he grabs another empty glass and fills it with champagne.
“But wait, Jake, you gotta know something before you go out-”
“Josh, please. I’ve been swimming in alcohol and my nervous system all night.” He says as he steps around Josh. “If I don’t do this now, I don’t think I ever will.”
“Yeah but Jake, she didn’t–” But Jake is already slipping out of the kitchen. “--come alone..” Josh sighs and finishes off his drink.
Maneuvering through the milling people in the hallway, he spots Y/N talking with Sam. But she isn’t alone. He stops midway through the hall, his shoulders dropping as he lowers the two drinks to his sides. She’s introducing a guy to Sam. He’s not close enough so he can’t hear but his eyesight works.
The mystery man she brought has his hand resting on her hip as he shakes Sam’s hand. Sam’s smile looks forced, almost as if he feels awkward.
Not as awkward as Jake though.
Already feeling stupid, Jake retreats back through the crowd and into the kitchen. He sets the glasses on the counter and leans against the granite top on the palms of his hands.
Did he wait too long?
Maybe he should’ve just done it sooner. Even if he did make a fool of himself.
He sure feels like one now.
Reaching across the counter, he swipes the bottle of whiskey and takes a long drink from it. His body tenses with the bottle still pressed to his lips when he hears her voice.
“Look I know I’m late, but don’t start the real party without me.”
He pulls the bottle away from his lips, unable to turn around to face her. She steps to the side to stand next to him and pulls the bottle from his hand.
“I’ve been looking for you.” She says as she takes a drink herself.
“Mmm, well you found me.” He takes the bottle back and takes another drink. “I see you brought someone with you.”
“Yeah! Mark!”
“Mark.. Yeah I know who he is..” He seethes. “Why’d you bring him?”
Her eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Umm.. Josh said to bring friends along and Mark and I were working late on a project so I invited him to come with me.. Are you okay with that?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Jake.. He’s just a friend.”
“Mmhmm, right.. Because friends put their hands on your hips..”
“Jake, what’s gotten into you?”
“Lots and lots of alcohol baby..” He says before taking another drink of the whiskey. “Better get back to your man, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”
“He is not my man, Jacob. I told you that he’s just a friend.”
“And like I said, friends don’t hold your hips like that.”
“You do.” She retorts as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“Yeah well I’m different,” He says, jabbing his index finger into his chest.
“Oh so, he can’t touch me like that but you can? What gives you that right?”
“Because I’m in love with you!” He shouts, not knowing the music lulled in between songs.
He looks around, noticing that the whole fucking house just heard him confess his feelings for her. Josh steps out from the sea of people, his eyes glancing back and forth between him and Y/N.
“Oh no..” He mutters.
Jake sets the whiskey bottle on the counter top, his cheeks fully flushed. The heat of the embarrassment that he currently feels wells up in his eyes.
“Jake.. I..” She starts to say.
He steps away from the counter and straightens himself out. “I should go..” He starts to make his way through the crowd of people once more and throws on his shades.
“Jake, wait!” He hears calling behind him. She grabs hold of his arm. “Can we go somewhere in private to talk about this?”
“No..”
“Jake..”
“I said no..” He rips his arm out from her grip. “Just go back to Mark.. I’m sure his daddy’s money will be enough for you..”
“Jacob.. Stop it. You’re being rude.”
“Rude? Me?” He scoffs. “Says the woman who brought another man to my party!”
“For clarification, this party is for the band, not just you.”
“Well,” Jake scoffs again. “For clarification, the band is mine. Therefore this party is mine too! And he,” He jabs a finger in Mark’s direction. “can leave..”
“Jacob, knock it off.”
“No, I don’t fucking want him here! I want him out of my house!”
“Fine, but he leaves, so do I!”
“Fine with me,” Jake says as he swings his arms in the air. “Let him take you home so he can fuck you.”
Now it’s her turn to feel embarrassed. He sees the tears fill her eyes as she glances around at all the eyes still watching them as if this were a drama show.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve that,” She says in a low voice. “But you, Jacob, have stooped so fucking low.” She pushes back him and out the open front door with Mark hot on her heels.
Jake’s eyes land on Josh who only stares at him in disbelief. Turning in his heels, he storms upstairs and locks himself in his office.
You tried calling him before their plane left Nashville, bound for their layover in New York before the twelve or so hours flights to Paris. Anything to try to fix this thing–whatever it was that transpired the night before, but instead of answering your call, he ignored it and put his phone on airplane mode before shoving it into his bag.
Over the course of the next three weeks, you tried texting him at the hours you assumed he’d be awake, yet received no answer. Even your texts went unanswered.
You knew he was actively on his phone, seeing him posting random videos on his stories of Parisian architecture. Part of you was angry that he’d post videos, something he rarely does, instead of texting you back at the very least.
You wanted to work this out with him, regardless of what part of the world he was currently in.
Jake
He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out of his pocket, he sees a text from Y/N. The fifth one this week. Once she’s texted him, it’s almost like clockwork and he knows exactly when she’ll pop up again.
Opening the text thread, he sees all of the messages she’s sent that he’s never responded to, including today’s text.
“Is that her again?” Josh whispers beside him as they stand in front of a painting. Jake nods his head and puts his phone away. “Why don’t you at least talk to her?”
“No..”
“And why not? Afraid your ego might get bruised?”
Jake rolls his eyes and pulls his sunglasses from where they hang on his shirt and he places them over his eyes. “I’m going outside..”
Stepping out into the fresh air, he looks around the area. He wants to talk to her but at the same time, he doesn’t. He knows saying that he’s sorry won’t be enough.
Walking around the little block, not straying too far from the others, he glances up at the buildings around him. He knows she’d love it here. So he pulls out his phone and takes a video of the building in front of him. He has no clue what it is but he finds the styling of it incredible and he knows she will too.
Posting it to his story with a song attached to it, one he knows she’ll recognize, he closes his phone and goes back to rejoin the others.
It wasn’t until a couple days after the band arrived back home in Nashville that he finally got off his high horse.
You were tucked inside a booth at your favorite coffee shop one weekday morning, sipping on the remaining bit of your coffee. The bells chimed indicating a new person’s arrival but you paid no mind to it while you flipped a page in your book.
A presence loomed over you a few minutes later. A single coffee cup is placed in front of you. You look at it and find the words ‘I’m sorry’ written on the side of it. Your heart sinks. Your eyes are unmoving, not willing to look up at the person who’s standing there.
Another cup is placed down in front of you. ‘I was a jerk’.
At least he admits it.
You force yourself to look up. Jake stands there, a solemn look on his face. For once he isn’t wearing his sunglasses indoors, so you can see how his eyes really look. Sorrowful and gloomy.
Putting your book down, you motion for him to sit down. He slides into the booth across from you with a third cup of coffee. You point to it, expecting him to have something written on it. He shakes his head as he gives you a half smile. He pulls the cup closer to him, keeping his fingers intertwined tightly around it.
“I really am sorry..” He finally speaks. “I should’ve controlled myself better than I did.. I embarrassed you…and myself..” He swallows before continuing. “I also understand after that whole incident that you don’t want to continue being friends, especially after how I treated you the last few weeks. Honestly, I wouldn’t want to be friends with myself either if I were in your shoes, so–”
“Jake,” You finally speak up, and cut him off. “I never want to stop being friends with you.” You say as you straighten up.
Jake solemnly shakes his head, his eyes casting down to the cup still being clutched within his hands. “I’m sorry.. I know I should’ve.. I just guess all of the jealousy clouded my own judgment that all I cared about was how I felt.”
“Jake.. Can we… Can we start over?” You say, casting your eyes down to the table top.
He reaches a hand over and places it on yours, giving it a light squeeze. “Of course we can..”
You lift your eyes and he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile and he chuckles.
“So what’s on that cup?” You ask, changing the subject back to the cup that he still clutches in his other hand.
“Oh uh..” He clears his throat. “It’s n-nothing..” He stammers as he pulls the cup closer to his chest.
You arch an eyebrow. You wave your hand in his direction for him to hand over the cup and he vigorously shakes his head.
“Jake..”
“Y/N..”
“What’d you write?”
“I said nothing..”
“Jacob..”
“Y/N..”
“Come on, Jake..” You laugh. “Is it bad?”
He shakes his head. “No..”
“Then let me see it. Please?” He chews on the inside of his cheek. Still he shakes his head and draws the cup closer to his chest. “Don’t make me guess.”
“Hmm, maybe I want you too.”
“Jacob..”
“Tell you what? We play a little game.” He says as he reaches for a napkin and the pen you were using to annotate inside your book. He draws out the hangman set up on the napkin with a certain number of dashes.
_ _ _   _   _ _ _ _   _ _ _   _ _   _   _ _ _ _?
You look up at him in confusion. “What?”
He arches an eyebrow and smirks. “Start guessing..”
“Is there an A?”
He puts on a thinking face before nodding his head and scribbling down the letters in the correct spots.
_a_   _   _a_ _   _ _ _   _ _   a   _a_ _?
“Oh this is going to take a while..” You sigh.
He chuckles and leans on the table. “Just keep guessing.”
A few more minutes pass and so far you’ve gotten a few words.
Can I  _a_ _   _ o _   on a  _ a_ _?
“Can I blank blank on a blank…” You mutter. “Can I fuck you on a table?”
Jake’s eyes grow wide and he smacks his palm to his face. “That is clearly an A,” He laughs. “Not a U. Also, ‘table’ has five words, not four.”
You giggle. “So clearly you’re asking me if you can do something..”
“Gee, we’re getting somewhere.”
“Is that fourth word supposed to be you?”
Jake nods his head and fills it in. “Keep going.”
You look over the sentence again and try to fill in the rest of the blanks.
Can I  _a_ _  you on a  _a_ _?
Then it pieces together in your head and you look up at him. “Can I see that?” You ask, reaching out for the pen. He hands it over and you write in the remaining letters.
Can I take you on a date?
You raise an eyebrow at him and he nods his head. “Mmm..” You hum as you jot three small dashes of your own and slide it back to him with the pen.
_ _ _ 
He smiles and fills in the blanks.
Yes
He looks at you for approval and you nod your head. He chuckles and reaches for the cup. Turning it around, he faces his writing to you. Your jaw falls open as you see three words written on the sleeve.
‘I love you’
Such a coy little man.
“You are so slick.” You say giggling.
“Well, I didn’t want to make it easy on you.” He says.
You lean across the table, just inches from his face. “I love you too.”
“Really?” He questions as his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your lips. “You do?”
You nod your head. “I do.”
You lean in a little further and brush your lips against his. “Someday though, you can fuck me on a table.” You whisper quietly so only he can hear you. You gently kiss him before sliding back down into the booth. His cheeks are flustered and he is fidgeting with the pen.
“Yeah.. Someday.”
______________________________________________________________
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lazycats-stuff · 8 months
Note
Can u make a part two to the werewolf fic u made it was soo good ! and i would like to see where it leads :)
If it's the COD werewolf, sure thing. Also, here is my favorite Scot. Is it just me or is a Scottish accent just so... Well, it's my favorite. PART 1
Summary: (Y/N) deals with the fact that he is a werewolf.
Warnings: missions, violence, death and all the stuff that goes with the COD, human experiments
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It has been a couple of weeks since (Y/N) turned into a werewolf. He still wasn't used to his senses and he is strength, but he was working on it. The team was very supportive of him and tried to help him in their own ways.
He still wasn't cleared to go on any missions, but he didn't mind it. It was nice to have some down time for himself. He spent time resting, working on little things and on the weekends he would go off the base.
It was a nice change of pace. The team still went on missions and it was to be alone, but he did miss them. They talked over the phone a few times, but those were brief conversations.
He always wanted to have everyone together. That was one of the things that worried him when he started feeling that. It wasn't something he thought about before. It was nice to have the team together, but it wasn't this strong.
(Y/N) thought it was his wolf side. Either way, he liked it when the team was here on base. Ghost was his favorite. There were times when he just had to change into a werewolf and Ghost had a bed big enough for the both of them.
Soap was a little bit afraid due to his fear of the dogs, but he liked (Y/N). The werewolf knew that and he respected Soap's boundaries. If he was in his werewolf form, he was far away from Soap. But Soap was slowly getting over his fear.
Gaz was the one who liked the wolf form the most. Gaz is a dog lover and if they had the time, in secrecy of course, he would play with (Y/N). Fetch, running, whatever came to mind.
Price and Ghost are like those dads that are like, he is not allowed on the couch, but they end up on the couch anyway. And he kind of became a therapy dog for Ghost. More so, he became a therapy dog for the entire team.
All in all, it was nice.
(Y/N) was buzzing excitement. He was finally clear to go on missions! He was just so excited! He hugged Price when he gave him the news. Price just patted him awkwardly on the back. The team celebrated with some alcohol.
" We missed you. " Gaz said as they were in the bar.
" I know you did! You missed my sarcasm! Admit it! " (Y/N) said, turning to look at the others. Ghost didn't react and the others just sighed.
" I swear to God, I will bench you (L/N). " Price said, taking a sip of his whiskey.
" You won't. You missed me a lot. " (Y/N) said, laughing at the sigh he got in return.
" Well, we have some news. You know that target, in Al Mazrah? " Price started, watching (Y/N)'s reaction. (Y/N) nodded, it was a terrorist cell that they destroyed.
" Well, they are back at it. And the last target? They had connections with him and we think that they are doing some sort of experiments on people. And they might have been responsible to that wolf that bit you. "
(Y/N)'s funny and happy demeanor turned sour. He looked down at his drink and frowned.
" So, we have a location, but it isn't confirmed just yet. We have to waiting another day to get it, but we believe that this is it. I still don't get why they are still alive... Bastards. " Price said, cursing to himself.
" Tomorrow we will get the location and you can go with us. " Price said, making (Y/N) nod. So the wolf that bit him was probably an experiment.
" You alright? " Ghost asked in his gruff voice.
" Not really. I'm thinking about that wolf that bit me. He was probably an experiment too. " (Y/N) said, gripping his forearms tightly. He tried not to think about the fact that he was lucky.
Price just patted his back in solidary and comfort. John also thought about it, just how lucky (Y/N) was. Or unlucky depending on your point of view.
" Well, we are going to shut them down, once and for all. " Johnny said, clearly trying to bring more positive environment to this booth.
" I wish I had you enthusiasm Johnny. I really do. " (Y/N) said thoughtfully, taking a last sip of his whiskey.
Silence fell down across the booth. It was obvious that (Y/N) was shaken by the fact that there were human experiments. Maybe that wolf that bit him was free now.
" Well, lets go back to the base. We need to make sure we are rested." Price said, trying to lift the mood up.
It was too late.
(Y/N) and the others waiting to get land. All of them geared up, armed to the tooth. (Y/N) wasn't sure how to feel about this. On one hand, they need to be stopped. But at the same time, what are they going to find?
Will he have to shift and kill someone as a wolf? He looked down at his lap for a moment, clenching his fists. It was going to be fine. The team was here and they were going to help.
It was going to be fine.
The helicopter stopped and the team stepped out. Alaska was fricking cold and he just wanted to get warm. They had a plan and they were going to stick to it.
(Y/N) used his super senses to stop his team.
" I hear two of them in there. " (Y/N) whispered, listening more. " The lab is underground and one of them have the code to enter it. " (Y/N) said, cocking his rifle.
" We need them alive them. " Ghost said, getting ready to get in.
" Yup. " (Y/N) said, watching as Ghost kicked the door in.
Ghost was quick to take them down, but keep them alive.
" I need a code for the lab underground. And I will leave your hands hands attached to your bodies. " Ghost said, grabbing the arms of the guards. After some more pressure, they gave it up.
(Y/N) punched it in and he when he entered, he nearly threw up. He watched people under the sedation and there were people who were mutated, but not fully... They looked like they were mistakes.
(Y/N) couldn't go on.
" (L/N), what is going on? " Price asked, worried about his youngest member.
" I can't go on. I feel sick. " (Y/N) said, moving back to lean on the wall.
" I will call Laswell to clean this up. " Price said, patting (Y/N)'s shoulder.
(Y/N) nodded. He will really kill them.
" Now we have evidence to put them behind bars... We should have killed them off. " Soap growled, watching the people. Ghost and Gaz checked out the rest of the lab. It was all clear.
" Is he okay? " Gaz asked.
" I'm fine Gaz. I'm just... I don't know. It's weird to see all of this. " (Y/N) said.
" I know. We are going to help them out. " Gaz said, patting (Y/N)'s shoulder.
(Y/N) knows that. But maybe death is better thing for them. (Y/N) shook his head. No, that's not a great mindset to have. They will help them.
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scintillyyy · 9 months
Text
okay, while janet visits a psychic clearly wins the day i do also have a home alone!tim idea that i'm going to share
so, it is christmas with the drakes. tim is our precocious 7-8 year old boy (he needs to be this age because he has not yet made the connection of batman and robin = bruce and dick AND so dick is still robin)
jack has decided that he's going to make amends with (show off to) his estranged relatives by planning a big old drake bash where they will christmas in paris (and jack can smugly brag about how successful his company is by paying for everything)
jack, however, doesn't really like his relatives so he delegates a lot of the planning and logistics and management of this trip to his beleaguered wife janet (who also doesn't like jack's relatives, thinks this trip is stupid and a bad idea, wanted to just have a quiet christmas and spend time with their son over his break, but the couples counselor they've been seeing has been suggesting that jack and janet try to compromise more and be more open to things that are clearly important to the other one, so here they are) who begrudgingly takes over the management of this trip because someone has to and it's clearly not going to be jack (even though it's his gd family)
so all janet asks is that jack please, please, please wrangle tim while she's doing everything else
so it's the day before christmas and we have the extended drakes over at jack and janet's townhouse in the suburbs (listen you can't convince me that the drakes didn't have a townhouse in the suburbs especially because tim refers to the robinson park condo as the place they would stay when they decided to be downtown. they very much strike me to have a suburb home and a couple of city homes)
and tim is kind of excited about this, but he is also a bit sour and cross that everytime he tries to get his mom's attention she's just frazzled and sorry because her attention keeps getting diverted by jack's aunt or uncle or cousin or cousin's kid (he is only 7-8 after all!)
so tim stands at the top of the stairway and angrily says he's going to his room. unfortunately, no one hears him. especially not his dad, whose only job it is to keep track of tim, because uncle rich asked about whiskey and jack has an excellent one in his study for showing off occasions such as this
the limos come to take them to the airport and janet, who is very frazzled making sure that everyone's suitcases get put in the cars, doesn't do a final headcount as she hurries everyone along because otherwise they're going to be late
and jack, talking to uncle rich about cigars, gets in the second car sans tim. he was just a little distracted, okay?
the extended drakes make it to the airport just in time and onto their flight. since they're all spread apart, since this is a christmas flight, nobody has noticed they forgot tim
"you know," jack says to rich, "i wanted to take the private jet, but we didn't want to leave you all to commercial by yourself while we lived it up in comfort"
tim comes out of his room to realize they forgot him. oh no! he's a little sad, but also. freedom to do whatever he wants? nice. he's going to live it up, and when he's parents realize what they did they'll be sorry!
meanwhile, two bumbling robbers are sneaking around bristol looking for houses to rob.
which catches tim's attention. this is serious business. he tries to call the cops about it, but they were like "what are you, 6? is this a prank call?" so he has to take matters into his own hand and protect the townhouse.
which means it's time for operation: what would batman and robin do? so tim sets up a bunch of traps.
in paris, the drakes arrive and finally realize tim is gone.
janet loses her shit. at jack. he had one gd job, after all
it's probably good that tim isn't there for that fight. it's ugly.
so janet has to immediately fly back to gotham because they forgot her baby boy and he's all alone there! unfortunately, there's one thing that money can't buy, and that's a last minute plane ticket on christmas.
....they probably should have taken the jet.
all she can manage to get after bargaining and begging all the people in the airport is a ticket to wichita, kansas. which is not ideal, by any means, but at least it's the country she needs to get to.
meanwhile, batman and robin have been made aware of some christmas burglars. they talk to commissioner gordon, who mentions a weird prank call they got from a kid
so they go to check it out and dick robin gets caught up in the glue trap that tim drake set up to catch bad guys. dick robin gets very affronted over this.
tim is mortified that he caught robin in his glue trap!! he'll never be best friends with robin now :(
batman tells robin to stay with the kid while he stakes out the perimeter
and the kid has a flying grayson poster in his room which is even more mortifying. dick has to keep a straight face as tim asks if he had every heard of them before, they're amazing, especially that dick grayson. batman can't come back soon enough.
batman does, and does ask why tim is alone.
"my parents forgot me :(" tim says "i know they didn't mean to. i miss them". and now dick does feel bad for the fanboy.
anyways, batman and robin catch the robbers and everything is so cool. tim asks for their autographs. he's never been so sad but so happy before in his life. (silver linings, you know?)
meanwhile, janet is in kansas. desperately trying to make her way back to gotham. she's almost in tears. there's no tickets to be found and she needs to be home, like, 8 hours ago. she almost went on a road trip with a polka band in her desperation. she's sitting outside a terminal, face buried in her hands. a kindly lady and man comes up to her and asks her what's wrong. she bursts into tears as she tells the woman the whole story and how she has to make it back to her son.
the kindly lady and man look at each other and silently agree. christmas is about helping each other out. "we don't have tickets to gotham," the woman says. "but we can give you our ticket to metropolis" they were going to visit their son. after all. but he would understand. and he has other ways of seeing them for the holidays that don't rely on planes.
janet is eternally grateful. she doesn't know how she can evey repay them.
it's christmas day and tim is sad. he had a fun adventure without his parents, but he really misses his mom. he goes to sit on a park bench and mope.
a man comes up to him. it's bruce, in disguise. they talk for a bit and tim cries about how all he wants for christmas is his mom.
"well," bruce is disguse says, "keep your chin up and maybe your wish will come true." he did, after all, hear from superman, who heard from his parents, about a woman desperate to get home to her son.
tim thanks him and goes home. he sits in the living room sad, when he hears a car pull up. it's his mom!!! merry christmas indeed. they hug. tim is so happy.
and then the rest of the extended drakes pull up. uncle rich is well and deep in his drinks and is laughing so hard.
jack called and yelled at their assistant to get the drake private jet to paris asap so they could all return home, which was actually a good idea. jack does feel very ashamed since he was the one who was supposed to be keeping track of tim after all. he'll take his son to a monster truck show to make it up to him.
all's well that ends well. batman and robin watch the happy family reunion, pleased at the outcome.
and dick never forgets the glue trap and is eternally trying to catch tim in one for tim's entire robin career.
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steddieasitgoes · 6 months
Text
written for @eddiemonth Day 9 Prompt: Cowboy cw: mentions of alcohol read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series
Eddie’s been in a lot of bars over the years, but none quite like The Lonesome Cowboy. 
Sure, there’s a wrap-around bar along the back where bartenders dressed in god-awful cowboy and girl uniforms shoot the shit with their regulars. Shelves and shelves of liquor sit on the wall behind organized according to price — the most expensive glistening at the very top. But, unlike the bars Eddie frequents, there doesn’t seem to be a collection of spiderwebs around those. 
Where Eddie’s used to dimly lit dive bars, The Lonesome Cowboy is lit up like a damn supermarket. Okay, maybe not a supermarket, but it is bright, is what he’s getting at. Warm can light mixed with the occasional flare of colored ones from the small stage in the opposite corner. There’s also a disco ball hanging over the crowded dance floor. A fucking disco ball! 
The ornate wood walls are covered in saddles and cowboy hats. A mural of famous country musicians stretches across the room, and American flags hang down from the railing on the second level. Of fucking course, a place like this has a second level. Rich ass country people. 
The dance floor is crowded with bodies, everybody line dancing to whatever song the band on stage is currently playing. A rowdy group hoots and hollers around a mechanical bull where a petite girl is hanging on for dear life. 
It’s so not Eddie’s scene, but he’s a good friend. A phenomenal friend if he’s being straight with himself. And as a phenomenal friend, he sometimes goes places where he knows he doesn’t belong, like this bar in Nashville. Especially when said bar is hosting Gareth’s celebratory engagement party. 
“I still can’t believe Gar-bear over there is the first one of us to get hitched,” Freak says, tipping his beer bottle to his lips. 
“M’not,” Jeff snorts. “He always was the most approachable out of all of us in high school.”
“Yeah, but landing and keeping someone like Chrissy?” Eddie whistles, shaking his head fondly. He catches sight of the happy couple on the dance floor, dancing hand in hand as they move across the floor. 
“Yeah, well, Gareth is many things, but a quitter.”
They toast to that before falling into conversations that jump from topic to topic.
It’s been a few years since the whole gang got together. They keep in touch, a telephone call every few months from the Freak. Postcards from Gareth’s adventures with his girlfriend turned fiancee. He sees Jeff the most since they share an apartment in Chicago. But nothing beats getting the band back together in one location. 
Before they know it, five songs have come and gone and the atmosphere in the bar is electric. Freak excuses himself to the bathroom (“‘M too young to have a bladder this shitty,” he groans before wading through the rambunctious crowd). 
A comfortable silence falls between Eddie and Jeff as they nurse their respective drinks — a standard beer for Jeff and a whiskey sour for Eddie that Gareth insisted he try. It’s too damn smooth for his liking. Though, maybe that’s just the guilt rising up like bile in his throat after he glanced at the price tag. Gareth might be picking up the tab, but Eddie doesn’t need to be draining his bank account liquor. Especially not when he has a wedding to plan now. Still, it would be even ruder to waste it, so he takes another sip and tries to hide his grimace behind the glass. 
Eddie’s eyes drift out to the dance floor where Gareth is line dancing up a storm next to Chrissy. He spins her around in a flashy, look-at-me sort of way that would be annoying if it weren’t him. It’s actually really, fucking endearing. He may have his doubts about true love, but Gareth has found the real deal that’s for sure. A fact he makes sure to tell him several times as the night goes on. 
Drinks keep flowing, music keeps playing, and before long Eddie’s the only one still sitting at the bar. Freak’s been summoned to the mechanical bull by some of Gareth’s work friends. And Eddie basically shoved Jeff onto the dance floor a song and a half ago to go dance with one of Chrissy’s best friends who kept making eyes at him.
Everyone’s fully embraced the energy in The Lonesome Cowboy, everyone except Eddie. He doesn’t mean to be a buh humbug, quite the opposite, really. Sitting at the bar is just more in line with his comfort zone. Especially now that the band is passing out cowboy hats to the crowded dance floor in preparation for a new dance they’re teaching them. 
“If you’re not going to join the fun, can I at least get you another drink?” a silky smooth voice asks from behind him. 
An astute observation that the goofy bartender who had  left for the night hadn’t picked up on, despite Eddie’s empty whiskey glass sitting empty on the bar behind him for hours.
A pretty voice and an attentive eye? Oh, I’m screwed, Eddie thinks, already biting his lip as he turns around on the barstool. 
Hazel eyes like honey glimmer under the warm light of the bar top, pulling Eddie into a daze. The cacophony of noise disappears, as does his surroundings. Vision blurred until all he can see is the bartender in front of him. It’s a wonder he manages to break their locked stare, but he’s glad he does as he takes in the man piece by piece. 
A frayed suede vest is slung perfectly over the man shoulder’s, just like every other bartender in the place. But it looks better on him than any of the others. It sits over a tight white button-up that clings to the man’s shoulders. He has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, strong forearms unabashedly on display as he raps his fingers against the wood bar top. 
The counter is high, obstructing Eddie’s view of the lower half of the bartender, but it doesn’t take a genius to imagine what he’s wearing. The uniform in the place seems to be tight blue jeans and bedazzled cowboy boots, and he can’t imagine Mr. Cowboy Cassanova over here straying from the heard. Though, he is interested to see just how much better he wears the measly uniform. A man with those kind of arms definitely hits the gym more than occasionally. Eddie’s sure he has an ass to prove it, too. 
The only thing out of place on the man is the cowboy hat. Unlike his coworkers, it’s angled weird, barely pulled down on his head as if doing so would ruin his hair. And by the looks of the wisps of hair falling around his eyes, it’s a gorgeous head of hair. 
Eddie’s not one for Western fantasies; the thought is basically boner killer thanks to the hours and hours of Gunsmoke he watched with his uncle in his youth, but right now it’s working for him. 
Really fucking working for him. 
Jesus H. Christ! 
Mr. Cowboy Cassanova is a gift from the universe, and Eddie wants to take him apart with his teeth. 
“So,” the man asks, clearing his throat. “What can I get you?”
You. 
“How about we start with a name,” Eddie says instead. He pillows his chin in his hands, elbows digging into the wood bar as he looks up through his lashes. 
“Name’s Steve,” the bartender replies, a slight hint of pink to his cheeks. “And yours?” 
“Eddie,” he responds, watching as Steve carefully cleans a glass with a pristine white cloth. 
“You here with the happy couple?” 
Eddie hums, glancing over his shoulder to find Gareth and Chrissy surrounded by all their friends jumping and dancing around them as the pair do some fancy little duet. Gareth swings Chrissy around his waist before picking her up in his arms and planting a kiss on her lips. Shows off. 
“Why aren’t you out there with them, then?” 
“Not much of a dancer.” “More of a drinker then,” Steve states rather than asks. 
There’s no time to respond before Steve’s pouring top-shelf bourbon into his shaker. Followed immediately by a helping of lemon juice and simple syrup. Eddie watches, entranced, as Steve shakes the shaker in his confident, skilled hands. He flips it with ease, the yellow-orange liquid flowing into the glass. Steve slides the precut orange slice onto the rim before reaching for the cherries. Two for Eddie’s drink, one for his own mouth. Stem and all. 
The glass slides in front of Eddie with magical ease, but he’s too captivated by Steve to reach for it. Eyes glued to Steve. Watching his jaw moves as he chomps on the cherry, the slow bob of his throat as he swallows before his fingers are at his lips, pulling a perfectly knotted cherry stem from his mouth. 
Tease. 
Oldest party trick in the book, but it works. Oh, how it fucking works. 
With Steve’s big eyes glued to his, he reaches for the glass and takes a tentative sip. It’s another whiskey sour, but this one is in a league of its own. Perfectly measured and shaken. 
Steve’s not the only one who can be a tease, he thinks, as he brings the glass away from his lips and moves his tongue along the rim, lapping up a stray droplet that didn’t make it back into the glass. 
“Tasty,” Eddie says, tilting the glass for another slow drink. 
If Steve’s mere presence was captivating, seeing him with a smile so wide his eyes crinkle in the corners is damn near enchanting. Eddie thinks he could get drunk off the look alone. An impressive feat, given the high tolerance he’s built up over the years for booze and pretty boys alike. 
Reaching into his pocket, Eddie pulls out a few crumbled bills and passes them across the bar. Steve glances down, brows knitted together. “Your buddy’s already covering everyone’s tab.” 
“I know,” Eddie says slowly, eyes locked with Steve’s. “But I can still tip you, can’t I.” 
Eddie’s not expecting the bright laugh that bubbles out of Steve, but it’s music to his ears. Way better than the country twang that’s been playing on endless repeat for hours. He wants to bottle it up and save it for a rainy day. 
“I’ve got a tip for you,” Steve says, shoving the bills into his back pocket. “Next time you come to a country bar, at least wear a cowboy hat. Really gets you into the spirit.” 
“Is that so?” Eddie asks, eyes flicking up to the crooked hat barely resting on Steve’s head. Maybe it’s the whisky, maybe it’s Steve’s kind but intense gaze. Whatever it is, Eddie feels confident as he leans across the bar and plucks the hat off of Steve’s head. With a tilt of his head and his signature smirk, he flips it in his hands and up onto his unruly curls. “S’that better for you, Steve?” 
Something dark flashes in Steve’s eyes before they begin to dilate. Pupils blown wide as he leans against the bar, closing the distance between them until their forearms are touching and their noses are mere centimeters apart. 
With a tilt of his head, Steve brings his lips to Eddie’s ear. He’s so close Eddie can feel his warm breath wafting over him. It sends a shiver up Eddie’s spine and a rush of blood down to his dick. 
“You know what it means when you take a cowboy’s hat, don’t you, Eddie?” Steve asks in that silky smooth, confident but teasing voice of his. 
Eddie’s knees practically buckle at the sound of it in his ear and the closeness of Steve. But he holds himself together. Giving in now is too easy. The chase has always been the fun part for him. 
He pulls back just enough to be able to look Steve dead in the eyes and cocks his own head to the side, again. Plasters on an innocent smile that he knows won’t fool Steve because of the fire burning in his own eyes.
“Save a horse, ride a cowboy, right?” he asks in his own silky smooth, confident voice. And then he leans in so close that the brim of the hat bumps against Steve’s forehead. There’s no time for apologies, though, as Eddie positions his lips a breath away from Steve’s ear this time. “What time do you get off, big boy?” 
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daisynik7 · 10 months
Note
Requesting to spill your unhinged thoughts of Kishibe, please 🤲
Ask and you shall receive! Here are my unhinged thoughts about our favorite old man (somewhat SFW and definitely NSFW):
SFW:
Kishibe has no clue how to act around children. He’s only been around adults and devils for the past three decades, so the idea of talking to a child is foreign to him. On the rare occasion he has to, he asks them adult questions like, “So what are your goals in life?” or “How do you feel about the current state of the economy?” They’ll just stare at him with big doe eyes, fascinated and afraid by this grizzled old man. He’ll even vent to them about how the cost of cigarettes keeps going up, literally burning a hole in his pocket. 
For a while, he was involved in an underground fight club. He didn’t need the money, he just liked beating the shit out of people for fun. Got banned because he won too many times. 
Got a lower back tattoo of a butterfly in his youth after binging too many whiskey sours in one night. Finally got it laser removed when he was thirty. He was too lazy to do it, until a one-night stand had the same exact tramp stamp. 
Can sleep with his eyes open if he really wanted to (exactly like Gandalf the Grey). Freaks people out every time. 
NSFW
Spit kink, MASSIVE SPIT KINK. Loves to hack up a thick wad of frothy spit on your pussy, smearing it around your clit. Licks you up and down, collecting your juices, only to spit it back into your mouth, watching you swallow it. Loves that shit, can’t get enough of it. 
Before he met you, he never used sex toys in the bedroom. Ever since he met you, he tries to incorporate it every time. At first, he was shocked you had a vibrator. Maybe even a little jealous of that dumbass toy. But one day, you teased him, showing him how you used it on yourself. And from then on, he couldn’t get enough. Likes to use it during foreplay to make you come twice before actually fucking you. Uses it along with his fingers to get you squirting, get it slick enough so that he can just slide in easily. Likes to watch you fuck your dildo while his cock is in your mouth. 
HUNG LIKE A HORSE. He’s 6’4”, it’s expected of him. It’s also the same width as a soda can. Impossible? Maybe, but it’s true, I swear.
Homemade porn!! He’s very much into filming. Has the old-fashioned camcorder set up with the tripod and everything. Even changes positions mid-sex to get the angles just right. Gets the camera up close and personal to your pussy whenever he gives you a creampie. Almost created a Pornhub account to post them for the public, but you refused. 
Foot fetish. This dude doesn’t even mind if you haven’t showered yet, he’ll suck on those toes all day if you let him (most of the time you don’t, but sometimes, you do). Loses it whenever you wear sandals or open-toed heels. Instant boner too when you come home from getting a pedicure with French tips. 
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abstractelysium · 5 months
Text
okay okay okay okay okay okay okay -
An Alternate Timeline Headcanon for the Last Three Episodes of Only Friends
or; The Pieces Might Fit Better In Different Places: Plotting Out The Fix-It Fic In Which Boeing Approaches Sand First
or; I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS TOO MUCH AND I GOTTA WRITE IT OUT OR I WILL START BITING
... *ahem*. Anyway.
Disclaimer: I'm not touching BostonNick with this headcanon. I don't really know how to fix that, and I'd rather not try right now. This is about Boeing, SandRay, and TopMew.
Relevant pieces that still definitely happen before the timeline deviates:
RayMew still happens
the disastrous Halloween party still happens, and all its mess
the fallout from the party still happens, where Ray tries to be with both Mew and Sand, and both get annoyed with him
Ray and Mew still start to figure out they're not actually romantically/sexually compatible
Ray still winds up crashing Sand's Loser Getaway Camper, their important conversations still happen, including both Sand's line "If someone better comes along, I won't wait for you" and the beautiful love scene later that evening
Ray and Mew still break up amicably, recognizing that they work better as friends.
BUT HERE'S WHERE THINGS START TO DIFFER. Hear me out:
Top and Mew have been meeting occasionally but it's always a fight. Top doesn't know that Mew and Ray broke up and he's holding onto the video of Ray and Sand kissing. Top hates that he has it and doesn't want to use it but he can't bring himself to delete it either.
Mew continues to struggle with the fact that he still has feelings for a man who cheated on him. Maybe they have to collaborate about something for the hostel and Mew can't help but stare at Top when Top is looking away, even though he gets annoyed when Top mentions it, stalking off wordlessly.
Top is not sleeping well/much at all but he hasn't called Boeing yet. He's holding out. (We also DEFINITELY get to see his cut-for-time Pathetic Wet Loser moment in which he picks up a rando at a bar, can't actually go through with the casual sex that should follow, and the rando leaves, leaving Top once again sleepless and probably crying over Mew.)
Sand goes to YOLO bar one night for his gig and guess who's there? Enter Boeing. Boeing is actually a flight attendant, and he happened to be in town and wanted to visit an old haunt for the nostalgia. What luck, Sand is still working there! Isn't that funny. He and Sand catch up a little, and Boeing mentions feeling bad about the way things ended. Can they be friends again, maybe? "Just friends is okay," says Sand, conflicted.
Meanwhile, Ray is in his home, and he finds a bottle of something alcoholic that has gone off. It's soured wine, or spoiled whiskey - something. He takes a sip, makes a face, and without thinking too much about it, pours the contents down the nearest drain. Then he realizes what he just did, and, much more deliberately, collects a few other bottles and puts them in the trash (not down the drain this time, but it's the first serious step we see him take toward choosing sobriety.) His face brightens; he did something good, something Sand wants. Time to go find Sand and brag about it.
Top shows up at Mew's again, and Mew lays into him, again, but this time Top brings up the whole 'maybe we should just stop this and move on' thing. Suddenly, the fire alarm goes off! (YES. THIS IS HOW THE FIRE SCENE SHOULD HAVE GONE AND WHERE IT BELONGS.) Mew and Top help each other escape, and Mew gets to clock Top's trauma and anxiety. Just like in the canon version, it turns out to be a very minor thing, quickly put out, no injuries - but Top is still clearly distressed. Top is going to leave, but Mew takes pity on him and offers to let him stay. It's not sex, obviously, and they're not back together, but Mew is willing to let Top hold him until he falls asleep, so Top can calm down and get rest. We get to see their tender but awkward bedtime routine, Top's hesitant gratitude, Mew's dismissive kindness, while both of their faces speak to the mess of feelings going on below the surface.
Somewhere else, Sand and Boeing are catching up and Boeing starts getting serious and putting the moves on him - I missed you and I screwed up when I left you and maybe we should try again, all classic Boeing. Sand is torn, because he's smart enough to know Boeing isn't really good for him, and he has deep (albeit uncertain) feelings for Ray, and he *did* say he'd move on if he got the chance but this is very unexpected, really this whole thing is just kind of a mess and whoops, here comes Boeing with a sweet kiss that Sand is not turning down.
Ray found out from Nick that Sand ran into his ex, and where Sand was headed. So... you probably all guessed, but yes. This is when Ray finds Sand. And sees the kiss. And remembers what Sand said. And realizes that he's too late. But rather than awakening his jealousy, this hits Ray in that 'I'm worthless' place and he just folds immediately. And leaves.
After Top leaves the next morning, Mew needs some space to figure out where his head is at, so he goes to visit his moms back home. They welcome him and he confesses that he missed them; it's all sweet and cozy and the shop looks so cute, would Mew help them decorate for the holidays? Of course he will.
Ray has given up on Mew, lost Sand, can't face his other friends and his dad is gone as usual. Guess what he's doing? Yep, time for a bad night. Like, bad. Ray doesn't go full suicidal but he is being reckless - laughing, crying, screaming, losing it. (Maybe he finds a bottle of Sand's plum wine, just for the extra angst.) He calls Sand, who doesn't pick up (PARALLELS TO THE SCENE IN EP 3 WHERE RAY PICKS UP MEW'S CALL BC SAND IS KISSING BOEING RN), so Ray leaves Sand a voicemail in which he thanks him and kind of says goodbye. And that's where we end the ep.
The next episode picks up with A FULL FLASHBACK about SandBoeing. How they met. Some of the fun times. Dreams they had. The way things started to sour. Boeing being noticed by Top. And then the day he left, and Sand, alone. (THIS IS SO IMPORTANT BECAUSE IT GIVES BOEING A CHANCE TO BE MORE REAL. LET HIM HAVE SYMPATHETIC MOTIVATIONS, LET HIM BE CUTE AND CHARMING, LET HIM LAUGH AND LOVE AND MAKE HIS CHOICES AND MAKE HIS MISTAKES AND LEAVE. HE WAS TOO ONE-DIMENSIONAL IN CANON AND I JUST okay I'm done)
Back to Mew at his moms' place, helping them decorate. They all are sharing a meal, and Mew asks his moms to retell the story of their relationship, about his dad, why his biomom chose to leave him to be with his other mom, etc. They can impart Important and Topical Life Lessons to Mew about how love is messy but worth it, about trusting your partner, about trusting your heart, about forgiving mistakes, etc.
Elsewhere, Sand comes up for air with Boeing and wants some time to consider everything, this is moving too fast. Boeing makes his mistake here, either getting a little too mean when he teases, or getting a little pushy in a way Sand doesn't like, or just bringing something up that we saw hurt Sand in the past. Any way it happens, Sand decides actually fuck this and there's a reason we fell apart and I'm better off without you (and good for him! Sand deserves this moment of clarity and closure with Boeing since we've seen how much baggage he's been carrying). He kicks Boeing out, and notices his missed calls from Ray. The horror sinks in as he listens to the voicemail, and now Sand has to get to Ray immediately.
Top has reached his breaking point, and he calls Boeing to ask him to stay over and help him sleep. We see Boeing, hurt by his recent rejection from Sand, experience a new form of rejection from Top, and decide to get smooth and nasty about it, the way we saw in canon. He's too pleasant agreeing to go over to see Top, smirking to himself. Boeing still has beef in this timeline, and he was *gonna* be the bigger person and stay away, but when he's been invited back oh-so-nicely? Ooooh here comes the drama.
Sand finds Ray in time. I'm not sure exactly where he is or how this happens, but either Ray is passed out or doesn't believe Sand is actually there before he fully passes out. No car accident this time, and no pills scattered by the bathtub, but it's still clear that Ray survived by luck and good timing. Sand cleans him up and gets him to bed, staying by his side.
Mew comes back from his moms' place, ready to have an honest conversation with Top about where they are and how to start over... but oops. Boeing is there. Uh-oh. Mew's back to suspicion and jealousy and unwillingness to believe that they're just friends.
From here, Sand and Ray reconcile, and can move into basically the canon rehab storyline, with its structural beats more or less intact. Ray's initial unwillingness to take it seriously, Sand finding his biodad at the music bar at Ray's insistence, the two of them being cute outside the addiction counselor's office and at Ray's probation, Ray finding out about his dad paying Sand, the big fight, Ray's breakdown with the addiction counselor and imaginary Sand (my beloved), and them tearfully reuniting and apologizing, promising to be better. Give them fluff, dreams together, and a soft ending, after all the pain.
Meanwhile, from here, Top and Mew can move into the Top-Mew-Boeing storyline from canon, also mostly beat-for-beat - but with a couple notable changes:
First, maybe this time we can see a little about TopBoeing from the past, and why Boeing resents him in the present (giving more depth to our romantic villain along with additional sympathetic motivation!)
And second - THIS TIME THE THREESOME HAPPENS. Boeing still pursues Mew and manipulates him to seek revenge on Top; Mew is still a little taken with Boeing's charm and a little flattered to be an object of desire for both; and Top is still trying to win Mew back but completely thrown off by how to do it given the circumstances. But this time, the tension reaches its breaking point and when the threesome option is out there, Top just asks Mew "is this really what you want? are you sure?" and Mew, loathe to admit he's gone too far, spiteful and petty, says yes.
So they all sleep together. And it's a necessary vent to all the tension that has been building, all the old wounds and flames reigniting and exploding, but more than that, it leads to an important moment of clarity for Mew. In the aftermath, Mew can be a little horrified about what he did out of spite, out of hurt, and can reckon with the fact that he isn't really equipped to handle what it all meant. Was this cheating? He agreed to it. Did it feel good? Yes and no. Did it make Top happy or upset? Both. Did it make him more or less sure about Top? Neither. Wow, looks like some things are beyond Mew's limited comprehension, especially about promiscuity and desire and the morality of sex. Time for his perspective to expand.
AND THAT INCLUDES TOP AND BOSTON. In the aftermath of a messy threesome, I would love to see Mew recognizing, finally, that he owes Top (AND Boston) some grace and forgiveness. Maybe the hurt and the betrayal is still there, but he's not really better than them. And it's not even really about being better. It's about trust, and it's about growth, and it's about navigating these things together. In my ideal ending for TopMew, they do inevitably leave Boeing behind, to be together, but I don't think they bear him genuine ill will when they let him go. They have an honest conversation about trust and how to start over together and how to fight and how to communicate and all of that important stuff they need to actually make it on equal footing. And, just maybe, Mew can even forgive Boston in this version of events. Life and love are messy, and Mew shouldn't judge him for his lifestyle just because it doesn't match his own.
Anyway. There's that.
I really enjoyed canon Only Friends overall, but I started imagining picking up some of these structural plot beats and some of the missed opportunity scenes and rearranging them and suddenly I had this whole alternate sequence of events that I liked a little more. Part of it was figuring out why I was so into the idea of one version of a Boeing threesome and so against the other (which was unfortunately the one we almost got 😕)
This was a monster to write out but I hope you enjoyed reading it! If you got all the way to the end, thank you so much 😊 Feel free to tell me what you think or add your own headcanons, I encourage it!
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harrywavycurly · 25 days
Note
Not Eddie related but what about some conversations with Narry as our friends? 🥰
Hiiii babes!! Oh this made me emo I miss writing for bestie Narry! I hope you enjoy these extremely random ass conversations with them!💖
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“Why is he in charge of dinner when we all know I’m the better cook?” “Because Harry this is Niall’s house…now what’s on the menu for tonight? I only brought one bottle of wine.” “Nothing fancy just chicken and-” “did you season it properly?” “Oh fuck off with that Harry.” “We all saw the chicken Niall…it looked unseasoned and just…horrid.” “Do you two need to be separated?” “No…I’ll behave…sorry Niall.” “It’s fine just don’t go being a twat…we haven’t even had any wine yet.”
“Two drinks in and we already have to take your phone away? You’ve turned into a lightweight love.” “Oh come off it Harry we all saw you that one night at the pub in London after like three whiskey sours.” “We don’t speak of that night Niall…you know this.” “Ohhhh was that when he tried to get nake-” “I just said we don’t speak of that night.” “You heard him love we aren’t allowed to talk about when he nearly pe-” “why am I friends with you two?…always pickin on me.” “You love us…doesn’t he Niall?” “Oh yeah he totally loves us…don’t ya mate?” “Yeah yeah…I love you…even when you don’t listen.”
“This is the most uncomfortable couch I’ve ever sat on in my life…why do you have this thing?” “Because my super famous and rich pop star bestfriend hasn’t taken me to get a new one.” “You forgot to add he’s also a movie star love…move over…your lanky arse is just taking up the whole thing.” “I’m doing you a favor…this couch is horrible.” “So then let’s go get her a proper one then.” “I was just kidding Niall I don’t need you two to buy me a couch.” “Jesus…this thing really does fucking suck…how is your back not in shambles from this torture device?” “It’s just old and has a few lumps that’s all.” “Lumps? This thing feels like it’s made out of cement it’s so hard…Niall where did you get your monstrosity of a couch? It may be hideous but it’s comfortable.” “My couch isn’t hideous you dick…but I’m not sure the name of the store but I can just take you there.” “Sounds good…now go grab your sunglasses love…we’re going shopping.”
“What does this mask do again? My face feels…tingly.” “It’s a pore clearing one so tingly is good…burning is bad…Harry where is my black nail polish?” “I’m using it…oh can you bring me the silver glitter please?” “Okay now it’s burning…can I take it off now?” “Beauty is pain Niall don’t be a ninny.” “Fuck off Harry that’s easy for you to say all you’re doing is painting your bloody nails.” “Go wash your face in the sink Niall…don’t get water all over the place like you did last time please.” “He’s a proper mess that one…can’t even handle doing a face mask.” “Don’t be rude Harry…remember when I did that apple cider mask on you and you only had it one for two minutes before you were begging me to help get it off you?” “That was different…you didn’t tell me it was going to turn into solid clay and make my face feel like it was actually vibrating…it was scary.” “How do I look? My face feels as smooth as a baby’s bottom.” “You look great Niall…will you let Harry do your nails?” “Yeah but no fucking glitter like you did last time..that stuff stayed on for ages.”
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heyidkyay · 1 year
Text
I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name |
Part Three
Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.
The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.
Masterlist
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He’d changed. That was the first thought that came to mind.
I didn’t know what had changed exactly. His hair was still the same, so were those barrel-aged whiskey eyes. And just as he had ever since I’d known him, George still enjoyed wearing his favourite clothes to ribbons, as could be seen by the black trousers he was now sporting. They were very well-fitted to his thighs and cropped slightly at the ankle, had twin holes torn through both the knees as well as a fraying thread just beneath the front right pocket, where I knew a pack of cigarettes had long since claimed residence.
He had a hand stilted just below the crook of his elbow likely from where he’d just been about to reach out and swat Matty for his smart mouth but stopped. I felt my own dry up as my heart dropped to my feet upon seeing him again. Practically watched as it pooled into a miserable puddle on the floor.
I’d been expecting it- seeing him, because of course I had. I’d known about it since Matty had finally let the secret slip, but there was also a big part of me that… hadn’t? Strange sure, but I mean, who could really prepare themselves for a moment like this?
Seeing an ex was always weird, left you feeling a tad self-conscious, a bit blindsided, but you could almost always duck out of sight just before they saw you, or choose to give them that vexatious smile, the one where you tried to come off as polite when really all you wanted to do was run a mile in the other direction. 
This though, I don’t think many people experienced this. A whole evening spent with their most recent ex, on their birthday of all days. 
A low and sharp whistle tore its way through the room then, breaking the tense atmosphere that had since settled and at once making me fully aware of just where I was.
“Well this is awkward.”
And of course it would’ve had to have been Ross who’d only gone and chosen to add to the tension. The utter twat. 
I would’ve shot him a well deserving glare but I couldn’t quite look away from George just yet. I wanted to, well, I wanted a lot just then. I wanted to go back in time to where we’d been before. I wanted an explanation. I still, wanted him.
Needed was probably the better term. I needed him like water, I needed answers like an introvert needed their own head. But in that moment, I felt like I’d lost mine.
“Shut up, Ross.” Adam groaned loudly and just like that I blinked and that clouded hue I’d felt choking me lifted, revealing the rest of the room. 
Ross was chuckling away, propped up against the kitchen counter, whilst Adam merely rolled his eyes, shaking his head, everyone else just sort of stood there.
Thank the heavens for Carly though, she jumped in like the angel she was, saving us all from the uncomfortableness of it.
“Matty! Need any help with dinner, plating up and what not?”
For a moment, Matty’s gaze skitted back and forth between both myself and George, whose own eyes were now downcast. It appeared as though Matty’s kitchen tiles were immensely more interesting to him than anything else and I had to bite back the sudden fury I felt rise up through my throat, coating the back of my teeth with a sour taste. 
So it was going to be like that then.
“Um- yeah, uh you know what, you can.” Matty answered her, tea towel in hand as our eyes met across the room. He gave me an intense look, one that told a thousand words, but he jilted his head over towards where the larder was hidden before I could decipher any of them. “Y/n love, show Carls where I keep the plates and that, won’t you?”
I nodded at him slowly then took a deep breath and forced a smile, “Yeah, yeah ‘course. Come on Carls, they’re just this way.”
Quick as I could I spun around on my heel and headed straight towards the hallway, slipping into a small alcove where a flashy storage unit was tucked away. Keeping my back firmly facing the door, I pretended to browse through the few dining sets Matty had to offer, most of which had been gifted to him by his mum or aunt over the last few Christmases.
I heard Carly enter a minute after me, as well as the click of the door behind her. I took another much needed deep breath. 
“Do you reckon Matty will want to use his good plates?” I questioned aloud, “Or should we just ask if he has any paper ones, knowing Ross and I. Klutzes the pair of us, he’ll have a right mare if either of us drops that fancy china he claims he doesn’t actually like.” 
I could feel a familiar sting behind my eyes but I kept on prattling away, in hopes that the familiar burn would soon work itself out before I had to turn back and face her.
“Probably just best to go with the ones he brought over with him from the flat, I 'spose. Don’t think he’ll mind losing a few of them.” I chuckled with a strained smile, but my voice sounded pinched even to my own ears.
I stopped then and had to close my eyes, bracing myself against the nearby shelving unit. I tilted my head back to keep any tears from escaping but it was futile effort and as my shoulders fell so did the first tear. “Shit.” I silently cursed.
“Oh, Y/n/n.” Carly whispered just before a pair of gentle arms wound their way around my waist. I let my head hang then, there was never any need to pretend with her. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”
I scoffed quietly under my breath, hands finding hers before I turned in her grasp. I opened my eyes to find her peering back at me with so much warmth, no pity to be found. 
“This is beyond mortifying.” I choked out with a bitter laugh as I swiped under my eyes. I’d always hated being seen so vulnerable. “Crying over someone who could care less about me.”
Carly’s smile was small but so sincere, she shook her head at me lightly. “I wouldn’t say that. That man out there was just as taken back by your presence as you were of his. I think deep down you both knew that this was bound to be difficult.”
I inhaled slowly and glanced up towards the ceiling, fisting my fingers in my hair. “I know, and that’s why I feel so stupid. I really don’t know if I can do this, Carly.” I told her in a tone that was no higher than a murmur, “I didn’t think it would be such a struggle. That I would still feel so-”
Frustrated, I threw my hands in the air and squeezed my eyes closed. I had to breathe.
Carly was still there when I opened them again, ever so patient.
“This is going to be so messy.” I quietly confessed into the tiny room.
Carly only hummed at me, carefully grazing her hands up and down the length of my arms as I slowly unwound. It helped soothe the semi-chaotic state I’d worked myself into.
"It will be, but to clean up there first needs to be a mess.”
Under furrowed eyebrows I looked up at her and couldn’t help my airy snort. “Is that something you stole from one of your many parenting books?”
“No, Instagram quote actually.” She corrected with an amused smirk. “But that’s beside the point. It’s still true.”
I dragged out a sarcastic sound of agreement and she flicked my shoulder in retort with a narrowed-eyed stare.
“Look, all I’m saying is, things will either work out the way you want or they won’t. But you can’t stress over something you can’t control, so let us just enjoy this. Enjoy your birthday! You deserve that at the very least, okay? So, forget him. Forget everything that happened there. And just be in the moment.”
I swallowed thickly and nodded just the once, too scared to trust my own voice. I could do that.
Or, at least that’s what I told myself.
Table set and Matty on the warpath, I snuck away for a chance to gather my thoughts but found myself pursuing the contents of the minibar instead.
It was impressive to say the least, both the extensive amount of alcohol Matty had to offer as well as the bar itself. If I remembered rightly, he’d had it built during the first few weeks of moving in, an added extra whilst the band had still been away on tour. It was much like the rest of his house though, minimalist and brutal, where all of his deep and depressing thoughts got turned into pretty melodies. 
There was hardly any decor, most of its bottles and glasses tucked away behind neat neutral lines. Only a fitted glass ashtray with its own self-cleaning function (even Matty had to roll his eyes at that, no?) was perched within the concrete counter. 
Matty’s house had always been beautiful to me, honestly I was a little jealous of how calm and clean it always seemed, but it never failed to make me wonder where he kept it all. You know, all the little bits and bobs most of us just seemed to never find a place for- like his hoover for example, where the fuck did he keep his hoover? Did he even own one? Or did he have little nano robots hidden away in the skirting boards? 
As I followed down a newfound path of random thoughts that popped into my head, I failed to notice that I was no longer the room’s only occupant and jumped right out my skin, almost flinging a very expensive bottle of chardonnay across the floor, when I turned and found George watching me from the archway.
Immediately he raised his hands up at me in surrender, making sure to state that he was of no threat, though I could see that there was a small little smirk toying at the corners of his lips as he proceeded further into the room. I let out a big breath and lowered the bottle.
“What the hell are you playing at? Sneaking around like some- ninja!” I scolded with a wave of my hand, internally cursing myself for having stumbled over my words trying to come up with something clever to say. Of all the things I could’ve said to him after six months of.. well, silence. I chose that. Big pat on the back for me, please!
God, I wanted to die as I hastily spun back around to tuck the wine into the case I’d found it in, but mostly just to hide my reddening cheeks.
“Ninja?” He replied with a hint of humour, and I realised how long it had been since I'd last heard his voice. “No, but I reckon if you gave me an hour or so I could pull off that Karate Kid stunt.”
I couldn’t hide the soft snort I made. Still as arrogant as ever then.
“What, been doing enough yoga to think you could master that flip?” I threw back at him from over my shoulder whilst my fingertips danced precariously along the edge of a crystal glass. He hummed, and I could physically feel him drawing nearer.
“Got the crane down.” He shrugged, as though that wasn’t impressive in itself, and I could just about see him again, from the corner of my eye. “Figure the rest could surely follow.”
Lightly, I felt my head shake on its own accord, but was quick to dampen the tiny beginnings of any sort of smile. I gave a sarcastic hum back.
This was typical for us, conversing without words. A hum here, a look there. That’s all it had taken in the years we’d been together, the two of us always on the same page. Until we weren't.
I could remember a few years back, maybe at one of the boys first BRIT’s, where some hotshot, who’d acted as though he’d been in the game longer than I’d been alive, had waltzed over and started talking. Bragging, truthfully.
He’d heard a little of the band’s stuff, liked it I supposed, and tried to gift them all this ‘knowledgable’ advice, stuff people in the business would 'hate for them to know'. His words, not mine. George and I had immediately clocked on, but Hann had always been the polite one and Matty, well he’d wanted to know all the ins and outs of everything. He liked knowing. Understanding. Always had.
Ross though? Actually, I wasn’t too sure where he’d snuck off to at the time, was probably trying to chat up some actress or find a decent place to smoke. 
Either way, I’d turned slightly in my seat once the man had made himself far too comfortable in his invasion of our table, and with one shared glance at George, we both started up this game. Our game. It was one we'd always loved to play where we’d have to act so sincere in all our questioning and interest in the topic at hand whilst simultaneously trying to trip up our target or make them look like a complete wanker. The winner was always the one who got them so uncomfortable to the point where they’d just leave.
“I, uh,” George’s low stumble grabbed my attention and I peered over to find him rubbing the tip of his nose with his knuckle, something he’d done ever since I’d known him. “I wasn’t sure I’d come tonight. If you’d be alright with me being here.”
“Right.” Was all I said in turn, gaze focused on the glass again. 
I heard him move behind me. “It’s just- it’s your day, you know? And I was surprised you even agreed to all this, actually.” His chuckle was faint.
“Well, it’s not every day Matty asks to wine and dine you, I suppose.” 
He laughed again and I tried not to acknowledge the tightening in my chest, he’d always had the best laugh.
“Yeah, there’s that.” George accepted, he paused for a long second, “Still, he and Ross figured it’d be strange if I didn’t turn up. Hope that's alright with you.”
And now was the time to act.
So I put on a smile and turned, making sure it reached my eyes even as my heart clenched at the very sight of him. He looked somewhat older, even though only six months had passed. It hurt to know that I’d missed it, all that time I could've had with him.
“‘Course, why wouldn’t it?” I assured him, putting down the two glasses I’d picked up on the counter. “You still a strictly bourbon man, or are you feeling something different? It appears as though Matty’s stocked this thing up to the brim with all sorts of shit, most of which I can’t even read so I won’t try to name.”
“Um,” George murmured, almost sounding taken aback by my change in pace, but I paid it no mind, I couldn’t focus on anything other than getting through this. 
I had questions, yeah, but I didn’t want to ruin the evening for everyone else. Not this early on, at least. I knew that certain path was only destined to end in flames. 
“Whatever you’re having then is fine.” George settled on and I dipped my head at him, grabbing a bottle of Absolut alongside a lemonade can. “Straight to the hard stuff I see.” He commented, obviously eyeing what I was doing.
“It’s my birthday, I’ll have no judgement, thank you.” I retorted, pouring a rather hefty amount of the spirit into both glasses. 
George huffed out a gentle chuckle as he joined me by the bar. “No judgement here, birdie.”
He was a little less than an arms length away now and it took everything in me not to outwardly react to the slip. It was my name. His name for me. Uttered as though nothing had changed.
“Sorry.” George whispered, his swallow as audible as mine in the still room.
I squeezed my eyes closed for a brief second then forced another smile, topping off the rest of the drinks with lemonade. “No, you’re fine.” I shrugged a shoulder, focused solely on the drinks. “I’ve missed it and you were the only one to ever call me it, so.”
“I just,” George tried but I interrupted before he could press anything further.
“Honestly, don't stress over it. It’s fine.” I smiled, wondering if a gesture so easy should hurt this much. I slid a glass down towards him. “Should probably be getting back though, everyone else will be wondering…”
I gave him one last look and then shuffled towards the door. I rounded the corner with baited breath and tried to ignore the quiet curse I heard follow me as I hurried down the hall.
I found myself standing in the garden a little while later nursing another drink, only this one had been gifted to me by Ross. Stronger than the one I’d previously made, the coke used only to add a hint of flavour to the otherwise malty taste.
I watched Matty through the window as he frantically went back and forth between the oven and the fridge, trying to get everything done by himself. I was meant to be helping him but my mind had been elsewhere, listening to the laughter and echoing voices which had begun to drift into the kitchen.
It felt so strange, all of us being together again but still feeling so separate, and the alcohol wasn’t doing much to hinder that feeling.
It’s just that since the breakup, I’d only really had Matty to lean on. Ross and Adam had been there too, don’t get me wrong, they were always a text or phone call away, but not like they’d been before. It kind of felt like George had gotten them in this messy divorce, whilst Matty had been the kid in the middle, stuck between choosing. 
We’d always been so close, before. The boys had been my family. Now though, things felt so stilted and I fucking hated it. Being here with them, with George again, it only put a speaker to those feelings.
“Alright?” Came a familiar voice just a hand came to rest on my shoulder. I sighed and leant into the weight of it, a small smile limning my lips as Matty’s head fell against my own, the two of us just staring out at the sky.
“Shouldn't you be inside? Or are you trying to earn back all the money you spent on this house by starting a fire?” I queried quietly and huffed out an airy chuckle when his hip checked mine in retaliation.
“Don’t jinx shit, you muppet. Dinner is just about done- and I’ll have you know, that none of it will be inedible."
I hummed, “Holding you to that, Healy. Can’t go ruining my special day.”
“Oh, so we are acknowledging that it’s your birthday then?” Matty quipped back.
I pinched his side and rolled my eyes when he just laughed. “No, we are not.”
I felt his head shake as it moved against mine. “Swear, you girls are so hard to keep up with these days.”
“Compared to what, the old days? Back when you were a baby emo.” I chuckled and allowed him to steal my drink from me. He grimaced slightly at the taste. “Thank you for this though, it’s nice knowing people care.”
Matty moved then and I shuffled round to glance at him. He wore a prominent frown and was staring down at me with a sort of bewildered expression.
“People care about you.”
I let my own features soften. “I know that, I guess. It’s just nice to be reminded of it, I 'spose. Things have been off with us all for a while though. Since…”
He sighed, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth as he muddled through his thoughts.
“Yeah, they have. Even I’ll admit that. But it’s not down to you. Shit just happens, and we all deal with it the only way we know how." He stated, his hand in mine, a steady presence. "Saying that though, even after everything that went on- that’s still going on- they’re here, aren’t they? Ross and Hann and Carls. G…”
I had to look away, scared that he’d see the harsh light from the kitchen start to reflect in my watering eyes.
“I know. I just wish things were different. That I had a fucking time machine. So I could take back whatever it is I did, Matty. I'd take it all back in a heartbeat just to know that he still loved me the same. So he wouldn’t end up pushing me away.”
I guess there was no reply that could be given to fix everything I felt in that moment, but the hug Matty wrapped me up in was something I hadn’t even realised I’d needed.
“He still does.” He whispered in my ear as he drew tiny circles over the knobs in my spine. “That I know for fucking certain.”
Part four>
106 notes · View notes
yakuzacanons · 8 months
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Yakuza Character Drink Headcanons
A brief break from the romance posts since I realize I did two in a row. Also thank you for all of the love you’ve shown my posts. Especially love when y’all write in the tags. Reminder that you can send any submissions or requests of any kind my way. Until then, enjoy this shorter post and I’ll see y’all tomorrow!
Kazuma Kiryu
Mostly drinks just water. Dislikes overly sweet drinks. Will totally go on whiskey distillery tours if given the choice. Favorite alcohol is whiskey. Has never been blackout drunk. When drunk, he just gets tired.
Majima Goro
Likes mildly sweetened drinks as well as sour drinks, like lemonade. Boba weirds him out (”Drinks are for sippin’ Not chewin’ on stuff!”) and he’s not a fan of coffee. Likes all alcohol but loves sharing a beer with Saejima most. A loud menace and easily provoked when drunk.
Saejima Taiga
Black coffee at the start of the day. Likes milkshakes. Fascinated by Ramune (”Why’s this drink got a lil’ ball inside?”) but tends to break them when opening them due to his strength. Favorite alcohol is beer, hands down. Gets hiccups when he drinks but rarely gets more than tipsy.
Akiyama Shun
Drinks mostly fruit juice of any kind. Almost never drinks water, he’s practically a camel. He’s a big fan of champagne but knows it’s not practical so usually gets whiskey or shochu. He’s a flirty drunk and giggles a lot.
Tanimura Masayoshi
Chugs soda like there’s no tomorrow when he’s working. Prefers soda over coffee. During sit down meals, he drinks tea, mostly chrysanthemum tea. Fond of boba drinks. Likes to drink shochu but is a total lightweight.
Ryuji Goda
Really into tea. Especially traditional tea ceremonies. Has his own personal tea set and takes it quite seriously. Honestly doesn’t drink much else. For alcohol, he dabbles in whiskey or champagne but knows his limits very well and will never get publicly drunk.
Mine Yoshitaka
Drinks protein shakes when he works out. Otherwise, it’s mostly water or herbal tea. Is surprisingly into cocktails and finds bartending to be rather interesting. Has a personal minibar at home. Never has more than one drink in public so he never gets drunk outside of his home.
Daigo Dojima
Like Ryuji except with coffee. Very interested in brewing his own coffee and will always take time to brew himself a cup in the morning. Hates instant coffee. Likes rum and whiskey. Drinking gives him headaches so he doesn’t do it often.
Nishikiyama Akira
Smoothies and fruit juice all the way. He does genuinely like the taste but also does it because it’s popular with the ladies. Tries to get into whiskey but really prefers vodka. Not great at knowing his limits with alcohol.
Tachibana Tetsu
It’s coffee in the morning and water at night. Detests soda. The carbonation feels uncomfortable to him. Seldom drinks, mostly because he’s a total lightweight and most alcohol makes him totally nauseous. Likes gin and tonic the most.
Haruka Sawamura
Boba tea drinker. Likes to get all kinds of toppings put into her drink. Blends her own juice at home using fruits from the market. Particularly fond of guava or strawberry juice. Has never tasted alcohol but the smell reminds her of cleaning products.
92 notes · View notes
54prowl · 1 year
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Open-Minded | Chapter 2: Dress
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Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Summary: Wherein Kuroo Tetsurou cannot seem to get it up for anyone but you. Luck has it that you meet again. Wires crossing—I mean—fates crossing and all that.
Words: 7454
Tags: Casual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Drinking, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vague Depiction of a Blowjob, Post-Timeskip Haikyuu, Weddings (not reader’s), One Night Stands, Friendship, Misuse of Mirrors, Slight Sadism, Unsafe Sex, Light Praise Kink
A/N: Lmao this only took months, nbd. The banner is also from last year!!! HECK!
Thank you to @strawberrystepmom @touyangel @foreversaes. This one is for u @cu-teppei
If u find any mistakes, my dms and ask box are open. I would be forever grateful.
Links: Ao3 | Chapter 1 [COMPLETE]
-
You do regret looking him up. Because there’s nothing there. His name was mentioned once in an article that dated about ten years back but that’s pretty much it.
So when you chanced a call some couple of days later, you weren’t really surprised at the, "We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service," you received on the other end.
There's an ache in your chest that you ignore, trying not to feel bitter and berating yourself for feeling like a lovesick puppy over nothing. Over some guy who might not even exist. But you have physical proof, if not the ache between your legs after your evening together, then the business card you've yet to throw away sitting on top of your dresser.
He's no hallucination, so there’s no need to sour a fond memory, which is all he will be now.
-
"Uh.."
Kuroo’s chest is flushed when he looks down, "Huh? What's wrong?"
"Look, I don't mind a challenge but isn't this a bit much?" Underneath the fabric of his flayed open pants is his cock, lying limp and lifeless.
The woman in front of him stands up, "is it whiskey dick?"
"Uh…no," he scrambles to pull up his pants, "I had one drink." And the woman looks at him with raised eyebrows.
"First, you won't let me kiss you and then this," she buttons up her shirt and straightens out her skirt. Kuroo tries to reach out but she flicks his hand away, "Sleep it off. And thanks for the company," she slides on bright red heels and leaves a couple of thousand yen on the chest by the door, "you're a good talker at the very least."
Then the door shuts.
Kuroo groans into his palms. Sitting up to get clothed. He was reluctant to already stay at a random dingy love hotel anyway.
He'll just head home to sleep it off.
-
"How many times has it been? Four? Six?" Kenma swirls around his seat, a new one by the looks of it with plastic wrapping still on the joints of the expensive gaming chair. He looks bored out of his wits, fresh out of a 10-hour endurance stream to get to the highest rank of some shooter game.
"Don't—"
"There was the girl from the department store," Yaku recounts, "then the bar," another finger lifts from his closed fist, "the new receptionist at your office building—" 
"If you weren't here for vacation," Kuroo buries himself into a pillow, "I'd have kicked you out."
"This is Kenma's house," Yaku mockingly answers at the threat.
"Exactly," Kenma replies, chewing on the aglet of his hoodie.
It wasn't necessarily his fault. He was trying. Since the unfortunate night that he met this stranger who left him with nothing, he's been having a hard time. Hard, for lack of a better word. 
It was getting colder. 
The days are shorter. 
He's not gonna dwell on things that would make him feel, well, bad.
Seasonal depression, was it? He just doesn’t want to focus on it. Period.
"How's your phone doing, by the way?"
"He just bought a new one. Repairs won't fix the busted thing," Kenma dutifully answers for him. Nothing can be recovered aside from contacts and files saved on cloud storage.
"Give me your new number then," Yaku hands the other man his phone, empty contact already named as 'bedhead,' "I still can't believe that it got fucked up that bad."
Kenma nods, "It was wrong to hand Shouyo your phone."
There’s a headache forming behind his eyeballs, "I didn't know the kid had a strong enough reflex to punt my phone into the sun."
"And towards the sidewalk," Kenma whispers.
"Aaaaaand under the wheel of a truck," Yaku imitates a spike.
Kuroo tries to ignore the memory of Taketora's voice guffawing, saying that Hinata Shouyo basically isekai'd it.
"There, you're in my contacts again," he declares and Yaku snatches his phone back along with Kuroo's new one, swiping down his saved numbers.
"Man you're boring," the shorter man scrolls a little more, "it's either us or family or work on here."
"Give that back," he grabs but the other man is swift, turning away.
"None of the girls gave you their number? Don’t expect them to call?" He chuckles, "Don’t want to call them back?"
That stops him. He…never really left them his number in the first place, which says a lot when it’s second-nature to someone like him. And look, he was expecting someone to call but, well, there’s nothing he can do about that now.
He ignores the sinking feeling.
And if he's being honest, he's been doing a lot of ignoring things lately.
Kenma looks up from his screen, making him pause, “Have you printed new business cards yet?”
-
You've been cordially invited to the wedding of—
"They really pushed through it, huh?"
Please RSVP on or before—
"They said her dad threatened him."
"With a gun?"
"With a sword."
"Damn. For real?"
Your presence at our wedding is present enough but if we are honored with a gift from you, a monetary gift will be very much appreciated.
"Ugh. Wedding money."
"You don't have to, you know," you answer back to your colleague, lounging in the 'recreational smoking area' of your floor. Nothing recreational about all of that smoke though.
"It's tradition," replies another. "Though I'm sure they don't expect us to hand in more than what’s custom."
So it was true that your other co-worker—well, ex-co-worker after being forced to quit due to her 'risky pregnancy'—and the dude from sales have been getting it on.
You've all just been handed out an invitation. Elaborate and bordering on gaudy with fancy-looking script on textured paper. Something you'd expect from people who have resources and connections.
If you were another person you'd say that she's a lucky girl. But you can't even handle yourself right now, let alone a husband and kids. So this entire affair sounds like a nightmare.
“Guess we have to go shop for clothes,” your co-worker blows smoke into the air. And you think a part of your soul escapes at the sigh you make at her words.
-
You rummage through a third set of an outdated cocktail dress, “This won’t do.”
The party calls for formal wear. And all you’ve got are dresses from when you actually attended parties in your teens. Like your grandmother’s birthday. Or that freshman orientation from university. It’s a wonder how you haven’t thrown them away. Though maybe it’s because you haven’t grown much since then thinking that maybe you can wear the garments again.
Nope.
Just as you’re putting the frilly and pastel and empire cut garments into a box for donation, your phone vibrates. A barrage of messages in a group chat on a spontaneous schedule to go shopping the following weekend.
You quickly type out a reply and mentally count the budget you'd need.
Dress, shoes, wedding money. 
Enough. There’s enough. Enough is okay, right?
-
Contrary to your co-workers’ exasperated complaints about their sudden participation at the wedding, they seemed excited to shop for clothes, ignoring the price tag and all.
You were co-workers with the girl—and friends if you stretch it. Beyond her personal drama, you have worked together for years. It’s only fair to find a piece of joy in it.
It’s at your fifth store when they stopped chattering about work drama and delved more seriously at your current concern. They’ve already gotten their dresses but you just can���t seem to decide.
“It’s an investment.”
You stare at the nice silk piece being held up.
“A classic is something you can wear again.”
Then at another green lacy number being shoved to the side.
“Or to attract wanted attention,” they both look to you, knowingly because they saw how you disappeared during the closing ceremonies. It doesn’t take a genius to get what happened. But you’re not going to entertain that thought for now. You’re not going to mince the nitty gritty details about how that evening had included the sexiest and unsexiest moments of your entire life. Simultaneously.
Legs aching from the long walk and standing too much, your patience is wearing a little thin. You snatch the dress one is stretching out towards you, “Not if you drink yourself to sleep first.” It’s a low jab but all she does is make an ugly cackle, shooing you away.
The dress is a nice red one. The bodice gathered into thin stripes and not too constricting by the looks of it with the skirt reaching the floor, with maybe a bit of alteration needed. You rub the fabric between your fingers, “It’s layered chiffon,” the clerk explains while rubbing the satin fabric underneath, “a good find.”
The price tag, albeit not cheap, is still less pricey than what the other two have bought.
Still, you try it on. And it’s nice, convenient for the zipper on the side instead of the back, and you like the way it drapes on your chest and how it flows down. The sleeves are soft and off-shoulder, skin showing underneath a layer of translucent cloth. It has long thin straps for some creative styling on the waist, and you reckon you'd need to ask for advice on that one.
Overall it looks innocent, conservative enough for a wedding. But with a hint of a promise, a tease on the sleeve and the bodice. The gathered fabrics look flattering. It makes you feel good.
You walk out of the fitting room genuinely smiling for the first time today.
"She'll take it," one decides for you and when you send her a look she adds, "come on, I'm hungry and you like it so buy the damn thing."
"We've tried like ten dresses already," one yawns, "and this looks the best on you." Like you're wearing it and not it wearing you.
It's reaching late afternoon, as well, and you want to get home to catch up on chores before the week starts anew. Not needing much convincing to spend more time dallying otherwise, you return and change back into your clothes. The clerk guides you on how to style the straps, like a bow that can hug your waist or neck, something you can decide later.
In less exciting facets of the day, you pay for the dress in credit installments. Six months.
Cool.
Adults are just kids with plastic cards, after all.
You also pick up a shawl to cover up if it gets cold at the venue.
The shoes were easy afterwards, something classic and comfortable since they’d be covered by the skirt, anyway. 
You swipe your card again, trying not to squint at the receipt or crumple it.
It feels like ticking off a checklist with this, but what’s the goal? You hold up the dress to your chest when you get home, swaying the thing from side to side in front of the only expensive thing in your apartment, a wide floor-length mirror handed down by a cousin who moved abroad. Well, the second expensive thing, after the dress.
You feel at the stitching and admire the draping, and yeah, maybe feeling good about looking good is what matters. Even for a little bit.
-
“This looks pretentious,” Kenma holds up the invitation like it’s diseased. He jolts a bit when Kuroo drives over a road bump. He’s driving Kenma to lunch with his mom, a condition she asked for when Kenma had wanted to move away. An ‘only child’ thing, maybe.
Kuroo snatches it back, “It’s fine, just unexpected,” he adjusts in his seat, “last time we talked was in college, now this," he side eyes the thing, dropping it back on Kenma's lap as he shifts his gear. "I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“A wedding? You’re 27 so it’s not really surprising,” his friend shrugs, fingers on the zipper of his bag.
“And you’re 26 so you don’t need me chauffeuring you around, yeah?” 
He wanted to correct him and say that he meant he's been disconnected with the guy all these years but instead tilts his head towards Kenma. “Your net worth can buy like ten cars,” he clicks his tongue, “or ten drivers.”
“Shut up,” the other man grumbles, further bending into himself, “I pay for gas.”
Kuroo turns back to the topic, “Besides, it’s 2022, not 1970. Nobody does things like this anymore.”
“Seems like an old timey family. Shotgun wedding?” 
“I don’t judge.”
“No right to,” Kenma jabs, snickering.
“Yeah yeah,” he reaches to Kenma’s head, shoving it away, “Cut it out.” And Kenma does.
The rest of the ride has the man messing with the radio, and when there’s nothing good on, he starts to bounce his leg.
Kenma only stops the motion when Kuroo’s engine dies on the curb of a mall. And Kenma deflates. His entire demeanor screams discomfort. And Kuroo wishes he can reassure his oldest friend. He’d always seem off-balance whenever these lunches happen.
Kuroo, despite his understanding of modern tech and media, has a conventional job. And can empathize with a mother's distress about an unusual career path. No matter how successful.
“So are you gonna go?” Kenma bends down the door after getting out of the car.
“Be weird not to,” And really, he can only roll his eyes.
“Well,” the other man looks down to his feet, bouncing lightly on his feet, “have fun,” he tries at a smile, and fails.
“Tell Auntie I said hi.”
Kenma stops again, sighing, “She’s gonna nag at me again for not having a girlfriend.”
“She can nag for the two of us then.”
“Gross,” Kenma slams his door and he can almost hear Kenma’s thoughts of, ‘I’m single because I want to be, not because I’m a loser,’ and Kuroo can’t help but chuckle.
-
The venue is at a newly built hotel one subway transfer away from your apartment. One you've seen on the news, a premium luxury getaway in the heart of the city. Told right after a segment on international war crimes.
You're really living the high life these days.
Prepping for the wedding, you try to keep everything simple, from hair to makeup, shaving time by avoiding the rush hour of the commute by carpooling. And your invitation is secured inside a clutch beside an envelope of money, freshly withdrawn and still smelling of future weeks with cup ramen. And hope that none of your colleagues get married any time soon.
The grand ballroom of the hotel sprawls on marble flooring, the ceiling adorned with vines and flowers. All fresh, too, with golden chandeliers hanging on almost every square meter bathing the venue in warm lighting. The tables have crystal vases, candelabras, and table napkins with an embroidered family seal. Much like the invitation, it's a bit much.
But it's pretty.
You sit at a table with your name on a card, after being led by a super professional looking wedding planner. You're joined with other co-workers, filling the eight seats with friendly chatter. There's a charcuterie spread on each table and you find it no issue to dig in as the other guests slowly arrive.
The bride and groom walk in after a dimming of lights and a short countdown. They've already said their vows, attended only by their extended family. But, with the amount of crying aunties who have walked past you, you reckon that the ceremony isn't as small a gathering either.
"No point hiding it, huh?" Your co-worker nudges you. And you look up at the bride, wedding dress hugging her waist and showing a rounded bump.
You don't judge.
Once they've settled in and the music has started—a live performance—a host starts with the program proper which includes, unsurprisingly, a mish mash of traditional and modern (hell, western) rites. It’s like they can’t decide on what to do with their own wedding party. Or to give them the benefit of the doubt, they do know, it’s just not the couple’s decision to make alone.
And the food is just as expensive as the decor. Hors d'oeuvres piled high on long tables at each corner of the grand ballroom. There are high tables for standing guests too, passing along business cards, and waiters going around with drinks and serving food. The event is trying to be both an intimate and networking venue simultaneously.
Another co-worker holds up a crumbly quiche the size of a child’s palm, snickering, “Hah! Horse divorce,” before pushing the tiny thing inside their mouth.
-
Kuroo gets to the venue late. The taxi he took from the Shinkansen was a saving grace from the six hour ride. He's packed for the night, a damage mitigation plan. With the week he's had, a full night's sleep later is all he can ask for if he can't get a night bus home.
He hitches his backpack a little bit higher on his shoulders as he steps inside the air conditioned ballroom and the familiar itch he feels during business gatherings makes itself present. He's used to it by now, but a part of him still feels a pang of doubt whenever he's surrounded by so many unfamiliar people.
He’s greeted by suits upon suits upon suits of gray and muddy brown, unkempt hair, eyes not regarding the dancing couple in the center, business cards being presented, and even a flash of…product samples? Half the guests appear to be business partners, representatives of companies the couple or their family wants to network with.
And maybe that’s why he was asked to come too. He feels his exhaustion multiply tenfold as the planner leads him to his designated seat for the evening.
Kuroo is surprised to know that he is seated nearer the principal sponsors than the back end where the real business is apparently ongoing. He takes off his coat and hangs it on the back of his chair, accepts the offered drink, and starts to take bites of the pastrami on the wooden block.
He's in the middle of a small conversation with one of the bride's uncles when a finger taps his shoulder.
-
You notice a messy head of hair where the spotlights swirl in purples and blues, casting a wonderful dance of lights in the ballroom.
He's in a three piece suit (tailored and fitted well even from this distance), setting down a backpack (backpack?) on his seat. He looks to fit in VIP even with just his posture but then again, he is sitting near the front. The definition of Very Important in functions like these.
He's deep in thought, eyes shifting around the area, seemingly wary. Well, it's odd that he looks like he didn't come here for friends. Especially with where he's sat. Maybe that's part of the networking that's been happening around you since he does fit the bill.
And honestly, a part of you feels bad. It's a nice wedding, polarizing theme aside, with good food and good wine.
You get lost in a conversation about the recent gymnastics championships, but your eyes always land on him eventually. You were thinking about crossing the ballroom to him when a woman taps his shoulder and tackles him into a hug just as he turns around.
Ah, he's with a friend.
That's good.
You almost embarrassed yourself there.
And in hindsight, you shouldn't be making rash decisions like that. One, it’s a recipe for humiliation, and two, you are not friends. You barely know him.
A traitorous image of sweat dripping down his torso flashes in your mind. Well, in that regard, you do.
Taking a bite of a biscuit with a mix of tuna and onions with garnishing of microgreens, you start to feel like his presence is a bad omen. You cross your arms and sip on fancy wine with a bottle that has this curling script of a label you can't be bothered to read right now.
-
“You’re here!”
That voice.
“I’m so happy to see you,” it continues and Kuroo gets pulled in a hug.
No.
This is why he was invited. Now everything makes sense.
“It’s been how many years now?”
The voice is shrill in his ears and Kuroo tries not to flinch. He's never felt a shiver run up his spine this bad since his last job interview.
Lights shift on stage and the couple steps under a heavy spotlight for their first dance. He turns to the voice and smiles, kindly. He's always kind.
"How have you been?" She now sits beside him, ignoring the greeting of his now-sister-in-law's relatives.
The groom’s sister was his junior back in college, someone he always figured liked him in some way. One he can admit seems to have a few screws loose. He recounts the exes her brother has told him about that one time they drank in university.
She never confessed (she didn’t really need to), but with how she clung to his arm as they sat, it seems like she’s acting upon her feelings now.
There's a pinch to his brow when he smiles at her quip. Too sweet. What a terrifying girl.
Five years seems like such a long wait but she lays it on pretty thick with a, "We haven't seen each other in so long," and a stroke to his arm. Plus a, "It's the perfect time to catch up," with her shoe running up his pant leg as he hides his grimace while trying to enjoy his drink.
In hindsight, he should've just bolted but goddamn does the whiskey taste good.
-
Your eyes can't help but gravitate back to him. And you can't blame yourself when he's so damn big. He sits half a head taller than the other guests, and when the ballroom cleared out, he's just too damn easy to spot.
He's enjoying his time with his lady friend, it seems. Her hands all over him as he downs his nth drink of the night.
You didn't count.
You absolutely didn't.
(It's his third. Neat, same as how you met him. Whiskey, judging by the amber color and shape of his glass.)
And then the couple gets a request to share a kiss. You look away.
You guessed that he's not driving, possibly has a room reserved for him and the girl. You focus your attention on the flower arrangement on your table, purple, blue, pretty (it doesn't work). Your eyes flit back to him.
Truly you wonder why you give him the mental load. Though maybe it's out of concern. But you know you're not that kind. Not to just anyone, at least.
When the music starts up again for more of the program—whatever thing it is couples do with the thigh garter—Kuroo wobbly but quickly excuses himself. And his date visibly deflates, crossing her arms over her chest and huffing.
Once again you consider interjecting, somehow it feels right even if you have no right to. But he comes back a little later, with his necktie loosened and the top button of his shirt unbuttoned. He's looking more…human.
You sincerely hope he feels more like one too.
-
By the time you've polished your third plate of dessert, your co-workers asked you to join them for a smoke at the hotel's outdoor cafe.
The event has winded down to a lull after the showing of an edited video of the couple as children and you think it's about time for them to cut the cake. So on and so forth until eventually the ballroom is opened for the aunties in attendance, which is best avoided.
You go with them, albeit reluctantly, looking back at Kuroo and seeing him leaned back on his chair with his suit coat folded on his arm, showing his matching vest, his tie now swung over his neck. And with the woman still draped on the opposite arm.
It's a sin for someone to look so good. And you're a bigger sinner for looking.
-
The cafe is in the courtyard of the hotel, surrounded by a well-kept garden and ponds with fountains. The decor is early 1900’s French design with candelabra lamps and ornate arches on the windows, mingling within are locals and foreign businessmen alike even at this later hour. There’s low jazz music playing as you walk closer and you almost swoon at the smell of coffee.
"Who were you checking out?" Your co-worker blows smoke on your face.
She takes a hit again, holding it in before declaring, "Liar."
"Nobody," you fan around your face, leaning on one of the carved half-walls surrounding the cafe and garden.
"Is he cute?" The other interjects, handing you a small mirror as you dab a napkin on your smudged eyeliner. You can’t seem to get the pigment off.
“Yeah. Or hot?” she flicks the cigarette ash, “Should at least be hot, right?”
Hot?
That makes you pause. Sure, he’s hot. Just hot, and none of your business.
Everyone had more than enough to drink at this point, and you reckon that it's their last smoke before calling up a driver for the three of you to head home.
"What table is he at?" the other continues, stepping in your space. They both murmur to each other about how you’ve been looking at the other tables and, ‘it can’t be the old geezers!’ with a, ‘I’m half-blind I couldn’t get a proper look with all of the strobe lights!’
"Ok enough of this," you brush them off, crumpling the napkin in your palm, “I’ll go to the restroom.”
One holds up a phone to her ear, "You have ten minutes or we won't wait up."
You head straight to the ladies restroom, wanting to give yourself a moment to freshen up when you hear a—
"Come ooooon…"
And a heavy groan.
"Daddy booked me the best room!"
Another long groan, quieter this time. More resigned.
"Well, I guess, one after my brother's and my new sister…"
You slowly trace back to the voice, finding Kuroo and the girl slumped over a poor potted plant beside an indoor fountain.
He appears to be completely out of it. And his date is impatiently stomping expensive heels on the black marble floor. So hard you fear it would shatter under the red bottoms.
You are about to exit the scene—because it's really none of your business—when his eyes shoot to you.
And really, you know that look. Shock and recognition mixed into golden but hazy eyes. Like a kitten left out in the rain trying to get adopted. And your mother did tell you that you have a penchant for strays.
You pinch the bridge of your nose.
He really gives a girl no choice.
"Hey, Kuroo-san—" you call out.
-
His head is reeling.
He really should've been more in control. His ass is getting kicked by alcohol and fatigue. It's not a good mix.
"Excuse me but we're busy here?"
There's a hand on his shoulder, "Suzuki-san from that uh, protein bar company, remember him? He's calling for you."
It's her, staring straight at him, lying for him, eyes wide and round. Pleading him to agree, to acquiesce, to walk and meet this Suzuki-san. And how can he deny her that? He’s an empathic man. So he nods in faux recognition.
"Come now," a voice comes out of her, pitched higher than what he recalls, more professional, "he's waiting for us back there. Yeah,” a clearing of her throat, “in the ballroom."
His junior, she's still here. Right. Yeah, no. He doesn't want to get involved with any of that.
Kuroo slurs to his junior, "I gotta go," before taking the offered hand of this familiar face. This shining beacon in god awful timing. Of all places.
His blood buzzes under his skin. And if he was a little more sober, he'd be embarrassed at how clammy his hands have gotten in hers.
"Enjoy your stay, miss," she bows to the girl who took him here.
This perpetrator, shock painted all over her face, stomps off to the elevators., "Screw this." Vaguely he can hear her, mouthing at how he was always like this. Putting work first.
Is that really an insult at this point? At least the alibi worked. 
And on the—literal—other hand, she's here.
In the flesh.
He wants to say so much. Like, 'Hey. Yeah, I know. Wanna start over? Has been a few months. We can get something awful and chill. The air here is stifling. Whaddaya say?'
But all he manages is a nod to her reassuring smile while limping his way back to the ballroom.
-
You pull him aside, away from the girl and far enough from the ballroom that you can hear yourself think over the heartbeat in your eardrums. You ask a passing waiter for a glass of water.
"We have got to stop meeting like this," you pull his coat from his arm, putting it around his shoulders and offering him a seat in one of the now-empty tables. You’re near the edge of the ballroom, away from the dancing aunties and their dance instructors.
"Inebriated?" The man has the gall to smile under his lashes, or maybe that's all he can do right now. 
"No," you clarify, "at massive fancy events." You pass him the glass of water and he ignores it.
"I like seeing you all dolled up. But I’d like it better if you were—"
"Drink," you pull a seat for yourself and notice the way he stares at the dip of your dress as you sit down.
And softer, "I thought I'd never see you again."
"Drink," you insist and he takes a sip. A gulp. Eventually finishing the glass of water and you ask another wandering waiter for more.
He breathes deep after downing the glass, "You gonna take me home?"
"I'm taking you to your hotel room,” you pause, “if you have one?"
He just shrugs. So unhelpful.
"Kuroo-san, did you plan on staying anywhere tonight?"
A shake to his head comes after, looking down at his shoes. Still wobbling and woozy.
"Were you supposed to stay this late?"
That makes him look up, "Uh, no. Supposed to," he clears his throat, "get a night bus back."
"Have you booked a ticket?"
"Nope."
"Yeah, okay. What were you thinking, going here?" You tap your shoe in impatience. And nerves.
"Wasn't really thinking much," he shrugs again and it's when you realize that this conversation is pointless.
Aside from his swaying, he's been sneaking obvious looks at you. And it's making your skin prickle in a way you don't want from an obviously drunk man.
"Alright," you put your palms on your lap, "I'm taking you home then." A part of you wants to reassure him that it's for his own safety. But you both know that you're just reassuring yourself.
-
On the cab ride home, Kuroo wouldn't stop talking, mumbling about how the few short months have been while leaning his head on the glass window.
"I never got your call," he says, still leaning on the glass. He has a plastic bag in his hands, courtesy of the hotel’s kind doorman, just in case.
“You gave me a fake number," is your curt reply.
“Didn't. Phone broke," Kuroo defends, mind slurring at the few days between when he met you and when Hinata broke his phone.
“Like hell I’d believe that," you put your shawl up a little higher.
He puts a finger in the window drawing a smiley face, “I thought you trust me?”
“Doubting my decisions so far," seeing the gesture though, you can't help but soften the dip of your brows.
"My phone got busted two weeks after the Olympics. Long story," he recalls and shifts in his seat, leg bumping into yours, "but I thought the rule for calling was three days."
You give him a flat stare at that, "And I still think you've had too much to drink, Kuroo-san."
"Can I be candid for a moment?"
Breathing deeply, you gesture for him to continue.
“Is it weird to say that I miss you? I mean we're basically strangers—”
“Maybe. But we have met twice now, I guess. That might mean something,” in the larger scheme of things, maybe, “or not.”
“But I know soooo much about you,” he waggles his brows and it comes off more sleepy than seductive.
“Pervert.”
“You like it,” he just smiles at you, a little loopy, incredibly flushed. And cute, something you thought would have been beyond him if you just met.
"I thought you were bad at this flirting thing," you've stopped in front of your apartment mansion.
He shrugs and insists on paying the cab, “I’ve gotten a bit of practice." Immediate regret paints his handsomely red face.
"Yeah," you help trying to hoist him out of the car, "that's a no."
It's late, and cold. You can't wait to head inside. Rubbing your palms together, you unlock the main door code.
He stands beside you, leaning close to your face as the cab drives off, "Hey, sorry. Too much?"
"Just…inappropriate," you wave for him to follow you to the elevator. You feel his presence, solid right behind you.
"Because it's me?"
"Because you're drunk."
"I'm not."
"You are and we need to fix that," your floor opens and he follows you like a puppy. Even as you unlock your door and take your shoes off.
"Sit on the couch for me."
Kuroo follows with an ‘oof’ resting his head on the back, legs splayed, and eyes half-closed.
You grab your last bottle of sports drink from the fridge, handing it to him by pressing it on his forehead. He jumps, holding your wrist before taking the bottle from your hand.
How can a man’s skin be so cold and so awfully warm at the same time?
“I’m gonna pee so much at this point,” he sighs, taking a swig.
“That’s the point,” you pat his thigh, asking him to move so you can sit beside him.
The silence in your apartment is stuffy, especially with him here. You grab the remote to turn on the late evening news.
“Ooh!” He points to the drink’s packaging, “company-sponsored drinks, I see.”
“If you knew where I worked,” you take the bottle from him and take a sip, “why didn’t you look me up?”
His brows are furrowed, skin flushed, “I’m a pervert, not a creep.”
“Well, I looked you up,” feeling no guilt at the admission. 
“Really? What did you find?” He’s starting to become more sure with his movements, more sober, but only slightly.
“Just some random article,” you take another, handing him back the bottle, “of this cool high school volleyball team from Tokyo.”
He stares at the lip of the bottle, “An indirect kiss? Dear me."
“You were less insufferable when you were trying to get in my pants.”
“I still am,” he confesses.
“You’re drunk," a statement of fact, not a suggestion.
“So if I wasn’t you would?”
You glare at him.
“Sorry," he digs his teeth on his lower lip.
“Kuroo-san, if you didn’t drink too much,” you say calmly, “you wouldn’t even be in this situation."
“My savior."
“Indeed. So you sleep here, I’ll get ready for bed myself.”
Despite your words, Kuroo dutifully follows you to your room like it’s a house tour.
-
“Nice room,” he scans around. Unsure what to expect, it’s a nice surprise to see bootleg stuffed animals on a shelf beside your bed.
"You sentimental too?"
"Same tricks won't work on me."
You notice the moment his eyes land on the mirror.
"It doesn't fit, I know," you defend the offensive thing, "I don't know where else to put it."
"No, it's fine," he sits at the edge of your bed, ensuring your stuffed animals remain undisturbed in their pristine positions.
He pulls at your arm, "Come here."
-
"We can't," you pull away.
"Why not?"
"You're drunk?" You pointedly look at the crotch of his pants, untented despite his verbal willingness. He thought he'd be hard by now, like you're some cure to his predicament or maybe he really did imbibe too much.
"Okay," he loosens his tie.
"No, okay?"
"No, rest your back to me," he sits further up, moving into the wall.
"Kuroo-san," you stop him short, kneeling one leg on the bed as it creaks from the weight of two people for the first time.
"Tetsurou, actually."
"I'm not saying that."
"Okay, but I have an idea," he touches your forearm, "hear me out?"
"No," you pull it away, straightening your back as you're kneeling on the bed.
"Give me a chance, I'm trying to prove a hypothesis."
You expected your disgusted grimace to put him off, maybe calm him down. But his eyes just grow a little wider, a little prettier.
And he's warm and strong and smells really really nice.
"Please?"
Kuroo calls you by your name, your first name. Like he's testing it on his lips while tasting it on his tongue, how the syllables roll. And you see clearly how it affects him.
Restraint can only keep you for so long.
His hands brush on your hips for a moment too long.
A beat.
You feel a flip switch.
You want to eat him alive.
-
Kuroo stops when you dig your nails into his shoulder. 
He sits behind you, long legs spread so wide you almost think he can wrap them around your bed if he tried.
Your legs are spread too, calves perched on top of his knees as the skirt of your dress is hiked above your thighs. 
His breath is warm on your skin, eyes trained as it disappears under the chiffon, then to the too-gaudy too-convenient mirror in front of the bed.
"This is embarrassing," you whisper, cheek pressed to your shoulder as you blink away tears.
Kuroo does something and you jolt, followed by the near-silent sound of his fingers moving deeper inside you. He groans deep and slurring, "Yeah, that's the spot."
-
You feel his hardness grind you from behind as you come to, still lightheaded but lucid enough to give him two weak taps.
It feels like it's been hours. Maybe it has been. You don't really care at this point.
"Yeah?" He sounds breathless, like he hasn't noticed his own arousal, focused entirely on yours.
"Your hypothesis?" You don't mean it to come out so breathy, but he's been persistent and eager. Not a complaint. Never.
"Huh," he stills, "oh."
"Oh?" You wiggle your hips experimentally, his reaction—a low rumble in his chest—spurs you on. You do it again.
"...Hah," he leans forward to breathe onto your neck. You feel almost bad and ashamed at the rate of which your desire is escalating but something within you is also wired wrong and enjoys this…so much.
"Oh," untangling his arms from around you, you face him and scoot down your bed. He's flushed perfectly on the top of his cheeks and on the veins of his neck. And sometime between then and now, he's loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. The blush doesn't extend to his chest, unfortunately, but the radiating warmth does.
“What are you doing?” His fringe is sticking to his forehead. For someone whose hands are so in control, his entire body seems to be the same composition as half-cooked pasta. So pliant under you.
“Returning the favor?" Your hands cup the bulge of his slacks, damp and hot.
"Oh…" Then he nods. And nods. And nods.
You undo his belt, he lifts his hips as you drag drag drag his bottoms down and off. “Are you clean?” You ask mostly to see him flush deeper.
And it works.
“I am," he pouts, brows furrowed deep.
“Said you got a lot of practice," mouth close enough to his cock that he feels the warmth of your breath. "You’re giving me mixed signals here," a light touch to the weeping head, "what’s a girl to think?”
“I told you, I haven’t,” he chokes, “not since—”
“Not since me?” You crawl on your knees to him, “That’s cute. That's so absolutely cute, Kuroo-san.” Some part within you feels sick and twisted but so so good at the way his eyes drift close at the compliment.
“Please," he gasps with your hands wrapping on the base of his shaft, "put your mouth on me."
You think it obvious that the smile you give him promises no satisfaction from acquiescing. You want to, but he's just so cute.
And it doesn't take long for Kuroo to sit up himself to push you into the pillows of your bed. You half expected it but the force still leaves you breathless.
"Don't tease me," he's got tears on his eyelashes, "it's been too long. I haven't—" He pushes his hips down and grinds your inner thigh. It's ticklish, but his eyes are sewn shut and his breath stutters at every drop of his weight on yours.
You shift your hips so his cock would grind at your folds and the motion wrenches a moan from him. Too loud to be respectable.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—"
"Easy," you tell him, easing him and his breathing, "you have me."
Still in your dress, you allow him to grind himself on you, smearing your wetness and drenching himself in it. It's a quiet couple of minutes with Kuroo murmuring something you don't understand.
"Kuroo-san?"
"Huh?" He sounds groggy pulled away from his thoughts.
"What were you saying?"
"I want…"
"You want?"
His eyes are so dark.
"I want to put it in."
You raise your eyebrow at this.
Wasn't that the point?
"I'm scared," he continues softly, belying his cock twitching underneath your skirt.
"Of?"
He looks at you, pleading. Drool collects on his mouth making it shine under the light.
Oh.
"That's not a problem," you pull his face close and suck on his bottom lip, "I'm here, not going anywhere this time. You can have me as many times as you want."
The relief on his face is immediate, and he adjusts to push himself in with zero warning.
“Oh god, it’s so wet. You’re so—haah…”
Distantly, you think of all the decisions you made tonight that led you to this point. But more than anything, you feel him in your throat.
He pulls out entirely when you half-scream, apologies on his tongue. But you pull him by his hair, at the base of his neck he almost purrs, “Tetsurou,” your voice even, “do not even think of stopping right now.”
You wish you could capture the relieved look on his face when he enters you again. But you can’t, so instead you swallow his answering moan with your lips.
-
The dress is a mess, catching most of your fluids that it almost feels disgusting if it didn't fill you with so much pride your heart could burst.
Your heartbeat is still pounding on your ears when he speaks again, having rolled off of you not two minutes prior.
"Remember how you didn't let me get you breakfast?"
"Couldn't, not didn't," you correct him softly. You’re bone dry and aching in the best of ways. A post-coital date invite isn't what you expect from one night stands. Two nights now, technically. But it isn’t unwelcome.
"Well, what do you think?"
"What do I think about what?"
"Breakfast?” He sounds so hopeful, you wouldn’t dare break his heart. “You and me?"
You start to feel the stickiness and the disgust—you needed a shower an hour ago—but with it the warmth, "Yeah,” you get up slowly and stretch, “sounds good."
He clambers after you ask him to join you.
-
Cutlery clinks on ceramic as the smell of freshly cooked rice and miso soup permeates the kitchen.
"Do you like it?"
"Like it?" Your heart is light, "I wish someone would cook for me like this more often."
His eyes go wide at the sudden confession. You did just spend an obscene amount of time in bed with him, but boundaries, right?
Your brows furrow, finger shushing his lip, "Don't get the wrong idea."
"Right," he nods, "not your boyfriend. But we can totally do this again," he clears his throat, "the breakfast?"
He pushes and picks himself up fast, something you admire. "Sure," you smile into your cup of coffee, "when I can squeeze you in my schedule."
There's a pause, a hopeful pause.
"Especially since you have my number now, don't you?"
You don't know what's brighter, the sunlight streaming from the window or the smile on his face.
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lcandothisallday · 2 years
Text
Not That Simple - Jack Harlow x f!reader (former Urban Wyatt x f!reader)
note: this is kinda all over the fucking place and i actually have no idea where i wanted to go with it so I actually hate it also there’s no actual ending💀 but it is what it is😂 an angsty piece😌
part 2
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Urban sat with his head in his hands and a blunt between his fingers, occasionally rubbing his temples to soothe the ongoing headache he was experiencing. He would only pull away to take a drag, hold in the smoke a moment before exhaling with a sigh.
A minute later is when Jack stormed into the apartment with an angered look on his face. “What the fuck is up with you! I called you like five fucking times!” he yelled at his best friend. “We were supposed to leave an hour ago!”
Urban only rolled his eyes, his sour mood causing him to not give a single fuck. “I’m not doing shit today,” he mumbled. “Not feeling well,” he shrugged nonchalantly although it was all a hoax that Jack could see right through.
Jack let out a scoff before he looked around, noting the whiskey bottle on the coffee table and the way Urban’s knees bounced anxiously. “Dude what’s going on?” Jack asked, taking a seat next to him. “Haven’t seen you like this in a while...not even on your mom’s birthday or the anniversary of her death,” Jack mumbled out carefully in concern, not wanting to trigger his friend for whatever the reason for his anger was.
“I fucked up man,” Urban groaned, throwing his head back against the couch in distress. Jack furrowed his brows in confusion. “C’mon--you gotta give me more than that.”
Urban let out a defeated sigh. “I got her pregnant,” he muttered quietly, so quiet that Jack almost didn't hear. However he did and he couldn’t help but have his eyes widen.
“Fuck...” Jack breathed out in shock. “W-wait,” Jack interrupted quickly, his brow raised. “Which one? You’re messing around with like three different girls.”
“Y/N,” Urban clarified but it seemed like Jack was still outta the loop and confused which only caused Urban to groan. “The one from (your home town/city). The curve model.”
Jack nodded in remembrance, the only reason being that at the time he was jealous that Urban had managed to bag you before he did. “Oh shit...but y’all aren’t exclusive right? So how do you know its yours?”
Urban bit his lip and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “She told me I was the only guy she was sleeping with,” he sighed. “I don't want this fucking kid Jack,” he confessed shamefully. “I don't want the commitment and she doesn’t seem like the type to want to get rid of it,” he groaned. “And even if I tried to co-parent or be there for it--she lives far and we’re all over the country. No stability...and fuck-I like her...think she’s hot and all but I don't like her enough to start a relationship let alone a family with her.”
Jack furrowed his brows, “you’re bailing on the kid? Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
Urban nodded in confirmation. “I’ll pay whatever child support she wants but fuck--I’m not raising this kid. I’d rather her get rid of it but I don’t know what she plans to do yet. We’re meeting up tomorrow to discuss it.”
“I think you should get Neelam involved,” Jack suggested.
“Yeah okay...you and her can come tomorrow.”
The next day comes around and you and Urban agreed to meet at his apartment which you were of course no stranger to because of the multiple hookups that took place. Your nerves were through the roof as you approached his front door. How the two of you managed to fuck up so badly despite the both of you being so careful was beyond you.
You take in a steady breath before knocking. After a few moments, Urban swings open the door and looks you up and down almost with a look of disgust on his face which you chose to ignore. “Hey...c’mon in,” he mumbled, moving aside to let you pass by. You enter his apartment and are instantly met with Neelam and Jack, causing your brows to furrow.
“Urban this feels like an interrogation,” you tell him with a frown. He merely shrugs. “I feel more comfortable with them in the room.”
Neelam gestures for you to take a seat, the woman now taking on her big sister/mom role for Urban. “Okay sweetheart...I have Urban’s best interest in mind and I’m following his wishes so I’m gonna cut to the chase. He supports whatever decision you take but he wants absolutely no involvement in the child’s life if you choose to keep it. He’s willing to pay child support too. Of course a paternity test is needed before everything is settled considering you both were not exclusive...and you will also have to sign an NDA--”
“Why the fuck would I sign an NDA?”
Neelam sighed. “I know that I’m Jack’s manager but as I said, I also have Urban’s best interest and that includes his career and image.”
As Jack watched the scene unfold, he couldn’t help but feel bad for you when he saw your eyes begin to tear up and the way you swallowed thickly.
“Urban can we just talk privately?” you ask him, your voice quiet and timid as you looked between him and the others. Urban let out a guilty sigh and shook his head. “I don’t think we should—”
“Please,” you interrupt him. He nods relectunantly and leads you to his room before he shuts the door.
“Are you keeping it?” Urban asked, his arms crossing in front of him as he stared intensely at you. You shrug, “I don’t know what I plan to do.”
Urban groaned, “just fucking get rid of it and everything could go back to normal!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “We’d,” he pointed between the both of you. “We’d go back to normal too!”
“It’s not that easy of a decision!” you yell back, the tears now more evident in your eyes.
“Well then I want no fucking part in the baby’s life!” Urban said harshly. “What did you fucking think would happen?! That I would happily accept it? We’re not even dating Y/N—why would I want to have a baby with you?”
Jack cringed from his spot in the living room as he overheard the both of you yelling. He understood the position his best friend was in but part of him also felt extremely bad that a baby was going to be brought into this world with a father that very clearly didn’t want it.
Your jaw nearly drops hearing Urban’s harsh words. “You know what? Fuck you Urban. I thought maybe we could figure this out together but I don’t need your help anyway,” you spat, shaking your head. “Wouldn’t want my child to have a deadbeat stoner father like you anyway.” You say your final words and storm out of the room and out of the apartment entirely.
Jack sighed and shook his head in disappointment, watching Urban step out of the room. “This stays between us alright?” Urban warned, looking at both Jack and Neelam firmly. “No one fucking bring this up to me ever again. I’m staying out of its life and no one is gonna change my mind,” he muttered. “So y’all stay out of it too and shit can just go back to normal.”
Seven months go by and to say you were struggling and a hormonal mess was an understatement. You had initially planned to indeed get rid of the pregnancy, noting it was the best choice for you considering your young age and career, but the second you heard it’s little faint heartbeat you just couldn’t go through with it. Instead you committed wholeheartedly, with or without Urban’s help.
Since storming out of his apartment, you had stopped all communication with the blond man. However, despite Urban’s threat to stay out of his business, Jack couldn’t help but stay in contact with you, checking up every now and then and aiding (mostly financially) when necessary.
Jack finally had a moment to himself alone in the studio so he took the opportunity to pull out his phone and call you up. It rang a few times before your irritated and slightly out of breath voice came through.
“Hello Jack.”
“Hey Y/N,” he breathed out, biting his lip. “How are you?”
You let out an annoyed groan as you rub your temple with your free hand. “You gotta stop tryna give me money Jack,” you mumble, taking in a sharp breath.
“Y/N if you need it you know I’m willing—wait,” he paused, brows furrowed. “Why are you out of breath? You okay?” he asked in slight panic.
“Yeah I’m fine…the crib just got delivered and I was just trying to bring it into the apartment,” you mumble in explanation. “Gonna try building it in a bit.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “You can’t be exerting yourself like that!” he exclaimed. “You ain’t gonna be able to build it by yourself while seven months pregnant—”
“Well what do you expect me to do Jack?” you ask in annoyance. “I gotta learn to deal with shit on my own,” you sigh.
Jack instantly disagreed with your statement. “Nah ma—I’m comin’ over to help. I’ll be there in like 30.”
Jack indeed stayed true to his promise and was at your new LA apartment within 30 minutes. You hadn’t seen him since very early on in your pregnancy when he sat you down in a secluded cafe and told you he was willing to help out however way he can behind Urban’s back.
When you greeted him at the door, Jack’s eyes widened. “Jeez—you’re fucking huge!” he exclaimed, causing you to smack his arm with a firm but playful smile. “That’s not something you say to a pregnant woman!” you exclaim back in offense, although a laugh escaped you.
Jack grinned and giggled softly as he shrugged. “Girls are so sensitive man,” he teased purposely with a role of his eyes, strolling into your apartment. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been good I guess. Stressed the fuck out though,” you reply honestly. “I don’t know if I can do this alone.” Jack shook his head and instantly reached for your hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Made it this far. I know you can do it,” he smiled. “Now let’s get this crib built.”
You giggle softly and take him to the smallest room which was on its way to being transformed into a nursery. It was entirely little animal themed for your baby boy yet still minamilstic enough so it wouldn’t be cringey. “Little man’s got one cool ass room,” Jack mused before he stopped in front of the massive package that held the pieces to the crib.
You hum and take a seat on the rocking chair, your hand instinctively moving down to your belly to rub it while you watched Jack kneel down. “The instructions manuel is over there,” you point to the booklet on the ground.
Jack scoffed, “don’t need no manuel. What do you think I can’t build it myself?” he chuckled, beginning to open up the cardboard.
You roll your eyes, “Jack the instructions are made for people to follow. You didn’t design the crib—”
Jack shushed you immediately with a confident and cocky smirk on his lips. “I got this. Just sit back and relax.”
About half an hour in, you’re watching Jack with an amused smile as he struggled to put together the crib. He groans in frustration before he turns to look at you with tinted pink cheeks. “Hand me the damn booklet,” he muttered, his hands outstretched as you giggle and hand it over. “Told you so,” you hum.
“Whatever ma,” he mumbled, shaking his head. Now that he was following the instructions, Jack finished in record time. He stood back and dusted off his hands with a grin as he admired his handy work. “Good job,” you compliment with a faint smile. “Thank you Jack,” you breath out, your cheeks heating up.
It was such an intimate and domestic thing that he did and it truly warmed your heart that he was so nonchalant about helping you. It’s what you always envisioned when thinking about starting a family. Having a loving husband that was so beyond in love with you that starting a family was out of the question and that you’d do the cute little things like this together.
Jack licked his lips as he smiled down at you, the height difference making him swoon. Truth be told, part of the reason Jack was so adamant about helping you was because part of him liked you. How couldn’t? You were so effortlessly beautiful and held yourself in a way that would make any man drop to his knees. He blamed Urban for taking that all away from you-how his best friend managed to crush your confidence and all optimism for the future. And Jack wouldn’t ever admit it but ever since meeting you at that party, he couldn’t help the jealousy that overtook him when you fell for Urban and not him. Urban was equally as good at smooth talking and the fact that he was a photographer was something that you, as a model, found very attractive. One thing lead to another and he had to live with the fact that whenever you were in town, or they were in your hometown, you and Urban would go on cute little dates and hook up nearly every single time.
“Would you like something to drink?” you ask him, interrupting his thoughts. “I feel like I need to compensate you for your work somehow,” you laugh.
Jack grinned, “yeah I’ll take some tea.”
You lead him to the kitchen and open up your cabinet that held your different variety of tea. “What kind do you want?”
“The hottest kind,” he mused, watching for your reaction. You rolled your eyes which caused him to giggle, his dimple showing and all. “You’re actually so annoying you know that?” you comment, shaking your head as you laughed softly. “I’m no longer giving you a choice. You’re drinking green tea,” you scold, taking out two tea bags and turning on the kettle.
You and Jack fell into a comfortable silence as you waited for the water to boil. Every now and then you would wince and rub your belly.
“Why you keep making those faces?” Jack asks, his brows furrowed. “Looks like you’re in pain.”
You bite your lip and shrug. “Cos he keeps kicking,” you sighed.
“Does it hurt that much?” he asked curiously.
“I mean…I’ve sorta gotten used to it but imagine something kicking from inside you,” you whine. “Here—feel,” you say, taking hold of his hand gently and pressing it to your stomach over where your baby boy was kicking.
Jack’s eyes widened, a smile smile making its way onto his lips as he felt the odd sensation against the palm of his hand. “Oh shit,” he chuckled. “He’s got a good kick. Gonna end up playing soccer like his old man,” he mused.
A few more eager kicks are felt which causes you to look up at Jack with an amused smile. “I think he likes your voice,” you hum. Jack can’t help the grin that lightens up his face and the fluttering of his heart from your little comment. “Have you chosen a name yet?” he asked, his hands still on your belly as he rubbed it softly.
You shrug and bite your lip in thought. “Not really no. Every time I like a name, I test it out with my own last name and it just sounds bad,” you cringe. “Have any suggestions?”
Jack removed one hand from your belly to scratch the back of his neck with a soft laugh. “Honestly haven’t really thought about it before… kinda like the names Oliver and Leo?” he suggested weakly. “I don’t know…I think it would be easier if you just named him after me,” he shrugged playfully.
You toss your head back in laughter and shake your head. “Nah—we don’t need any more big egoed Jack’s in the world,” you tease. Jack laughed along before he shook his head. “Nah ma. He’ll grow up to be a handsome motherfucker that’s smart as hell and has great flow like me,” he mused.
You snorted, “oh sure,” you reply sarcastically, although the grin is still very much evident on your face. Jack grinned back, his line of sight flickering from your eyes, down to your lips, noting your adorable smile and it made him instinctively lick his own lips.
Your breath hitched once you noticed his lingering stare, causing your cheeks to heat up. Slowly but surely, Jack’s head dipped down and he pressed his lips to yours so softly, it barely felt like a real kiss.
You kissed him back, only momentarily before you pulled away in slight panic. “Jack this is wrong,” you whispered, eyes tearing up.
“Y/N—”
“No Jack,” you breath out, looking at him sternly. “It’s not right that you’re here helping your best friend’s baby mama when you know he wants nothing to do with him or me,” you say, taking a step back to hold your ground.
“Then why does being with you and around you feel so right?” he argued back. “I like you—”
You scoffed. “No Jack! You like the thought of being with me! The thought of getting to play house without the actual commitment and when you’re ready to bail, you’ll do so without feeling the guilt of leaving your own child behind!” you yell. “You and Urban are more alike than you know—there’s a reason why you two are best friends,” you muttered, running an anxious hand through your hair. “I’m not risking it so please just drop it. I don’t want your pity and I don’t need you to save me.”
A look of hurt crosses Jack’s features. He looks down at the ground and taps his fingers across the granite countertops anxiously before he looks up at you. “If he came back to you after everything…would you choose him?” he asked.
You frown as you hear his question. “You can’t expect me to answer a question like that…it’s not that simple—”
Jack scoffed, “no I think it is! There’s a guy that doesn’t give a shit about you or his child then there’s a guy like me who’s willing to give you everything! How isn’t it simple?” he asks with a defeated tone in his voice.
“Jack it’s not simple because I fell in love with him!” you exclaim. “I know I shouldn’t have fallen for him but it was more than just hookups for me,” you sigh. “Not to mention that you’ll be risking your friendship with him…so tell me how is it simple?”
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