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najia-cooks · 1 month

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[ID: A wide cylindrical pile of rice, eggplants, and 'lamb' on a serving platter, garnished with parsley. End ID]

مقلوبة / Maqluba

مَقْلُوبَة⁩ ("maqlūba," "upside down" or "turned over") is a Levantine casserole in which spiced meat, fried vegetables, and rice are arranged in a pot and simmered; the entire pot is then inverted onto a serving tray to reveal the layered ingredients. Maqluba historically uses lamb and eggplant, but modern recipes more often call for chicken; tomato, cauliflower, potato, bell pepper, and peas are other relatively recent additions to the repertoire.

A well-made maqluba should be aromatic and highly spiced; the meat and vegetables should be very tender; and the rice should be cohesive without being mushy. A side of yoghurt gives a tangy, creamy lift that cuts through and complements the spice and fat in the dish.

Maqluba emphasizes communal eating and presentation. It is usually eaten during gatherings and special occasions, especially during Ramadan—a month of sunrise-to-sunset fasting which celebrates the revelation of the Qu'ran to the prophet Mohammad. The pot is sometimes flipped over at the table for a dramatic reveal.

History

Many sources cite Muhammad bin Hasan al-Baghdadi's 1226 Kitāb al-ṭabīkh (كتاب الطبيخ لمحمد بن حسن البغدادي) as containing the first known reference to maqluba. However, the recipes for "maqluba" in this book are actually for small, pan-fried patties of spiced ground meat. [1] The dish is presumably titled "maqluba" because, once one side is fried, the cook is instructed to turn the patties over ("أقلب الوجه الآخر") to brown the other; the identical name to the modern dish is thus coincidental.

References to dishes more like modern maqluba occur elsewhere. A type of مغمومة ("maghmūma," "covered" dish), consisting of layers of meat, eggplant, and rice, covered with flatbread, cooked and then inverted onto a serving plate, is described in a 9th-century poem by إبراهيم بن المهدي (Ibrāhīm ibn al-Mahdī):

A layer of meat underneath of which lies a layer of its own fat, and another of sweet onion, another of rice, Another of peeled eggplant slices, each looking like a good dirham honestly earned. [...] Thus layered the pot is brought to a boil first then enclosed with a disc of oven bread. On the glowing fire it is then put, thus giving it what it needs of heat and fat. When fully cooked and its fat is well up, turn it over onto a platter, big and wide. (trans. Nawal Nasrallah) [2]

These sources are both Iraqi, but one story holds that maqluba originated in Jerusalem. صلاح الدين الأيوبي (Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn al-Ayyūbi; "Saladin"), after capturing the city from the Crusaders and reinstating Muslim rule in 1187, was served the dish, and was the first to describe it with its current name. Before this point, the Jerusalem specialty had supposedly been known as "باذنجانية" ("bāḏinjānīyya"), from "باذنجان" "bāḏinjān" "eggplant" + ية- "-iyya," a noun-forming suffix.

[ID: The same dish shown from directly above. End ID]

In Palestine

Maqluba is often invoked in the context of Palestinian strength and resistance, in defiance of its occasional description as an "Israeli" dish. Palestinian magazine writer Aleeya Rizvi reflects:

In the wake of the recent [2023] war in Gaza, our culinary endeavors, particularly in crafting and sharing traditional Palestinian dishes like Maqluba, represent a conscious effort to contribute to the preservation and resilience of Palestinian culture. In a time when cultural heritage is under threat, preparing and enjoying these time-honored recipes becomes more than a mere culinary activity; it transforms into a deliberate act of cultural continuity and solidarity.

Maqluba also has a more specific association with physical resistance against the backdrop of increased settler and police violence against Palestinians, including regular Israeli raids and attacks on the جامع الأقصى ("Jāmi' al-Aqṣā"; al-Aqsa mosque), during Ramadan.

The holiest month in the Islamic calendar, Ramadan is given over to fasting, prayer, and reflection; people gather together in homes and mosques to break their fast after sunset, and spend entire nights in mosques in worship. Khadija Khwais and Hanady Al-Halawani used to serve maqluba for افطار ("ifṭār," fast-breaking meal) in the Al-Aqsa mosque, until Israeli occupation authorities banned them from the mosque for "incitement."

In response, starting in 2015, Al-Halawani and other volunteer مرابطين ("murābiṭīn," lit. "holy people," guardians of the mosque) stationed themselves on the ground outside the mosque's gate (باب السلسلة; Bāb as-Silsila, "chain gate") to prepare and serve maqluba. Those who were banned from entering the mosque broke their fast and prayed at the mosque's gates, and in the nearby alleys of the Old City. The same year saw Israeli security personnel and settlers attack Palestinian protestors and guardians outside and inside the mosque with tear gas and stun grenades.

For Al-Halawani, the serving of maqluba at the al-Aqsa gates symbolizes "defiance, steadfastness, and insistence on continuing the fast [...] in spite of the occupation’s practices." The "Maqluba at al-Aqsa" ritual "has become one of the most disturbing Palestinian scenes for the occupation forces," who associate it with the defense of "Palestinian heritage" and the intent to "motivate worshipers and murabitin to repel incursions into the mosque." (Al-Halawani has been arrested, threatened, beaten, and detained by Israeli police multiple times for her role as a defender of Al-Aqsa. She was among the prisoners freed in trades between Israel and Hamas in December 2023.)

In 2017, occupation forces installed metal detectors, electronic gates, metal barriers, and police cameras to surveil worshipers following a shoot-out at one of al Aqsa's gates. Hundreds of protesters refused to enter the mosque until the repressive measures were removed, instead gathering and praying in its courtyard; surrounding families bolstered the sit-ins by serving food and drink. When the gates were dismantled, over 50,000 people gathered to eat maqluba in celebration, picking up on the earlier association of the dish with Saladin's victory (and its resultant alternate name, "أكلة النصر," "ʔakla an-naṣr," "victory meal").

The name "maqluba," meaning "upside-down" or "inverted," may be associated with victory and resistance as well. Fatema Khader noted in 2023 that the method of serving maqluba was a "symbolic representation of how Israeli policies and decisions against Palestinians will be flipped on their heads and become rendered meaningless." It is also relevant that maqluba is meant to be served to large groups of people, and can thus be linked, symbolically and literally, to solidarity and communal resistance.

This year in Gaza, Palestinians show steadfast optimism as they paint murals, hang lanterns, buy sweets, hold parties, and pray in groups amongst the rubble where mosques once stood. But despite these efforts at creating joy, the dire circumstances take heavy tolls, and the holiday cannot be celebrated as usual: Israel's campaign of slow starvation led Ghazzawi Diab al-Zaza to comment, "We have been fasting almost against our will for three months".

Donate to provide hot meals in Gaza for Ramadan

[1] Also reprinted in Mosul: Umm Al-Rubi'in Press (مطبعة ام الربيعين) (1934), p. 57. For an English translation see Charles Perry, A Baghdad Cookery Book (2005), pp. 77-8.

[2] This poem, as well as one of Ibn al-Mahdi's maghmuma dishes, were compiled in Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq's 10th-century Book of Dishes (كتاب الطبيخ وإصلاح الأغذية المأكولات وطيّبات الأطعمة المصنو; "Kitāb al-ṭabīkh waʔiṣlāḥ al-ʔaghdiyat al-maʔkūlāt waṭayyibāt ʔaṭ'ima al-maṣno," "Book of cookery, food reform, delicacies, and prepared foods"), p. 99 recto. For Nasrallah's English translation see Annals of the Caliph's Kitchens, pp. 313-4.

In the 14th-century Andalusian Cookbook (كتاب الطبيخ في المغرب والأندلس في عصر الموحدين، للمكلف المجهول; "Kitāb al-ṭabīkh fī al-Maghrib wa al-Andalus fī ʻaṣr al-Mawahḥidīn," "Book of cookery from the Maghreb and Andalusia in the era of Almohads"), a maghmuma recipe appears as "لون مغموم لابن المهدى", "maghmum by Ibn al-Mahdi". For an English translation see An Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook, trans. Perry et al.

Ingredients:

For a 6-qt stockpot. Serves 12.

For the meat:

1 recipe seitan lamb

2 cups (330g) ground beef substitute

1 cinnamon stick

1 bay laurel leaf

Pinch ground cardamom

Several cracks black pepper

For the dish:

3 cups (600g) Egyptian rice

2 medium-sized globe eggplants

2 large Yukon gold potatoes (optional)

Vegetarian 'chicken' or 'beef' bouillon cube (optional)

2 1/2 tsp table salt (1 1/2 tsp, if using bouillon)

Vegetable oil, to deep-fry

Fried pine nuts or sliced blanched almonds, to top

Egyptian rice is the traditional choice in this dish, but many modern recipes use basmati.

I kept my ingredients list fairly simple, but you can also consider adding cauliflower, carrots, peas, chickpeas, zucchini, bell pepper, and/or tomato to preference (especially if omitting meat substitutes).

For the spices:

1 1/2 Tbsp maqluba spices

1 4" piece (3g) cinnamon bark, toasted and ground (1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon)

3/4 tsp (2.2g) ground turmeric

3/4 tsp (1.5g) cloves, toasted and ground

3/4 tsp (2.2g) black peppercorns, toasted and ground

15 green cardamom pods (4.5g), toasted, seeds removed, and ground (or 3/4 tsp ground cardamom)

Instructions:

For the meat:

1. Prepare the seitan lamb, if using: it will need to be started several hours early, or the night before.

2. If using ground meat: heat 2 tsp oil in a skillet on medium. Add cinnamon stick and bay leaf and fry for 30 seconds until fragrant.

3. Add meat and ground spices and fry, agitating occasionally, until browned. Set aside.

For the dish:

2. Rinse rice 2 to 3 times, until water runs almost clear. Soak in cold water for 30 minutes, while you prepare the vegetables.

3. Optional: to achieve a presentation with eggplant on the sides of the maqluba, remove the skin from either side of one eggplant (so that all slices have flesh exposed on both sides) and then cut lengthwise into 1/2" (1cm)-thick slices.

Cut the other eggplant (or both eggplants) widthwise into coins and half-coins.

4. Sprinkle eggplant slices with salt on both sides and leave for 10-15 minutes to release water.

5. Peel potatoes and cut in 1/4" (1/2 cm) slices.

6. Heat about an inch of oil in a deep skillet or wok on medium (a potato slice dropped in should immediately form bubbles). Fry the potato slices until golden brown, then remove onto a paper-towel-lined plate or wire cooling rack.

7. Press eggplant slices on both sides with a towel to remove moisture. Fry in the same oil until translucent and golden brown, then remove as before.

Fry other vegetables (except for tomato, chickpeas, and peas) the same way, if using.

8. Drain rice. Whisk bouillon, salt, and ground spices into several cups of hot water.

9. Prepare a large, thick-bottomed pot with a circle of oiled parchment paper (or with a layer of sliced tomatoes). Add ground meat, if using. Layer widthwise-sliced eggplants into the pot, followed by potatoes. Place longitudinally sliced eggplants around the sides of the pot, large side up.

10. Add rice and pack in. Fold eggplant slices down over the rice, if they protrude.

11. Pour broth into the pot, being careful not to upset the rice. Add more water if necessary, so that the rice is covered by about an inch.

12. Heat on medium to bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, cover with a closely fitting lid, and cook 30 minutes.

13. If rice is not fully cooked after 30 minutes, lightly stir and add another cup of water. Re-cover and cook another 15 minutes. Check again and repeat as necessary.

14. Allow maqluba to rest for half an hour before flipping for best results. Place a large platter upside-down over the mouth of the pot, then flip both over in one smooth motion. Tap the bottom of the pot to release, and leave for a few minutes to allow the maqluba to drop.

15. Slowly lift the pot straight up, rotating slightly if the sides seem stuck.

16. Top with fried seitan lamb, chopped parsley, and fried pine nuts or almonds, as desired.

#Palestinian #maqluba #eggplant #rice #lamb #Ramadan

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hot-take-tournament · 7 months

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HOT TAKE TOURNAMENT!

GREATEST HITS!

Submission 474

vocaloids (and all similar non-Yamaha-owned vocal synths) are bad. all of them.

It's a mockery of the human voice. Frye from Splatoon 3 of all things is the closest we will ever get to having any interesting vocal technique in a voice synth bank. Singing styles around the world are so interesting and take so much skill and you abandon them for a glorified MIDI file? I also blame them for the rise of AI-generated covers, because they first started the devaluing of the human voice and the usage of it as an instrument - a really boring one that will never know advanced or diverse technique. Congrats, Miku made Minecraft, now all of SpongeBob has sang Billie Jean by Michael Jackson. At least the SpongeBob characters have distinct and interesting voices.

[from follow up asks]

hello. vocaloid take submitter here.

i didn't expect my submission to gain as much traction as it did, i thought it was lukewarm at best. i thought there were more vocaloid haters out there. this is tumblr, though, so i guess not. still think vocaloid is ass though.

i will say, it might add context to my take that i myself am a singer and have natural perfect pitch. while i haven't sang in any professional capacity, i've still done some voice training and lots of lower level performances. i have very strong feelings about singing, and hold what the human voice can do in high regard.

i also have a better ear for picking up smaller things in the human voice (re: natural perfect pitch) and the difference between humans and vocaloid is extremely striking to me. no amount of tuning can make a vocaloid not sound lifeless to me, because i will never, ever hear a human voice, and instead of letting the lead of the song Not Be Vocals - which has never been a novel concept - they HAVE to put the voice bank in.

also, re: "frye isn't a voice bank dumbass", congrats! you took away something i felt was actually interesting! god i wish more people knew about more singing styles that they couldn't easily replicate!

while now i know that AI voices are not a continuation of vocaloid, sorry, still think it's bad, go to hell and learn to compose a song without lyrics.

also - still the vocaloid take submitter - to continue:

i will eventually send a link to a playlist of all of the Vocaloid songs i have ever listened to, because i am sure most of the people who think i submitted that think that i do not even know what Defoko is, or that i've heard exactly two Hatsune Miku songs. i know what Defoko is. i know she's entirely computer generated. i've listened to her voice. i still think it's bad. have any of you big shots heard of Big Al? i've listened to him. also bad. it's bad.

Submission 111

I think chicken breast is disgusting and I would rather blend it up into a shake than eat it with my teeth

It’s fast, it’s efficient, it’s nutritious if you add fruits and vegetables. It’s easy to prepare and you can drink it on the go. I need the protein but chicken breast tastes disgusting either way, and I’m tired of putting in so much effort to make the joyless rubbery meat taste good.

My friends and family are wrong, this is the future.

I see some of you not voting! That's cheating!

It's ok if you agree with neither take! Just choose the take you agree with slightly more!

Think of it like choosing the lesser of two evils!

Propaganda is always encouraged, and remember to reblog your favourite polls for exposure!

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nunalastor · 2 months

Note

In reference to that 'Alastor drinks a lust potion' ask, don't want to rain on anyone's parade, but Lucifer most likely has Asmodeus (aka King of Consent) on speed dial. And you know that big beautiful chicken most certainly manufacturers lust potion antidotes. All it would take to fix Al up is Lucifer making a quick photo call.

Of course, the antidotes Ozzie produces are probably meant for Hellborns, Sinners wouldn't be his top concern. An antidote with a slightly altered recipe would have to be specially made, which would take a little more time.

A bit inconvenient, but still nothing for Lucifer to worry about. All he has to do is keep Alastor wrangled in until then.

He's the king of Hell, how hard could it be...?

👀

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #appleradio #radio apple #apple radio #lucifer morningstar #alastor #nunalastor asks #headcanon

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ltwilliammowett · 5 months

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Life on board a 17th century warship

The sailing crew was divided into two watches under the two lieutenants, each working for four hours while the other rested. While off duty, they were expected to stay below decks and out of the way, but could be called to work at any time if all hands were required, such as when anchoring or making a major sail change. When below, they probably tried to sleep as much as they could, since the four-hour schedule is not natural and quickly leads to fatigue. When not sleeping, they probably used much of the time off watch to mend their clothes and shoes, but they might relax with games, music or a popular new pastime, smoking, although this was only allowed in the cookroom.

War Ships 17th Century, by Jefferys, Charles W. 1942 in: The Picture Gallery of Canadian History Volume 1, p.99

Food was also prepared in the cookroom, a brick-lined hearth in front of the mainmast in the hold, and carried up to the gundecks in buckets, where it was doled out into big wooden bowls. Depending on the ship, food could also be prepared in the galley, which was located in the forecastle or midships.

Each man had his own wooden spoon, and some had wooden plates, but most ate from the bowl shared by a mess, a group of six or seven men who ate and lived together. They drank weak beer, "ship's ale," from a shared wooden tankard. The base of the diet was salted meat for protein and dried peas and bread for carbohydrates. Barrels full of bones found in the hold show that the meat was mostly beef, with a little pork and mutton, as well as fish and poultry. Interessting fact was that some of the crew were prepared to supplement this, as fishing equipment and hunting weapons were found in shipwrecks like the Vasa, as well as the bones of roe deer, moose, and grouse. The skeletons of chickens suggest that a few fresh eggs were available.

As in other navies, they did not issue uniforms in that time, the men had to buy or make their own clothes. In some cases cloth was provided as part of their salary, but the typical sailor's clothing was the same as the clothing they arrived in from the farm or town: a linen shirt, a short, skirted woollen doublet (jacket), wool trousers that ended below the knee, woollen socks, and leather shoes. Many had broad-brimmed hats or conical caps. The cloth varied from coarse homespun to imported dyed fabrics, but almost all sailors sewed strips of contrasting cloth or even lace down the outside seams of their trousers in imitation of the clothing worn by the well-to-do. Clothes had to be hard-wearing, since most people could not afford more than one set.

The senior officers lived aft in the cabins of the sterncastle, where they had more space, glass windows, proper furniture, and ate their meals from pewter or earthenware table service. They had finer clothes, but as more than one visitor to Sweden from the continent remarked, it was difficult to tell the nobles from the peasants, since they dressed alike. The officers also had to share their accommodation, sleeping in pairs in narrow double beds, but the cabins were built to resemble the interior of houses ashore. The great cabin, where the king or an admiral would stay, was fitted out like a room in the royal palace, with fine panelling and carved sculptures that emphasised the power of the people who lived there.

The 17th century was a violent period, and both on shore and at sea brutal punishments were prescribed for even minor crimes. Conscripts often came from rough backgrounds, but discipline was essential for the smooth and safe functioning of a ship. In crowded conditions, small disagreements could easily blow up into fights, grumbling could turn to mutiny. Officers had to earn the trust of the men they commanded, but needed the option of punishment for the intractable. The articles of war specified that a person causing a fire was to be cast into the same fire, a person starting a fight was to be stabbed through the hand with a knife, blasphemers and those speaking ill of the king or his officers were to be keelhauled, murderers should be tied to their victims and thrown in the sea. In practice, a captain who had to use these punishments too often risked losing the respect of his men and his fellow captains and could not rule for long.

#naval history #life aboard a warship #17th century #age of sail #history

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quordleona03 · 10 months

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"Janet Wilkerson had a problem. As vice president of human resources for Peterson Farms Inc., she was having trouble filling the overnight shift at her chicken processing plants. The hours were long. The pay was low. And there never seemed to be enough workers."

"It was a slave camp."

“We felt like nobody had ever listened to us,” said one of the plaintiffs, Lucas Miller-Allen, when reached by phone today. “When all of our drug courts send us there, it’s like you don’t exist. It feels like you’re forgotten, like you’re thrown away. Like slavery. You’re dreading waking up each day, working for free, for nothing.”

But Janet Wilkerson was having trouble filling work shifts at her chicken processing planet, and she doesn't now. Judges in Oklahoma are still sending her men to work for free. The "rehab program" keeps their wages and workers-comp for injuries on the job.

The above stories are from 2017. OPINION AND ORDER by Judge Terence Kern ; dismissing/terminating case ; granting (Document 131) Motion to Dismiss for Lack of Jurisdiction U.S. District Court for the Northern District of Oklahoma / Copeland eta v. C.A.A.I.R et al

This is from 2022:

CAAIR, as it is commonly known, began more than a decade ago sending residents to work at Simmons Foods Inc., a processing giant that Walker touts as a principal partner and supplier to his distributorship, Renaissance Man Food Services. State judges assigned convicted offenders to CAAIR, giving them a choice between the residential program and its requirements or serving time in conventional jails or prisons. Simmons would then contract with CAAIR for labor at its plants; CAAIR program participants were not paid.

Herschel Walker, who was Donald Trump's preferred Republican candidate for the 2022 US Senate election in Georgia, appears to be one of those "Christian businessmen" who profits from the free labor provided by CAAIR.

#CAAIR #Janet Wilkerson #slave camp #modern slavery in the US #Renaissance Man Food Services #Peterson Farms Inc #Herschel Walker

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sunderlust · 2 years

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my feet can’t touch the bottom of you (hangman x reader)

masterlist

pairing: (younger) jake ‘hangman’ seresin x bartender!reader

synopsis: your friend jake offers to lend a hand, but ends up breaking your heart in the process [‘you make me hate this city’ and ‘so casually cruel in the name of being honest’ and ‘I would give you the moon’ amongst other heartbreaking lines]

warnings: 18+ ONLY! NO HAPPY ENDING in this part, explicit language, alcohol, explicit sexual activity (semi-public, oral f recieving, fingering, inexperienced reader), angst, Jake’s an asshole, my close to zero understanding of navy education or bartending i did my best :( also pineapple on pizza

wc: ~6.1k

note: this is a doozy sorry for the angst! as always shoutout to besties seasonsbloom & gretagerwigsmuse I love them to pieces :(

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” Jake declares, cracks a semi-apologetic half smile before raising his beer up in mock farewell.

You scoff. “I think that’s a little extreme,” you reply defiantly, lean over the bar and level him with an unimpressed glare. “I didn’t think you of all people would have such a strong opinion on pizza toppings.”

He holds one hand up in the air innocently, the corner of his mouth tilting with the threat of a smile. “I don’t know what to tell you, hon, some offenses I can’t take too lightly.”

You fight back a grin of your own, feel your heart get giddy with excitement at being called hon. It ignites a tiny spark of hope in your chest, makes you feel warm all over like you’re basking in the glow of the sun.

“How is it an offense? I’m not forcing you to eat it!” you reply with a hint of exasperation.

The way you see it, this is all Yale’s fault for bringing up the controversial topic in the first place. One innocent question managed to snowball into a twenty minute long argument - primarily dominated by you and the green eyed ass in front of you. The rest of the Navy pilots have all already meandered back over to the pool table, but Jake remains resolutely glued to the bar, electing to throw quips your way as you putter around making drinks and attending to patrons.

“It’s the principle of it! Pineapple is a fruit. You can’t have fruit on pizza,” he repeats with a note of finality.

You stare right back, decide to pull out the big guns. “Tomato is a fruit.”

He immediately groans. “That’s such a stupid argument! You wouldn’t say marinara’s a smoothie - because it’s not a fruit in the same way as pineapple!”

Honestly, he makes a good point. But you’re far too keyed up to let him have the last word. ��I’m not saying marinara is a smoothie - I’m just pointing out that you can’t say ‘no fruits on pizza’ and then forget about tomatoes.”

Jake pauses briefly, then: “I’ll give you that. But this brings me to my next point: you can’t mix sweet and savory - ”

“- I can name five foods right now that mixes sweet and savory right now - ”

“- Go on, then -”

“Sweet and sour chicken, barbecue, chicken and waffles -” you shove your fingers in his face and count off easily, letting yourself lean in closer to him over the bar.

Jake waves an arm dismissively. “- Nope, forget it. Nothing you say is going to change my mind.”

You level a glare in his direction. “Then why’d you start this in the first place?”

A beat. Then, he breaks out into a goofy grin with a signature dimple poking through his right cheek. Despite the fact that there’s a good twelve inches of glossed mahogany separating your bodies, somehow your faces are just centimeters apart. You can smell the cinnamon mixed with ale on his breath mixed with something woodsy and expensive he’d sprayed on earlier. The warmth of his smile radiates to you as it spreads across his face like ripples in a pool, eventually makes the corners of his eyes crinkle up to make your heart swoop. “I just like riling you up, sweetheart.”

Cue another heart swoop. “You’re an ass, Seresin,” you shake your head. “And you’re really fucking stubborn.”

He clicks his tongue playfully as he leans back on his barstool. In doing so, he unfortunately puts some distance between the two - but perhaps it’s for the best, as the close proximity was making your head swim like it does after a few drinks.

“Gotta be stubborn to be a great pilot, hon. Trust your instincts in the air, stick with them and all that.”

You don’t know all too much about flying - besides the fact that it's what Jake does, and that he and the other pilots have been assigned to some squadron here in Lemoore. But you’ve learnt a thing or two from Phoenix’s rants about the blonde in front of you.

You snort. “I’ve heard you’ve got to be quick and adaptable? Act first, think later…” you inquire defiantly. “Listen to your teammates?” you cock an eyebrow as best as you can. Subsequently, you catch the tail end of a long drink order directed towards one of your fellow bartenders and start to prepare two of the mojitos in order to actually do some part of your job.

He chuckles as you pour rum into a Tom Collins glass. “Maybe there’s some merit to that, too.”

You roll your eyes and polish off the drink with some club soda and mint. “Nothing about this conversation makes me feel confident in your flying abilities. I pray you never switch to commercial.”

And the final blow knocks a laugh out of him, makes him throw his head back and close his eyes, and the surge of pride in your chest ensures that this moment will be one you’ll hold onto for days to come. Because while you’ve never been one for sports, verbal volleyball with Jake has to be your favorite game to play. The prospect of witty conversation propels you out of bed on the mornings of your shifts, and the highlight reel of memorable quips and his laugh plays on repeat in your mind every night as you drift off to sleep.

Ever since meeting him a few months ago, sparring with him has become the best part of your week.

Later that night as you’re closing up for the night, Jake perches himself on top of a table you’ve already wiped down and watches as you clean up behind the bar. Sometimes he hangs back after everyone’s left to keep you company, and the two of you will talk late into the night. He usually gives up trying to help you after several failed attempts at stacking chairs, and instead always seems to end up giving you the rundown on gossip about his other pilots (he’s totally a Kelly Kapoor - an observation you pointed out last week that did not amuse him in the slightest).

“So… Phoenix told me you went on a date last week,” Jake says, looking on with a teasing glint in his eye as you’re wiping down the sticky wooden counter.

You look up at him suspiciously, barely able to imagine her willingly talking to Bagman about your dating life. “Phoenix told you?”

He has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Or maybe I overheard her talking to Specter about it.”

With a shake of your head, you turn your attention back to the bar to try and scrub out a stubborn water stain that’s been there since before you even started. “Didn’t take you to be an eavesdropper, Seresin,” you attempt to snark back, but it lacks your usual bite.

“Absolutely,” Jake plays along, drums his fingers on the table idly. “Gotta keep tabs on my favorite bartender.”

“Oh, don’t try and flatter me,” you give him a look. “I was hoping my affinity for weird pizza toppings would’ve scared you off by now.”

Jake snorts. “Almost did, but I’ll concede that you brought up some good points.” He crooks a finger in your direction. “Don’t change the subject, though. According to my source - “

“- Your source was illegally obtained - “

“ - Wh- illegal? I just happened to be in the vicinity and I heard your name! Sue me for being curious.”

You roll your eyes, heave out a sigh and lean over the counter. “There’s not much to say about it,” you confess. “He was a friend of a friend, and I don’t plan on seeing him again.”

“That bad?“ Jake shifts on the table, keeps his green eyes trained intensely on you. Feeling overly-scrutinized, you turn your back to stack clean glassware into some crates.

”It wasn’t, like, the worst ever. Not like that couple we saw a month ago where the dude’s wife showed up halfway through the meal,” you tell him. Jake chuckles, and despite how drained you feel, you crack a smile. “He just... didn’t seem interested in me? I felt like I just kept asking questions about him to avoid sitting in silence, and he’d go off on his own little tangents, and it was just exhausting, you know?”

Jake hums out a sound of acknowledgement, and you turn around to see him watching you attentively. When your eyes meet, he sends you a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry, sucks that he didn’t pay you any attention.”

“In more ways than one,” you snort. “I thought I’d give him a chance to make it up after dinner,” the words tumble out before you have the forethought to not overshare, to keep some details for yourself. But you’re on a roll, and he doesn’t seem too fazed by it. “And he was still quite disappointing, to say the least.”

Silence. You look up to meet Jake’s thoughtful expression - his eyebrows are furrowed, fingers no longer idly tapping on the tabletop. “Disappointing how?”

You sigh, flip the dish towel over your shoulder and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m sure you know how.”

He tuts . “You’re gonna have to be specific - “

“- Jake, come on - “

“ - I’m not a mind reader, hon - “

“- He couldn’t make me cum, alright?”

A beat. The corner of his lip tilts up slightly, almost into a look of amusement. You narrow your eyes, grit your teeth and grip the edge of the counter forcefully. “I shouldn’t have said anything to you - “

“No - hey, come on,” he raises his hands up innocently. “It’s not funny, I’m sorry. I just never really got that whole concept. Why would a guy leave a girl hanging like that?”

“That’s rich coming from a guy they call Hangman,” you bite back, still feeling like he’s making fun of you, still feeling embarrassed about giving up these details.

He snorts. “Sure, when I’m in the air. But I’ve never left a woman unsatisfied in bed,” he says matter-of-factly, with an air of confidence that makes it really hard to contest him. And you’ve heard the stories from the other pilots. You know he’s definitely been around the block and knows his way around the ladies.

That reminder only stings a little given your ever-growing attraction to him - but it’s beside the point.

Feeling only slightly less humiliated, you sigh and turn back to face him. “I guess the idea is just really foreign to me. And it’s not for lack of trying! Guys just tend to do their thing and roll over. No one’s ever even gone down on me -”

Jake’s eyebrows almost shoot off his forehead. “Seriously? No one? Ever?”

You shrug, try your best to seem unaffected but still feel the anxiety clench your throat forcefully. “No one ever offered. I just never... felt comfortable enough to ask, either.”

Jake’s shaking his head. You busy yourself with sanitizing the keg lines a second time, do everything you can to avoid meeting his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

Cautiously, you pause and glance up. Nod slowly.

“You can tell me to fuck off, or whatever,” Jake prefaces. He steps forward slowly, carefully. His hands are shoved into his pockets and he’s exuding confidence just by the way he stands up to his full height. Yet somehow, there’s still a flicker of hesitancy behind his easy smile. “But you deserve better, hon. And I can give that to you.”

Normally, given the bar’s proximity to the ocean, you can hear the roar of waves crashing down on the beach, the breeze whooshing through palm trees, the sound of the wind chimes singing out by the front door. Right now, all of that is drowned out by the loud buzzing that’s filled your ears.

His words could almost sound sleazy, has every potential to - but his earnest expression makes you realize he’s being dead serious. Jake’s finally situated himself right up against the bar, resting his elbows on the counter and clasping his hands together. You search his face for signs of humor, for any indication that he’s about to burst out into laughter and spike a giant ball of disappointment over the net.

“I... What do you mean?” you stumble out, heart threatening to jump straight out of your chest and run out the door.

Something flickers across his face. “I mean... I can help you out, if you want.”

The idea sounds ludicrous coming out of his mouth and you wonder if you imagined it. You shake your head. “You don’t have to - God - Jake, I wasn’t complaining to make you feel guilty or obligated - “

“This isn’t out of obligation, sweetheart,” Jake is quick to assure you, also shakes his head furiously. “This is me offering because I want to. I’d really... I’d like to make you feel good.”

You pause, think about whether he has some ulterior motive. He’s a ladies man in his mid-twenties - who’s to say he’s not just trying to get his dick wet under the guise of helping you out?

Immediately, you banish that thought - he’s your friend, first and foremost. This is Jake - Jake - who hangs around after last call to keep you company, who makes a beeline for you the second he walks through the bar doors, who would judge you for pizza toppings long before he would judge your failed sexual escapades. You weigh out the possibilities in your mind, feel the scales tilt from side to side before ultimately falling right into the possibility of having Jake in the way you’ve always thought about, in the way you’ve always wanted.

Slowly, surely, you nod, let your eyes close to soak up the moment and think carefully about your next words. “Um... Here?” you hesitantly let out, facepalm at how awkward you sound.

He shrugs, glances around the bar. “If you want.”

“... Now?”

He turns to you, his lips quirk up with a smile. “Again, if you want.”

“... With you?” You want to be certain.

Jake throws his head back with a groan. “I don’t see anyone else here, hon - “

“- I just wanted to make sure - “

“- I’m plenty sure, I’m the one who offered!”

“Yeah, but still - ”

“ - D’you want me to make you cum or not?”

And the million dollar question hangs in the hair like condensation, the implication slowly trickles down as you register the reality of the situation. The joviality in you dissipates, replaced by a growing heat that spreads throughout your limbs. You examine Jake’s look of genuinity, deliberating his offer. Once you pass the twelve inches of counter space, there’s no going back.

At last, you nod, throw down your dish towel and press your lips into a fine line before steadily stepping around the bar, cross the mahogany threshold

“We can do it here,” you breathe out. “Now.”

The first drag of his tongue over your soaked cunt elicits such a loud moan you almost clap your hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

But you can’t - Jake’s ordered you to keep both hands on your thighs to hold them open for him, and before he even started his ministrations you felt so silly sitting there like that, so exposed in front of him with your legs pried apart. But the hungry, enamored glint in his eye melts away all the shame and embarrassment, fills you with heat and anguish as you await his next move.

Jake darts his tongue out to wet his lips, breathing shakily as he snakes his arms under your thighs and brings his hands together right above your stomach, interlocking his fingers and pressing his large palms into your soft skin. “Relax, hon,” he tells you with a smile, the look in his eyes soft, his usual bravado noticeably absent. “You tell me if you don’t like something. Just wanna make you feel...”

He trails off and leans in to lick another long strip up your pussy and landing straight onto your clit. Good, your mind hazily fills in the blank for him, with an overwhelming burst of pleasure erupting from where his hot tongue hits your lips. Your nails dig into your thighs harder as you try your best to heed his instructions, be a good girl for him, do everything he tells you to do.

Jake starts out with broad strokes, and slowly starts shaping his tongue into a point, drawing lazy shapes on your clit with it and using his interlocked hands to press down on your lifting hips. He hums - the vibrations reverberate throughout your whole body and you fight to keep your eyes from rolling back in your head. Your hips buck once against his grip, and Jake levels a semi-admonishing look from between your legs. For a moment, you feel your heart sink, worry that you’ve disappointed him, that he’ll be so unbelievably turned off by an inexperienced girl who’s so eager she can barely heed the simplest of instructions.

Instead, he presses a sweet kiss to you - could almost seem innocent if it wasn’t right between your legs. “Try to stay still, honey,” he breathes out. Then, he surges forward to wrap his lips around your clit and sucks gently, slipping in a couple licks through your folds in between and you can’t help it, can’t even control your arms as they unwrap from around your legs and tangle into his short blonde hair. The sound of surprise he makes is muffled by your cunt, but it’s quickly followed by a moan that vibrates your core again after you tug at his hair and pull his face further into you.

“More,” you gasp out, begging, desperately praying he’ll listen to your incoherent babbles. “Please, Jake, feelsogood, I’ll do anything, pleasepleasepleaseplease-” and he listens, pulls away to shush you gently with a small, almost triumphant grin on his face.

“You’re so pretty,” he coos, removes his hands from your stomach and takes on the job of pressing your thighs apart. “I’ve got you, hon. I always got you...” One of his hands inches closer to your core while he continues to eagerly lap up the slick that’s formed, even pushes his nose in to brush against your clit. It’s electrifying, shocking, nerve-singing pleasure and it’s intensified by the feeling of one long finger prodding your entrance, sliding through the wetness with ease.

And over the sound of sloppy kisses and the pulls of his tongue through your slick, you hear something else that sends shivers throughout your body, something that makes you clench down on his finger: he’s moaning, groaning, at the feeling of you pulling him in, of your thighs fighting against his bicep and shoulder, your sighs hanging in the air like smoke. The sound vibrates your core, sends ripples throughout your body like rocks skipping on water.

You can’t believe how much he’s enjoying this, how eager he is. For a split second, you wonder if he’s hard, if he’s just as turned on, if he’s desperate to have your mouth on his cock after this, to feel your hands all over him, to feel your lips on his skin.

You think you’d probably do anything he’d ask of you. Anything at all.

“Taste so fucking good,” you hear his voice over the loud buzzing in your ears. “Can’t believe no one’s done this before, fuck.” And he’s pushing his finger into you slowly, crooking it slightly to graze against the top of your soft, velvet walls. He matches the pace of his tongue flicking your clit with his fingers pumping in and out. It’s a rhythm, it’s coordinated, yet so sloppy with the sounds of his mouth drinking up your arousal, his knuckles getting wetter with every movement. Suddenly, a second finger joins the first and the stretch is too much, his fingers are too thick and hitting all the right spots and it’s spectacular, phenomenal, so incredibly electrifying like you’ve been struck by lightning.

His lips latch around your clit. Your eyes roll back. His teeth lightly graze the sensitive bud. You bite down on your lip. Hard.

Jake gives one strong, powerful suck, and releases the seal to lick a broad stripe with the flat of his tongue, from where his fingers are buried inside of you to the top of your mound, where your clit is still burning from his earlier ministrations. And with one particularly glorious thrust of his fingers that hits the right spot and makes you see stars, it all comes crashing down.

“Jake, I can’t, holy - “ you babble through your orgasm, hips rising off the table, ankles digging into his back. But he’s holding you through it, delivering small kitten licks to your folds and slowing down the pace of his fingers pumping into you.

“That’s it, Christ, your cunt feels so tight on my fingers, you’re too good for me,” he’s muttering, now pressing kisses into your hot skin. You’re acutely aware of the fact that he’s still using one muscled arm and a shoulder to keep your legs pried open, and his body heat radiates to you as a cool contrast with the cold tabletop.

With your chest heaving and eyes still closed, you rest your head back on the table for a few moments longer, feeling the exhaustion wash over you as your spinning mind regains its footing.

“You alright?” you hear from below, and you crack open one eye to glance down at the Adonis of a man between your legs.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, letting your head tilt back again with a sigh. “That was... nice.”

He scoffs incredulously. “Are you serious? ‘Nice’? That had to be some of my best work there, and by the sounds you made I’d say it was a hell of a lot better than - “

“ - Please, be quiet,” you hold up a finger and press it against what you hope are his lips. Your eyes squeeze shut again while you absorb the aftershocks of what might be the greatest orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

(You don’t think you’ll let that tidbit slip to Jake anytime soon, though. Lest his ego get too big for his jet to take off.)

As you’re catching your breath, you feel him smirk against your index finger, but he remains silent, frozen where he’s still kneeling on the painful hardwood.

“Holy fuck,” you finally breathe out, eyes flickering open

“That’s more like it,” he mutters. He finally stands up to his full height, and his hands return to your thighs to rub them soothingly, reassuringly.

You’re stuck with a thought, the realization that maybe he has his own problem you can help out with. Abruptly, you sit up despite still feeling a bit dazed, determined to return the favor. Jake looks at you curiously as you guide your hands to his abs, press into the hardened muscle before slowly descending down to his pants.

“Ah - hold on a second,” he says, and you freeze like a deer in headlights, fingers hooked into his belt loops. Maybe it’s too fast for him, maybe he wasn’t into it-

“I really want you to, truly,” he says, and his expression turns apologetic. He glances down at his pants. “As you can see.”

Your gaze follows his, eyes almost popping at the bulge straining against the khaki fabric, at the way one of his fists is clenched tightly against his thigh, at the way his breathing hitches when you tug slightly on his belt loops as you appraise him.

You snap back into action. “Oh, jeez, I’m so sorry - ” you pull your hand away and look down sheepishly, feeling worried that you overstepped his boundaries after he’d done nothing but respect yours.

Jake shakes his head. “You’re okay! I just gotta head back to base - I’m already late as it is. Lemme clean you up, though - ” he bends down to grab your discarded underwear and bottoms, places them into your outstretched hand.

You wave him off as you attempt to cover up with your garments, resolving to waddle to the bathroom the second he walks out the doors. “It’s okay! I got it, you go ahead, wouldn’t want you doing push-ups or whatever they punish you with - “

Jake barks out a laugh, and you beam as his eyes crinkle up, just watch his face light up in that moment.

“Hey,” you feel his fingers slip under your chin to tilt it upwards, eyes searching yours wildly. “I’ll be thinking about this later,” his mouth tilts up into a smirk. “You know, when I’m - “

“ - Fucking hell, Jake!” You attempt to shove at his chest, but he catches your wrist in with his other hand, squeezes tightly before lifting it to press a short kiss to your fingertips.

Heat rises in your cheeks - it’s so sweet, so tender after such lewd acts between your legs. Your breath hitches and you look up at him, wondering how on earth he managed to position himself so that the glow of the bar lights behind him cast an ethereal glow around his head.

He gazes down at you. “You look so fucking pretty when you cum,” he breathes out.

“I bet you do, too,” you counter, shocked at how quickly the quip rose to your lips when your brain feels like oatmeal.

Jake laughs again, the sound filling your chest with pride, and he shakes his head fondly. “You’re pretty when you’re not cumming too, though,” he insists.

A beat. Your head is swimming with the compliment. “You are, too,” you repeat through a whisper, and you wonder if anyone’s ever said that to him. If anyone’s ever told him how beautiful of a human he is. He deserves to hear it all the time.

Slowly, you find yourself getting lost in him, feel yourself getting swept up in the force that is Jake Seresin, gradually start leaning in (just to get a closer look at how green his eyes are, nothing else) - when he meets you halfway. Your lips slot together in a magnificent collision, and suddenly all you know in this moment is Jake and his arms wrapping around your middle and your hands gripping his shoulders and the smell of something woodsy infiltrating every part of your being.

His lips are soft, plush, still tastes like the beer he’d been nursing earlier mixed with something tangy - oh.

The realization that there’s still traces of your release on his mouth is quickly dismissed when his teeth bite start lightly nibbling down on your lower lip. You gasp slightly, your mouth opening just enough for his tongue to slowly slide into yours as he makes the kiss messier, more fervent. When your tongue grazes his, a groan falls out of him, and he presses his hands into your back harder, tightens his grip to kiss you even harder.

The moment is heating up quickly, it’s sure to lead to something more if the two of you aren’t careful, and you don’t want to push him any further. Somehow, you find it in you to pull your hand back from his neck and press it against his chest gently.

He pulls away, leans his forehead against yours. “I really should be heading out,” he breathes out, yet stays frozen in place as he catches his breath with you.

You nod, unable to find your voice.

“You’re real pretty when you’re kissing me too, sweets,” he tells you.

Your heart soars.

When a day goes by without any word from him, you assume he’s just terribly busy with training, or with some Navy business down at the base - you want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

You’re certain that nothing terrible has happened because news like that would’ve spread like wildfire around the bar. But you know he’ll reach out to you - you’re sure of it - because you know Jake and you know he cares about you. Surely he does as your friend. And you know he wouldn’t leave you hanging after everything he said that night.

You finally catch a glimpse of him at work a week later, right before you know the evening rush hits. He pauses at the other side of the bar, his eyes scanning the room thoughtfully - you think maybe he hasn’t seen you yet.

“Hey, Jake!” you make your way over, beaming at him before pulling out a beer glass and holding it up. “Just the usual?”

Jake meets your eyes briefly. “Yeah, that’d be great,” he tells you and flashes an unfamiliar smile. His gaze is now trained on the liquor bottles behind you - like he’s trying to maintain the guise of looking at you without actually doing so. It’s different, a look you rarely see. You’re used to goofy grins and sweet eye crinkles from Jake - not this distant, unfeeling expression that makes it feel like you’re a stranger to him.

Your heart suddenly sinks like a rock plunging through murky depths. However, you push down the anxiety, thinking maybe he’s just having an off day or something, maybe he just needs a drink. With bated breath, you focus on filling up the glass carefully with no foam at the top just how he likes it, just like you have for the past year he’s been here. The year he’s been your friend. Just your friend.

You set the glass up on the bar top, eagerly looking up to meet his gaze. “So...” you start, the words turning to dust on your tongue.

He’s already looking away, eyes trained on a pool match between his friends, and you feel your throat tighten when you realize he’s not even paying attention. Your eyes zero in on a girl in a gorgeous pink sundress - one you’ve seen around on weekends and guessed must be a Naval officer’s daughter visiting for the long weekend. She’s gesturing for him to come over, and you watch how his hand reaches up in slow motion to wave back casually. He’s nothing like how he was two nights ago - vulnerable, honest, sweet. Right now, he’s smooth, suave, confident, assured.

Right now, it’s like nothing ever happened between you two.

“Say, hon,” he says, and you feel your heart perk its head up eagerly, hopefully like a dog waiting at the door. If you’re still ‘hon’, then maybe there’s still a chance?

“Mind getting me a vodka cran too?”

And your heart sinks once again; you’ve never felt more let down, more defeated in your life. Numbly, you nod your head in affirmation before moving away to prepare the drink - it feels like everything’s happening in slow motion: Jake pulling out his phone instead of chit chatting with you, the pilots by the pool table loudly cheering and fist pumping the air after a spectacular play, the pretty girl laughing with her friends and tapping perfectly lacquered nails across her own phone.

(Do they know each other? Are they texting from across the room?)

You don’t know what to make of his behavior right now. Not when the words he said last week have rung over and over again throughout your ears like a symphony, like a record you mentally scratched in an attempt to have it replay forever.

Seems like he’s already forgotten about it.

A part of you feels angry with yourself more than with him. You feel disappointed for lowering your guard and letting him in, for allowing your expectations to run wild. And in that moment, you muster up every ounce of courage in your body to say something, anything, to get the answers you deserve.

“Can we talk later?” you channel as much strength as you can into your voice, mentally pat yourself on the back for not stuttering or letting your tone waver.

“About what?” he asks airily, still tapping away at his phone.

The anxiety wraps its cold grip around your neck - but you press on. “What happened last week. Right in this bar, actually.”

His fingers freeze over the screen, his eyes sweep upwards to look at the bar top scrutinizingly as if he’ll find an answer in the wood grain pattern. “What’s there to talk about? I helped you out,” he finally looks at you. “Didn’t I?”

The buzzing returns to your head, this time accompanied with waves of nausea.

You feel an urge to disappear. Or an urge to run away - throw down your apron and dish rag and dash out the door, book it to your car, drive far, far away from this stupid bar next to the stupid ocean in this stupid city. You want nothing more than to be miles away from these people and light years away from the stupidest, cruelest man you’ve had the misfortune of letting your guard down for.

You don’t feel like pressing the matter further. If this is some weird game of hard-to-get, or a ploy to get you to beg for his attention, you’re not interested in playing.

You never really were one for sports.

“Right,” you say, tersely. Your jaw hurts from how hard you’re clenching it. “You’re right. Appreciate the help, Hangman.” You spit out the name like it’s poison. He doesn’t reply, but you know he registered the vitriol by the way his eyes widen and quickly flit up to yours.

Here in this bar, calling pilots by their call sign comes as second nature to you. They introduce themselves with it and rarely call each other by their real name. If you think really hard, you’d remember Phoenix’s real name as Natasha from the one time you closed out her tab and glanced at the silver letters printed on her credit card. But Jake never really felt like ‘Hangman’ or ‘Bagman’ (or ‘Hungman’ as he’d introduced himself the first time you met). Try as you might, your head and your heart only know him as Jake.

Until now.

You robotically finish off the cocktail with a lime wedge (the smallest one you could find - for no particular reason) on the rim, pop two tiny straws in it before sliding it across the bar with a white napkin.

“Thanks,” he says, and you turn away, electing to shield yourself from the devastation of interacting with him further. A few moments pass as you take a few steps to the cutting board to slice up some more limes to add to the already full tub. From the corner of your eye, you catch Jake grabbing both drinks from the bar top, then make his way across the room.

Perhaps if Coyote hadn’t already had his way with the Jukebox, or if the Gators game wasn’t enthralling enough to incite loud shouts from around the bar, or perhaps if you two were the only people in the bar like you were that night, then maybe Jake would be able to hear your heart snap in two and fall down on the sticky floor. Maybe he’d swing back with a concerned look, maybe he’d stride right back to set the record straight, to reassure you, to say that one night meant just as much to him as it did to you.

But he keeps walking, doesn’t turn back, greets the pretty girl and her friend with a smile before handing over the vodka cranberry. And you think to yourself that even if he did come back and try to talk to you, you shouldn’t even give him the time of day. Because who does that? Who does what he did to a friend?

It stings to see the way Jake chats with the pretty girl, the way he’s most certainly volleying compliments and sweet quips her way. It burns to swiftly lose the potential of something more with him, to drop the inflated prospect of a relationship that your silly little mind managed to conjure up.

What aches the most is the fact that you feel alone in mourning a friendship that meant everything to you and clearly meant nothing to him. You feel used, like he saw an opportunity and couldn’t resist to take advantage of it. Of you.

Silently, you berate yourself for falling so easily into the fantasy, yet still feel your heart crumble as you sneak looks over at the pair across the room by the pool table. Suddenly, Jake meets your gaze. His easy smile falters slightly, eyes soften the tiniest bit. You purse your lips, shake your head resolutely, and turn away to attend to a customer who’s flagged you down for a refill.

At one point, you would’ve given Jake anything: Williams 1783, your time and your heart, perfectly poured brews. But now, he doesn’t deserve your attention, your pain, your understanding. And as long as you’re bartending, the only thing he’s getting is bottom shelf whiskey and foamy beers.

tentatively might have a part two if people are interested - no tag list though lmao sorry :( also I promise I can write more things than friends to lovers I'm just in a rut!

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman smut #jake seresin imagine #top gun fic #top gun smut #mine

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the-au-thor · 2 months

Text

A la Velocidad de la Luz (at the Speed of light) | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Hello! I just wrote something for my Steve Harrington people out there. I hope you like it

TW: read this!

word count: 9.1k

Synopsis: They're friends, they're not idiots, and yes, they're falling in love. Let's dive a little bit into the friendship between this two and get to know Steve's love language

It's not like I got inspiration in this song by Los Bunkers and you should totally listen to it

Part 2

Steve had totally recognized the symptoms the minute he saw you that Friday Movie night.

After the gnarly events you've all been through, it was obvious you have formed a bond, a bond that would bring together the fancy house on the fancy side of town with the humble trailer in the trailer park on the wrong side of the tracks. A bond that would unite ages, circumstances, and tastes without discrimination, gathering a group of people religiously every Friday to eat popcorn and watch some horror movie. Then you'd all crash for the night because for some reason, nobody wanted to split up or be apart from each other. You needed each other to keep on living, and it wasn't something you would readily admit to in unison. It was more like a tacit agreement, and everyone was perfectly okay with it. The ongoing practice of cohabitation had made Steve more perceptive, somehow discovering that he enjoyed taking care of others, and griping about it was just part of a ritual where Dustin would have to go somewhere while pretending that Steve and only Steve could take him, and then, after grumbling, repeating that he wasn't his babysitter and whining, he'd grab his keys and take him wherever the kid desperately wanted to be. He could predict stomachaches when the kids stuffed themselves with sweets and be there with antispasmodic drops and chicken soup. He could also intervene in a bar fight at The Hideout just in time to prevent them from ruining the night when Corroded Coffin was playing and to keep them from calling Hopper for no reason. He had been there for Robin, Nancy, Argyle, and even Jonathan and each of the kids. Maybe that's why Hopper had suggested the Police Academy. Maybe that's why he felt like all of you were largely the reason he wasn't that lost kid with a terrible social life anymore and didn't know what to do with his life. You glanced at him with a half-smile right in the middle of the break to hit the bathroom that Nancy had instituted after Dustin suffered a urinary tract infection because he preferred to hold it in rather than miss out on Freddie's massacres.

"What's up?" you asked, popping a handful of popcorn into your mouth as you looked at him straight on.

Steve didn't know you much before the catastrophic events in Hawkins brought you together. You were buds with Robin at school, worked alongside Nancy on the school paper, but you said you never had the same reporter spirit as Nance; you just liked to write, and you thought being a member of the school paper would look dope on your resume once you applied to college. There was a time when you and he bumped into each other at some parties because Vicki's twin brother, Justin Carmichael, was trying to convince you to go out with him. He remembered that afterward, Justin had been complaining for a week because you hadn't even had the decency to let him get to first base at the best party in school. Inside, Steven was relieved it turned out that way; Justin Carmichael was a big asshole. Just as much of an asshole as he used to be back then. After you graduated, you both ran into each other when he was at Scoops Ahoy and you visited Robin at the ice cream shop, that time Hawkins was in danger -AGAIN-, and they barely even counted it -AGAIN-. You were going to Indiana University during the week, and you'd come back on weekends because unlike Steve, your parents were loving people who loved having you around and were genuinely interested in what you liked, explaining your concerned and always open personality. Steve didn't find it odd, anyway, not to have noticed you before you just abruptly entered his life as you did. The Steve from the past wouldn't have noticed someone like you because he was a selfish jerk; he'd proven it with Nancy, and he had to suffer a lot before he could prove to himself that he was much more than what his parents and old friends expected of him.

"Are you okay?" he asked then, listening to Lucas and Max's whispering kisses on one of the back couches.

Robin was making more popcorn in the microwave while Nancy filled her in on her long-distance relationship with Jonathan back when he was still living in California and how Robin could make it work as well with Vickie. Steve always knew they could handle the distance; it was just something Nancy and Jonathan would be able to make work. Dustin had gone to the bathroom, obviously, while Will mocked the silly argument Mike and Eleven were having, which was occasionally interrupted by Eddie to make a comment that would serve as an argumentative catapult to fuel the little dispute.

Your eyes stopped at Steve's in silence, and finally, you nodded.

"Sure," you replied. "Finally, vacation; I missed not having to pack my bags every weekend," you murmured with a smile, "and I'll be able to take a break from Professor Lewis's lectures."

Steve grimaced. "Is he still making it tough on you?"

You nodded. "Until the very last second of class, I really don't know how I'm going to survive this year if he keeps up with his hate campaign, I don't know what I did to him."

Steve frowned.

"There are people like that, you know? Bitter. Maybe he's jealous because you're so talented," Steve saw you scrunch your nose and let out a snort of laughter.

"He's a writer for The Times, jealous?" Steve shrugged.

"Maybe he sees in you something he can never be," he explained easily, "it's not uncommon for adults to project onto younger ones and make them pay for it."

Again, you studied him in silence. You took another popcorn into your mouth just before speaking. "And how's your dad taking you being the first one in the academy?" you asked.

Steve let out a small snort.

"Oh, he's thrilled. Especially because Hopper seemed to be his nemesis in school when they both belonged to the same basketball team," Steve drank from his Coca-Cola can, taking two big swigs big enough to make his mouth no longer feel dry.

You smirked ironically. "Ah, well, speaking of adults projecting…"

Steve nodded, watching you rummage in your purse for your pills. He remembers the first time he saw you show them to everyone, explaining what they were; it was right after closing the portal once and for all. The government had put them up in fancy hotel rooms while you all took care of cleaning up Hawkins and the reputation Eddie had gained because of the serial killer they hadn't managed to subdue in the first place. You were safe; everything was finally okay. There wouldn't be any more interdimensional creatures flying, running, crawling, or floating around there thinking they could eat, scratch, possess, or kill whoever they encountered, but even when you knew it, you couldn't sleep.You have been there, ordering the most expensive food from the hotel and playing video games nonstop for twenty-four hours. For you, it really hit the limit when you saw Eddie spend three straight hours curled up in the fetal position on his bed without really sleeping. Steve saw you get up, turn off the kids' TV, and take the pasta tray away from Argyle. The kids didn't even have the energy to protest. You stood in the middle of the room in your hotel robe with weariness in your eyes.

"So,” you finally said, taking a bottle of medicine out of your purse. "I'm going to do something I shouldn't do, and you must promise not to tell your parents. And yes," you looked at Erica threateningly, "I'm specifically talking to you," you said and then began handing out a small white capsule to each of the kids except Erica, to whom you gave a bigger one, explaining that you wouldn't give her anything other than melatonin.

Dustin sniffed the pill and then looked at you curiously.

"And what's this?"

You glanced at Robin out of the corner of your eye and then at the rest.

"My sleeping pills. They're gentle, but I need them to sleep, which you haven't done for a long time, and you can't just keep ignoring that you can't fall asleep. So this is the deal; we're going to ignore the fact that I'm breaking the law with this, and everyone will take a dose, it's small. I won't tell you what it is, but definitely don't be alarmed if you taste a bitter flavor in your mouth," you explained gently. "And you must commit; everyone will go to the therapist as soon as we leave here because what happened isn't normal, and you need help."

Eddie accepted the deal without thinking, sat on the bed, and swallowed the capsule without a second thought. After that, he opened his bedclothes and wished everyone good night. You watched the kids take the pills after promising to go to therapy. Steve remembers helping you and Robin turn off the lights and dim the night lamps as you watched everyone settle into whatever corner of the room they could claim and cover themselves with blankets to try to sleep.

"I didn't know you needed those sleeping pills," Steve piped up in the dark when the snores kicked in. Robin was out cold smack dab in the middle of us, snoring up a storm, her face finally looking peaceful and carefree.

Steve had seen the danger lurking in your eyes before, the fear, the terror, the concern, but that night was the first time he caught a glimpse of this new emotion; it was like an internal retreat to pain being reflected in your irises. For a moment, you diverted your gaze, avoiding Steve's, before nodding.

"I started having panic attacks at fifteen. Got diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder," you confessed. "Had too many sleepless nights, screwed up my school game, messed with my emotions and reactions," you whispered matter-of-factly, but Steve could sense there was a lot of pain behind those words. "It was rough at first, but trust me, with supportive peeps and solid therapy, it's worth it. And these pills? They're tame compared to what I had to down initially. Missed two weeks of school and just slept” you nodded, letting out a stifled yawn, and Steve couldn't resist but follow suit as fatigue weighed heavily on his eyelids.

"Thanks for letting me in on that. You're tough, you know?" he responded, his words already starting to slur with sleepiness.

Your arm slinked over Robin, and your hand found its way to Steve's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Night, Steve," you murmured softly before drifting off into slumber.

You only needed one pill back then.

"Two?" Steve asked, furrowing his brow as he watched you down both capsules quickly, chasing them with a gulp of water as he nodded.

"Yeah, been having some trouble with the meds," you explained with a shrug. "Now that I'm free,I'm gonna see the doc and see how it goes."

Steve's expression clouded with worry. "Want some company?"

You took another sip of water, already formulating a quick response in your mind. "And have you wait around for an hour while my psychiatrist has me spillin' my guts in his office? Thanks, but I won't do that to ya."

"It wouldn't be a bother," Steve settled back on the couch, eyeing you. "But the offer's there."

You smiled, genuine gratitude shining through. "Thanks."

You and Steve watched Eddie make his way towards the TV as Dustin settled in next to Steve. Will nestled back on the floor, leaning against your legs as he always did. Steve had noticed, subtly since you and he met, that you two had formed a bond. Sometimes he caught glimpses of you two in your car, sharing ice cream and jamming out to tunes. When no one was looking, or so you thought, Will would lean towards you, and you'd start braiding his hair with a smile. Steve wondered if Will might have a bit of a crush on you, and you just didn't realize what was brewing there. Maybe he should chat with you about it; he wasn't sure if letting the kid catch feelings was good for him. The lights dimmed once more, the movie rolling on, and Eddie plopped down between you and Steve. Eddie shot his friend a sly look, knowing Steve was perfectly comfy where he was before. Steve rolled his eyes at Eddie and decided it was best to focus on the movie, but even in the tensest moments, he couldn't help but cast concerned glances at you; you'd taken your sleeping pills, yet you didn't seem to be yawning or preparing to nod off on Eddie's shoulder or curl up in the corner of the couch.

The next morning, you were the first one up, showered and clad in your athletic shorts, oversized Clash T-shirt as you whipped up breakfast for the sleepyheads still sprawled and tangled on the couch and rug, snoring away. Nancy was the second to join you, followed by Robin and Argyle. Steve then roused himself, greeting the ones awake, and headed to his room to grab a quick shower before joining them. While Nancy whipped up waffles, you manned the eggs, so Steve filled the coffee maker with his old man's favorite brew, which he never touched because he was hardly ever home.

"Wouldn't it be better if they woke up?" Nancy queried. "I mean, they were the ones hellbent on going to the lake for a swim."

Argyle snagged a piece of crispy bacon and started munching on it. "Sis, it's vacay, you can't go all dictator on 'em. When they're ready, they'll wake up."

Nancy snorted but didn't argue with his logic; instead, she piled the waffles onto a plate and leaned against Steve's kitchen island, eyeing you.

"You doin' alright?" she inquired.

You had been quiet, focused on the eggs as you stared into the pan with a distant gaze. You nodded, flipping the eggs before cutting the heat. You turned to Nancy with a smile.

"I'm good," you replied. "You been dealing with school drama?" you asked, catching Nancy's eye roll.

"I swear, if I get stuck with one more group of knuckleheads for a project, I'm gonna lose it," Nancy grumbled under her breath, eliciting a chuckle from Eddie, lounging between the cushions.

"Come on, Wheeler," he laughed. "We've worked together, and it's been smooth sailing, what could be worse?"

Robin sauntered over, tossing her threadbare cardigan—ridden with holes courtesy of Eddie's antics, claiming it looked "metal." It landed over Eddie's face and Robin shot him a look with arched eyebrows.

"You got no modesty, Munson?"

Steve chuckled as he poured coffee into a couple of mugs.

"Yeah, man, what's with the strip show in the dead of night?"

Eddie struggled to dress until he finally managed to awkwardly clamber up from the couch.

"Well, next time, you get to share a couch on a sweltering summer night with Henderson, what’ya think, pretty boy?" he griped before shooting Dustin a glare, who was still sound asleep with his mouth agape. Eddie tossed a blanket at him with force. "Wake up!"

Dustin startled awake, only easing when he saw everyone was fine and the worst thing that happened was a slobber stain on one of the sofa cushions in Steve's parents’ living room. He shuffled over to the couch, snagging the marked cushion and grimacing at it. Steve’s brows furrowed, mouth twisted in a disgusted grimace.

"Dude, this couch is worth a fortune. My mom's gonna flip when she sees this," he protested, lobbing the pillow back at Dustin, who was unapologetic about the incident, even wearing a smug smile, if anything.

Steve's house was a flurry of activity for the next few minutes; utensils clinked against dishes, and Steve’s parent will definitely notice those scratches Eddie left behind from trying to cut the bacon on his plate. You washed up everything each one of you used because, according to Nancy, it was better to leave everything clean, or else no one would have the energy to do it later. Robin, Steve, and you followed her orders because they weren't about to argue with someone like Nancy Wheeler. Argyle, Eddie, and Jonathan dried everything off and stowed it away while the kids geared up for an afternoon at the lake. When you arrived, you settled into lounge chairs and giant towels while most of the kids bolted for the water. Steve watched as you made the rounds, armed with a bottle of sunscreen, making sure everyone got slathered up on their backs, arms, faces, and shoulders, even though Mike protested about his fair, skinny skin. The rest splashed around for a while, indulged in ice creams, and even had a few impromptu swimming races where Steve had to fake a cramp so Dustin could finally win. Steve didn't realize, but you noticed, and you observed the little event with an amused grin. Steve wasn't the type to talk about feelings in front of a crowd out of the blue; that was more Eddie's style. He wouldn't stand in the middle of a bonfire and pour his heart out, declaring his undying love for everyone, but he had to admit moments like these made him feel damn happy. He'd always been a lone wolf trying desperately not to fit in but he never realized it was an issue until he met all of you, and it was something he could dig while the sun was still shining big and warm near the horizon. The kids were splashing around in the water with Robin, Eddie, and Argyle. Jonathan and Nancy were chilling a bit further away, exchanging kisses and small talk. You gave Will a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then playfully messed up his hair, making him laugh and shove you back. After that, you splashed water in his face before swimming off towards the lake shore. When your feet hit the stones, you strolled over to the stretched-out towel next to Steve with a smile and threw yourself onto it to soak up the sun. Steve looked as you adjusted your hair to the side, watching the little drops dance across your skin before disappearing or evaporating. Quietly, you quickly cracked open one of the books you always have with you, diving into its pages. He saw your fingers flick across the pages and your tongue peek out between your lips in concentration. He half-smiled and settled onto his towel, soaking in the warmth of the sun with a relaxed sigh.

"Can you imagine a dude with a freaky sense of smell going all psycho and killing a bunch of virgin girls to get their essence?" you broke the silence without taking your eyes off your book.

Steve arched a brow, somewhat amused. "Nah, I mean, we've seen worse stuff to not picture a human killing others," he replied sarcastically, earning a small, amused chuckle from you.

"Fair point," you replied, licking your finger to turn the page.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting on his towel, and turned to you, feeling a bit uneasy. "Hey, I think you should watch out for Will."

That made you glance up from your book, peering at him over your shades. Steve could sense the intensity of your gaze even though he couldn't see your eyes directly.

"Why? Has he been sniffing around and plotting murders?" Steve furrowed his brow.

"What? No! What are you talking about?" he asked, bewildered.

You left the book resting on your stomach to give him your full attention.

"Oh, it's just that we were chatting about the book, and then you brought up Will… but never mind, explaining a joke is lame, right?" you laughed, then sighed, suddenly feeling awkward. "What's up with Will?"

Steve scratched the back of his neck, trying to respond tactfully. Internally, he regretted starting that conversation without thinking it through first.

"I dunno. I just think maybe he's catching feelings for you… and it's not your fault, you're just nice to him," he cut himself off, trying to clarify his point, "…it's just that he might be getting the wrong idea…"

You lowered your shades a tad to meet his gaze directly.

"So, you're saying Will Byers might have a little crush on me?" you asked with a measured tone, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Steve squirmed, shoulders shifting as he scratched his nose, eyes darting away from yours.

"It's possible," was his only response. "I mean, it's not the first kid who has a crush on an older girl, y'know?" Older girl. You gave him a calm smile, picking your book back up to resume reading.

"Will doesn't have a crush, Steve. At least, not on me; trust me, I'd know," you reassured him gently, giving Steve one last look. "Seriously."

Steve didn't know, but you understood his concern all too well. There was a reason why you and Will were so close, and why your bond had grown stronger lately, and it had as much to do with Will's feelings as it didn't. It wasn't something you could explain too much; it was something that belonged to Will, not to you. You'd noticed a change in Will for a few months now, even before they moved to California, but you weren't close friends; you'd only tutored the kid a couple of times, and that wasn't enough to butt into his life. When the Byers returned to town, Will was even quieter, more withdrawn, even when he was with the whole crew. You couldn't help but worry, especially on the day Joyce came to you, asking for an hour of your weekends to help Will with his English essays; he was starting to get more and more distracted, Joyce's super-mom side wanted to step in, but her more rational side said to give him time to readjust. That talk had you worried all week until Saturday came and you saw for yourself the kind of distraction in Will's gaze. He wasn't just somewhere else, far from the room where you both tried to finish the essay the teacher had assigned to help him get his English back on track; no, he was deep inside himself, locked in some cell with the door wide open, but he was too comfortable and scared of the world outside to step out. You remember spotting an old school project he made in California, hidden away and dusty under a pile of canvases with sketches of massive dragons and knights in armor. The project was about Alan Turing; the dedication in that work caught your eye, and you dusted it off to showcase its potential. When you slid it in front of him, you told him that's the Will you wanted to see at school; you saw his eyes well up with tears, and you knew something else was weighing on him. Then you set aside the task, sat beside him, and took his hands. You promised to keep anything he told you discreet, then he started speaking. You'd never heard Will talk so much, and you were shocked as you listened to every word, how well he'd hidden his turmoil, and the loneliness creeping in. He was just a kid and he was facing his first heartbreak, and worse; you couldn't promise it'd be his last, he had it rough, and his road ahead would be bumpy. Since that day, you'd made sure to be there for whatever he needed, even planning a trip to the MET together to get him hyped about art. You were the baby sister in your family, you had three older brothers and you never knew what it was like to look out for someone else until you met the boys, and it brought you joy to make sure everyone was alright, especially making sure Will had a good summer with his friends and that his heart would heal, with hopes that a good boy would come along someday to help him pick up the pieces and mend all the crap he might face.

It was pretty late when they decided to head home. They dropped the kids off at the Wheelers', where they'd be crashing for a sleepover. Eddie invited you all to catch one of his Corroded Coffin rehearsals at the Hideout, and you were about to accept along with Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, and Robin, but Steve put his hand on your shoulder with a grin and said you had plans. For a sec, you looked at him confused, but a gentle squeeze on your side from him convinced you to play along. They bid the kids farewell outside the joint, and you climbed into Steve's car, curious. You saw him wait for both of you to buckle up before asking what he had planned.

"I thought we could do something, just you and me."

A date? You wondered innocently, Steve Harrington and you hanging out without the rest? You could only think of one time you'd decided to do something together. Once, you brought cookies to the Academy; he'd aced all his workouts, but his parents didn't even bother to pat him on the back. You and the rest planned a party for him to celebrate, but you wanted to do something special because you were hella proud. You baked his fave cookies (crunchy with cinnamon, caramel, and peanuts) and met him at lunchtime; apparently, they were just showering because his hair was still a bit wet at the ends. He was rocking shorts and a tank top, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed from exertion. He had a lil' towel draped 'round his neck as he dabbed his forehead. You were waiting for him in the lobby, standing up with a grin plastered on your face. You remember your cheeks hurting like hell, the slight ache nagging at you that night when intrusive thoughts came knocking uninvited, making you wonder if you looked like a loon.

"What's this?" Steve asked with a half-smile and a curious look as you held out a box.

"Congrats for passing your test," you replied, watching as Steve's expression shifted, a mix of sadness and gratitude, then he hugged you out of nowhere. You and him hugged before, especially after some close call that put their lives at risk, but this hug was different, more intimate. He rested his chin on your shoulder, rubbing your back tenderly. You heard him sigh softly, murmuring his thanks. After you and Steve pulled apart, you still on your toes and he with his hands on your shoulders, your eyes locked for a moment, and you felt like something was left unsaid, but it happened so fast you didn't have time to question it. You never talked about it again. You hadn't swung by the academy again, even though you had more than one reason to. For some reason, you felt like you needed to guard yourself, so you'd avoided being alone with Steve or making excuses to see him without the kids around. When you arrived at his house , you felt something strange stirring inside you. Maybe Steve caught your furrowed brow or your hesitation to step out of his ride and cautiously scoped out the entrance, because he walked over to your door and popped it open with a smile that somehow put you at ease.

"I gotta show you something inside," he announced, extending his hand toward you, offering it up for your trust.

You half-smiled, unsure how to react. You didn't know whether to feel pure curiosity or straight-up unease. You took his hand and follow him to the entrance. He didn't let go; he held onto your hand and occasionally traced circles on your palm, as if he knew exactly how to calm your jitters.

Inside the house, it looked just as you left it, except for some cushions outta place on Steve's parents fancy sofa. Steve kept his steps leading you upstairs. As you ascended, you checked out the family pics Steve's mom had hung on the wall. One was snapped in a studio with a basic blue backdrop adorned with clouds, featuring a smiling baby decked out in sailor threads. You smiled then; that baby was Steve. "Did you want siblings?"

As you hiked up the stairs in silence, Steve shot you a curious glance, and then nodded.

"Yeah, actually, but my folks shut down production very soon. My dad blames it on my mom, but we all know it's on him," he responded.

You made a face, recalling the one time you'd seen Steve's dad. He seemed distant, preferring it that way; he introduced himself as "Mr. Harrington," and you were pretty sure he'd adopted it as his first name. He seemed like the type to pin his own infertility on his wife.

"I always wanted little siblings" you murmured, lightly tracing your index finger over the wood. "Feels like I got them now."

"Yeah, some real pests," Steve grumbled, coming to a halt in front of a closed door, eyeing you.

You nervously smiled. I mean, with him looking at you like that, what were you supposed to do? You shrugged. "It ain't all bad," you murmured, eyes darting impatiently between the door and Steve's relaxed demeanor. You didn't see him like this often; he had that look that seemed to peer into your soul with those huge brown eyes. He slipped into the room, being all suspicious, and after a minute, he emerged, shutting the door behind him.

"I got somethin' for ya on the other side of this door," he said without giving you a chance to process how odd that might be because he knocked on the wooden surface and pushed it open, revealing the guest room of his enormous house. Inside, blackout curtains shielded the huge windows that overlooked the Harringtons' backyard.

You were struck by the scented candles and the distant sound of the sea emanating from some speakers by a massive, fluffy bed piled with cushions and pristine, crisply-stretched sheets. You looked at Steve with a mixture of confusion and fun.

"Could you at least invite me for a coffee first, Steve…?" you quipped, trying to dispel the slight unease creeping up your spine.

Steve half-smiled, giving a weak chuckle. "If I were goin' that route, I'd spring for somethin' a bit fancier than a brew; give me some credit," he played along, entering the room and picking up a neatly folded outfit from his hands. "No, babe; this is an intervention plan."

With your feet still lingering in the doorway, you arched an eyebrow, perplexed.

"Intervention for what?"

"Glad you asked," Steve said, handing you the folded clothes; the soft fabric of the pajama set brushed against your fingers as you wondered what all this was about. "I'll get the tub runnin'. My mon left this stash of bath salts that supposedly turn you into a new human; so, enjoy the bath, Slip into these PJs, then come down for dinner and after that, off to bed, and I don't wanna hear from you until at least tomorrow at noon ."

You frowned. "Steve; What…?" You shook your head quickly, trying to dispel the confusion as if by magic. "I don't get it."

Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, meeting your gaze squarely. "You haven't been getting proper sleep for months; you ain't fooling me. You said it's just sleep trouble, but I know it's deeper; you've been mega stressed, and when that happens, insomnia kicks in, panic attacks, negative vibes, and the urge to be completely alone. I've seen it; so let's try sidestepping that, and for that, I've whipped up a sleep bomb. I just need your cooperation, can I count on that?"

You studied him, trying to read him in return. You were surprised Steve had clocked your distress signals. You hadn't wanted to tip off anyone, not even your parents who'd been through it all before. You didn't want to put them through it; you didn't want to tell them that during your college days, when you weren't studying or dodging Mr. Lewis' attempts to fail you out of spite, all you could think about was returning to Hawkins; to be with them, your friends, your fam. You didn't want to confess that you'd revisited that dark place where you wondered, during those long, sleepless nights, how it would feel to just snooze forever and wake up when everything hurt less. Every so often, your mind dragged you there; you knew they were bouts triggered by high stress, and you knew they'd pass, but not knowing when or how long it'd last was another torture on your plate. You hadn't needed to voice your cries for help for Steve to come through was both surprising and scary. Surprising because you didn't think he'd notice; he was busy running the mansion his parents barely occupied, looking after the kids, and navigating the rigors of the academy while trying to fend off the hordes of newfound fans who were back to fawning over him. Would there even be room for you in his schedule? You knew you were friends, but honestly, you'd hung out more often with Nancy, Robin, and Eddie—shopping, hitting the movies, catching gigs—than with Steve on a single aimless stroll downtown. Among your friends, Steve was honestly the last person you'd figured would clock your silent pleas for help. And yet here he was, front and center; at some point, he'd carved out time to spruce up a whole room, light candles, have a bed that screamed comfort, and a silky PJ set just for you. It felt like your lungs swallowed all the air in the room, and oxygen only reached you for a fragile, feeble thank you that stumbled out haltingly. Steve seemed to appreciate that sliver of gratitude, and something in his eyes softened for a beat. He gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze before leaving you to run the taps, filling the tub with glorious hot water that soon had you melting into bliss and your muscles thanking the heat. You tilted your head back as your toes curled in delight. You were pretty sure the salts hadn't done much beyond a certain softness on your skin, but the pleasant aroma had managed to unwind you. When you decided it was time to get out, mainly because the water had cooled and your fingers were pruney, you dried off and slipped into the comfy satin Pijama, a lovely mahogany color that smelled of detergent and fabric softener.

It was pure bliss; that's what you thought as you descended the stairs and found the table set with iced tea, a salad, and two plates brimming with bolognese pasta.

Steve didn't know how to cook much else; his waffle game was weak, and his scrambled eggs were always overdone. But if there was one thing Steve Harrington could nail, it was a homemade pasta dish. You couldn't figure out why he'd never flexed that culinary muscle with his dates; you were sure by now Steve Harrington was off the market for a good long while. Part of you, a part you tried not to dwell on too much, wished that sliver of Steve that only you and the rest of the group knew would remain under wraps. Then you felt guilty for even wishing that; you knew Steve felt lonely and wanted to find someone, and as you twirled pasta onto your fork, you knew he deserved it, because the pasta was divine, and because he'd taken the time to make it himself.

You would've kept munching, but you knew it'd be greedy. Steve rose and led you to bed, rattling off a laundry list of reasons why you wouldn't be lifting a finger, starting with the fact that you were caught up in a smartly orchestrated intervention by him.

"What's up?" Steve asked as you settled under the covers of the bed and the reality hit you.

"Every night I give this a shot, Steve; trying to calm, close my eyes, and just sleep, and I really wanna now but I just can't…"

Steve rubbed his nose, nodding, plopping down beside you, all ears.

"Look at yourself," he murmured. "You're stressing about not being able to sleep, and that's why it ain't happening." You shook your head. "It's not that, really, Steve. It's just that I know myself; I know, and it's frustrating. You have no idea how many nights I've spent staring at the ceiling, feeling like my body just needs to move. It's practically physically impossible for me to lie in bed, no matter how comfy it is."

"Alright," Steve nodded thoughtfully. "I have an idea. Remember when we were keeping watch to make sure Vecna didn't snatch Max at the Wheeler's house?" You nodded. "Yeah, Dustin never shut up, and God knows I couldn't shut him up myself, so I just resigned myself to having to listen to his annoying voice for the rest of the night, and then boom! I woke up, and it was morning."

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. "You fell asleep on your watch to keep an eye on Max?"

"Hey, Henderson was still awake, and nothing went down, right?"

You opened your mouth, astonished. "Something could've gone down, Steve."

"But it didn't!" he retorted, letting out a sheepish laugh and trying to defend himself. "But that's not the point. The point is, I fell asleep," you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms while still sitting on the bed. Steve must've recognized that you looked adorable trying to scold him for his irresponsibility. "Listening to Dustin's voice, I slept like a baby all night."

You raised an eyebrow, finally getting it.

"Are you telling me that all this time, I've just needed Dustin's voice to sleep soundly?"

"No," he replied, pointing his finger at you with a victorious grin. "My voice, babe, my voice will make you sleep like a rock tonight." He then got up and gestured for you to lie down in bed. You looked at him, suppressing a laugh. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, now you find it funny, but when you wake up in the morning feeling rested, I'll have the decency not to tell you it was thanks to me."

You smiled, adjusting your hair to the sides.

"Oh, Steve, thank you so much, how considerate of you," you laughed, but the laughter was immediately stifled when you saw Steve start to settle down next to you in bed. He lay on his side and rested his head on his palm to look at you. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just gonna lie down next to you and talk to you. The only rule is that you can't speak; you'll close your eyes and listen to my voice."

Bossy.

You nodded silently and closed your eyes. You heard Steve sigh but didn't look at him again; after all, he had gone to all this trouble, so you would cooperate. You would do your part.

Then Steve began to talk. He spoke for at least an hour about his life, his folks, and what he wanted to do in the future when he graduated as a cop and started taking care of this town again, with Hopper as his boss. Damn it, it would be tough following the old man's orders, but he'd take it on. He didn't stop even when your intermittent breathing became a steady rhythm that could only mean you were finally catching some sleep. Steve didn't stop looking at you as he reached out to the speaker and lowered the volume of the ambient sound. He didn't stop even as the chirping of crickets seeped in from his backyard and formed a whispered melody along with the croaking of the frogs.

He couldn't stop looking at you.

Steve watched your eyelashes brush your cheeks. The air entering and exiting through your slightly parted lips as you breathed. He looked at your nose and traced imaginary lines on your face, following it with his gaze as if he were redrawing you. It wasn't fair that you couldn't rest, that it was so complicated for you. Steve had seen you sleep deeply in the most complicated places and under the most critical circumstances. You were perfect under pressure; something told him that you would prefer Vecna as an enemy than any internal demon that haunted your mind. He had seen more fear in your face when you thought that it would be another sleepless night than when one of the demodogs that attacked at Hopper's old cabin pinned you down with its weight and drooled over your face as if they were thinking about your taste even before taking a bite. Steve hit it right in the middle of its neck with his bat and didn't stop until Dustin told him it was more than dead, impaled against the wooden floor. He didn't know it then, but he would have killed any monster for you. Even the one that tormented you in your mind.

"Thank you," he finally spoke, stretching his other hand to caress your hair. "You've always taken care of us, and that's very little to say." He admitted, "I think you try to do it because you haven't managed to take care of yourself as you should." He whispered, removing a strand of hair that had floated over your face. "Relax; I'll do it."

You had made them all fulfill their promise in the hotel room that night with the sleeping pills. They had each been given a separate room, but trauma unifies, and they couldn't spend time apart; they all gathered in Eddie's room and spent hours together. After that, when things calmed down and they went through interviews with men dressed in black and serious looks, they went to a high-security clinic where Owen was waiting to give them a physical examination. None of the scars they had were completely healed; Eddie had to undergo skin grafts on his abdomen, and Max had to undergo rehabilitation to walk normally again.

"It's not enough," you had told Owen when he discharged them all with prescriptions for the best free medicine. The man raised his gaze from his folder to look at you through his glasses. "We need therapy."

"Kid…" Hopper spoke behind you with a tired voice, but you stopped him firmly.

"No," you turned to him and looked at Owen for a few seconds. "He smelled like a distillery even before the first attack of the first demogorgon," you reminded everyone. "How do you think he's going to be when all the adrenaline from this is gone? Hopper needs therapy. We all do. Max almost lost her sight; Eddie came back from the dead. You can't say everything is fine and send us back to a town where everyone will still judge us no matter what." Owen opened his mouth, but you weren't ready to stop talking. "You weren't there; you don't know what we had to go through. We don't even fully understand it ourselves; we literally avoided a dimensional catastrophe that wasn't our responsibility, Owen. They owe us."

The truth was, none of them except you thought therapy was a good idea. A monster had used their worst nightmares and traumas to get rid of them. They didn't want to have to open their hearts once a week to another stranger to take advantage of that. But you had been firm in making them all fulfill the commitment, and against all odds, they all agreed and completed their therapies as they should. Even Mike, who had shown extreme resistance to the heart-to-heart talk, had finally relented. You had won those kids over, Steve saw it. And he had to admit that was part of the reason why he sometimes felt jealous. It was pathetic to admit it; an adult jealous of children. But damn it; he would feel good if one day one of the hugs you gave to Will Byers was meant to be given to him.

"You are going to a lot of trouble for her," Dustin told him the next morning as he rudely chewed on a raspberry. "Hey! Little human vacuum: stop eating someone else's breakfast; this isn't for us." "You see? This is what I mean! I could be planning a new D&D campaign that would surprise Eddie and have him kissing my ass for the next decade, but here I am helping you surprise a girl." "It's not to surprise her; she finally slept more than eight hours and needs to eat," Steve began to respond as he poured some of Robin's pancake mix onto the hot skillet. "And I remind you that I'm the one driving thousands of miles so you and your sexier-than-Phoebe-Cates girlfriend, a fact I highly doubt, can see each other. So I would appreciate it if you stopped eating her food and helped me with this as I asked." Dustin frowned but continued to add raspberries to the mix anyway. "You know? I always thought you and Robin had something," Steve rolled his eyes and snorted. "Then for a moment, I thought you and Nancy would get back together by the dumb way you kept looking at her. But now this makes more sense." Steve squeezed a drop of the splashed pancake mix onto his finger and brought it to his mouth. "Yeah? Why is that?" Dustin, focused on his work, shrugged. "When you and Robin are together, you joke around like you and me, Steve, and I refuse to think you're into me." Steve made a disgusted gesture. "Gross, dude, enough." "That, and when you looked at Nancy, you suffered, Steve; you were the most miserable, pathetic…" "Don't be so kind, you'll make me cry." "…sad, and depressed," Dustin ignored his friend, handing him the bowl full of pancake mix. "but with her, you're happy; you smile. You don't have to pretend to be cool all the time, and you actually talk to her. Plus, you take care of her, and that's good because you've been breathing down my neck for so long and acting like my mom. I didn't want to tell you, but you were suffocating me, and you finding a girlfriend would be great for my individuality, Steve." Steve flipped the pancake to let the other side brown while making a face. "I get it, Henderson, you need space, and I'll give it to you as soon as you finish helping me with the coffee and get out of here." Dustin scratched his nose and coughed. "Ass-hole." Dustin was right; you brought out the best in him. Steve could talk to you and not feel like he had to impress you all the time. You made his stomach flutter, but you didn't make him act like an idiot. It was too difficult for him to figure out whether what he felt with you was a friendship that was too strong or something more. He missed you the weeks you were studying at the University, and when you came back to Hawkins, you were never close enough to him.

"I think it would be a big step to go on dates with lots of girls that would end when you drop them off at their houses the next morning," Robin had told him one day while they were rearranging the movie shelves at Family Video after Steve told her about his plan. They had stood up after the earthquake, and Keith hadn't wanted anything to do with the business again. Steve and Robin decided to take over; having a business and extra money in their pockets wasn't bad. Max, Will, and Dustin took turns after school, and they had officially entered the workforce, earning some bills that they could later spend on whatever those little gremlins spent their money on now. "Robin, it's already weird enough to have an ex in your friend circle, two would be too many, and it's a risk I'm not willing to take." His best friend let out a mocking laugh. "Ding, ding, ding, ding, Dingus! you just admitted you like her." Obviously, Steve liked you, he thought now as he plated the pancakes after getting rid of Dustin and dispatching him to Eddie's house where they would plan their new campaign or something like that. Steve liked many things and people; otherwise, he wouldn't surround himself with them. The issue was figuring out what kind of feeling he had for you. It didn't help that everyone seemed to have it figured out except him. Besides, even if he did figure it out. What about you? What did you feel about him?

Steve was your damn hero, you thought as you stretched between the soft sheets of the most comfortable bed you had ever tried and opened your eyes after a huge and shameless yawn. You looked at the ceiling of the room, trying to contain your joy. You looked at the clock on the bedside table on one side of the bed and laughed softly when you saw it was exactly noon. You had slept for over twelve hours; that was more than you usually rested in a week at College. You raised a victorious fist and got out of bed to brush your teeth and freshen up a bit before heading downstairs and looking for Steve on the first floor. You found him squeezing the juice from an orange in his kitchen when he looked at you somewhat dismayed. You walked towards him with a smile and gave him a tight hug, burying your face in his chest and feeling him slowly return the hug.

"Thank you, Steve. I really rested," you moved away from him and looked around; on a tray were syrup, raspberry pancakes, and freshly scrambled eggs. "Did you make all this?" Steve scratched his neck, somewhat embarrassed. "Dustin came over for a while to help," he admitted, and then saw your rested face without being able to help but smile. "How nice of him," you said with a smile. If you had heard his string of complaints, you wouldn't find him so nice. But he wouldn't tell you that. "Are you hungry?" "Famished!" Steve saw the sparkle in your eyes; even your smile was different when you rested. As you chewed your breakfast with gusto and asked him about his graduation from the police academy, Steve observed you again carefully so you wouldn't notice it, partly because he didn't want you to think it was strange, but also because the little adrenaline rush he got from it was addictive. He didn't know what was going on: he had known you for years, you were never a point on his radar. He knew that if he tried hard enough, he could count the times you both talked in high school and would only need the fingers of one hand. You were never attractive to him enough to be his friend, let alone something more. It's true that if he tried to remember, he could say that you always had that pleasant smile and those huge eyes that seemed to read whoever they saw. You were also nice; you never paid special attention to Tommy and Carol, nor did it seem to matter to you to be part of the school's social hierarchy, nor did it seem to matter to you to be his friend even after the Hawkins attack. Although it's true that you were always kind, he couldn't say that they became friends until a year or two ago. Steve had lived a life without you; the curious thing was that now he found it hard to imagine the rest of his life without you in it.

Your heart seemed to ache. It was strange because you were happy, very happy; you had had a bath with aromatic salts, a good dinner, most importantly: a good rest and a delicious breakfast. But your heart hurt. Today was a good day, and you didn't want to be ungrateful, but you wouldn't have this forever; and you didn't talk about the shower, the food, or the, oh, comfortable bed the size of a Cadillac. No, this; to Steve. You couldn't help feeling that your happiness had an expiration date, and it was too soon. Your stomach hurt, your chest hurt, and your mind hurt. Anyway, you tried not to show it, and in the afternoon when Steve dropped you off at your house after vegging out in his living room eating the leftovers from the night before and watching comfort movies like The Breakfast Club and The Princess Bride, which Eddie had gotten in some non-legal but not illegal way since it had come out only a few months ago in theaters, you tried not to look at him too much or try to count the moles on his neck because it was real torture. He had looked at you with those eyes and smiled as he said goodbye to you. You saw him watching you until you entered your house and said goodbye with a wave one last time. He drove away in his car, and you stayed by the window because it was almost physically impossible to move away from there. "And then?" your mother's voice sounded behind you, which was the only thing that made you move. You turned to her still holding the bag with the soft pajamas that Steve had refused to let you return. "Steve told me his plan. Did you manage to sleep?" You nodded, and your mother approached to hug you while making little cries of joy. You hid your head in her neck and started crying, it took a couple of seconds before your mother noticed. Damn Steve Harrington and his consideration for telling his plan to your mother. Damn, damn it. "What's wrong?" your mom asked, worried, cradling your face. "I need help, Mom," you hiccupped, and the phrase was barely understandable. You saw your mother raise her eyebrows and nod. "Of course, but what's wrong? What do you feel?" You tried to breathe and put your hand on your chest. "F-fear" Your mother's expression softened, making her look younger when she seemed to understand what you meant. "Oh, no, sweetheart. No," she kissed your forehead and wiped your tears with a small consoling smile. "You're in love."

Yes, at least Steve had recognized the symptoms.

#stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you

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blackypanther9 · 26 days

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Until I found you~ - Alastor x Fem!Reader

(Picture belongs to rightful owner)

youtube

You were cooking for everyone in the Hazbin Hotel. You had a newly established relationship with Alastor. To you it felt like a deep friendship, you could ask anything of him nowadays, he would do it. As you were cooking a song came on and you smiled.

Georgia, wrap me up in all your I want ya in my arms Oh, let me hold ya I'll never let you go again like I did Oh, I used to say

You were swaying from left to right and started to slow dance, while you cooked, singing along the song. You loved this song so much. It was “Until I found you” by Stephen Sanchez.

Alastor heard music and you singing along, he grew curious and walked towards the kitchen. As he saw you dancing and singing along, he watched you for a bit, from the doorway of the kitchen.

[Chorus: Stephen Sanchez & Georgia Brown] I would never fall in love again until I found her I said I would never fall, unless it's you I fall into I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her I found you

He chuckled softly. You spun around as you heard someone chuckle, as soon as you saw Alastor, you smiled brightly, danced over to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the kitchen with you.

“My Dear, what are you doing ?”, he asked amused.

“Dance with me, Al !”, you said happily.

He gave you a genuine smile and grabbed both your hands. Slowly he danced with you to the song.

[Verse 2: Stephen Sanchez & Georgia Brown] Georgia pulled me in I asked to love her once again You fell, I caught ya I'll never let you go again like I did Oh, I used to say

You sang along and Alastor sang with you too. Slowly waltzing with you around the kitchen, giving you one of his most gentle smiles.

[Chorus: Stephen Sanchez & Georgia Brown] I would never fall in love again until I found her I said I would never fall unless it's you I fall into I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her I found you

His radio filter died down and he sang with his actual voice with you, while still waltzing around with you. You gave Alastor a big smile. You loved his normal voice, without his radio filter.

As the guitar solo was played, he twirled you around and you laughed in delight. He loved hearing you laugh, seeing you smile, seeing your eyes sparkle in happiness. You captured his heart so easily and beautifully. He couldn’t resist you. [Chorus: Stephen Sanchez & Georgia Brown] I would never fall in love again until I found her I said I would never fall unless it's you I fall into I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her I found you

The two of you continued to sing to the end together and then stopped waltzing, with him dipping you. You gave Alastor a big smile and a kiss on his cheek. His eyes widened in shock, a soft blush covering his cheeks, his left ear flicked softly and his tail wagged gently.

“Thank you, Al. This dance was beautiful.”, you told him softly.

He gave you a gentle smile back.

“Of course my Dear. Anything for you.”, he replied, still with his radio filter off.

He helped you up and you hugged him tightly, which he returned after a short second of shock. Then he looked at the stove.

“What are you cooking for everyone, my Dear ?”

“I am cooking some butter chicken with rice and for you I am cooking a bit of venison. I know you love venison a lot. You can mix it into your rice.”

“Darling, you are a true gem !”, he praised you and hugged you gently, while you watched the butter chicken cook.

You turned around after he let go and petted his head gently, making him let out a static purr.

“I know, Deer. Now go and look for Charlie. She was looking for you not that long ago.”, you informed him.

He sighed a bit annoyed.

“But I want to stay here.”, he whined.

“If you go now, we can dance and read together later.”, you promised him with a loving smile.

He perked up at that and his tail wagged again, faster than before.

“Promise ?”, he asked.

“I promise, Al.”

With that he nodded, gave your right hand a kiss and then left, to look for Charlie and what she needed of him this time. You smiled at him and gently shook your head.

‘My Deer can be such a sap. But I wouldn’t change him for the world.’

A/N: Sorry if it is so short ! Aaahhh ! I almost died from the FLUFF though ! TvT

#fanfiction #fem!reader #demon!reader #Hazbin Hotel #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #Youtube

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oblooga · 8 months

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It's you and I

Synopsis: (fem!reader) best friends to lovers with a hint of fake/misunderstood dating :)))

Characters: Kazuha, Al-Haitham

Author's note: SPOILERS FOR 3.4 STORY QUEST (Alhaitham's part!! though now Fontaine is released idk if anyone still hasn't done Sumeru but I'm putting this here just in case^^)

This is a gift for @kazumist for the @solarisfortuneia Summer Santa event!! This was supremely fun to write, I have no idea how to write Alhaitham though, so forgive me if he's a little OOC. I hope you like it :))))

P.S. lyrics is from "poster boy" by Lyn Lapid-- I was looping the song while writing this

Kaedehara Kazuha

The vision hunt decree is finally over, and with it ends the bloodshed and violence that has lingered on your doorstep for years. With a brand new day free of bitter purple lighting comes new beginnings, new futures, and new-old friends returning to their homeland.

One such friend is Kaedehara Kazuha.

You’ve known each other since you were little— dressed in nappies, sharing childhoods, summers spent racing in fields of gold and exploring caves filled with shimmering blue flowers. He had to flee when the vision hunt decree bore down his back– you still remember sending him away on a night dark as the loneliest shadows, holding back your tears as you watch the solidarity boat sail away from the harbor.

(away from you.)

But ages have past, regimes have changed, and he can finally return home. Your family has agreed to house him, on account of his precious abode being completely destroyed in the Vision Hunt Decree.

And…also due to a big misunderstanding, as you were about to find out.

“Y/n, where’s that boyfriend of yours? Didn’t you say he’d be here by noon?” Your mother calls from the kitchen, bustling around as she prepares lunch.

You spit out the tea you’d been sipping, “I—I’m sorry, what boyfriend?”

“You know? That white haired boy with the red streak that lived next door? Kazuha?”

“Mom,” you groan, “he’s not—“

“Did someone say my name?” A voice calls from the doorway, gentle as the breeze sweeping through golden fields, fondness and amusement settling in its tone like leaves falling in autumn.

In the doorway of your home stands Kaedehara Kazuha, looking every bit the same as you’d last seen him, just a bit taller and a bit more weary of the world. But he brightens up and chuckles when you leap into his embrace and cling onto him like an overzealous Bake-Danuki.

“I missed you!! It’s been boring without you, Inazuma has changed so much and everyone’s talking about how—“

“Hello to you too, Y/n, how have you been? It’s been quite a while hasn’t it,” he mumbles into your hair as you continue to yammer on animatedly about the things he's missed.

“Y/n,” your mom calls from the kitchen, exasperated, “why don’t you let the poor boy into the house before you talk his ear off? Lunch is almost ready, please can you help set the table?”

“Of course,” Kazuha cuts in smoothly before you’ve even had a chance to reply, patting your head and letting you down gently before sauntering into the kitchen.

"How can I help you, Ma'am?" He smiles at your mom, helping hold the oven door open as she shoves a giant seasoned chicken inside.

“Oh, you’re a man after my heart,” your mom titters, smiling good naturedly at him, “just as how you’ve captured Y/n’s heart, hmm?” She turns and winks at you, and Kazuha smiles.

“Well, I’m not quite sure about that just yet,” he says, glancing at you and raking his eyes over your flushed and confused face. “But I most certainly would like for it to be true," he murmurs, as he sends you a shy but sure smile, raising his brows at your reddened cheeks.

“Ka-Kazuha,” you start flusteredly, “wh— you’re– w–wh–"

"Ah, young love," your mom sighs dramatically, and shoos the both of you out of the kitchen. "Nevermind helping me out, the both of you are so besotted with each other it'll be hard to get any work down. Off you go!"

And so Kazuha easily gets out of the kitchen work that you've been subjected to for the many years you've lived in this house. You can't even be surprised– there's just something about the boy that is so soothing, so silently charming, that draws one in as unnoticeably as the autumn wind that comes every September.

"Kazuha, should we talk about this? We're not… you're… what are you doing?" You ask him hesitantly, trailing behind as he leads you out of the house and into the gardens.

"Well– it'd be rude to ruin your mom's fantasies, right?" He grins, turning to a stop in front of you. "She seems so happy to have me around that…I'd feel slightly guilty if we tell her we're just friends and ruin whatever extravagant wedding she'd hold in the future."

"You–!" You blush immediately, mind wandering to satin gowns and lavish kimonos and Kazuha in draped in silks and– "--married???"

"I mean, it wouldn't be so bad would it," his voice quiets to a hush, something unreadable in his smile as he leans over you and gently removes a leaf from your hair. "Well, maybe not getting married just yet," he says, making a face, "but maybe-- you dating me. As besotted with each other as your mom thinks we are," he chuckles, and turns away before you can fully decipher the feelings on his face.

And it's not…it's not as if you haven't thought of it before. Young as you were when you first met, a large part of your life was spent with Kazuha. You didn't know when your relationship developed from neighbours to best friends, but you'd never trade for anything the long nights spent dashing through starlight-fields, swimming in the salty ocean and chasing each other through the winding streets of town. He'd grown from a chubby boy into a lean man, the carefree, easy smile on his face never failing to cause butterflies in your stomach, ones that you've dismissed to be teenage hormones, before you realized said hormones were specifically centered around him. They say distance makes the heart fonder, and perhaps it's true, for both of you, because he's come back and seemed to have changed his mind about you. Changed his heart about you. (centered his heart around you.)

And… perhaps you had too.

"Alright," you say slowly, unable to resist grinning at the full-blown smile that breaks across his face like the sun rising after a cold, lonely night. "We can try…this, whatever this is, out. No more faking though, for real this time, except we don't tell my mom it was ever fake because I don't want to sit through another of her lectures."

"Deal," Kazuha laughs, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, something in his eyes sparkling with an intensity that promises of a bright future. "I promise I won't breathe a word of your deceit–" he gets a snack on the shoulder for that– "to your mom, if you let me eat your caramel pudding."

"Hey!" You exclaim, wrinkling your nose at him, "just because you're now my boyfriend does not mean you get dessert rights-- get back here this instant Kazuha--!"

And so, in the season of autumn, in spite of the things that wither and fall and fade away, a brilliant and steadfast relationship begins to bloom.

2. Alhaitham

“Date me.”

You push your head up from where you’ve been laying on the table, turning bleary eyes to an ash-haired scholar standing next to your desk. “Hmm—?” you yawn, your brain too foggy from sleep to process his words.

“Date me,” Alhaitham, academic-rivals-turned-study-partners-turned (begrudging)-best-friend, repeats impatiently.

You finally process his words and frown, blinking the sleep out of your eyes to sit up properly and stare at him. “Are you— are you alright? Did you eat breakfast? Did you ingest something Kaveh oh Archons above Kaveh better not have—“

“The Akademiya has proposed a “Day of Love”,” he cuts in, ignoring your spew of genuine concern, “to celebrate the passion and affection shared between romantic lovers. And also as an excuse to take a day off from their work I suppose,” he tsks, “which in any case brings me back to the question I’ve had the misfortune to ask for the third time— will you go on a date with me?” He crosses his arms and stares more intensely at you.

“…Aren’t you the Acting Grand Sage? Can’t you just get them to cancel this "Day of Love"?” you question, and he turns surprisingly defensive and brushes you off immediately. “No can do. It’s central to the welfare of the people of Sumeru.” Your suspicion deepens. You're not sure how… celebrating love and passion can increase the happiness of people of a country that had just experienced a never ending time-loop– okay, maybe you can see the point.

"I mean…sure I guess…?" You shrug and agree, seeing how Alhaitham doesn't seem to be willing to let this go so easily.

Which leads to your Saturday being spent on a date with someone you'd once thought didn't even have the word love in their vocabulary.

Sumeru City was decorated to the nines, pink fairy lights stringed across branches of lush greenery that sprawled across the city, couples everywhere sharing giggles and smiles and kisses. It is all horribly romantic and a part of your heart can't help but flutter in anticipation, for what– exactly, you're not sure, but there is definitely a sense of love in the air.

Not that the man besides you seems to notice any of it. Al walks at his usual brisk pace, dragging you through stalls of street foods and tiny trinkets, offering his (entirely unasked for) professional opinion on every item you land your sight on. It feels less like a date and more like…a research trip, if you were being honest. You've learnt more about the symbols of love than you'd ever asked for, and you can feel the romantic bones in your body draining of calcium by the minute.

Although that isn't to say you aren't enjoying yourself. Al follows patiently behind you when you wander off to coo at some shiny necklace (which he purchased behind your back and sneaked into your purse), does not laugh at you when you stuff your mouth full of shawarma warp (although you can see the curl on his lips that belies his seriousness), and only sighs when you make him climb to the very top of the city to watch the sunset with you.

"What a day," you sigh contentedly, turning a fond smile at him. "Did you enjoy the date, Al?" You tease, leaning forward to poke at his nose as his blank expression develops into a scowl.

"I have procured a valuable amount of information and experience that will be quite useful to me in writing my… future endeavors," he replies, returning your poke with a pinch of your cheeks.

"Aha!" You exclaim, eyes widening and pointing at him. "I knew there was more to this! No way the Acting Grand Sage would ask me out on a date with no ulterior motive. Be honest, will you? Did you assign yourself a research on the topic of love because your life lacks so much of it?" You tease, watching him cross his arms and avoid your gaze entirely.

He remains silent for far too long, and your attention returns back to the scenery in front of you. Clouds laze across a purple pink sky, the sun had long set and only left behind ghosts of its golden rays that haze over Sumeru like a shimmering fairy, dancing betweens people lounging on benches and sprawled out on grass, enjoying the final moments of a beautiful day.

"...It was my idea."

"Hm?" You turn back to face the scholar, who's still looking resolutely ahead. Belated realization hits you, and you give him a smile of fond exasperation. "I knew it, Al, it was for a paper wasn't it? You could've just asked me to help, instead of only now revealing your big, evil intention. You know, I wouldn't have minded–"

"But I would," he cuts in, finally turning to face you. Those teal green eyes stare intensely into yours, red irises blazing as bright as the sun that sank low over the horizon.

"You would…?" You trail off in confusion.

"I would've minded," he continues, leaning close enough that you could smell the scent of tattered book and dried ink that clings to his sleeves, "if you thought I had a big, evil intention in mind. Because you see," he says, hints of amusement coloring his features as you flusteredly back away from his advances, "I absolutely could've canceled the "Day of Love"."

"I was the one who proposed the idea after all."

He smirks at you with self-satisfaction, that hint of arrogance and unbeatable intelligence showing through before he schools his features back into nonchalance. Not without a new-found assumed tilt to his lips, of course.

"Wh–huh?" Your mind was whirring at extremely high speeds, brain unable process the implications his words offer.

The pink skies hold no candle to the pink staining your cheeks– as the clouds gather speed and the golden rays depart you finally realize what his words mean.

"So you– you basically forced this "Day of Love" onto Sumeru to ask me out??" You say incredulously, turning a look of equal disbelief and hysteria on him.

"I wouldn't say forced– it really is central to the welfare of the people of Sumeru," he mutters, once again avoiding your eye, trying to affect complete nonchalance again.

"Oh Al," you giggle, and lay your head on his shoulder. He tenses, but then you feel his body relax as he gingerly settles an arm on yours.

"All you had to do was ask."

thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #fanfic #genshin fanfic #imagines #fluff #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #kazuha x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #fiction #best friend to lovers

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casualpersonapersonpeach · 2 years

Text

Slasher domestic headcannons

Tags: fluff!

(Includes Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Leslie Vernon, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Daniel Robitaille (Candyman), Mark Hoffman)

Michael Myers

- Michael likes to think he keeps to himself at home, but he is a lot clinger than he thinks.

-Michael doesn't really do a whole lot at home, even when he's alone.

-He just kinda does random stuff, but never cleans lol.

-He won't admit it, but he loves cuddling you when you two wake up

-michael won't do a whole lot around the house in terms of cleaning, but on a good day he MIGHT bring you a hot drink in bed.

-You will most likely have to clean alone.

- Michael loves to sit down and watch a scary movie with you at night time. when you cling to him when you're scared, he is filled with a sense of pride that he's your protector.

-His favourite meal with you is lunch.

Bubba Sawyer

-Bubba is always mowing the grass, cleaning, cooking/ baking.

-Bubba will always let you sleep in if he can get it to slip past drayton.

-When bubba first wakes, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and adjusts the blankets for you.

-Bubba is quick to start his chores and starts making breakfast.

-bubba loves to have a little bit of downtime with the family chicken.

-He loves to take a midday nap with you if Drayton allows it.

-Bubba always loves baking late night deserts with you.

-If you ever feel tired or need help with your chores, Bubba is there in a heartbeat to help you out.

Thomas Hewitt

-Thomas also wakes up early. As Thomas gets dressed he smiles to himself as he looks over at your sleeping form. He is always admiring you.

- Thomas is always helping Luda prepare meals as well as doing outdoor chores. Luda has assigned for you to help her with cleaning the house.

-Whenever Thomas gets a chance, he'll always sneak in and see if you're not too tired. He's always looking out for you.

-Thomas likes to prepare his clothes the night before, so it's not uncommon to see Thomas ironing his shirts before bed.

-After a long day, Thomas will lay in your lap, exhausted. His favourite thing is when you run your fingers through his hair gently, bringing him to sleep.

Jason Voorhees

-Jason is always so productive. He wakes up early and is always onto cleaning up inside and outside the cabin.

-Jason always finds peace when he's walking home from a hunt (for you) and there's a slight breeze, and he hears the birds chirping from afar.

-Jason is always quick to make you food, drinks, whatever you want.

-Jason's favourite is a hot chocolate for sure, it brings back nice childhood memories for him.

-Jason is usually really busy fixing up things around the cabin.

-He sometimes carves your two initials into trees.

Brahms Heelshire

-Brahms is a restless sleeper most nights.

-He tosses and turns so much throughout the night. He usually needs to spoon with you to get a better sleep (he doesn't mind being the big or little spoon.

- He definitely takes a while to wake up, he has leniency with his routine now that he's with you. Brahms enjoys slow mornings the most.

- Brahms usually likes to eat his meals around the same time everyday, he doesn't want to disrupt his routine more, it makes him feel really anxious.

-Brahms is guilty of always falling asleep first when you two get ready for bed. He falls asleep first, but he will definitely be watching over you during his restless bouts.

-When Brahms is alone, he likes to watch the garden from indoors. It's a comfort thing for him.

Leslie Vernon

- Leslie is always humming music. Usually on the lines of classic rock etc.

-Leslie is really productive. He's always planning and scheming.

-Leslie can only sleep once he's said goodnight to his pets.

-He only really sleeps in majorly when you sleep over with him. He swears it's the best sleep he's ever had.

-Leslie leaves sweet love notes for you if he has to go out for something. He writes about how he's grateful to have you, and also how he was right to stalk you (this is leslie we are talking about lol).

- Leslie hates sleeping without socks on.

- He can't cook to save his life, his signature dish however is mac n cheese. It's pretty decent to your standards.

Bo Sinclair

- Bo is such a heavy sleeper. He can wake up on protective instinct. Other than that, he sleeps like a rock.

-Bo loves to slick back his hair, even when he's spending the day alone. it's all apart of his charm.

-Bo is a decent cook. It may not be the most diverse of foods, but he's good at working with what he's got.

-He loses his car keys a lot.

-Bo tries to be sincere now that he's letting his walls down with you. You'll catch him with a gentle smile when he's telling you he loves you. His eyes say it all. It's a lot of progress for him, and you couldn't be more proud.

-He is always the big spoon. When he's feeling a bit more vulnerable he will be the little spoon. Don't tell his brothers though.

Vincent Sinclair

-Vincent is the best cook in the Sinclair family.

-You always remind him of how handsome he looks in his cable knit sweaters and with his long locks.

-Vincent collects scented candles. Every year for his birthday you go buy him a brand new one.

-Vincent loves drawing you all of the time. You're the most beautiful being to him.

-Vincent adores old literature. He reads Anna Karenina , Jane Austen etc. Bo has even a few times gone out to neighbouring towns and bought him brand new books. He also loves Dead poets society.

-He loves oversized clothing.

-Vincent adores giving you bear hugs. They're his favourite form of hugging.

Lester Sinclair

-He collects bones and makes jewelry out of them. Lester gifts them to you. It's an endearing gesture from him.

-Lester remembers the exact date that you came into ambrose. He considers that your anniversary even though you weren't even dating, let alone official at that point. He remembers it every year and takes you on a picnic. Lester will always stress how you are such a miracle and joy for him.

-Lester loves wearing flannels.

-Lester still sometimes puts the wrong shoes on the wrong feet.

-Sometimes after a long day and Lester has had his dinner, he will fall asleep unintentionally (he's so exhausted). He is always so remorseful to you. You remind him that there is nothing to apologise for, he's always working hard.

-Lester has the cutest snore.

Daniel Robitaille (Candyman)

- Daniel is incapable of sleeping. He spends his entire existence awake. Sometimes it gets to him, but sometimes he is not conscious of that.

-Daniel still mourns the life he had before, desperately wanting a family.

-when you're sleeping he will whisper sweet things to you and give you sweet dreams. He'll always make them so lovely, never giving you a nightmare again.

-He loves to slow dance with you in the kitchen, allowing you to rest your feet on top of his. He likes to take the lead with this one.

-He loves gently waking you up in the mornings, one if his favourite things is when you let him brush your hair after waking up. It feels so intimate to him.

-Daniel will always do whatever he can to provide you with safety, and anything you could want.

Mark Hoffman

-Mark lives on very little sleep and on high stress. It's a wonder how he does it.

-He lives off of coffee. When he finally gets home, he is almost drags his feet and slouches through the door.

-Mark likes to be as organised as possible. (Somehow) his apartment is always in top condition. He hates messes.

-When you offer to iron marks clothing for him, he is so thankful that you want to help ease his burdens and help him out even if you feel it's in a small way.

-He will definitely show you how he likes his clothes to be ironed specifically though lol. He thinks it's a cute bonding moment though.

-You think he looks most handsome when he first wakes up in the morning, with disheveled hair.

#michael myers #halloween #bubba sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre #thomas hewitt #jason voorhees #friday the 13th #brahms heelshire #the boy 2016 #leslie vernon #behind the mask #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax #candyman #mark hoffman #saw #slashers x reader

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blacktacmopsi · 1 month

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Keegan HeadCanons: Relationship Edition

As mentioned in a previous post, you'll definitely have to make the first move if you're into him. He can come off aloof and at worst even cold but that's not how he actually is. He's just a very guarded man.

But...if you can get past that wall of his, you'll find a man with a lot of strong emotions behind it.

Not into pda. At most in public he'll give you a kiss on the cheek and hold your hand.

When your alone, he'll come up behind you and hug you, resting his face in the crook of your neck. If feeling flirty, he'll grab your ass. He's the kind of guy that will kiss you softly and let his lips linger on you. If he's feeling horny, he'll start kissing you all over pretty passionately and force his tongue into your mouth.

Once you get on more intimate terms with him, he'll want to know more about what makes you tick.

"I love you, sweetheart." "Aww, honey, thanks."

Rarely clingy. If he does get clingy it's because he's having a very bad time or dealing with night terrors (which I think he would suffer from...I mean, Operation: Sand Viper would fuck anyone up and that would include him...and he was like a damn kid when that happened. Poor baby).

If you're sick, he'll keep you in bed and bring you what you need. Throwing up? He'll bring you meds, water, a ginger ale, or even hold your hair back while your at the toilet. Have the flu? He's bringing you a big bowl of chicken soup. Bad fever? He'll bring you ice packs and check your temp regularly. Mr. Nurse all the way.

Will splurge on you...but not every day. He would prefer to have a whole day all about you and treat you amazingly.

This is the man that WILL walk with you down the pad/ tampon aisle in the store and not be all weird about it. Hell, he'll buy you them without batting an eye. "Sweetheart, it's just how you were made. It's not a big deal."

More of the romantic night in versus the romantic night out kind of guy.

Will like to hold you as you fall asleep with him. He'll wrap his arms around you and pull you towards him.

The kind of guy who never goes to bed with an argument lingering. Will be man enough to apologize and will expect you to do the same.

Overall, a sweet and simple romantic partner. Low maintenance and feels very deeply for his SO.

If he proposes to you, it will be simple, straightforward, and sweet. Not big on all the trappings of the wedding industry. Would much rather have a VERY small and intimate wedding with like five people in attendance. No honeymoon to some tropical getaway (again, he hates hot weather). Instead, get ready to go to Alaska or even someplace like Longyearbyen, Svalbard (He wants to see the seed vault.)

#call of duty #call of duty ghosts #cod keegan #keegan p russ #cod ghosts #keegan cod #keegan cod ghosts #BlackTacMopsi Writes Garbage

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mrsparrasblog · 8 days

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Mission save the human race pt.5

PT.4

Simon ignored you most of the time after your passionate encounter, making you feel like shit with only him and a 16-hour asleep Johnny in the house. You felt alone. You used your remaining free time when you weren't caring for Johnny, who got flirtier with every minute, with gardening, harvesting all sorts of vegetables and fruits, and now you started to harvest them when suddenly a big pair of hands gripped you and picked you up.

"I missed you much, babe." Kyle smiled at you and kissed you impulsively; the other men just watched him with a jealous expression. You and Kyle were different; he was in the same age range as you; he was caring; and he was the prettiest boy on earth even before the apocalypse.

And he treated you like a girlfriend, always kissing you goodbye, calling you babe, and looking at you with these gorgeous eyes of his. It felt like you two were in a relationship, and you kind of liked it.

After mending some of the boy's wounds, you went to the kitchen to prepare some fruit compote for them. You needed to ask them if they could maybe help you grow your house and maybe get some chickens and cows; this would be helpful and cute.

"Smells delicious, babe," he said, pulling his arms around your waist and leaning his chin against your shoulder.

"You think so."

"Mhm"

"How was the mission, Kyle?"

"It was bad; Cap almost got bitten."

"Oh fuck"

"And then there is still not a word from Ale and Rudy; they should have been back a long time ago."

"They will come back."

"Im afraid if they won't, we had a few people more, but everyone is always dying."

"You're safe at home; okay, you're safe and with me." You tried to get him to think about something else, something good. And being with you was good.

Gaz's arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he buries his face in your neck. "You have no idea how much that means to me. Coming home to you is the best part of any mission," he admitted, looking at you like a lost puppy.

"Having you back is always the best part of my day too, love."

Gaz tightened his grip on you, his eyes softening once more. "You're my sunshine in the dark, babe. Never forget that; you bring us hope and a home; you're so much stronger than us," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. "Now, come on, let's go relax."

You moaned softly as he kissed your neck, wanting more for him. You hadn't had sex after your night with Simon, and it showed.

Gaz's eyes sparkled with desire at the soft moan, his grip tightening ever so slightly on you. "Relax? Or are you thinking of something else, babe?" He asked you with a boyish grin.

"Maybe," you admitted, trailing down his clothed, rock-hard abs.

Gaz smirked, his hand trailing down to cup your perfect ass, feeling the heat that emanated from your body. "Well, since you're in such a playful mood, how about I show you just how much I've missed you?"

He pulled you up on the kitchen counter. He couldn't help but admire your body, with every curve and dip calling to him. With a growl, he pushed himself against you, his hard length grinding against your core through your clothes.

"Such a needy boy for me."

A low chuckle escaped his throat at your teasing words. "Well, when you look this fucking good, it's hard not to be, isn't it?"

You caressed his face and pulled him into a deep kiss, capturing his pretty face inside your soft palms. He got the full girlfriend treatment, and you enjoyed treating him this way.

Gaz moaned into the kiss, his lips parting to allow your tongue access to his mouth. His free hand reached around to grab at your ass, pulling you even tighter against him.

"Mhm, so needy for my ass."

Gaz pulled back from the kiss, his eyes burning into yours. "I'm going to take you right here, on this countertop," he growled huskily. "You're going to be so fucking tight around my cock."

"Mhm, but were you a good boy to deserve this?" You asked him in a teasing manner.

Gaz's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire. "Oh, I've been a very good boy. I've been thinking about this moment all day." He reached down to undo his pants, freeing his throbbing cock. He was beautiful; he was so long—almost too long—and so pretty curved; he didn't have thick veins but softer, smaller ones; his cock had the same color as his skin, but his tip was delicious pink. It must have been the most beautiful cock you have ever seen in your life, and your mouth watered at the sight.

You traced your fingers around his slit, taking in his precum and licking it from your fingers. It was salty but still delicious. "A good boy would be more patient."

Gaz watched you play with his precum, his breathing growing heavier. His grip on your ass tightened as he held you close to him. "Patient? You're playing with my fucking cock, babe. What do you expect me to do? Be patient?" He groaned, annoyed at you.

"Yes, Kyle, be patient. You need to deserve my cunt first." You laughed at him, enjoying being the dominant part for once.

Gaz groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to maintain control. "Okay, fuck it. I want you so bad, love. Please, let me taste you. Let me show you just how good I can make you feel."

"Already begging?"

Gaz's eyes locked onto yours, his desire evident in every twitch of his muscles. "You have no idea how much I want you, babe," he said, his voice thick with need. "I've been going insane without you. Please, let me taste your sweet cunt."

You couldn't say no to that beautiful face of his; it should be forbidden to look like that, to look so perfect, so you removed your panties, leaving your blue summer dress on. You threw your panties in his face while giggling.

His eyes widened in surprise as you threw your panties at him, but his cock twitched with anticipation. "Fucking hell, Babe," he growled, grabbing the delicate fabric and bringing it to his nose. "You smell so fucking good."

"Do I now?" you asked cheekily.

His hands traveled up your thighs, fingers teasing the edge of your dress as he spoke. "Like pure fucking heaven," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "I can't wait to get inside you."

"Not now, patient baby boy. First, lick me."

Gaz's eyes flashed with desire as you ordered him to lick you. Without hesitation, he pushed your dress up, revealing your wet pussy to him. His tongue darted out, tasting your sweet nectar for the first time. "Fuck," he whimpered.

"Mhm, do you like it when I call you Baby Boy?" you ask while pushing his face deeper inside your throbbing core.

"God, yes," he groaned, his tongue lapping up more of your juices. "I love it when you call me that." Gaz's hands found their way underneath your dress, massaging your ass cheeks as he continued to feast on your pussy.

"Mhm, you're such a good boy for me." You praised him, and it did wonders for him.

His tongue swirled around your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Mmm, I'll be whatever you want me to be," he growled against your pussy. "Just keep calling me that."

"What a good boy?"

His tongue flicked against your clit faster, his fingers digging deeper into your ass. "Yes, a good boy," he moaned, his voice muffled by your wetness. "I'll be the best fucking boy you've ever had."

You grinded harder against his perfect face, always pulling his short hair to show him you were the one in control.

Gaz let out a low groan as you grind against his face, the taste of your pussy on his tongue driving him wild. He loved how you pulled his hair, showing him who was in control. His fingers dug deeper into your ass cheeks, encouraging you to ride his face harder.

"Mhm, God Gaz."

"You like that, babe?" He murmured against your pussy, his tongue working overtime to drive you wild. "You're so fucking sexy riding my face like that. I could come just from this." You couldn't believe the effect you had on him.

"Be a good boy and cum."

His fingers found your sweet spot, and he thrust them in and out of you while continuing to eat you out. With his remaining hand, he started to rub his dick.

"I'm going to cum," he growled, his voice low and gravelly. "Do you want it on your cunt or all over your ass?"

"You can cum on my pussy." You wanted it inside, but you didn't want him to get this satisfaction.

"God fucking damn," he growled, and without further warning, he erupted onto your pussy. His hips bucked wildly as he came, his cock twitching with every pulse of hot cum. It felt so good and warm around you.

"Lick It Clean," you demanded. You had never done this before, but you felt so powerful right now.

Gaz lapped up every drop of your juices and his cum, cleaning you up meticulously. His tongue traced the inside of your pussy lips, tasting the sweetness that was uniquely yours. "Mmm," he hummed in contentment.

"Mhm, fuck, you're such a good boy," you whined as he lapped on your clit

"I'm always a good boy for you, babe," he purred, nuzzling his face against your throbbing nub. His tongue swirled around it, teasing and tormenting with just the right amount of pressure. "You know I love making you feel good."

"Mhm, please make me cum, baby."

I'll make you cum; don't worry about that," he promised, licking and sucking on your clit like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

"Gaz, im going to - fuck," you moaned as you pushed his face into your pleading core.

Gaz groaned in pleasure as he felt your orgasm wash over him. Your juices coated his tongue, and he lapped them up greedily, savoring the taste of you. As you came down from your high, he pulled back to look at you, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Thank you, Gaz, you've been very good." You caressed his pretty face. "You get a reward."

"I always like my rewards, babe," he grinned. He kissed your inner thigh, trailing his tongue up to the delicate skin between your legs. "I think I'll take another taste of you."

"God, you're so eager to please, but I thought more of you could fuck me when you want, even in the ass." You knew that's what he wanted; he looked too often at it, stroking it with his finger by accident. And who were you to deny him this wish?

Gaz chuckled at your bold request. "I'm always eager to please you, babe," he purred, his hands gently guiding your legs apart once more. "And I promise, I will fuck you in the ass, but first, let me taste you some more."

He grinned wickedly as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to trace the sensitive flesh of your pussy lips. He teased you for a moment before finally pressing his tongue against your clit, sucking gently as he began to lap at your juices once more.

"Oh God"

Gaz hummed in approval as he continued to please you, his tongue dancing around your clit while his fingers teased the entrance of your tight little hole. He moaned softly against your sensitive flesh, savoring the taste of you. "That's it, babe." He began to pump his fingers in and out of your tight little hole, massaging that sweet spot inside you that made you clench around his fingers. His tongue never stopped lapping at your clit, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck, "Im going to cum again, baby."

"Cum for me, babe," Gaz purred, his fingers pumping faster inside you as he sucked harder on your clit. He could feel the walls of your tight little hole quivering around his fingers, preparing to release another wave of pleasure.

Gaz moaned loudly as he felt your body shudder and convulse around his fingers, your juices spurting onto his face. He didn't stop, though, continuing to lap at your clit and finger-fuck you until he was sure you'd had enough.

"Thank you, Gaz; you've been so good to me."

"Always, babe. You know I'll do anything for you." He leaned up to kiss you gently on the lips before pulling his fingers out of your tight little hole. "Come here,"

You saw a big, dark shadow. "I think Simon saw us."

Gaz looked over his shoulder to see Simon watching them with a smirk on his face. He chuckled softly and shook his head before turning back to you. "Well, if he wants a piece of the action, he's more than welcome." But you were still mad at Simon for ignoring you after your sex; he only used you as a cumdump. Well, at least that's what you thought.

"Maybe another time, but I want only you right now, Baby Boy."

"As you wish, babe, I'll make sure it's just me and you." He pulled you into his lap, your legs straddling him as he pressed his throbbing cock against your entrance.

"Are you ready for this?"

"You want me to ride you?"

I think I'd like that, babe." Gaz smiled at you, his eyes dark with desire. He couldn't wait to feel your sweet pussy clenching around his cock as you rode him.

Gaz groaned softly as you slowly grinded on him, pushing his cock deeper inside of you with each movement. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding onto you as he felt your warmth enveloping him. "Fuck, that feels good."

You stood still, chuckling softly, knowing you were in control. You wouldn't move until he was a whimpering mess for you.

Gaz raised an eyebrow at you, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Are you going to make me beg for it?" He asked teasingly. "Because I don't mind doing that."

"Of course, you don't mind," you replied teasingly.

Gaz lowered his head, his eyes never leaving yours, as he began to plead with you. "Please, babe, I need you to ride me. I can't take much more of this torture." His voice was thick with desire, betraying the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

So you slowly started to ride him enough to make him feel something, but not enough to reach his high.

Gaz let out a deep, guttural moan as you began to ride him, his cock throbbing inside of you. He could tell you were holding back just enough to keep him on the edge, it drove him crazy. "Babe, please," he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. "I need you to ride me harder. I'm about to lose it." He gripped your hips tightly, trying to urge you to move faster.

You pressed the bulge inside your stomach, where his dick rested, chuckling softly as you began to make small circles with your hip.

Gaz's head fell back with a groan as you teased him, his hips bucking up involuntarily against yours. "Fuck, babe," he panted. "You're killing me." His cock twitched inside of you, desperate for release. "Please," he whined.

"You're so impatient, baby."

"I can't help it, babe," he whispered hoarsely. "You're so fucking tight and wet. It feels amazing inside of you." His eyes were filled with lust as he watched your body move on top of him. "Please, babe,"

You moved a bit faster for barely a minute until you felt him twitching inside of you.

Gaz let out a long, low moan as you picked up the pace. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you down onto him with each thrust. "Fuck, yes," he groaned. "That's it, babe. Ride me hard."

As you realized he would cum soon, you stopped and began to only circle your hips again.

"What are you doing, babe?" He growled, his voice full of frustration. "I need you to fucking move." He gripped your hips tightly, trying to urge you to pick up the pace again. "Please,"

"Patient Baby, we need to see if you deserve to cum first." You said you were almost losing your patience at seeing the prettiest boy in the world begging for you to fuck him.

"I'll do anything, babe," he promised desperately. "Just let me cum." His cock throbbed inside of you, his balls aching with need. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, willing you to give in to him. "Please,"

"You're so sweet when you beg, you know that."

Gaz smiled up at you, his eyes filled with adoration. "I'll be whatever you want me to be," he whispered. "Just let me cum inside of you." His hips bucked up against yours as he tried to force himself deeper into your tight pussy.

Gaz's head fell back with a loud moan as you started to ride him hard again. His cock throbbed inside of you, close to the edge. "Fuck, babe," he gasped. "You're going to make me cum." Dumb words, Gaz, you thought.

Gaz looked up at you with a mix of frustration and lust. "Babe," he panted, his voice filled with desperation. "I need to cum. Please let me cum." He gripped your hips tightly, trying to urge you to keep going.

"Be a good boy and take it, okay? If you take it good, I'll let you cum."

Gaz looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire and need. "I'll be good," he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll take it however you want me to." His cock twitched inside of you, aching for release.

"Only cum when I allow you to."

Gaz nodded eagerly, his eyes locked on yours. "I won't come without your permission," he promised. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him as he drove his cock deeper into your pussy.

His cock throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening up in anticipation. "Mommy, please, "he panted, his voice filled with desperation. "Please let me cum.

That was new even for you, but you liked it. Did you just call me Mommy?"

Gaz looked up at you, his eyes filled with lust and need. "Yes, Mommy," he panted, his voice shaking with desire. "I can't help it. You make me so hot." His cock throbbed inside of you, aching for release.

"Shh, you're such a good boy. You're so patient for me. Just a minute, okay?"

Gaz nodded eagerly, his eyes locked on yours. "Yes, babe," he panted, his voice shaking with desire. "I'll be patient for you."

He reached up to cup your breasts through your dress, massaging them gently as he continued to thrust into you. He started to whimper, and it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard before.

"You can cum, baby."

Gaz's eyes rolled back in his head as he hit his release. "Oh fuck, Mommy!" he cried out, losing control. His cock erupted inside of you, filling you with hot cum. He moaned loudly, his body shaking as he came.

"I told you to be patient; it's worth it."

Gaz panted heavily as he came down from his intense orgasm, his cock still twitching inside of you. "That was amazing," he breathed out, looking up at you with a satisfied smile. "You're incredible, babe."

But you still hadn't done enough, and he deserved a reward after all, so you got on all of your fours and presented your round ass to him.

Kyle's eyes widened as you presented yourself to him, his cock twitching at the sight of your exposed ass. He growled while positioning himself behind you.

"Just be gentle." I never had something big like you in it."

Gaz smirked as he rubbed the head of his cock against your tight little ass, using his precum and your wetness as lube. "I'll be as gentle as I can, babe," he promised, slowly pushing his way inside of you.

"Fuck Gaz its too big," you whine as he spreads you in half.

Gaz grunted as he pushed deeper into your tight ass, feeling the walls stretching around him. He took it slow at first, savoring the sensation of being inside of you for the first time. "You're so fucking tight," he groaned, starting to pick up speed. "Rub yourself, babe; it won't hurt so much then."

Gaz moaned as you rubbed yourself, the extra stimulation making it easier for him to thrust deeper into your ass. "Oh fuck, that's it," he groaned, picking up speed even more. "Fuck babe," Gaz growled as he pounded into your ass with reckless abandon.

He could feel his end approaching quickly, and the thought of filling your tight little hole with his cum sent a shiver down his spine. "I'm going to cum, babe,"

"It's okay, cum inside me, love."

Gaz roars as he finally reaches his climax, filling your tight little ass with his hot, thick cum. His muscles tense as he rides out the last few thrusts before finally pulling out and collapsing onto the bed next to you.

"That was intense," you said, smiling at him.

"That it is, babe," Gaz panted, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He reached over to grab a tissue from the nightstand and wiped up some of the cum that had leaked out of your ass. "You did great," he said with a grin.

"I think I won't be able to walk tomorrow."

"Oh really?" Gaz teased you, running his fingers through your hair playfully. "That means you'll be stuck here with me all day tomorrow, won't you?" He winked at you, knowing full well how much you enjoyed spending time with him.

"Maybe Johnny will sneak in and just steal me away from you."

"Oh, he'll try," Gaz said with a smirk. "But I've got my eye on him. If he thinks he can take you away from me, he's got another thing coming than one single bullet." He pulled you even closer, his strong arms wrapping around your body protectively.

"You're so possessive of me already."

"I can't help it, babe," he replied, kissing your neck softly. "You're mine, and I don't plan on letting anyone take you away from me." He held you tighter, his gaze never leaving yours as he whispered, "Not Cap, Simon, Rudy, Alejandro, Alex, and not even Johnny."

Well, this is how it must feel to have a good boyfriend, you thought before you slowly drifted to sleep.

#cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #john price #captain john price #smut #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader

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