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#Let alone a color that will work for all the different lighting
firelilyfox · 3 days
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Stardust Dreams
part three (final part)
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Wonka: Willy Wonka x female reader
Warnings: very fluffy fluff
Words: 1k
__________________________
The sound of the harbour bell announces the time and Willy was getting more nervous with every second. He was waiting outside of the library for the past fifteen minutes just to make sure he wouldn’t be to late. It was freezing cold outside and the falling snow laid down on his shoulders like powdered sugar. His fingers were tightly wrapped around some flowers, he bought earlier at the nearby flower shop. Willy picked different colors because he couldn’t decide wich one she would like the most. So he choosed the colors that he reminded him of her. Warm orange, like her smile. Happy yellow, like her charisma. Lovely pink, like her blushed cheeks. 
The big wooden door opens and y/n stepped out of it with a big smile on her beautiful face. Willys heart stumbled. She was like a magical figure that only existed in fairytales. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, because Willy was too afraid that she might vanish and he would find himself waking up in his bed again, to realize this was only a dream. 
„Good evening, Willy“, she greeted him. 
Willy smiled. „Hello y/n. These are for you.“ He handed her the flowers and when his hand touched hers for a split second, he could feel his skin tingling. 
„Oh! They are beautiful Willy“, she said admiring and giving him a kiss on his cheek as a thank you. He had to lean down a bit, so she could reach it. „You must be freezing. Let’s hurry home. I prepared something to eat and after that … no. This will be a surprise.“ Y/n was thinking out loud. 
She took him back to her tiny apartment right above a bookshop near the gallery gourmet. The view was breathtaking, but Willy wasn’t interested at all in looking at the city lights. He only had eyes for y/n while she was preparing the dinner table. 
„I really want to help you. It feels wrong to just watch you do all the work“, he said. 
Y/n looked at him sternly. „Willy Wonka I invited you to thank you for everything you did today for my little sister and for what you did for Noodle in the past. And I enjoy doing it, so don’t worry about me.“ 
She cooked him a wonderful meal and they shared it by candlelight. It felt nice and easy to talk about all kinds of stuff. Laughter filled the room and Willy wished he could capture this moment to make it last forever. 
„Noodle is like a sister to me. Her mother took me and Ellie in, so they both are like family to us“, she told him. 
Willy frowned. „You mean you were adopted by her? What about your parents?“ 
A sad expression flickered over her face. „They are always somewhere out there. Mom and Dad are not made to stay in one place for a long time, so they asked Ms. Smith to watch out for us in the meantime. And she did ever since.“ 
Willy knew the feeling of being alone way to well, so he understand the little tone of bitterness in her voice when she speaks about her parents. 
„But enough about sad things for now“, she cleared her throat and got up from the table. „The evening is not over and I still have a little surprise for you, Willy.“ 
He smiled confused. „I thought the meal was the surprise?“ 
„Not at all!“ Y/n laughed. She held out her hand, waiting for Willy to take it in his. „Are you ready for some fun, Mr. Wonka?“ 
***
The music made Willy smile. 
Y/n lead them to a little tavern that was full of people chattering in the corners, drinking wine and having a good time. On a small stage was a band of five members and their were playing some joyful songs. In the middle of the room was the dance floor and some couples already danced with bright smiles on their faces. 
Y/n giggled because of the amazed look on Willys face. „You never visited a place like this am I right?“ 
„Well I saw many places around the world … but I never took the time to go into a pub or something. There were not much to find for my chocolate studies.“ 
She nodded understanding. „Well I love your chocolate Willy, but tonight we have other priorities.“ 
The lead singer just started another song and Willy had to speak a little louder for y/n to understand him. „And what are the priorities for tonight?“ 
„Having fun!“ 
Y/n pulled Willy to the middle of the room and started dancing. Her moves looked a bit uncontrolled and without a plan. He couldn’t help but laugh and joined her on this weird little dance-off. They had so much fun just jumping around and laughing until their faces hurt. After a couple of joyful songs, the band changes the mood and a slow rhythm started playing. 
„May I?“, Willy asked and reaching out for her hand. 
She smiled. „You may.“ 
Willy knew how to dance and he knew intuitively where to put his hands to take over the lead.  Y/n rested her head on his shoulder and he enjoyed the feeling of being so close to her. Although he hoped silently she wouldn’t notice his fast beating heart. 
„I need to thank you for today, y/n. I can’t remember the last time I was so carefree.“ Willy said with a lowered voice, so she would be the only one hearing him. 
She looked up to him. The warm lights where shimmering in her eyes and he almost lost himself in them. „I’m glad you had a good time.“ 
„Maybe…“, he started. „Maybe we should do something like this again … sometime.“ 
Y/n looked a little nervous and for a second Willy wanted to take a step back to not make her feel uncomfortable, but then she stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. It was a soft kiss, light like a feather and before Willy even realized it was over. 
„I would love to do something like this again“, she said as the music speed up again. 
They danced for the rest of the night until their feet hurted, their hearts were full of laughter and the butterflies in their stomaches kept on flying. 
Willy knew from this moment on, that the feeling of missing something would never come back. He found the piece that he was searching for. And he intended to keep her forever. 
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north-noire · 2 days
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north!! i hope ur doing well!! im really interested and curious abt jennifer emily shes seems very giving in tough love but i hope i request some hcs or sketches im already in love with her i love her i love her id do anything for her
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I've been doing well the best I could, but thanks for asking! It's been an exhausting time for me, but I'm getting by :] Here's a colored sketch of her, as you requested! Still working on her reference so she'll take a bit (same to the others as well), but I hope this suffices!
Thank you for being interested in my grumpy gal, and for the lovely ask! I'll try my best to explain my headcanons and that kind of thing for her! And honestly same, I would just do whatever she wanted so that I don't get on her bad side lmao.
Plus I really like the idea of Henry having an older sister - originally she wasn't really in the story, but I really liked the idea of an outsider from the Freddy's drama finding out what kind of thing Henry got himself into, and I thought Jennifer suited that role nicely.
Jennifer Emily in my AU - she's a very tough love and blunt kind of woman (Henry unintentionally got his bluntness from her partially), preferring to just be straightforward rather than sugarcoating everything. She just prefers having things done first before she deals with the ungodly things called emotions - she can be a bit brash and can get easily irritable, but she means well, she just says what's on her mind sometimes, so she can sound pretty harsh and brutal. And sadly, she's not really the best at consoling someone or helping them get through their emotions, but she tries her best to console in a different way.
She's a car mechanic, but genuinely has an interest in racing cars (even got racer's jackets and photos of race tracks/racing tournaments she had watched - she's a racing fan, damn she would've loved the Cars movie lmao) and custom car stuff (I imagine her car is like modified a bit to look like a race car for the aesthetic - probably would've collected sports car toys and the like) and that kind of thing - she really wanted to be a racer someday, but alas, that's simply just a child's dream, but she's happy enough to be someone who fixes something she loves as a living, but she was definitely frustrated with the whole misogynistic remarks she gets for just being a car mechanic. Also she doesn't Henry to repair his own car and would rather find him and his run-down car in the middle of nowhere than get him to try and repair it on his own. Another thing, it's never explicitly said in the story/treated as a big deal at all, but my Jennifer is a lesbian woman, and Henry doesn't really care and loves her all the same regardless (and honestly he's not even surprised mostly because he sort of knew she dated women before). She never really found luck finding love though, but she tries her best to go by her life regardless.
Back when Henry and William were just new friends back in college years, she highly disliked William - Henry always argued back/stood up for William, but she just never really liked him. Her personality would always clash with William's, and she really doesn't like how wishy-washy William can be and how much he puts on a show for people, and how much he can be a "people-pleaser" in her perspective. The British accent also made her feel like he was being pretentious and posh individual. Of course, years down the line, Jennifer just sort of got used and just kept her dislike for William all to herself/to Henry, but Henry sometimes alludes to it sometimes in a light-hearted manner.
She also lives alone, with her dog (A Doberman, they're very sweet) :] She never really saw herself as someone who can take care of kids, let alone know how to deal with them, so she's honestly living the best life she could! It's honestly why she doesn't mind Henry coming over every once in a while, she doesn't like to admit it but she gets a little lonely there by herself sometimes.
Sorry for another long post, but I really hope I've explained her stuff well! Thanks for the ask as well it was really fun answering this question!
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Oof. Trying to find an icon border is a lot harder than I remember.
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steddiewithachance · 3 months
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I'm Here on Business
Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.
For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ◡̈
***
It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.
Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.
Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.
Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.
The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.
The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.
"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.
"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."
So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.
Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.
Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.
Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.
Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.
"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.
"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.
"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.
"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.
"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."
Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.
"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."
Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.
"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.
And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.
"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.
"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.
"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.
"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"
***
A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.
The text reads:
Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?
It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.
Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?
The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.
Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.
***
Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.
"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.
"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.
"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."
"Thank you! I owe you, boss."
***
When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.
Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.
And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?
Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.
His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.
The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.
The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.
"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.
"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.
Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.
"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.
"Your uncle?" Steve asks.
"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.
"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"
Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."
"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.
"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.
"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.
"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.
"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.
"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.
"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."
"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."
Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.
"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."
"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"
Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."
"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.
"I'm taking that as a compliment."
"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.
"Yeah, let's walk."
Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.
"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.
"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.
"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."
"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.
"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.
"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.
Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.
"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.
"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.
"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."
They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.
"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."
***
The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.
"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.
"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.
"What? Never?"
Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.
"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.
"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.
"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.
"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.
"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.
"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.
The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.
Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.
The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.
Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.
Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.
"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.
"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.
Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."
"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.
"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."
"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.
"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.
"Obviously I want you to."
***
The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.
"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.
"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.
"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.
"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.
Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.
"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.
"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."
"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."
When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.
"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.
He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.
Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."
"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.
As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.
"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.
Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."
"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.
What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.
"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.
***
"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.
"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."
"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.
And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.
"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.
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star-sim · 2 months
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hello kitty meets batman (real not clickbait!) ☆ jake sim
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☆ youtuber! super down bad! bf! jake x youtuber! fem! reader ☆summary: jake sim was youtube's cut-throat, horror creator, known for his dark video style. meanwhile, you were the cutesy beauty vlogger, lighting up every algorithmically generated home page you touched. no one would have expected you two vastly different people to know each other, let alone be in a long-term relationship. ☆ genre: fluff, youtuber! au, secret dating! au, established relationship, suggestive, im sorry im never letting the ytber au go, cutesy!reader, jake is SO down bad its kinda painful #patheticmen ☆warning(s): no, just fluffy, also reader is really feminine and girly in this ☆ word count: 13.4k words ☆ wrote half of this in spanish class so im sorry if there are mistakes, first time writing established relationship in full, kinda nervy
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Jake Sim was many things.
One of the most popular and well-respected content creators on Youtube was one of them.
As Jake's nimble fingers darted across his keyboard, his other hand rested firmly on his mouth, he thought that the blue light emitting from his computer screen should burn his eyes. Except, it didn't. Despite what most people thought, 90% of being Youtuber was just simply staring at a computer screen, rather than being in front of a camera lens. The man felt his nose prickle before he let out a soundless, but satisfying, yawn. He leaned back against his office chair, stretching his neck and arms before he rubbed his eyes.
There was a reason that he was an extremely respected creator on Youtube.
For one, the production quality of his videos were high. Down to the Closed Captions or his camera's grain, Jake's attention to detail was immaculate. Not to mention, the content itself was magnificent. 
Whenever people asked Jake what he did for work, it was hard for him to answer.
He'd said that he made horror content, but he'd only earned incredulous looks, like he was a madman. Even then, "horror" content wasn't the correct description.
In short, Jake liked to make videos about obscure things. Which just so happened to be a little spooky. Sketchy true crime cases, searches for lost media, strange Internet phenomena, government cover-ups— Name anything a little bit eerie and Jake probably already covered something of that sort on his channel. Given the nature of his content, Jake almost always maintained a serious tone, but when the opportunity came to offer his opinion, he liked to relay it in a straightforward way. 
Another reason why he was so regarded was because of his content style. He preferred using darker colors, having a crisp microphone that picked up every rasp of his deeper voice. When he had camera shots, Jake liked to be in a dimly lit room. Unfortunately, his room was dark, too. 
This all combined together to create a singular image for Jake: the cool, high-quality, but a little bit scary, guy that likes to make videos about scary topics.
Now cracking his knuckles, Jake sucked in a sharp breath. Although he could easily export his upcoming video now and upload it, garnering millions of views, he refused to. There was something missing from it; it needed a little umph, a little embellishment to really pull things together. If there was one thing about Jake, it was that he'd put quality over quantity any day.
Jake is torn out of his thoughts when his phone, long forgotten next to his mouse, lit up. Usually, when he worked long afternoons like this, he silenced his phones in order to maintain focus.
However, there was always one exception.
You.
pretty girl: hi babe, do you think you can help me take promo pictures later?
The moment that Jake saw your contact show up, he picked up his phone immediately. His fingers tapped his screen, quickly responding to you.
me: yeah i can do it rn if you want
pretty girl: if youre busy, it doesn't need to be today, it can be tomorrow or something
pretty girl: oh
pretty girl: are you sure?
Of course he was.
Jake was already shutting off his monitor, grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his shoes at your first message.
me: yeah i'll come over right now
You were Jake Sim's girlfriend. But other than the people in your personal life, no one else knew that.
Not that either of you minded.
Like Jake, you were a Youtuber. Except, your community was the complete opposite from his.
Your niche was cute makeup and lifestyle. Your videos had cute, blushy sets, characterized by cute plushies in the background and pretty, pink decorations. When you weren't making makeup tutorials or "get ready with me's," you were giving your viewers small sneak-peeks into your life. Whether it be your rosy morning skincare, or your sunny afternoon cooking attempts, or your illuminated late night thoughts, your content was light-hearted, soft, and personable. 
And if you weren't doing any of those things, you were modeling.
You were a beauty influencer, so you had sponsors from different makeup companies and such. What was most distinguishable from your personal brand was that you were one of Sanrio's biggest ambassadors. If there was someone that was the living embodiment of Hello Kitty, it was you.
Your personability, and your ability to feel authentic to your viewers, was a key factor in your large viewerbase. And what contributed to that the most was the fact that you had no idea how to use a camera. One would think that a content creator would know how to use a camera, but you were somehow the exception.
Not a problem!
Because you had your boyfriend, Jake!
Who was basically the master of content creation and film, in your opinion.
"Jakey!" you pounced on your boyfriend the moment he appeared at your apartment doorway. You threw your arms around his neck, immediately peppering his neck and cheeks with kisses. You heard him let out a few chuckles, feeling the rumble of his strong chest as he did. 
"Geez, babe, let me take my shoes off first," Jake teased you, taking in your sweet strawberry perfume. You immediately peeled yourself off of him, your lips forming a cute frown. 
"Shut up," you murmured, punching him on the arm while you jutted your bottom lip out. The lip tint and gloss on them shined, which made Jake grin. And when you noticed that he was staring at your lips, you gave him a gentle shove before saying again, “Shut up, Jakey.”
There it was, his favorite thing about you.
You were so, very, really, undeniably, mean to him.
Okay, that sounded weird.
But it was the truth.
Your relationship could be summed up in a few words—
You were just the cutest, and could barely contain your feelings for Jake, so you'd get all cuddly and affectionate with him. He'd tease you about it, so you'd get all shy and flustered, and you would begin to be mean to him. You'd call him stupid or annoying, and you'd tell him to go away but make no effort to resist his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And then he would get to tease you more, until you were so embarrassed that you relented and let him kiss you.
How could he not resist teasing you?
You were always so pretty, with makeup or not, and it was easy to tease you since you got embarrassed so easily.
Even if he was holding his most expensive camera in his hands, he'd still let you pounce on him, if it meant that he got one extra kiss from you.
You led him to your bedroom. It had the same sweet, strawberry scent as you. Your room was pink, and along the walls were shelves, all filled with the many, many plushies that Jake bought you. Plopping onto your bed, Jake watched as you dug around your filming desk.
"Sooo," he started, "You're gonna do a promotional post on Instagram?"
You hummed. Sanrio recently launched a new line of lip tints, and they sent you their newest ones to review and promote. 
"I already made a review, and it's going to go up later," you said, digging through your drawers. "I want to make a promo post, too, y'know?"
You let out an 'a-ha!' as you found what you were looking for. It was a tube of lip-tint, the newest one from the collection. You then touched up your makeup a little more. 
Jake watched you in awe. The way you applied lip gloss and brushed setting powder (or was it blush? he didn't know anything about makeup) onto your cheeks was so mesmerizing, as you weren't already so captivating to him.
Finally, you stood up, straightening out your outfit. You puckered your lips, and when you noticed Jake staring at you, you gave him a little twirl.
"How do I look?" you asked. 
Jake, with his camera in hand, pointed the lens at you. He looked through the viewfinder.
"Beautiful." 
As always.
The shoot went smoothly. As you always did when Jake was your photographer, the two of you drove to the film studio, renting out a room for a good hour. Jake was a pro with the camera and you were an even bigger pro at modeling. Other than a few compositional edits or changes in exposure, you and Jake were done as soon as you started. The two of you decided that you’d go back to your place, cook dinner together, and maybe watch a movie.
Except that got delayed.
“Y-You’re so annoying, Jake,” you struggled out. You were in the back seat of your car, legs thrown over your boyfriend’s hips, his soft lips connected to your neck. Your fingers gently tugged on his hair, you yourself pressing soft pecks against his forehead and temples. It started because you gave Jake a kiss on the cheek as a ‘thank you,’ which spiraled into a makeout session in your car.
“What,” he breathed against your skin, dark eyes flickering up to yours. “You said you’d do anything to express your thanks for me.”
Jake kissed your neck again, before trailing up your throat to your jaw. Your fingers raked through his soft hair, pushing his dark locks out of his face so that you could see his face clearly. Jake reached up, took your hand out of his hair, and instead held your palm against his cheek, nuzzling into your warm hand. The way your eyes widened into saucers, lips parting, in response made the man’s lips curve upward.
“W-Well I thought you’d ask me to hug you… or something,” you said sheepishly, your voice soft as your boyfriend’s actions flustered you.
Jake grinned to himself internally before pulling away from you altogether. 
“Then do you want to stop?” Your eyes widened a fraction. “Then, let’s go hom—“
“No!” you cut him off, your hands squeezing his shoulders. “Let’s not!”
You stared at him, brows furrowed, for a few moments, before you noticed the growing grin on your boyfriend’s face. That look you knew too well, the one that said that he was going to tease the everlasting fuck out of you.
Jake pulled you in by the waist, close enough so that your chests touched, noses almost brushing against each other. He could feel the heat radiating off your face, and you could hear the smile in his voice.
“You sure you don’t wanna stop?” His voice was teasing, but you knew better. The earnest look in his eyes, you stared into yours, was filled with sincerity. He gave your waist a squeeze, almost as if to ask, “Do you actually want this?”
“Yes, Jakey,” you breathed against his lips, matter-of-factly. “I don’t wanna stop.”
The corner of his lips begin to lift.
“So you better kiss me,” you quipped, gripping his shoulders.
“Thought you’d never ask,” he rasped back, before attacking your lips.
(Later, when you were done, you two went home and went about your plan for the night. Except, you had to yell at Jake to go wash his face, because the sight of your lipstick at the corner of his lips was too much for you to take.)
"Hi, everyone!" you greeted the camera, folding your hands in your lap. With your thick, pink, knit sweater's sleeves falling over your wrists, you shot the lens a pretty smile. It was another normal day on the job of making content.
"As you guys know, VidCon is coming up soon." You pulled your makeup pouch toward your chest, leaning against the edge of your filming desk. "So, let's pack with me!"
Vidcon was an event for people to meet all of their favorite Youtubers. This year, you were invited to be one of the featured creators, given your popularity. As you filmed your "Pack with Me!" vlog, surrounded by ring lights aided by your windows cracked open, you recalled the email you had sent earlier, squeezing your eyes shut.
You see, Jake and you were both invited to VidCon. Since no one else, not even Youtube the corporation or your fellow Youtubers, knew that you guys were dating, Jake and you were given vastly different things. Youtube booked an entire hotel complex for all of its creators, and unfortunately, your room was located 10 floors below Jake's room. And worse, your booths and events were so far apart from each other that you probably wouldn't even see your boyfriend even if he decided to traverse the Convention. 
That's what you got for being vastly different content creators.
This year would be the first year that you and Jake got invited to VidCon, and you two wanted to share this experience with each other as much as possible.
Which is why you just shot Youtube one of the most embarrassing emails of your life.
"Hi, Youtube. The hotel complex you booked has a bar, and it is much closer to the top than the bottom. I really want to visit that bar. Can I request a room change so that my room is maybe on the 15th or 16th floors?" except add more formalities and much more discreet language, and that was the email you sent to your employers. You knew that it wouldn't be hard, and that the Youtube PR manager wouldn't reject your request. After all, you were the Sanrio beauty girl. Regardless, you'd gotten a response about an hour ago, and your request was approved, luckily. 
As you continued talking to your camera, folding your clothes neatly while chatting to your viewers about updates in your life, you thought about what you and Jake should do at VidCon. It was in the LA area, but you definitely wanted to visit other places in Southern California. 
It was no surprise that you and Jake had been more than touchy and close to each other. You were dating. Still, butterflies formed in your stomach as you thought about what you would do with him. Your face heated up at the thought of you and him spending time together in the hotel's rooftop hot-tub. The idea of him sneaking in your room at night, warming you up and pepperinging your cheeks with kisses, made your heart rate speed up, and you could only relish in the thought of exploring LA, Irvine, or wherever Jake wanted to take you with him.
You were a grown woman with a job and responsibilities, but the mere thought of your boyfriend being within the same vicinity as you made you nervous.
Just as you finished folding your clothes, you heard your front door crack open.
"Babe?" you hear Jake's voice call out your name. You turn off your camera to greet him, swearing to forget all of the thoughts you just had. Except, the moment that you locked eyes with him, all determination to not be teased left your body. Your lips wobbled, trying to bite back that stupid, bashful, and lovesick smile that made its way onto your face when you thought about Jake, but your eyes gave it all away. Instead of throwing yourself at him like you usually did, you only reached for the hem of his black T-shirt, playing with it sheepishly. 
You mumbled a small, "Hi."
You could feel Jake staring at you, and you could hear the way his lips curve into a smug, shit-eating grin.
"Shut up," you told him, your eyebrows crashing together.
"Baby, I didn't even say anything," Jake said, his hands finding their place on your lower back.
You felt shy and exposed before him. "Well, I know you're going to say something."
Jake grasped your chin, gently making you look at him. You tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible to avoid those dreamy, caramel eyes. Then, he took your face with both his hands, leaning in.
Was he going to kiss you? Oh my god, he was! Quick! What do you do? You felt like you were going to melt.
Instinctively, your hands tightened on the hem of his shirt, the black fabric scrunching in your fists. You closed your eyes, your lips softly puckering. You could feel him coming closer and closer, until his breath fanned your cheek.
As if he hadn't kissed you a million times before, your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest. 
Jake ghosted his lips over yours, inching just close enough that he could brush his lip against yours. 
And then, he pulled away from you. He took off his shoes, placed down his keys, and made his way into your bedroom, leaving you there standing alone.
Heat spread across your face and neck and ears as you realized your boyfriend had just teased you once again. You hid your face in your palms, letting out a small whine of embarrassment, before recollecting yourself and joining your boyfriend.
"Woah, what's going on here, babe?" Jake asked, standing at your bedroom doorway. 
"Oh." There was clothes and film equipment sprawled across your floor and bed. "I was filming a video."
You saw Jake's expression twitch, before he took your hands in his.
"My bad, was I interrupting something?" He was sincere in how his face showed a small drop of guilt for disrupting your filming. How could someone be such a tease one moment yet be so genuine the next?
"No, it's okay, Jakey," you said. "I mean, I need to finish my video, but I don't mind if you're around."
And that's how you found yourself trying not to burst out laughing as you filmed your video. Jake kept making funny faces at you, that goofy grin growing on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.
"Jake, stop making faces!" you laughed, throwing a shirt at him.
He dodged it, throwing his head back into one of the plushies that he bought you. "I'm not doing anything!"
You threw another shirt at him, this time hitting him square in the face. Instead of admitting defeat, Jake only grabbed your shirt, pulling the fabric to his nose and taking a long, dramatic, sniff. 
"You smell sooooo good, babe," he said, ignoring your contorted expression, "I think I'm gonna keep this. You won't mind, right?"
"Ugh, Jaaaaakee!"
You plopped on top of him in bed. You felt his chest rumble as chuckles left his lips, rolling your eyes at him. You gave his chest a smack, a pout forming on your lips.
"You're so annoying," you mumbled as his hands slithered up to your hips. He gave your ass a pat, gesturing you to adjust your position. You did, sitting up so that you straddled your boyfriend's hips.
"And you're so pretty," he said, squeezing your hipbone.
"Let go of me," you poked him in the chest, but made no attempt to get off of him. 
"No."
"I need to finish my video," you pouted, still not moving to get off of him. 
"I don't care." Jake instead sat up on his elbows, his hands sliding down to your lower back, his face getting suspiciously close to your boobs. "Just lay with me."
Your fingers ran through his dark locks, before giving them a tug towards your chest. Jake laid his cheek against your boobs like they were pillows, arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his hot breath against your skin and neck. The next thing you knew, he was pressing sticky kisses against your chest and neck, soft gasps escaping your lips.
"Sorry, babe," he muttered against the shell of your ear, "I just can't resist you."
You let out a soft "ahhh!" when he bit down on your skin, his teeth brushing against the nape of your neck. Jake briefly pulled away, a smirk making its way onto his face as he admired the red-purple mark on your neck. 
"You're just too addicting."
Long story short, your video was still finished and uploaded. As Jake edited his video, he let yours play in the background, your bright voice illuminating his dark room. Somehow, your voice was the only thing that made him focus. 
However, when he heard a familiar laugh— his laugh— in your video, Jake stopped in his tracks.
His mind flashed back to what happened the other day in your apartment, when he interrupted you during your filming.
"I don't know if I turned off my camera, Jake," you had purred as Jake's tongue dipped into your collarbone. At that point, both you and him were shirtless, hair disheveled and pupils blown out with desire. Jake remembered the electricity that ran through him as those words left your lips.
"Am I supposed to care?" he had muttered, trailing kisses down your chest. "If they hear us, that's not my problem."
It was almost like you, who edited your video, added that clip to tease him. 
Immediately, his cheeks began turning the brightest shade of red possible. If you were here, he would have only coughed and looked away shyly, but since he was alone, his embarrassment spread across his face like a wildfire. Jake almost never showed it when he was flustered, at least when he was around you. 
He hid his face in his palms, sucking in a sharp breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, warmth prickling his skin. You were going to be the death of him. He let out a small, lovesick giggle, one that his friends would flame him for. He couldn't help it, not if it was you. 
When he read the comments, still flustered out of his mind, he felt a twinge of disappointment when no one seemed to notice him. 
For some reason, Jake couldn’t help but want people to know that you were his. He knew that you and him kept your relationship private to preserve it, but he still wanted to show you off.
Except, one comment caught his eye.
“Wait, does [Name] have a boyfriend? Who laughed at 6:34?” it read. Jake’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. The warmth that spread across his chest as his lips pulled upwards. He almost wanted to jump on his bed and roll around while giggling like a schoolgirl, but he contained himself.
At the corner of his eye, Jake spotted a certain plushie. 
As you were a partner of Sanrio, for a time there was a Limited Edition [Name] plushie, clad in pink with a cute, ruffle-lace bow to top it all off. Of course he bought one the moment it launched. Jake preferred his room to be completely dark and black, but he liked to keep that plushie on his bed, and although he’d never admit it, he hugged it when he slept if you weren’t with him.
Would it be wrong of him to tease you back? After all, Jake still had to film the brand deal for his new video. 
Would it hurt to position the plushie just enough so that it was in frame? 
So that maybe someone would see it.
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Vidcon came crashing on you and Jake like a meteor, and before the two of you knew it, you were in the venue, wringing your fingers as the event commenced.
Sometimes, it was difficult for you to comprehend the level of your popularity. Sure, the numbers that Youtube loved to display for you told you that you had millions watching you, but mere numerical figures were simply not enough for you to wrap your mind around.
Your schedule that day was simple: you were going to have a booth that you'd tend to for an hour or two, where your fans could take pictures with you and take a few freebies with them. Then, you'd go to your main event, which was in a smaller venue.
At your booth, where you sat currently, your personal table was set up in a very special way: your table was pink, and covered in a lacy, white tablecloth. Even the wall behind you was specifically painted pink and decorated with various Sanrio-esque decorations. You had stickers that you'd give out, as well as a Limited Edition Vidcon Sanrio plushie of you that people could buy. The pink polaroid decorated with Hello Kitty stickers hung around your neck with a pink lanyard. You genuinely looked like Sanrio and Hello Kitty vomited all over you, but you didn't mind. And plus, that didn't matter, because you were cute either way.
You were hit with pure surprise as multiple groups of fans came your way. The amount of people that came to you, rambling nervously about how much they loved you, how much they looked up to you, how much you inspired them and made their days better, made you feel light-headed. And very warm inside.
Jake was the one that did the talking for you (thank goodness!), but for some reason, you pushed through your usual shyness, instead wanting for people to come up to you and talk.
Your face lit up as one of your fans, a girl that looked around your age, maybe only a few years younger than you, approached you. You could tell by the Sanrio sticker of you on her phone case that she was most definitely here for you.
"Oh my gosh, hi [Name]!" She gazed at you with wide, glimmering eyes. 
Your initial reaction was surprise, but then you broke out into a smile. You cocked your head, fingers gripping the hem of your dress, both nervous and excited. "Hi, there."
You fan took one look at your face, and squealed. The way that she giggled, bouncing on her feet as she fangirled over you made warmth spread across your cheeks, getting shy and looking down briefly.
"I'm sorry, [Name]!" Your fan couldn't stop giggling, which you thought was very cute. It was now that you noticed the camera in your hand. "I just really love your content, and I'm just so excited to meet you in real life!"
You blinked at her a few times, before you smile only widened. 
"Don't worry about it!" you said, taking her free hand in yours. Your shyness melted away as your fan squealed again. "It really means a lot to me that you came out here to personally see me."
Your eyes flickered over to her camera, squeezing her hand and motioning to it with your other. "Can I...?"
She nodded enthusiastically, so you took her camera. Turn on the 'photo' setting, you posed for the camera, taking multiple pictures of yourself for her. You hoped that that would make up for your shyness. The two of you hugged, and you took many polaroids for her.
Almost immediately, after she left, you were tagged in a Twitter thread. It was that fan, reporting her experience with you.
"She was so much prettier in real life, I thought I was in heaven," her tweets detailed, "And [Name] was so sweet! It felt like I was meeting the real life Hello Kitty."
She posted the pictures you took on her camera, and then the videos. You couldn't help but grin like an idiot, especially at the comments (and the rapidly-accumulating likes and retweets).
"The way [Name] gets so shy is so cute!"
"I don't really watch beauty content but I love [Name] so much."
"She's like an actual Disney Princess."
You loved your fans, you really did. You were grateful for them, and you thought they were very cute. 
You were excited to see how Vidcon would treat you.
Jake was fighting.
He was fighting demons, wars, the little voices in his head.
Did you have to look so pretty today?
Jake's own event was an entire venue away from yours. He had a few events, so after his first one, he took a small break, where he looked through his notifications. 
Of course, the first thing he looked at was your texts. They were from a while ago, during his show when he didn't have his phone on him, so he responded to them now. He smiled at your cute texts, expressing how excited and happy you were. His heart jumped out of his chest when he saw the selfie you sent him: there you were, in all your cutesy Sanrio glory, smiling so prettily for him. Jake had to clasp his face to hide the stupid, love-struck grin that bled onto his face. 
"Oi, what're you giggling about?" Jake was interrupted by Jay, another one of his fellow horror Youtubers.
Jake immediately wiped his expression clean. "Nothing."
When he glanced back at his phone, that dumb grin began to form again.
Jay groaned. "This is so weird. It's like watching Batman smile."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake scoffed.
"I'm sayin' that you're basically Youtube's Batman," Jay scrunched his nose, "And it's weird seein' you all... smiley and stuff."
"I literally smiled earlier!"
"Not in the way that you did just now. I have a bad feeling about it."
"Shut up!"
Jake really tried his best to swallow back his pure admiration for you as he opened his phone screen again, but he failed miserably.
He wished he could see you right now. He loved to see his fans, he loved to talk to them about their shared interest: all things horror and obscure.
But Jake missed you right now.
His heart plummeted to his stomach, however, when he logged onto Twitter, and saw the worst hashtag he could ever think of: #[Name]isSoCute.
He agreed with it. No, he embraced that sentiment with every molecule in his being.
Just... he wished that he could see you right now. When he checked the tag and saw all the cute pictures that people took of you and the sweet experiences they had with you, he frowned— That should be him!
However, Jake actually saw the worst thing to ever materialize when he saw the top video under the tag.
It was a shaky video, starting off with a teenage boy walking up to you. In the background, he could hear your pretty voice in the background, exchanging small greetings and words with the poster. Jake was almost lost in his sheer love for you when his eyes narrowed. The boy in the video let out a little chuckle, before dropping a cheesy pick-up line on you.
"[Name], if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber." What made it worse was that you only giggled, leading the boy to drop a few other dumb pick-up lines. The camera panned up to you, showing you all smiley and bashful. Then, you and the boy hugged, before taking a few polaroids together.
Jake almost snapped his phone in half.
He understood better than anyone that you were a content creator just like him. It was part of the job to interact with fans, and given your character, of course you were sweet to them. He could tell that you were perfectly comfortable in the video, and that the kid probably was just joking around with his favorite Youtuber.
But did that stop Jake from mentally lambasting every single aspect of the video? Absolutely not.
Shaky camera, probably filmed on a phone, Jake's hands balled into fists, Fucked up aperture, exposure to low, bad mic.
Was he being a little immature? Yes, and Jake knew that. 
Though, Jake would admit that he agreed with a lot of comments and retweets under that post, hearting many of them in agreement.
"[Name] is such a cutie!" one read.
Absolutely.
"I love her so much," another read.
Me too, Jake thought.
"I want her so bad."
Just as Jake's finger hovered over the 'heart' button, he let out a small hmph. Did it annoy him that other people wanted you? Yes. But did he disagree with the comment? Nope. He pressed the "like" button.
He wanted to see you so bad. As Jake was queued up on stage, ready for his second event, he hoped that he could see you soon.
And his wish came true a few hours later.
It was now past noon, and Vidcon was in its (unofficial) intermission period, where a lot of the creators were now taking breaks. As Jake traversed the convention, he texted you trying to find a spot where the two of you could meet.
He passed the many booths and venues of his fellow Youtubers. The layout was unique in the way that Youtubers of similar genres were placed in similar areas. So when he started seeing Youtubers with bright makeup and problematic pasts, Jake knew that he was near you.
And lo and behold, soon he found you. Under the fluorescent light, you still glowed. There was some kind of halo around you as you turned over your shoulder, your face instantly brightening up as you spotted your boyfriend. You had a few fans that you were talking to at the moment, so you tended to them first, while Jake made his way over to you.
You and Jake agreed that you wouldn't make your relationship too obvious at Vidcon, but all of that was left forgotten the moment that Jake saw you. 
However, as you ran up to him, people couldn't help but stop and stare.
Why wouldn't they? You were the living embodiment of Sanrio, that one Hello Kitty girl, whereas Jake was that one guy that made scary content and was often shrouded in darkness, dubbed as Youtube's personal Batman. Absolutely no one would have expected to see the two of you interacting with one another, let alone be within the same vicinity.
"Hi, Jakey," you smiled up at him, and Jake thought that he could die right there. With the amount of people staring, Jake had to restrain himself from throwing his arms around you and hugging you.
"Hey, baby," he grinned. 
Before either of you could do anything, you and Jake were interrupted by a shrill squeal. You whipped your heads around to see a young girl and her older brother, who still looked relatively young. They explained nervously that the girl liked your content, while the brother liked Jake's content. They were expecting to scour in order for each of them to meet either of you, but were surprised to see you and Jake in one place.
You and Jake took a few pictures with them, both individually. Though, the two of them requested a picture with both you and Jake in the same frame, which you happily did.
When they left, you and Jake shared a look, before going off together.
Vidcon Day 1: Over.
Jake returned to his hotel room, too tired to do anything other than wash up and order room service. 
As Jake laid in his half-hard hotel mattress, he scrolled through his phone. He was tagged in a lot of pictures and tweets, and he found himself grinning at a lot of the sweet words his fans left. Although he was tired, he could definitely do this a few more times, feeling invigorated by his fans.
As he scrolled, the trending Twitter hashtag caught his eye.
#HelloKittyMeetsBatman.
Interesting name, he thought as he clicked on it.
Jake's heart skipped a beat as he saw what came up.
Apparently, people were extremely surprised to see you and Jake so close to each other. 
There were so many pictures of you and him taken together from afar just from that one instance earlier, from multiple different angles and distances. Jake would admit, the way he was dressed in all black while you were dressed in cute pinks and whites was almost laughable.
What truly caught his attention were the captions of all these pictures.
"Craziest crossover of 2024."
"I'm crying they legitimately look like Hello Kitty and Batman."
"Jake Sim and [Name] interacting was not on my Vidcon 2024 bingo card."
"This is like seeing two worlds collide, absolutely wild but I'm pleasantly surprised."
For the most part, it seemed like everyone just thought that you and Jake were friends, but it was still a little funny how taken aback the entire internet was.
Then, he saw the picture of you, him, and those two kids together. 
"They look like a family," was one of the most popular retweets under that post. 
Family.
That word rang through Jake's head, before he buried his face in one of the pillows, giggling to himself. He felt a little ridiculous getting so excited over such a small comment, but he couldn't help it. He felt so giddy inside at the thought of having a family with you, and felt even giddier knowing that people could see it, too.
Suddenly, his phone rang. Jake wasn't going to answer it, too caught up in his flustered-ness, but when he realized that it was you, he quickly cleared his throat, instinctively straightening out his hair (because what if he accidentally turns on his camera?-- he needed to look good for you!).
"Baby," he greeted suavely, as if he wasn't just giggling like a schoolgirl seconds ago.
Maybe it was the fact that it was already getting late, or the fact that Jake barely saw you today, or the fact that you were just so goddamn perfect, but your voice sounded so attractive in that moment.
"Jakeyyy," you whined. "Come over."
His chest was already throbbing but Jake played it cool.
He chuckled. "What for?"
"I miss you," he could hear the pout in your voice. "And I want your attention."
It was rare for you to be so direct with him, and while Jake wanted to melt on the spot, he wanted to tease you a bit longer.
"What's wrong with just being on the phone with me?" Jake's lips pulled into a smirk. "You can just talk to me like this."
"Noooo," you said. "I want— I want you."
Jake tried his best to not crumble then and there, but it was too hard.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Okay then, baby. I'll come over right now."
He didn't miss the cute little "yay!" you let out before you hung up.
You were going to be the death of him.
"Eep! Jake, what are you doing here—?!”
You’re cut off when you realized that you were, in fact, backstage of one of your events. Today was the second day of Vidcon, and you had just finished up your first event. As you went backstage, carrying the little bags of gifts that your fans got you, you didn’t expect your own boyfriend to be waiting back there for you.
“Hey there, Princess,” he said cheekily, sprawled across the backstage couch. "Miss me?"
He opened his arms up, and you instinctively crawled into them, sitting on his lap and sliding your arms around his neck. 
As you did, you eyed him up and down.
Clad in black as always, he wore a black button-up, paired with black slacks, a black belt, and a loose, black tie. That's right: today, Jake was going to have a panel with a whole bunch of other horror creators, ones that transcended the internet— authors, authors that Jake spent his whole life reading and looking up to, which explained why he was dressed significantly more proper today than yesterday.
The way his shirt fit his chest and hugged his shoulders made it hard for you to not stare, and the way that it wasn't buttoned at the top, revealing his honey-tan collarbones, mixed with the scent of his rich cologne, made you feel dizzy.
"Ay, are you checkin' me out?"
On any other day, you'd be embarrassed, maybe even pushing him away, but today, you only nodded your head, humming mindlessly in agreement.
Jake blinked at you, before he pulled you in by the waist so that you were flushed against his chest completely.
"Kiss me," you mumbled, pushing his dark bangs away from his face.
Jake chuckled, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles. "What's with you these days? Getting so bold."
You only leaned into his touch. Maybe it was sometime in the LA air, or maybe it was the vigor that your fans gave you earlier, but all you could do was look at your boyfriend with glossy, wide eyes innocently, watching the way that his resolve trembled.
"Shit," Jake cursed under his breath. "Hold on—"
He grabbed your hips, then tilted your chin so that he could have a better angle. Your lips crashed into one another. Not in the way that a meteor would crash into Earth's delicate atmosphere, but in the way that gentle sea waves crashed onto themselves, dark folds of blue creasing over each other, only to brush up against the foamy seashore, none the wiser. 
Jake liked the taste of your lip gloss; it tasted sweet, but not nearly as sweet as you, hungrily squeezing your hips in his hands. He swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, earning a squeal from you, who tugged on his hair. 
When you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, chests heaving not for air, but for each other. You stared at each other for a few moments, losing time in each other's eyes, when your eyes trailed down.
God, the button-up and tie were going to drive you crazy.
Without thought, your fingers twirled around his tie, slinking up his chest before you yanked him harshly, jerking Jake toward you abruptly. 
In a moment of pure, unadulterated boldness, you attacked his neck, laying sticky kisses all across his skin. One hand laced itself in Jake's hair, keeping a firm hold of his tilted head, while your other hand crept around the buttons of his shirt. 
Each soft sigh that Jake let out made you only press more kisses on him. When he let out one particularly loud whine, his arm jerking up to grab at the couch's armrest, you knew that you found the sensitive spot on his neck. You pressed another kiss on that spot, this time sinking your teeth into his skin. The hickey was dark and purple, and when you ran your tongue over it, Jake's hands shot to your hips again.
"Shit, [Name], wait a sec—"
Skillfully, your fingers began to slowly unbutton Jake's shirt, just enough that you could see more of his chest. 
Your head was feeling fuzzy now, drunk off your desire for him. The way he threw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp of air he took in, curses falling from his lips, sent electricity coursing through your body.
When you unbuttoned the last button, you noticed the way Jake's eyes were squeezed shut, his other arm resting over them, hands balled into fists as his desperation for you increased.
"Jakey," you said. Jake was going to go mad, the way your voice was so soft and innocent as it said his name, all the while you were kissing and touching him in ways that made him go light-headed. He squeezed his eyes shut, another whimper escaping his lips. If he looked you in the eye right now, he was sure that he'd burst. "I want you to look at me."
He couldn't refuse you. Immediately, he opened his eyes, the arm strewn over his face dropping back to its position on your hips.
If he didn't die by combustion, Jake was certain that he'd die now— Your pupils were blown out, eyes lidded and staring at him like he was your prey to be slaughtered. He'd seen you wrought with desire so many times before, but the way you gazed at him like he was a piece of meat, like you were going to absolutely ruin him, made him feel weak.
"Watch me, Jakey," your voice sounded so sweet, but your actions said otherwise. You abruptly got up from your seat on his lap, Jake frowning at the loss of your touch. You dug through your purse thrown across the room, returning with a tube of lipstick.
You plopped back onto Jake's lap, making sure that he was watching as you applied it to your pretty, swollen lips. 
Then, you discarded it, throwing your lipstick to the side as you snatched his tie again. You brought the black fabric to your lips, staring your boyfriend down as you pressed kisses on his tie. You kissed it a few times, making sure that the color of your lipstick, as well as the shape of your lips, was well-imprinted on it.
Then, you yanked his shirt's collar toward you, pressing a harsh kiss on the fabric, making sure that the shape of your lips was once again imprinted on the fabric.
You looked back up at his face, unable to hide your smugness as his entire expression was painted with red.
"You're so hot—" Jake attempted to force out of his throat, but you only cut him off with a rough kiss to his lips. Without a word, you covered his face, from his forehead to his jaw, with kisses.
You pulled back to admire your work, before you pulled away from him.
"I have to be on stage in a few minutes," you said quietly, your back turned to him as you straightened out your skirt. Dumbfounded, Jake could only stare at you, but when you turned over your shoulder, flashing him a bright, but terribly cheeky, grin, Jake's heart fell out of chest. "I can't be late, right?"
With that, you left your boyfriend, all hot and bothered, on the couch, running off to prepare for your next event.
Almost immediately, Jake melted. He threw an arm over his eyes as he leaned back, letting out a groan.
Was this how you felt when he teased you?
Was he now sexually frustrated? Absolutely. But now he wanted you even more.
After mulling over it for a few minutes, Jake began to go back to his venue. But, as he passed the backstage vanity, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.
Some of it was obvious to him already: disheveled hair, messed up shirt. But what made Jake want to evaporate was the sight of his entire face and neck covered in lipstick marks. The corner of his lip had a big lipstick smudge, the hickey that you gave him earlier was so dark now, and he couldn't even dare to forget your lip imprints on his shirt and tie.
You little tease.
Jake's last straw was.... right now.
After the backstage fiasco, he didn't get to see you all day. That night, you had a PR event to attend with your fellow beauty creators, so he didn't get to see you at night either.
Which was why Jake was practically glowing with a dark and negative storm cloud as he pranced around the third day of Vidcon. It didn't help that he saw so many pictures of you and fans all across platforms. Poor guy almost lost it when one of your fans' vlogs blew up, the most replayed part being when you let out the most angelic and sweet laughs he'd ever heard in his life.
That should be him!
Meanwhile, Jake sat in the convention room at a panel. Lined up along the table were other horror creators, from authors to Youtubers to filmmakers, similar to yesterday. The way that this specific event operated was simple: fans got to ask anyone on the panel questions and they'd answer, which the entire room got to hear, and later there would be one-on-ones along the panel.
Jake was pulled out of his thoughts when one of the fans said that they had a question for him.
"Jake, your videos take a long time to make, how do you balance work and your personal life?"
Good question. He had a simple principle when it came to how to balance everything. Jake thought about it for a moment, before reaching for his microphone.
"I don't have any outright method," he began. Jake's mind flashed with your image: all the cute messages you'd send him throughout the day, all the times where after hours of rotting in front of his computer screen he could always count on your loving embrace to give him life, all times that he'd tune into your Spotify playlist so that he could be listening to what you were listening. It was easy to balance work and life, if it was you. "But I always put my life before the screen."
The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.
The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.
"To be clear, I understand the privilege of getting to work in a profession like mine," Jake continued. "I don't expect everyone to be able to follow my advice exactly, but the more I live, the more I realize that what happens before my very eyes will endlessly matter so much more than what happens in my own little Youtube bubble."
Jake's mouth jumped to you faster than his mind could stop him.
"My beautiful girlfriend is everything to me," he unconsciously began to grin stupidly to himself, "I'd put her above work any day if I had to."
The moment that those words left his lips, the room erupted with gasps and whispers.
"Wait, you have a girlfriend?!" one of Jake's Youtuber friends asked, leading the room to laugh.
Oh.
Shit.
Jake's eyes visibly widened. He clutched his microphone, bringing it up to his mouth, but no words came out.
There was no way in hell that he'd outright deny you, not even in a million years.
"I.... Well..." Jake stammered, trying his best to generate any words at all. He sucked in a sharp breath, a bashful expression making its way onto his face. "That's..."
The room filled with more laughter, alongside the teasing grins and pats on the back that Jake got from his colleagues.
"Oh, so that's what you were giggling about yesterday, lover boy..." Jay, also on the panel, quipped, his brows raised so high on his forehead that it could have touched his hairline.
"Sh-Shut up, Jay!"
Jake's chest felt fizzy. In a weird way.
A part of him felt on-edge. You and him always wanted to keep your relationship secret, for the sake of preserving it. He'd seen what the Internet did to relationships: it tore them apart. It wasn't like he name-dropped you, but he felt so... exposed, so vulnerable.
But at the same time, Jake felt his chest also swell with pride. That's right. He had a girlfriend (a hot girlfriend at that), a girlfriend that he was nefariously down bad for. He hoped everyone knew that, that he was taken and that if there was anyone that he'd spend the rest of his life with, it would be you.
Jake huffed. "Yeah, I have a girlfriend. What about it?"
No one questioned him further. Probably out of fear.
You were in the middle of trying your best to get through a conversation with some beauty guru that you knew one thing about: their personal makeup line launch failed horribly and they gave everyone hairy lipsticks. It was difficult, to say the least.
Exchanging your final regards, you quickly rushed back to your booth.
The first thing you saw when you checked your phone was a viral video, in which Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend. Your heart plummeted to your stomach when you initially read the caption, but when you watched the video, you had a difficult time processing your feelings.
Did you hate that Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend? … No, you didn’t. You didn’t at all. At a certain point, seeing the way that your boyfriend smiled so earnestly made your heart jump out of your chest. The way he was so giddy and smiley (of course, only you could tell that that was how he was feeling— to everyone else it probably looked like he was brooding) made your neck and cheeks warm up.
But, the way that the room erupted with voices and laughter, combined with the quirked brows of everyone on the panel, made you quiver.
You weren’t prepared for it, for how vulnerable you felt as a chorus of “ooh’s” filled the room.
Frankly, there were too many things that you had to focus on at the moment. You'd rather enjoy Vidcon now, and address it later, when things settle down. 
Pushing it to the back of your mind, you tucked your phone away, greeting another wave of fans. Though, not without taking an extra second to "heart" the post, adding it to your favorites folder, and rewatching the video one more time, feeling warmth and giddiness filling your chest.
As the cool night air kissed your cheeks, you fought the shy smile that seeped onto your face. It was late now, late enough that you could see all the city lights gleaming, lighting up the dark sky with blotches of all different colors.
There was a Vidcon party for creators, to celebrate the end of the event. Everyone was going. Although it was meant for any creator, there was a very exclusive VIP section; only those of high prestige could get in. Both you and Jake were invited, but upon realizing that nearly the entire hotel complex would be empty due to the popularity of the party, the two of you ditched it.
You'd been wanting to go to the rooftop hottub for a while now, but you never went because you wanted to go with Jake, and it was always too crowded for the two of you to go there comfortably. But now that everyone was gone, it was the perfect time.
Your boyfriend was already waiting for you up there, towel thrown over his shoulder with a shirt and swim trunks. His face lit up the moment he saw yours emerging from the elevator doors, rushing over to you to take your hands.
He paused for a moment. His dark eyes peered at yours, licking his lips before sucking in a sharp breath. Jake gave your forehead a peck, before saying a small "C'mon" and pulling you over to the hottub.
Jake took your towel for you, folding it next to his and perching it on a sunchair.
"They're gonna get off fireworks soon— Oh, damn," he cut himself off as you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing a bikini top. Your face scrunched up, squirming under his gaze. It's not like Jake has never seen you like this (in fact, he'd seen you in much more compromising positions), and it wasn't like he never complimented you, but as the hottub bubbled, the rosy scent of the water filling the air, you felt shy.
Jake slinked toward you, taking his own shirt off. 
"Hey there, Gorgeous," he said, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts that had yet to be taken off. Your heart pounded in your chest, fighting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and groan in embarrassment. You kept your eyes glued to the ground. Jake chuckled softly, before clutching your chin gently, making you look up at him.
"Don't get shy on me now, babe," Jake grinned when your lips pressed into an unconscious pout. He squished your cheek, relishing in the look of confusion painted across your face. Then, his hands fell to your hips, pulling them toward his. "You look so beautiful."
Jake's fingers hooked onto the hem of your shorts, meeting your eyes for permission before pulling them down himself, revealing your bikini bottoms.
Jake's eyes glazed over your figure, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.
"Jaaakee," you whined, squeezing his hands.
"Sorry," Jake's eyes flickered up to your face. "I can't help it. You're just so hot, baby."
You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub.
You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub. 
The two of you got into the tub, sinking into the warm water, you felt your limbs relax. 
Vidcon was very fun, some of the most fun you've had in a while. But, it was very tiring, having to be around so many people at a time. And plus, it was hard not seeing your boyfriend whenever you wanted.
You pulled your knees to your chest. You could hear the loud techno music a few blocks away, probably coming from the club nearby. The bright night lights of LA was something that you could only imagine sleeping under.
Other than the sound of the city bustles, the hot tub’s jet system, and the occasional ripple of water, the night was silent.
“How was your day?” Jake broke the calm silence. The way the blueish water reflected off his skin made you dizzy.
“Good,” You cursed your voice for being so small. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous. It was your boyfriend, for goodness’s sake!
Jake loved it when you were shy, but sometimes he was genuinely worried about you. Part of why he loved you was the game that was trying to figure out what was going on in that pretty head of yours.
He reached out for you, clutching your knee. "Baby, what's wrong?"
Your stomach churned. For a second, you thought about that video of him admitting that he had a girlfriend. It made your skin crawl, but when your boyfriend squeezed your knee, it all stopped.
"Nothing," you said simply.
There's a few pulses of silence, before Jake clicked his tongue.
"H-Hey—!"
Jake got up from the water, wrapping his hands around your waist, and hoisted you up so that your legs were thrown on either side of the body, before sitting back down so that you were perched right on top of his lap.
Your chest, nearly bare, pressed against his own bare chest in a way that made your heart race. The warmth of his skin as it contacted yours was an addicting feeling, enhanced only by the warm water surrounding you. Either it was the steam from the tub, or the heat collecting between the two of your bodies, that rose to your cheeks.
You rested your hands on his chest, your fingertips barely reaching his broad shoulders, while Jake’s hands stayed in their spot around your waist.
"C'mon," you could feel Jake's warm, strong chest rumble beneath you. "Tell me what's wrong."
Under the sky, his eyes gleamed, like two gems. For the flirt that he was, Jake was too genuine and pure of a person. The sincere worry in his eyes made you feel warm, even warmer than you felt right now. And sometimes that was enough for you.
You leaned into him, your hands coming up to cup his face. You rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks, to which he let his eyelids fall shut, relishing in the comfort that was your presence. Every time your thumb pressed against his lips, he kissed them, unable to hide the smile growing on his lips when you giggled softly.
At the corner of your eye, you spotted the purple hickey you left on him the other day. That combined with his wet hair, the water droplets temptingly running down his chest, and the fact that you were right on top of him made you feel light-headed.
Your hands left his face, and Jake opened his mouth to whine about it, but was shut up when your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss.
It was a soft, innocent kiss, the type you gave when you just wanted to be close to him. Jake hummed against your lips, squeezing your thighs. You pulled away first, but Jake gently guided the back of your head back to his, pecking your lips.
"I just missed you," you said. You kissed his cheek. "I really missed you."
"It's only been a day," Jake teased you, but he knew better than anyone that he had absolutely no right to say that to you: he was practically dying each moment he couldn't see you.
The two of you sat in silence for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. You held onto his strong shoulders, eyes glued to his lips. You were feeling needy, needy in the way that you simply wanted to be close to Jake. You were already close to him, but you wanted to be even closer. Your heart thirsted for it.
Then, you heard a rustle, whipping your head around toward the sound.
"Nuh-uh," Jake whispered in your ear, gently holding your face and guiding it to look at him. "I want you to look at me."
It wasn't until a few seconds later that you understood why Jake's tone sounded so teasing: he was referencing you and him the other day backstage. 
"Stoppp," you whined, pushing your face into his neck. "You're so annoying."
Jake laughed, his chest rumbling. He stopped to admire the way you were all pressed up against him. He could feel every curve of your body, and he could feel the way your cheeks puffed with air, your lips forming a pout. He poked your cheek.
"You're so cute, baby."
"I know."
"What's with you getting so bold?"
"You're annoying me."
"Awww, you love me so—"
Fireworks fired off in the distance, painting the gray-blue sky with bright colors. 
You stayed in your position, only your eyes moving upward to admire the show. However, Jake stayed staring straight at you, practically ignoring the fiery flowers forming in the sky. He gazed into your eyes, watching the reflection in them.
"It's so pretty," you murmur.
"Yeah," Jake felt like he was falling into your eyes, "So pretty."
Just as another round of fireworks shot up into the sky, Jake grabbed your face, crashing his lips onto yours. Your lips fit into each other well, like puzzle pieces, in a way that was so satisfying, almost like you were made for kissing Jake. But for all of the desire and roughness that the kiss was filled with, it was a soft one. 
Jake swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, making you squeal and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands kneaded your body, roaming all over you with no intention of leaving a single part of your skin untouched. Likewise, you gripped his biceps, digging your nails into his skin to keep yourself grounded.
"Fuck—" Jake mumbled against your lips, only to get cut off by your lips attacking his— "Wait—"
Jake tasted sweet, like candy. He tasted like home, like love, like everything was going to be okay no matter what. How could you pull away now? 
"B-Baby, wait—"
"Stop talking, Jakey," you pulled away briefly, only to bite his lip, pulling on the pink flesh with your teeth. You let your tongue roam his mouth, feeling the warmth as your own hands began to wander his toned chest. 
"Just kiss me," you breathed.
You kept Jake like this for a few more minutes, trapping him in the heaven that was your lips. But when your bikini top began to untie at the back, something that Jake noticed immediately, he ripped away from you.
Something in his eyes had changed.
Quietly, he tied your bikini top back for you, ignoring your confused (and very breathless) gaze.
"If you keep doing what you do to me," he began into your ear, "I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."
With that, Jake threw you over his shoulder as he hoisted himself up to his feet. He grabbed everything that you brought to the rooftop, throwing your towel over you and ignoring you fussing.
"W-Where are we goin—?!"
"Back to my room."
You were in for a night.
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You and Jake were going to stay in LA for a little while longer after Vidcon, so you extended your stay in the same hotel rooms.
After last night, Jake and you fell asleep in his bed. 
It was going to be the best, Jake thought. Neither of you had anywhere to be, anyone to put on a show for. The two of you could sleep in for as long as you'd like. It didn't really matter to him, as long as he could wake up with you in his arms, he'd be all right.
Which is why Jake's heart dropped to his stomach when he woke up to you already dressed, pacing around the room nervously.
"Baby?" Jake was alarmed, even as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Baby, what happened?"
You whipped your head over to him, your expression pinch and painted with anxiety. 
"Check your phone," you muttered as you chewed your lip.
Jake did as you said. The moment he opened up his phone, his screen was filled with text messages from everyone: his colleagues, his friends, heck even his own mother. He was tagged in about a thousand posts all across his social media accounts, and his Youtube home page was plastered with his face. But not only his face. Your face too.
What caught his eye was an article from a major Internet news source that made its round across every platform.
Its headline?
Jake Sim and [Name] [Last Name] are reported to be dating.
The worst part was the cover page.
It was a photo of you and Jake, together in the hottub last night, with your arms thrown around his neck with your lips connected. When he read more into it, the photo evidence got more and more specific. Close-up pictures of Jake's neck to reveal a hickey and lipstick mark on his shirt, your smudged lipstick, a screenshot of the Sanrio plush in one of his videos, even that clip of his laugh in the background of one of your videos. Of course, the most crucial one was that clip of Jake admitting that he had a girlfriend.
This was what he wanted, wasn't it? For everyone to know about you, to be able to show you off.
Objectively, this was bound to happen.
But as Jake watched you pace around, your hands shaking as you looked like you were about to cry, he didn't feel the pride that he thought he would feel if everyone knew. He didn't feel happy, he didn't feel excited that he got to show you off. All he felt was a mix of guilt and anger.
And before he could reach out to hold your hand and pull you close, you quietly said that you were going to go on a walk, and left the hotel room.
The quiet that filled the hotel room was piercing. Jake stilled in his spot, still groggy and disheveled.
Had he always been like this?
He swore that at the beginning of your relationship, he took every measure to keep it private. Because you asked him to. Because he respected you.
Why did he throw it all away? 
He agreed to keep things private. 
But now he put you in an uncomfortable position and an even more vulnerable position than you'd ever been in before. 
Was he a bad boyfriend? Were you going to break up with him? Would your relationship with him ever be the same? That made Jake's heart palpitate. He couldn't lose you. No, he'd die. But then again, he fucked up, he knew that.
Jake ran a hand through his hair. This was an asshole move.
But he couldn't help feeling his fingers twitch for his phone when it ding'd.
The first thing he saw when he opened up Twitter were tweets at him.
And they were surprisingly... supportive?
"Emo boyfriend, cute girlfriend, the best combo!"
"Sending love to both of you. Hope you're doing well. We support you."
"I'm very pleasantly surprised."
"This is literally like Hello Kitty and Batman meeting this is crazy"
But as he scrolled deeper, he found more obscure comments.
"Feel so bad for [Name]. Her boyfriend is a freak."
"He doesn't deserve her."
And the nail in the coffin:
"No wonder they kept it a secret. I'd hide it too if someone like that was my boyfriend."
Why did you keep your relationship with him secret? Jake knew the answer to that: you just wanted to keep your personal life private.
But as Jake plunged himself deeper and deeper into the hole that was the media, he could only imagine alternative answers, and one stuck out.
Were you ashamed of him? 
Of course you would be.
You were beautiful in every capacity and just the most perfect person in the world. And Jake was just himself. You were always cute, and sometimes, Jake felt like he couldn't keep up with you. You were far out of his league. His content was considered "niche" and "obscure," of course people, maybe even you, considered him a freak.
He was a bastard, and you were a princess. He didn't blame you for being embarrassed about him.
That's why you were so anxious and against your relationship being exposed, right?
No, no, no!
Shut up, shut up, shut up, Jake thought, his hands balling into fists. You wouldn't. He knew you better than anyone, and he knew that you would never be embarrassed about him. You weren't like that, and he was a fool for even thinking of you in that way. He was being insecure and stupid.
But even so, as Jake let all the guilt, shame, anger, and anxiety settle in while he thought of an apology to you, he couldn't help but feel his insecurity seeping in.
You knew that you were overreacting. You shouldn't have left Jake in there all alone, you should have sat down and talked to him about it.
But there was something scary about having everybody's eyes on you at once, scorning you. You were a Youtuber, of course you knew what it felt like to be watched, but to have the entire internet so hellbent about your personal life made you jump into your own skin.
You just took a walk along the early city streets, you reflected upon yourself.
Why did you keep your relationship with Jake secret? 
Part of it was privacy. You didn't want the internet to interfere with your personal life, of course. 
But it wasn't like you wanted to hide your love for your boyfriend forever. It wasn't like you wanted to stow him away somewhere no one could find him. You were both adults, and you had to start living at some point.
You'd be lying if you said that you never thought about making a cute video with him, if you said you never wanted to post a cheesy anniversary picture on Instagram with a long caption just for him, if you said you never wanted the world to know that Jake Sim was yours.
You remembered the first time you and Jake talked about keeping it private. He was unsure, but because he cared so much about you, he agreed. Had you ever stopped to think about how he felt? You may have wanted to keep your relationship quiet, but did he? To a degree, there was something selfish about you, both now and in the past. You wanted to preserve yourself and your feelings, but you never even considered how Jake felt.
You were afraid, you felt vulnerable and too exposed to the world. But you cared far more about Jake than those fleeting emotions. Desire outweighed fear, you had to see him now.
But as you marched back to your hotel, your mind racing as you came up with paragraphs of words that you'd spill to Jake, you began to notice your worst nightmare.
A group of men, each with massive cameras that had even bigger microphones. 
They called themselves the paparazzi, but they were really only middle-aged men that made money off of being invasive towards people half their age.
Maybe you should have worn a hat, or something, as you were in a camera-infested area that was even more infested with celebrities and influencers. As they approached you, you quickened your steps, trying to get as far as you could from them. You tried your best not to make eye-contact, but alas, they got to you before you could escape.
"[Name]?" one of them called out your name, practically running to you.
Oh my god, you thought, ignoring them as you sped up. Please not right now.
"[Name], are you dating Jake Sim?" The sound of your boyfriend's name out of their mouths made your stomach churn. You kept walking, but you could feel them pointing their massive cameras at you, taking any measure to make a buck off of you.
You had a few choices.
You could make a run for it. Though, you had about six men double your age who would probably chase you down.
You could also give in to them, and give very vague answers. That would require a lot of patience, and simply, you wanted to go kiss your boyfriend, not talk to these so-called paparazzis.
Your last option was the one that seemed the most appealing, but could stir the pot of the media even more and it would give the tabloids what they wanted: you could tell them off and shut them down completely. The only issue was that you were the cutesy, sweet, Sanrio Hello Kitty girl. You've talked about adult topics before, but for you to be hostile and mean to another person? That was completely unheard of to anyone on the Internet. It would also be very reactive, and the media could twist that into something more.
But you wanted to get out of there.
You wanted to go see Jake. If you had to throw a few curse words at people if it meant that you could go home to Jake, then you'd use every curse under the sun.
"[Name], everyone is saying that your relationship with Jake Sim is real and not a publicity stunt. Any comment on that-?"
You were getting irritated.
You stopped in your tracks, turning over your shoulder.
"Will you fuck off?" Your gaze hardened on the group of men shoving cameras in your faces. You didn't even bother looking into the lens. "It's 10 in the morning, I don't have time for this."
"We didn't mean to offend you, [Name], we just wanted to know your relationship with Jake Si—"
You huffed to yourself, rolling your eyes. They loved acting polite only to violate your privacy. 
"Cut the bullshit, okay?" you narrowed your eyes. You were only a few meters from the hotel entrance, and they were still stalking you with their massive cameras. How shameless. 
Your anger was bubbling up inside you. It was rising, rising so much that you could feel it attempting to spill out of your mouth.
"You want to make a quick buck off of me so bad?" You stepped through the hotel doorway.
If the media was so curious about your life, and if they wanted to go so far as to try to disrupt your relationship, you wouldn't give them that satisfaction.
Everyone loved seeing what you were doing, everyone loved to watch you. It was your job to put on a show, to give people what they wanted. If you wanted to live, then you'd have to accept that.
You were an influencer, a micro-celebrity. You could make tides move if you wanted to. Why be so fearful of the eyes of so many?
But more than anything, you were a performer. And if that's what they wanted from you, that's what they'll get.
"Fine," you huffed. "I'll give you a story: me and Jake have been together for six years. In fact, we met each other in high school when he was my Physics lab partner. Go investigate that, won't you?"
With that, you slammed the hotel entrance door in their faces.
Jake swore he heard the trumpets of heaven when the hotel room door cracked open, revealing you.
He'd been waiting in front of it for a while now, and he jerked up immediately as he saw your face. He jumped right to his feet, ready to spill every word he thought of on you. You deserved an explanation.
But all you did was raise your hand, silencing him instantly. Instead, you took off your shoes, took his arm, and pulled him with you to the bed. You motioned for him to lay down, and did so yourself.
Jake stared at you like you were insane. Were you not going to yell at him? Why weren't you hitting him or telling him that you wanted to break up with him? Should he be on his knees begging you to stay at this point? But he complied (because of course he did, it was you).
You laid on his chest in silence, pressing your cheek up against him. 
That made his mind wander.
Maybe you were trying to ease him into a hard conversation. Maybe you were going to forget this until later.
He didn't want that. No, you deserved to hear what he had to say. If you were going to leave him, Jake wanted to say everything that he wanted to.
"I'm sorry," Jake blurted. The silence was deafening, before you took a deep breath, turning over onto your stomach so that your chin laid on his chest.
"What for?"
The gentle look in your eye as you looked at him made Jake choke up himself. He had to hold back or he'd start sobbing.
"For going against your wishes a-and..." Jake searched through his mind for all the words he practiced, but nothing came to mind. Not with you looking at him like you still loved him. "And for telling people about our relationship. I—I shouldn't have done that and I'm sorry for disrespecting the promise w-we made.... And... And—"
Jake sucked in a loud, sharp breath. His eyes were getting watery. He took your hands in his, squeezing them. 
"And I know that you're ash—ashamed of me, and I know that y-you won't— you won't want to be with me anymore, but—"
"Wait what?" you interrupted him, squeezing hands back. "I'm not ashamed of you, Jakey."
Jake stared at you.
Jakey.
"I'm not breaking up with you either. What makes you think that?"
The gate that was holding back Jake's emotions broke.
Jake let the tears that he tried so hard to hold back roll down his face. He let out a sob before he clamped a hand over his mouth.
You didn't hate him? You still wanted to be with him?
You instantly threw your leg over his hips, straddling him as you pulled his head to your chest. He melted into your touch, his wet face hiding in the crook of your neck. You pet his hair, pressing kisses to the crown of his head.
"Baby," you whispered into his ear gently. "Why are you crying?"
Jake's crying only got louder, and you couldn't help but giggle. He was a total softie. The way his hold around you tightened told you enough.
Jake sniffled through his words, cutting himself off every now and then with a hiccup and more sobs. "Th-Thought you were gonna l-leave me."
Your fingers stopped in his hair. "Leave you? Why would I?"
Jake pushed his face back into your shoulder, shaking his head.
You let him cry like that for a little while longer, whispering sweet reassurances in his ear as you patted his back. 
And when he was ready, the two of you talked it out, because that's what people did when they loved each other. You exchanged apologies, explained to each other your thought processes, and created an agreement: start anew, and you both didn’t mind that your relationship was now public, and if either of you disagreed, you had to voice it immediately. You ended it with a kiss.
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You clicked the camera on, checking in the viewfinder that you were in-frame. You were back at home, the pink Hello Kitty decorations in your room, as well as the scent of strawberries, surrounding you. 
“Hi, everyone!” you smiled brightly, clasping your hands together. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you all. How are you?”
You chatted about a few updates since Vidcon, telling about your wonderful experience there and how you were so happy to meet all your fans.
“Now, onto the video!”
You peered to the side, where you spotted Jake sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting intently for your cue.
“Oh, Jakey!” you said in a sing-songy voice. “Come out now!”
With that, Jake popped into frame, dorkily saying a quick hi before plopping down onto the chair beside you.
“Today, I will be doing my boyfriend’s makeup!” you chirped happily. “Are you ready, boyfriend?”
The two of you shared a grin.
“Of course, girlfriend.”
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1K notes · View notes
dollfacefantasy · 3 months
Text
Special Day
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pairing: mafia!leon kennedy x fem!reader
summary: this year your husband wants to give you a special present for your birthday
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (fem receiving), fingering, daddy kink, breeding kink
word count: 5.2k
a/n: birthday fic for someone i am so happy to know and call my friend, @explorevenus. i love her so so much, she's one of the most fun and kindest people i have ever known. she's so totally cool and you all should wish her a very happy birthday.
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For my pretty little doll on her special day. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.
That’s the message scrawled onto the scrap of paper that’s attached to the hanger on the closet door. On the hanger, dangled one of the prettiest dresses you’d ever seen in your life. Your favorite color, flowy and shimmering. Of the hundreds of things he’d asked you to wear over the course of your relationship, this had to be in the top three.
It almost made up for the fact that he was going to be on the job for nearly the entire day. You weren’t even confident he’d make it home in time for the dinner reservations you had, but if you had to be alone, at least you would look good doing it.
If anything, you tried not to let his absence bother you too much because it could be worse. You make a point to yourself to remember that today wasn’t like years ago when you would’ve spent the whole day at work just to come home to an empty house. So far you've spent it out, getting your nails done, lunch at one of your favorite places, some light shopping. And it was all on his dime. This was the one day a year where he truly gave you no limits, no allowance, no teasing about your debit card being worn out. Your birthday always was about letting you indulge in anything you wanted as much as your heart desired. You reminded yourself of that when you felt the familiar pain of longing tighten up your chest.
It wasn’t like the feeling was a foreign one. He’d been at work on every birthday you’d had since the two of you got together. He’d treat you to the shopping spree combined with sending you a lavish arrangement of flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, or whatever you had been wanting that year. Then he’d come to you the next day, or once you started living together, in the middle of the night. Always climbing into bed or coming up behind you with a hushed “‘m sorry, babydoll” and some gentle kisses to your head. And you’d never complain because the next day before you even had a chance to get annoyed, an expensive new bracelet would be on your wrist, and he’d deliver his apologies between your legs with his tongue, fingers, or cock. Your choice.
For the week leading up to your birthday this year, you had just been silently hoping it would be different. Considering he had been spending more time with you lately, and less time in sketchy meetings, it didn’t seem unreasonable. The higher he climbed in the dark world that he worked in, the closer you came to living the glamorous life he’d promised you from the beginning. His higher position scored the two of you the penthouse you currently sat in. It got you vacations to exotic places and clothes you previously only would’ve been able to afford in your wildest fantasies.
The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm orange-pink haze over your room. You figured you should put on the outfit he’d chosen for you. Lifting the dress up, you realize there’s something else attached to the hanger. Obscured from view at first glance is a delicate lingerie set, lacy pink bra and panties with rosebuds embroidered across them in rows. A smile rises on your lips as you slip off the clothing you had on and unclip the dainty articles from the hanger. Your fingertips smooth over the lace while visions of Leon’s hands dancing across your chest, squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples, flash through your mind.
You slide the thin straps onto your arms and reach behind to clasp it into place. Then you pull the panties up, looking in the mirror at how they fit over your hips. The dress comes after these. You put it on and are left blown away by his choice for you. It looked good. Showed you off, highlighted your assets in the most flattering way.
As you admire your reflection, the main doors to the apartment open and close. Keys rattle as they’re dropped on the side table. He enters the bedroom and you hear a hum of adoration rumble from his chest.
“There’s the birthday girl,” he says softly as he makes his way to you.
Your eyes capture his gaze with a fond glance. He’d actually made it back when he said he would. Maybe things were looking up. You turn your back to him, revealing the parted fabric that left your back and the hem of your panties exposed.
“Zip me up?” you request.
Without a word, he pulls you close by your waist. You knew he loved doing this. Picking what you wore and watching your body slip into it, filling out his fantasies. His fingers tug the zipper upward and secure the dress together. He presses a tender kiss to your neck and inhales a deep breath of his favorite scent in the whole world, your perfume. His arms wrap around you as his palms rub down your body, over your belly and to your hips. He leaves a few more smooches on your throat as he directs your stare back to the mirror.
“That dress looks gorgeous on you. My perfect little doll,” he murmurs.
“Thank you,” you respond, catching his eyes in the reflective glass ahead of you. You scan the picture in front of you. His large frame engulfing yours, damn near lovesick expression on his face, hands and arms as possessive as they could be in such a basic stance.
“No, thank you,” he says, “You been having a nice day? Being a good girl? Staying safe?”
You sink back against his chest more as his low voice seeps out against your skin. “Mhm,” you answer with a slight nod.
“Yeah? You ready to have some more fun tonight?” he whispers, lips brushing your earlobe.
You nod, sweet and docile. God, it was like you melted in his presence. Could never hold onto anything with him around. It all went out the window in order to get his praise and feel the warmth of his affection on you.
“That’s my baby,” he coos with one more wet kiss on your cheek. He backs up as if he’s about to let you go, but as you turn around, he grabs your jaw. The pads of his fingertips gently dig into the flesh of your cheeks. In that loving and condescending tone that sent heat rushing through your body, he asks, “Who’s my pretty girl?”
It was such a simple thing. You didn’t know why it worked, but it always did. A big smile spreads across your face, and your eyes flit away with timid modesty.
“Me,” you confirm, tone soft but sure.
“That’s right,” he says simply and pulls you into an actual kiss.
After that, you’re almost giddy, high off the small gesture. It made your blood run hot and your head swim with a dizzy feeling of love. You all but prance to the rack against the wall that holds your shoes. Slipping on some matching heels, you face him once more and do a little motion to show off the completed look.
He chuckles at your twirl and opens his arms. You immediately go to him and find your place in his grasp. Kissing the top of your head, he mutters “What’d I do to get the sweetest girl in the world all to myself, hm?”
You shrug, and that’s all he needs before the two of you are ready to go. He stuffs his wallet in his pocket and walks towards the elevator with you tucked to his side. His fingers coast down your jaw and stroke your hair. Your eyes stay locked on him from the doors shutting to the little ding letting you know the trip is over.
The two of you float outside to the luxury car Leon rode around in now. Not even drove because he had been given a driver recently. All the two of you had to do was simply slip into the backseat.
He holds you close, nearly on his lap for the duration of the ride. One hand massages the back of your neck, keeping your head against his shoulder. The other delves beneath the skirt of your dress only to knead your plush thighs and feel your skin between his fingers. All the attention keeps your head spinning and your body craving his love.
It’s only around twenty minutes before the car pulls to a stop in front of the restaurant. You’re greeted by the familiar twinkling lights and neon letters of one of your favorite places. You beam at him and take his hand. He watches your pleasant reaction, so pleased he could make you happy with something so simple.
Getting in is quick and painless since he had called ahead of time, dead set on making this as special for you as possible. You’re seated at a booth in the back. It’s not completely private, but well secluded from the other patrons filling seats.
He slides in first, grinning as he pats the cushioning next to him. You follow, and immediately, he pulls you close. Your thighs are squished against each other beneath the table. His lips are caressing your neck as you skim the menu causing you to squirm and laugh softly.
“You get anything you want, pretty baby. Tonight’s all about my precious girl,” he whispers.
You nod and nuzzle into the affection a bit, brushing your nose with his. After deciding what you want, he orders your meal and drink. The two of you talk, and from this alone, it seems to be shaping up into the perfect night. You talk about everything and anything, catching up with him like you hadn’t in a while. You see the Leon you love, your Leon. The guy who comes home late with dark eyes and a flat voice is nowhere to be found, and you couldn’t be more pleased. He stays close the entire time, seemingly not able to help how touchy he was with you.
Eventually, your orders arrive, and things continue to look up. Your smile won’t leave your face as you eat and drink. Laughs fly between the two of you like neither of you had ever seen something bad in your lives. It’s only hours later, towards the end of dinner when you can see him simmering down a bit. His expression grows more serious. Different from usual though. It’s not stern. It’s more… vulnerable. He pulls you flush against him yet again and squeezes his arms around you softly.
“I’m happy you’re having a good time, sweetheart. You know I love seeing that pretty smile. And you should know, I’ve wanted your birthday to turn out this perfect every year. But now I can actually provide that,” he says, continuing to grow more genuine.
You nod, not totally sure where he’s going here but eager to find out.
“Usually, I’d have something big for you to open at the end of your day,” he starts. He almost looks nervous at this point, and it’s concerning you, “This year, I don’t have anything like that because I thought we might do something different for your main gift.”
You look up at him and shift your body to face him a little more. He had your attention now. You try to mentally run through different possibilities for a different kind of big present. Vacation? No, you’d done that before. Moving? That also seemed unlikely. Maybe it was related to his work? You honestly had no clue.
“What is it?” you ask.
“I think it’s time we start trying for a baby,” he says, his eyes going soft and his voice dropping to be more hushed.
Your heart jolts inside your chest. You almost don’t believe you heard him right. He must have said something else. That or he was just playing the most cruel joke in the entire world.
“But you said you didn’t want any?” you say skeptically.
“I know I did. But… I was wrong,” he says with a slight smile. 
Leon had told you on each rare occasion that the topic of kids came up that he did not want any under any circumstances. This life was too dangerous, he wouldn’t have time for them, he wanted you all to himself. All were reasons you’d heard over the years. You’d honestly just shoved your small hopes for a family away because he seemed certain of his position on the topic. You’d come to terms that it would never happen. It was him or the white picket fence fantasy, and you’d chosen him with no real hesitation.
“And you just changed your mind out of the blue?” you ask.
He shakes his head with a chuckle. He kisses your pulse point as his fingers start tracing small circles on your arm. “No, no. I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he whispers.
Your breath hitches at the sensation of his mouth on your skin again. You tilt your head back and shut your eyes, letting him work. You were already buzzed from the drinks you had, and this wasn’t making it easier to think through your line of questioning.
“I’ve been having these dreams, y’know,” he breathes as if he senses your uncertainty, “Once every couple days, I’m seeing you pregnant. You’re looking fucking gorgeous, belly swollen and bright smile on your face. Then I wake up. And after a few times, I realized I don’t want that to only be a dream anymore.”
He continues trailing his mouth along your skin, leaving small love bites scattered throughout the sheen remnants of saliva. Your head is swirling with the mix of his actions and words, and what it means. He wanted you pregnant. It didn’t sound real to you even with his brief explanation.
“You want to change the entire direction of our lives because you had a few dreams?” you ask.
He laughs softly into the crook of your neck. “I’d been thinking about it anyway. I’m not getting any younger, baby. I guess I’ve softened in my old age cause what I want more than anything is to see my precious little doll holding our baby,” he says with a mix of teasing and seriousness in his voice.
It makes you smile and exhale with amusement. You turn your face in his direction and catch his lips in a real kiss. When he pulls away, his breath is coming out in heavier puffs. His eyes, blown out with love, are locked in a stare with you. His hand slips down to your midriff, palm flattening over your tummy.
“It wasn’t so hard to realize, babydoll. I’d be fucking insane to not want to see you carrying my baby. You’ll be the prettiest little mama,” he whispers.
His voice had become huskier, his thumb moving back and forth on your bottom lip. You were completely enraptured with him right now. Your head was growing fuzzier by the second, and the desire for him to fuck you full of cum was only getting stronger.
“You can’t even understand how much I’ll love watching that belly grow. How it’ll start sticking out of every shirt you have till we have to buy you a whole set of new ones,” he murmurs against your skin, “And don’t even get me started on how these are gonna fill out.” His hand moves to your breasts, gripping the plump flesh under his palm .
Now your breath was picking up a bit too. You shift in your seat in an attempt to alleviate the building tension in your center. His kisses become more aggressive and simple touches morph into rougher grabs.
“I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off you, babydoll. Gonna have to fuck you like we’re still trying even when you’re in the last few months,” he grunts.
The softest whimper escapes you, but he hears it. You feel his smirk against your skin. He lightly nips at your throat and pulls back, letting you see his smug expression in its entirety.
“You like that idea, yeah?” he coos quietly, “So much attention for you, baby. Constantly being doted on. You’re not gonna lift a finger for nine months. Gonna let me take care of everything while all your energy goes into growing our baby.”
You look up at him helplessly. Big, sweet eyes that remind him of a puppy. He grins as your head bobs up and down in a nod.
“My good fucking girl. Let’s get out of here,” he says.
You’re quick to follow him out of the booth after he drops a couple bills on the table. Your fingers lace with his as he leads you to the main doors and back to the car. You take him in as he guides you. Just a few moments to admire his broad shoulders and muscular biceps. His protective grip and eyes that seemed serious to everyone else, but you could tell held more mischievous intent.
Once you reach the car, he opens the door for you, giving you a quick smack on the ass as you climb in. He’s right next to you after that, and as the engine comes to life, you almost wish he’d waited to have that conversation in here instead. Because now you were gonna have to sit here, turned on and untouched for the ride back. Heated skin and glossy eyes, it was pretty obvious how you were feeling. Most likely everyone in that restaurant and the driver sitting one seat in front of you all knew that Leon was going to fuck you dumb as soon as you stepped through the doors to your apartment.
You come to figure though, that if it’s already so obvious, what’s the harm in being a little more overt? Scooting over to him, you lean into his firm side. He looks down at you knowingly. Your fingers curl over his thick thigh, nearly brushing the most sensitive area of his lap.
“Feeling a little impatient?” he teases softly.
You nod. Sure your driver could hear murmuring, you just hoped he couldn’t make out exact words.
“Yeah, what do you want me to do about it?” he mocks, “You need Daddy’s fingers in that tight cunt? Can’t even wait till we get home to cum?”
You bite your lip to muffle the whine blooming in your throat. Your face burns at the use of the title that melted your mind down to a few simple words. Yes Daddy. Thank you Daddy. Pretty please. Wanna cum. 
With another nod, you sink further into his chest. Your eyes remain up and keep their focus on him.
“Well, since it’s your birthday…” he starts. His hand swoops beneath your dress, bypassing your thighs this time and cupping your pussy, fingers coasting over the damp fabric.
You were pulsing with desire, your heart thudding against your chest. He pulls your lacy garment to the side to run his digits through your folds and feel the slick that had gathered for him. A low chuckle leaves him, and all you can think is how grateful you are for the radio being turned on, no matter how low the volume. From how wet you were, you were sure in dead silence you’d be able to hear more lewd noises than the words spilling from Leon’s mouth.
“Oh, you really can’t wait. You’re already making a mess all over my seats,” he whispers.
The pad of his finger swirls over your clit, and you hum quietly in relief. The pressure in the pit of your belly releases a bit as the warm flow of pleasure courses through you. Your eyes flutter shut, your hands hook around his arm for comfort, and you press your face to his shoulder to obscure your reactions to the feeling.
“My perfect little doll. I press the right button and look how well you behave,” he breathes.
You suck in a breath, narrowly avoiding a whimper tumbling into the car. He plays with your bundle of nerves for a minute more before slipping two fingers down and slipping them inside you.
Your fingers dig into the sleeve of his suit, clutching it as he pumps in and out of you. He works himself in, up to his knuckles. Your thighs part a little more to give him some space to work with. He shakes his head and playfully tuts at the display of need.
“Poor baby, Daddy got you so worked up, didn’t he?” he coos softly against your head.
You nod quickly. All your focus is on keeping quiet as his fingers move between your walls as you clamp around them. He smiles and continues lightly. It was your birthday so he would be nice, wouldn’t try to embarrass you too bad.
You’re so wrapped up in the throes of ecstasy he’s bringing you that you don’t even notice when the car has stopped. The only thing you notice is his fingers are now gone and you feel painfully empty.
Your eyes dart up when you lose the warm, filling sensation. Unlike usual, you contain your whine of protest as you realize your moments away from getting what you really wanted.
Like a movie of the beginning of the evening playing in reverse, you both make your way back to the elevator. He keeps a firm hold on your hand as he takes the lead. You stumble behind, all but collapsing in his arms once you're in the elevator. He leans down into some sloppy kisses. Your tongues meet, and your lips smoosh against each other fervently as if you’re running out of time.
After what seems like forever, you hear that little ding, and he wastes no time pulling you into the apartment. You’re kissing on the way to the bedroom, hands roaming one another as you bump into furniture and nearly knock clutter off tables. His suit jacket is gone before the bed is even in sight. Buttons on his shirt had already been popped open as he throws you on the bed.
He climbs on top of you, continuing to make out with you for a moment. His lips start to head south, finding their place on your neck again while his hands start pushing up the skirt of your dress to bunch it at your waist. There was no teasing tonight. You were the birthday girl after all, and he intended to keep his word that the evening was about you.
His entire body drifts downward now. Placing himself on the end of the mattress, you nearly can’t see him from fabric that was hiked up. You can feel him though. Tongue and teeth grazing along your inner thighs, making you shudder.
In the midst of his frenzy of desire, he seems to remember something. He rises to his knees and starts to properly remove the dress from your body.
“Almost forgot to unwrap my gift,” he says.
He’s discarded the dress to the floor in no time. You lie there, on display for him in the lingerie he’d chosen just for this. His hands stroke your sides as he takes in the view of your nipples pebbles beneath the embroidered rosebuds, the soaked patch of fabric between your thighs. He’s lost in the sight of you, feeling almost as hazy as you did.
“Sweet baby, the only present I ever need,” he mumbles before lowering himself to the bed again.
He yanks down the pretty panties and tosses them over to sit with your dress. Then you finally feel some of the relief you’d been craving. He dives into your cunt, lips moving as he envelops your sex in the heat of his mouth. 
His tongue strokes up and down the velvet skin. He laps at your clit, paying attention to the precious bundle of nerves that had you crying out and writhing in his hold. You reach down and tug at his hair, causing a loud groan to emanate from the junction of your thighs. He devours you with increasing fervor.
“Pussy’s so fucking pretty,” he mutters into you, “So cute. My favorite toy.”
Your head falls back while your hips roll against his face. Gasps and whines erupt from your throat freely as you rotate between clawing at the sheets and pulling at his hair.
“All for you Daddy,” you choke out, trying not to devolve into a complete mess just yet.
He smirks up at you, enjoying the pathetic lilt in your voice. His thumb rubs your clit in quick strokes now while his mouth takes a quick break to speak. 
“That’s right, baby. All for Daddy,” he repeats, words coming out slow like you’d struggle to understand if he spoke too fast, “All mine whenever I want it. Isn’t that right?”
“Mhm, whenever you want,” you babble back.
“My smart girl,” he teases before returning to licking your cunt.
The room is vibrating to you. You’re so high in the clouds you can’t register anything in your mind that isn’t him. You vaguely feel him working two fingers inside you again as his lips wrap around your clit and suck on it in a way that causes you to shriek.
He laughs and continues on, holding your body in place as it jerks and seizes under his touch.
“Good girl, babydoll. Cum all over Daddy’s face. You deserve it,” he encourages you.
You keep cumming. Your slick coats his chin and mouth, and he laps up every drop that he can. He pleasures you through the high. Once he’s worked you over the edge, and he can tell you’re coming down, he pulls off.
“My favorite sound in the whole world. Those pretty noises you make while you let go for me,” he murmurs as he crawls back on top of you. He nuzzles your neck, leaving some kisses on the skin in the wake of your powerful release.
“You know that normally, I’d keep going, but I think we both wanna get to the next thing. Want me to breed that sweet pussy till I’m firing blanks,” he says.
He finishes pulling his shirt off and removes the clothing from his lower body quickly. He’s back on top of you before you even register he was gone. Lazily stroking his cock, he slides it between your folds, gently fitting up against you.
“My little doll ready?” he whispers.
You hook your arms around his neck and nod. He can tell by your languid movements that you’re almost loopy off your release.
“Yeah you are. My perfect girl,” he whispers as he slides in, sheathing himself in the warmth of your pussy.
He grunts and tightens his hold on you as he sinks all the way in with no resistance. Your walls flutter around him, already beginning to charge up the hot coils in his belly.
“Swear you were made for me,” he mumbles into your neck, “Pussy made for me to fuck full. Precious little face made for me to kiss.”
“Mhm,” you hum absentmindedly. You hook your legs around his waist, locking his hips against yours as he starts to grind himself into your cunt. His pelvis rubs against your sensitive clit while the head of his cock prods all your favorite spots deep inside.
He grunts and groans against your throat. Both of your hot and sticky skin slides against the others. His breath fans across you in hot pants as he starts working his hips a little harder, rocking in and out.
“Everything about you is all for me. My perfect doll. My good girl. My gorgeous fucking wife,” he growls.
You nod eagerly as you pull him closer. His hips smack against yours repeatedly, his heavy balls clapping against you with each thrust. Your breaths are shaky. It feels like you're headed towards another release with no ability to hold it off or stop it. You whine for him and squeeze around his length. So fucking tight, he actually whimpers to stop himself from blowing his load.
After a while more, he knows it’s imminent for both of you. He keeps pistoning his hips, rutting deep inside you while kissing you and capturing those sweet little sounds in his mouth.
“You there, babydoll? Gonna cum again for me?” he asks quietly, watching for the nod he knew you’d respond with. Once he sees it, he works a little harder, bringing you to the peak. “Yeah? You ready for Daddy to cum too? I know you are.”
With his voice rasping in your ear, his cock drilling deep inside you, it only takes one more thrust of his hips for you to reach the brink. You spill over into your second release. Your hips buck, and your chest heaves as the second round of ecstasy zips through you.
He hums as you contract around his shaft, clenching and drawing him in further, as if you’re crying out for him to give you his cum already. His cock twitches inside of you as he gasps and erratically fucks it into you. His entire body weight is pressing you down into the mattress as he lets go and gives up on not crushing you beneath him. It only added to the pleasure though. It was the closest you’d ever felt, and not only because his cock was bumping your cervix every couple seconds.
Soon enough, he’s spilled all that he can into you. He remains on top of you though, keeping you right where you should be. His arms snake under your body and the shift causes you to whimper since he still hadn’t pulled out. He holds you to him like you really were his dolly, peppering kisses along the side of your face and dragging his nose against your head.
“So good for me, like always,” he mumbles.
You reciprocate the affection with a few lazy kisses of your own. Your arms rest around him with no actual grip, simply just a way to show you return the sentiments.
The two of you just lay there like that for a little while, taking in each other, enjoying the peace that comes with release. You break the silence soon enough with a whisper.
“Think this has been my best birthday yet.”
He smiles and smooches you a few more times. “You deserve it, baby.”
“Thank you for making it perfect for me,” you say and tighten your limbs around him.
“Mhm,” he hums like it’s nothing. He then pulls back a little and looks down at you. “I don’t know why you’re talking like it’s over though, sweetheart. There’s still a few hours left of your actual birthday, and even then, I’m not gonna let some numbers stop me from fucking my gorgeous wife.”
You return the smile and pull him into a few more pecks.
“And I wasn’t lying, we’re going until I’m absolutely certain you’re knocked up,” he murmurs as he rocks his hips against you again, drawing a soft whimper from your throat, “And you know how precise I am. Probably shouldn’t make any plans for tomorrow, actually, probably need the whole weekend too.” He looks at you with a cocky smile before continuing the roll of his hips.
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vaspider · 11 months
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Okay, let's try this without the errors and casual domestic abuse references and classism/racism!
All of the below may be worn "because I like how they look." When I say what they're worn for, I mean the intended practical intention of their design.
This is a compression tee or workout tee. They are usually made out of synthetic materials for moisture-wicking purposes. They are worn for exercise or workouts, to draw sweat away from the skin.
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This is a muscle tank. It is worn for working out (lifting weights, most often) or showing off one's muscles.
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This is a sleeveless tee. Note the different sizes of the armholes. This is pretty much just a fashion statement, two tickets to the gun show, etc. but sometimes worn at the gym.
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This is an A-shirt, ribbed knit tank, or fitted knit tank. In the US it may colloquially be called a "wifebeater," but that's classist, racist, and fucking gross, so knock it off.
Originally intended as an undershirt, may be worn as a primary shirt. Still worn as an undershirt by many men/mascs.
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This is a fitted tee. They come in crew necks (pictured) and v-necks, typically. These also started as undershirts and are often still worn as same, but now are often worn as casual shirts as well. The difference between one intended as a casual shirt and one intended as an undershirt is mostly just fabric weight.
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This is a tee shirt, also known as a heavyweight tee (a reference to fabric weight), loose-fit tee, or unisex tee. Intended as casual wear.
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This is a polo shirt. Usually worn fitted and tucked in as shown, unless being worn with shorts. This is a "dress casual" sort of shirt, the kind of thing a person might wear to a semi-nice dinner out with family during the summer, but it's also part of the work uniforms of a lot of working-class people now, so.
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This is a Henley or y-neck. Usually 3-5 buttons at the neck and made of cotton knit. This started as underwear too - a warm layer for winter - and is still used that way, often layered with camp shirts, chamois shirts or flannels. Also worn alone. These are pretty common chores/work shirts in my experience.
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This is a camp shirt or work shirt. It is made of broadcloth, denim, canvas, or another sturdy material. Worn either as an outer layer unbuttoned over a tee, tank or henley, or if it's a nice shirt in good shape you can button it up and tuck it in and get away with wearing it to a semi-casual thing, like a weekday dinner with friends or an event at church/synagogue which isn't a service, like a potluck or a meeting.
These can often be bought lined or quilted and used as a light jacket. I used these for throwing on real quick when going to bring in wood so the wood wouldn't chew up my forearms.
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Now THIS is a flannel. The difference is this is made out of flannel.
Everything I said above applies to this, except flannel shirts are more "casual" than a nice camp shirt bc the material is softer.
Flannel. Shirts. Don't. Have. To. Be. Plaid. A lot of them are, but I own/owned plenty of solid color flannel shirts. I don't care for these as much for chores bc the soft material means stuff is more likely to poke through, but they're great for layering.
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I'm out of pictures so hang on, adding more.
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mysacredmuse · 1 month
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soft bf! aventurine headcanons <3 written with gender neutral reader in mind. fluff ! :) there is a small angsty part, but ends up fluffy ehe
let me know if you want more of this, a different character or a different (nsfw) version :3
dividers by @/cafekitsune :)
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spoils you rotten. No matter how many times you tell him that it's absolutely unecessary, he insists. He wants you to have everything you want and everything you could possibly need. Pays attention to everything you say and follows every gaze of yours, keeping mental notes of what gift to give you next. At times, he makes gifts by himself. For example, writing 100 reasons why he loves you on pieces of paper that are in your favorite color(s) and putting them in a cute little box that he painted with his own hand. It may not be the best work, but you can truly see the effort <3 + he gets you flowers all the time !!!!!!!
kisseskisseskisses. As soon as he sees you - your face is plastered in countless kisses. He doesn't care if you are in public or not, he will always show you how much he loves you and give you affection. He loves kissing your hands, knuckles, your wrists. He has a habit of kissing the fingertip of your index finger and gently lifting it to your lips, pressing it softly. He also does it to his own fingertip at the times and pressing it on your lips. It's usually when the two of you are alone, simple way of sharing intimacy :3
touchy, feely, touchy, feely. His hands always find a way to be on your body. Either by holding your hand all the time, simply placing it on your lower back or resting it on your thigh when both of you are seated somewhere. If he can, he loves playing with your hair. In any case, he loves just softly running his fingertips on the back of your head.
loves to dance with you as well :3 it doesn't matter if you can't dance, he just loves to sway round and round with you, keeping your body close to his <3
gets you a matching earring <3 (with a clip, in case your ears aren't pierced) + matching rings <3
sometimes, he lets you pick his outfit. But, most of the time, he likes sending you photos and requesting your opinion about his outfit. As soon as you praise him or compliment him you will receive a message that contains 🥰 x 100
sometimes, he wonders are you ashamed of him. He is aware of the opinions of other people as well as the tattoo on his neck. He never hides it, but as soon as the two of you begin to date, he begins to wonder should he cover it up or keep this relationship a secret in case you wish to not "humiliate" yourself. As soon as you reassure him, telling him that you want this relationship to be public and that he could never bring you shame - he lights up. He was looking for the sun for so long and he finally found it in you. He will make sure to always remind you of that and express endless gratitude for being the way you are :)
I mentioned this before, but he is the type to kneel in front of you, gently hugging your legs as he kisses your thighs. It's a form of stress relief for him. Enjoying your skin being so close to him and you being his safe space <3
always leaves notes. If he is going somewhere, you will know either by a text message or by a hand-written note. He always adds a sweet message too - how much he loves you and how he will be thinking of you the entire time <3
loves when you read to him. He didn't exactly learn to write and read for some time (no jokes pls), nor had someone treat him as a child when he was one, therefore he finds you reading to him to be the epitome of safety and warmth as it gives his inner child great comfort :)
loves kids and is great with them! Anytime you go somewhere and for some reason or the other, a child approaches - he will make sure to make it an enjoyable time for them. Either by playing with them, treating them an ice cream or any other snacks or simply listening to their little rambles. He firmly believes that children deserve respect and a good treatment therefore he will always provide his best efforts to keep them happy even if it's for only 5 minutes :)
constantly praises you <3 He compliments everything about you and has genuine interest in anything that may be interesting to you. "If you like it - I love it!" is his main mantra. You will always be heard, always be taken seriously and always complimented and encouraged to be who you are and do what you love to do :)
he is an excellent listener. He may not always have the advice or the solution, but he will always listen to you and comfort you in his own ways. As I mentioned above - you will always be heard by him, no matter the topic at hand :)
he loves to sleep on your lap. It truly gives him so much comfort and warmth <3
he is always proud of you and very open about it. He proudly introduces you as his partner, he loves to switch topics that you enjoy so you can speak more if you'd so like. If you are more introverted, don't fret - he will do all the talk and manage all the conversations. He will also try to get yall home early, so you can recharge and rest <3
on that note, keeps your photos as his phone background. Even shows it to everyone, praises you to them and says that even when he is losing, he is actually the winner because he always goes home to you, his biggest supporter and his own sunshine which makes him the happiest and the luckiest man to ever be alive <3
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working on something else but went to an antique mall today and...well...
980 words | T language | au meetcute pre steddie & buckingham
The old jukebox flips to another song as Eddie winds through the aisles trying to catch a glimpse of a bouncy ponytail. Chrissy had dragged him along to a few different antique malls and he was nearing his capacity.
He was hungry.
He needed caffeine.
He needed a nap.
His attention was captured by someone coming up next to him, “Looking for anything specific?”
Eddie turned to a woman about his height. Choppy light brown bob, freckles, and an eclectic style grabbed his eye, “Yeah, a strawberry blonde about yea high-“ He held his hand to indicate Chrissy’s height, “Flitting around on a mission for lighting fixtures.”
The woman grinned back to him, “I think I can point you in the right direction, I’m Robin, not here to steer you wrong. I work here.”
“Eddie,” He introduced himself, “Unwilling participant in this endless madness for the perfect lamp.”
She hummed in acknowledgment as she gestured for him to follow, which he did like a lost duckling. He recounted the places they’d already been to during the day.
“Don’t bother with Martin’s Market unless you want to be price gouged anyway.” She tossed in as they rounded a corner.
“Really? Are there rivalries in the antique business?” Eddie’s interest was piqued.
Robin snorted, “Honestly? It’s a small community, shit can be brutal, cut throat even.”
She pointed to an entire section of furniture and some of the most beautiful glass light fixtures Eddie had seen all day on this quest. He then saw his petite friend wave at him with an intensity he wasn’t expecting, “Eddie! Where’d you go?! I finally found it!” her voice triumphant as Eddie headed closer, Robin trailing behind.
“The colors tie in the room with the fireplace perfectly.” She said with a note of awe in her voice, “Right? Maybe we can switch out the rug in the honeymoon suite?”
Eddie nodded and cleared his throat, “Chris this is Robin, she works here.”
Chrissy then realized they weren’t alone her lips made a circular shape as she let out a small huff of the word, “oh.”
Eddie saw the blush rise under Robin’s freckles.
Of fucking course Chrissy would fall in love in an antique store.
“Here’s tickets for your finds just place the numbers on what you’d like and come up front for me, or my colleague to get you all set.” She said what was probably her usual spiel a little breathlessly before turning tail and heading to the front.
Eddie raised his eyebrows at Chrissy who was still watching Robin’s retreating form. He poked her in the arm,
“Hey, no need to get handsy.” She reprimanded.
“sure, sure, just wanting to bring you back to reality Chris. The reality that you’re opening a bed and breakfast in two weeks and you’re still decorating.” Eddie contributed.
Chrissy folded her arms and pinned him with a look, “I can be both productive-“ she pointed to the lamp, “and realize I just saw the most attractive woman in this small mountain town.”
Eddie put his hands up, accepting defeat. He let Chrissy win more often than not. It’s how he found himself here about to help open the bed and breakfast with his best friend. The kitchen was his domain and he was all stocked up, ordered, and ready to go.
“We ready, I think this is the most progress we’re making today.” He shook his hair out, the place was stuffy and Eddie was getting crabby.
“Okay you overgrown poodle, head up front let me just glance at the rugs.” Chrissy shooed him off.
Eddie froze once he came back up front. There was a man using a magnifying glass to look at something small in the palm of his hand, a ring. Or maybe a coin?
Eddie couldn’t bring himself to move with the onslaught of swooping copper hair and wire rimmed glasses. Even from this distance Eddie could just tell the man had nice hands.
Chrissy snuck up on him and grabbed his waist causing Eddie to jump and bite off a noisy yelp. The man’s head snapped up as Chrissy whispered, “Edward, see something you like?”
He glared at Chrissy as the man cleared his throat, “Anything I can help you with?”
Chrissy gave Eddie a smug look, “Oh, Eddie was just enjoying some of the one of a kind pieces in the shop. Robin was actually helping me earlier.”
The man’s clear whiskey eyes met his, “Oh? Is that right? Let me go get Robs for ya.”
He went through a backroom door that allowed Eddie to take in the perfect curve of the man’s ass. Chrissy poked him in the ribs, hard.
There was muffled arguing coming from behind the door-
‘Steve, shut up, she’s stunning the fuck am I supposed to do. Be like sorry I’m a mess and even though you’re with your husband wanna go on a date?’
‘Hope it’s not her husband. I’d let him-‘
An audible crash rang out followed by more complaining.
“I think I like antiquing.” Eddie said sheepishly the two exchanging an owl eyed look while they tried not to eavesdrop.
Chrissy gave him a toothy smile as both employees came back out from the back room.
Eddie let out a small cough before walking forward, “Hey handsome.” He placed his ringed fingers on the countertop and pointed to his left ring finger, “Not married.”
He pointed to himself and Chrissy, “We’re new in town, opening a B and B.”
Robin stammered out, “How much did-“ She scrubbed a hand down her face, “Could you hear?”
The other man’s cheeks reddened.
Eddie let his eyes rake over him, “All of it.”
The man, Steve’s, eyes went impossibly wide, “All of it?”
Chrissy stepped forward and smiled softly at Robin, “I do, wanna go on a date, if you’re still askin’.”
Maybe this sleepy town wouldn’t be so dead after all.
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Lessons in Love.
Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.
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Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader
Warnings - None
Word Count - 3615
Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x
Masterlist. Requests.
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“No way. How is that even possible?”
You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.
“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.
“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”
The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.
You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.
Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.
A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.
“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”
Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.
You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.
The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.
You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.
             ⋆    .  ✵  ⋆    .  ✵   ⋆    .  ✵   ⋆    .  ✵ 
When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.
The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.
Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.
And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.
Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.
He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.
“Hi.”
Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.
“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.
“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”
You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.
It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.
You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.
He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.
“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.
“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.
“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.
You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.
“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.
You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.
“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.
“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.
“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”
You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.
“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.
“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.
Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?
He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.
He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.
“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”
Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.
“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.
He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.
At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.
Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.
“Bucky,” he murmurs.
You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.
“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.
“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”
You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.
You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.
“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.
“There’s more than one kind of milk?”
Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.
“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”
He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.
“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”
She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.
You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.
You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.
“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.
“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”
No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.
Instead, he answers cautiously.
“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.
“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.
Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.
“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.
You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.
Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.
“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.
“What, me?” you tease.
“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.
“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.
“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.
“Why don’t we do it together?”
A pause. He’s confused again.
“Do what together?”
“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”
It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.
You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.
“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”
Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.
“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.
“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”
He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.
You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.
“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”
He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.
“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”
The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.
             ⋆    .  ✵  ⋆    .  ✵   ⋆    .  ✵   ⋆    .  ✵ 
You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.
Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.
“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.
You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”
He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.
You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.
Underneath your name, only one thing is written.
I love you.
You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,
“You do?”
That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.
“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”
You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.
“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”
He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.
“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.
He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?
You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.
He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.
Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –
“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”
I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.
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5K notes · View notes
punkshort · 2 months
Text
somewhere to run | 4. the carnival
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Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader
Chapter Summary: Joel wants to take things further after you both come clean about your feelings, but some new information comes to light about your past that causes a problem.
Chapter Warnings: language, angst, PTSD type symptoms, mutual pining, boatloads of sexual tension, some sexual situations but no smut
WC: 6.5K
A/N: I'm dropping this chapter and running
Series Masterlist
You awoke the next morning wrapped in a comforting warmth, but not the warmth you were used to from your blankets. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something was different. Why did it seem so much brighter behind your eyelids? Were you in the living room? Then you felt rather than heard a low rumble, the sound reverberating under your palm and through your cheek. A distinct deep, throaty, masculine noise that you never heard before.
Finally, curiosity got the best of you and you opened one eye. Your hand was resting on top of Joel's chest, your leg was intertwined with his. You should have jumped away immediately, but you didn't. You just stared with your one eye still open, watching as your hand rose and fell rhythmically with his breath.
Then you felt his hands on you. One on your hip, the other on your arm and that did it. You sat up quickly. Too quickly. You wrenched yourself out of his grasp and leapt up from the couch, the sudden movement causing him to stir and rub his eyes. Backing up to put more space between you, you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively, staring at him as he sat up and looked around.
"Shit. We must've fell asleep waitin' for the rain to stop," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and you felt an unexpected jolt between your legs.
He really should have felt guilty. He was a fucking liar. He knew what he was doing last night, but you didn't. You fell asleep all on your own. Innocent and soft and sweet. But he intentionally tucked you into his side, purposefully wrapped his arms around you. Because he was greedy and desperate. Ever since that day, the attempted robbery, he ached to hold you so badly that it was painful. So he was selfish and took what he wanted, but he could see now by the look in your eye that it wasn't the right thing to do. Shit.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, standing up and ignoring the cracking in his lower back. "Nothin' happened," he added, and you blinked rapidly at that, stunned.
"Okay," you managed to whisper, eyes wide as you tried to grapple with the situation. You stared at each other for a moment, each searching the other's eyes, neither of you acknowledging the obvious shift.
Suddenly, an alarm went off on his phone. He broke eye contact to fish it out of his pocket and turned it off, checking the time.
"Gotta get ready for work," he said regrettably, wanting so badly to stay with you, to talk about what happened. He needed to know why. Why were you so distant? Why didn't you want to let him in? He was beginning to second guess the looks you've given him, the color in your cheeks when he flirts with you. Did he completely misread things? Maybe you just weren't attracted to him the same way he was to you. Fuck, he hoped that wasn't it.
"Don't overthink it," he told you curtly, trying to backpedal now that the morning wasn't going at all like he had hoped. "We just fell asleep, that's all."
"Okay," you said again, a little more clearer now.
He looked like he wanted to say more, but he glanced down at his watch and brushed past you to the door. He slipped his shoes on and swung the door open, but the. he paused, his fist tightening on the doorknob before looking back at you once more.
"See you at lunch."
With that, he closed the door behind him. You listened as his heavy footsteps trotted down the steps and then the click of the door unlocking down below. You had to hold yourself back from rushing to the window to watch him leave.
"Fuck!" you shouted out loud to yourself, all alone now in your tiny apartment. You crumpled to the ground and wrapped your arms around your knees, rocking back and forth while you tried not to cry.
You couldn't let this happen. You had to pull back. He didn't know it, but it's for the best. You were doing him a favor. But it was hard. It was so, so hard because for the first time maybe ever, you woke up in someone else's arms and you were happy. Your instinct was right. Avoiding Joel's touch for as long as possible was the right move, because now that you knew what it was like, you craved it. It's only been ten minutes and you already yearned for it again. You were weak. And the worst part was you were going to have to face him again in just a few hours, and you had no idea what you were going to do.
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The diner was busy that morning. Maria asked you to clock in right away so you could help take some tables. You were relieved to have the distraction. It helped keep your mind off the time, to stop yourself from counting down the minutes until Joel's broad frame walked through the front door.
It was late in the morning when the rush finally died down and you were helping Betty clean all of the abandoned tables in the dining room. You lost count of how many bus tubs you filled up so far as you hoisted the latest one on your hip and made your way to the dish area in back. One of the other waitresses, Gina, gave you a sideways glance as you walked by. You smiled at her but she didn't return it. In fact, it almost felt like she was mad at you. You hardly spoke to Gina since you started. Your shifts didn't usually overlap. It was ridiculous to think she would be mad at you. But something was definitely off because another older waitress, Vicky, who was never very outgoing but never really gave you a hard time, either, glared and muttered something under her breath as you passed by her in the kitchen. You frowned and turned around, watching her shake her head and continue to mutter to herself as she made her way out into the dining room.
"Betty?" you said quietly when you found her alone behind the counter.
"What's up, sweetie?" she asked as she filled the coffee machine.
"Did I do something to offend anyone?"
She paused what she was doing and considered her response before setting the coffee down and glancing around.
"What makes you ask?"
"I'm probably just being paranoid but it feels like some of the waitresses here don't really like me for some reason," you said, then chuckled. "I sound crazy, I'm sorry."
"They're just jealous, hun. Don't let it bother you, they'll get over it," she whispered, then turned back to the coffee machine.
"Jealous? Of what?" you asked, completely taken aback. So it wasn't just all in your head.
"We live in a real small town, I know you ain't used to that but what people do 'round here never stays secret for long," she said, as if that somehow answered your question.
"What does that have to do with me?"
She smiled at you and gave you a knowing look, but you were still confused.
"Oh, c'mon. You don't gotta play coy with me. Connie was openin' up the boutique this mornin' and saw Joel leave your apartment."
All of the blood drained from your face.
"What?" you whispered in disbelief.
"Nothin' to be ashamed 'bout, sweetie. All the women 'round here either want him, or they want their daughters to have him. They're just ticked he's finally off the market, is all," she explained, walking past you to greet a customer, but you grabbed her elbow, making her swivel around in surprise.
"I'm not - we aren't - that's not at all what happened!" you stuttered, your face growing hot now.
"Sure, hun," she said with a wink, then turned on her heel to greet the man at the end of the counter, leaving you slack jawed and shocked.
"Oh my god," you whispered, turning away from the counter to hide your face. How could this day get any fucking worse?
You heard someone sit down at the counter and clear their throat, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You knew that sound already. When you turned around and met Joel's eyes, he frowned, sensing immediately that something was wrong.
"C'mon, you can't still be upset about earlier," he said as you approached, and you winced.
"It's not that," you murmured, glancing around and noticing a couple of the waitresses from across the dining room watching you and whispering. You felt your stomach clench with anxiety.
"Then what's wrong?"
You looked back at him again, your eyebrows pinched with worry.
"Someone saw you leave this morning and now the whole town thinks we're sleeping together," you said as quietly as you could, your eyes still flicking around the dining room, trying your best to make your interaction with him look as innocent as possible.
"Oh," he said, sitting back in his chair as he thought about what you said. He looked around and saw a couple of the waitresses giving you nasty looks and he sighed.
"I'm so sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I'll set people straight, I promise. Just gimme the rest of the day and I'll make it right."
You immediately felt bad when you saw the stress and exhaustion that appeared on his face.
"Don't - it's fine. You have more important things to worry about," you said, picking up a clean mug and filling it with coffee for him.
"You're important to me, too, y'know," he said softly.
"Joel-" you said, setting the coffee pot down and pinching the bridge of your nose. He cut you off.
"You don't gotta say anythin'," he said, swallowing his pride.
"It's just not a good time for... this," you said, your voice pained as you pointed between the two of you quickly, then dropping your hand so no one else would see.
The way he looked at you caused your chest to squeeze and you felt the tears burning in the backs of your eyes. You could see it written all over his face, although he tried to mask it, it was clear you hurt him.
"Can't we just be friends?" you finally asked.
"Yeah," he said quietly, then looked down at the menu. "That's - yeah, 'course we can."
And you thought your day couldn't get any worse.
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Miraculously, after only a couple of weeks, the people in town seemed to move on from the rumor about you. You couldn't be sure if it was Betty or Joel or just the passage of time that did it, but the women in town stopped giving you nasty looks and you stopped hearing whispers after you walked by a table at work.
You knew it was for the best. You knew you were saving Joel from all your bullshit and that was the right thing to do, but selfishly you wished you could have him all to yourself. Was that so wrong? To just want something that was good and sweet, something that made you feel hopeful? Didn't you deserve that?
Joel stopped appearing outside of work as well. You found yourself looking for him all the time now. When you walked back home after work, when you were at the grocery store, everywhere you went you looked for him or Sarah, missing them both, but you never saw them. The town was so small, how the hell was it even possible?
At least he still came into the diner, but you got what you asked for. He stopped flirting with you and he treated you as a friend and nothing more when you waited on him. And even though you were the one who drew the line in the sand, you hated it.
It was your day off and you found yourself at the library picking up the book you had on hold for that month's book club selection. You were surprised you were still invited to the book club meeting after the rumor about you and Joel spread through town like wildfire, but you had a sneaking suspicion Hailey was the driving force behind your invite. You considered turning it down, but what would be the point in that? Then you'd really be all alone.
The library was peaceful. Sometimes when you felt especially lonely, you found a quiet corner when you stopped by to read, which is what you decided to do that day. There was something soothing about it, knowing people were nearby, but you also didn't feel forced to talk to anybody. That was, until you heard a young girl's soft, familiar voice heading in your direction. You heard her say your name, her voice hushed so as not to disturb the other patrons, and you dragged your eyes up from your book to give her a little smile.
"Sarah, hi," you said, standing up as she approached. And sure enough, Joel's towering frame trailed moments after her. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him stiffen but then force himself forward. Inwardly, you cringed at his reaction to seeing you, but you knew you had nobody to blame but yourself.
"What're you reading?" she asked, tilting her head to the side to try to read the title of the book left hanging limply in your hand.
"Oh, it's for a book club I'm in," you said, lifting it up to show her. She nodded and scanned the cover.
"Any good?"
"I just started it but so far, it's not too bad. I wouldn't have picked it for myself, but that's the cool thing about a book club. Sometimes you read things you wouldn't normally think you'd like," you said, glancing up at Joel standing behind her, giving him a polite smile. Sarah's eyes drifted between you and her dad, and she got a playful look in her eye.
"Will we see you at the carnival tonight?" she asked you, and you dropped your gaze from Joel back to her.
"Oh, yeah I heard about that," you told her, then lowered your voice when you saw an older woman glance up at you three angrily. "No, I wasn't planning on going." You considered it, but you weren't friendly enough yet with Hailey to join in with her friends and you felt funny going alone.
"Oh, come on! It's only one weekend a year, and the entire town goes. It's so much fun, you'll love it!" she said, bouncing on her feet and ignoring the dirty looks she was getting.
"Shh, babygirl, you're bein' too loud," Joel finally spoke up behind her. The deep, low tone he used reminded you of what he sounds like when he first wakes up in the morning, and you felt a familiar stirring below your waist at the sound.
"Uh, I don't know then, maybe," you finally relented, just to hopefully quiet her down.
"Dad usually takes me to the same spot for dinner every year, it's a fried chicken stand and the line is like, a mile long but the wait is so worth it. Do you wanna join us?"
"Sarah," Joel whispered warningly.
"What?" she whispered back, annoyed.
"If I go, I'll definitely find you, how's that sound?" you told her, hoping that would be enough to end the conversation. The awkwardness was just too much at this point. It wasn't her fault, she was just a kid.
"Promise?" she begged, big brown eyes all wide. She knew exactly what she was doing.
"Promise," you assured her. She grinned then turned to Joel.
"I'm gonna go check out the DVDs," and before he could reply, she hurried away. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought she was intentionally trying to get the two of you alone.
His eyes trailed after her, his hands on his hips and his jaw ticked to the side as he struggled with what to say.
"Don't worry 'bout it, if you don't wanna go later."
"Oh... okay," you said, and he must have heard the uncertainty in your voice because he finally looked at you.
"Unless you want to, you're more than welcome to join us. Just didn't want you to feel like you had to," he explained, eyeing you up closely.
"She put up one hell of a case for it," you said with a smile.
"Yeah, she tends to do that," he said with that grin that made your knees weak, then dropped his gaze to the floor.
You were so stupid. Why did you push him away? Well, you knew why, but it still wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to either of you.
"Well, I should go," he said, still looking at the floor, racking his brain for something else to say to keep him near you, but he knew it would just cause him more pain in the long run.
You nodded and he finally looked up at you, holding your gaze for a moment before he forced himself to move. He only took a couple steps before you spoke.
"Fried chicken?"
He stopped and turned around in surprise before slowly nodding his head.
"Nothin' like it," he said. You furrowed your brow as if deep in thought.
"Maybe I'll come see what all the fuss is about," you told him. You knew you were sending him mixed signals, you knew it wasn't right, but you missed him. You missed the way he made you feel. Safe.
He let a slow smile spread across his face before he shrugged and pursed his lips.
"You won't regret it," he said with a wink that made your heart flutter.
Before you could think of anything to say, he disappeared down the row of books in search of Sarah.
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It only took you the rest of the afternoon to figure out what you were going to wear and how to do your hair. And you didn't want to admit it, but it was the happiest you felt in a long time. You knew deep down that you shouldn't feed into this little crush you had, but what was the harm in having a little fun? It didn't have to mean anything. You could spend time with Joel as just friends. But every time you overthought your outfit you needed to remind yourself he is just a friend. This was not a date. The yellow dress you picked up from a second hand store that fell right above your knee was not necessarily a 'date' dress. It could pass as a casual dress. You definitely didn't choose it because you wanted to look good for him. It was hot out, and the dress kept you cooler than a T-shirt and shorts. That's all it was.
After you parked and paid for admission, you picked up a map at the entrance and scanned the fairgrounds, trying to pinpoint where you currently were in relation to the food stands. Sarah was right: the entire town seemed to be there. The place was packed as you made your way through the crowds, occasionally stopping to check out a vendor or watch someone win a prize at a game you most definitely wouldn't be any good at. When you started to smell sugar and fried food, you knew you must be close, so you began to pay closer attention to the booths, scanning for a place that advertised fried chicken.
It was easier to spot than you thought. The line really was a mile long. And the food smelled delicious. You slowed down so you could scan the crowd, trying to find them when you heard your name from behind. You turned with a smile to see Joel and Sarah already seated at a picnic table with half eaten food in front of them and Sarah waving you down. As you approached their table, Joel slid a plate of untouched chicken towards the empty spot next to him, hiding a smile behind his food as his eyes lingered a moment too long on your dress.
"How'd you know I would show up?" you asked him with a grin as you sat down, your mouth watering as you inhaled the delicious aroma.
"Lucky guess," he said as he bit into a chicken leg. You picked up a piece and took a bite, Sarah watching you for your reaction with bated breath. You moaned and nodded to her, still chewing, but giving her a thumbs up. She was right once again.
"Told ya," she said with a grin.
"Do you guys come here every year?" you asked, covering your mouth as you spoke while you chewed. She nodded and swallowed.
"Every year since as far back as I can remember," she said. "It's like a tradition. We always come for the chicken and Dad always wins me a fish."
"A fish? Like a real fish?"
"Yep. I have a small aquarium at home. I have one fish that's been alive for like, five years, I think. Right, Dad?"
"Somethin' like that," he said with a nod, dropping his gaze to his plate.
"Wow," you replied. "That's pretty impressive for a carnival fish."
"I know. Dad says I have the magic touch. That maybe I should be a vet, or a zookeeper, or a marine biologist."
"You would be awesome at any of those things," you said with a smile. Joel's eyes flicked back and forth between you as you spoke, the warmth in his chest blooming at the way Sarah looked at you.
"Thanks. I've always loved animals, I think I would like to do something like that when I grow up. What did you want to be when you were little?"
"Me?" you asked, taken aback by the question. "You know, I barely even remember. I think for a while I wanted to be a teacher. Then I got older and... I don't know. I worked odd jobs here or there, then I didn't work for a while, and now I'm here."
"Did you work as a waitress before?" she asked. Joel stayed suspiciously quiet while you spoke, pretending to focus on his food but in reality was hanging on your every word, eager to learn more.
"A long time ago, yeah," you said after swallowing a bite of chicken.
"Do you like it at Uncle Tommy's?"
"Sarah, give her a second to eat, will ya?" Joel finally interjected, giving her a look. You laughed and waved him off.
"It's okay. Yes, I really like it at the diner. Everyone's really nice there. Your uncle is a really good boss."
"Is my dad your favorite customer?" she asked with a playful smirk, and Joel groaned into his palm next to you.
"I mean, obviously," you replied, rolling your eyes and making her giggle.
Fortunately, a marching band was making their way down the main drag of the fairgrounds, drowning out any remaining questions Sarah might have had. Grateful for the break, you ate as much as you could before pushing the rest to Joel, insisting you couldn't finish it. He gave you a fake disappointed look before he finished off the rest of your food, and you giggled as he pretended to scold you while Sarah smiled, watching the two of you quietly.
After you were done, the three of you walked the fairgrounds for a bit, heading towards the rides. Sarah spotted a group of friends from soccer and begged Joel to let her go hang out with them. He nodded, but only after he scanned the group and made sure he recognized the girls.
"She's gettin' to be that age where she ditches me for all her friends," he said as he watched her run off with a couple twenties from his wallet.
"That's gotta be tough," you said sympathetically, your eyes drifting over the different rides as you walked past.
"Not so much today," he replied, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye and watching your cheeks flush.
"Joel..." you said quietly. You needed to remind the both of you where you stood. Now that you were alone, it felt too much like a date, and you felt yourself slipping into that grey territory again.
"I know, I know. Just friends, right?" he said, as if reading your mind.
"Yeah," you said softly, looking down at the ground, unable to look him in the eye. You wanted to be so much more than just friends but you just couldn't let yourself be honest with him.
"It's okay, you know," he said, finally drawing your gaze back to him. "I can be okay with being just friends."
"Really?" you asked, but you felt your stomach twist and the little voice in your head was screaming at you for being such a fucking idiot.
"Yeah, really," he said with a chuckle. "If you don't feel the same way, it's fine. I understand."
"That's not-" you began with a shake of your head. "It's not that."
"Then what is it?" he asked instantly. You paused, not sure how much to tell him. He must have picked up on your hesitancy because he quickly retracted his question.
"Sorry. You don't gotta - just forget it."
"I really like spending time with you. I just have some stuff I need to work through on my own," you finally admitted, not wanting to elaborate further but you felt compelled to give him something.
"Y'know, friends would tell each other what kind of stuff they're strugglin' with," he said with a teasing tone, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinning.
"Is that so?" you replied, and he nodded.
"Oh yeah. All my buddies spill their guts to me whenever they're dealin' with somethin'," he said, pursing his lips to try to keep up the serious facade.
"And what kind of stuff do your friends tell you, Sheriff?" you asked, still smiling as you glanced over at him walking by your side.
"Oh, the usual. Boss is bein' too hard on 'em, car's givin' 'em trouble... girl they like won't call," he said, watching you giggle at the last one.
"What advice do you give them?" you pressed, and he finally grinned.
"Find a new job and take the car in to Connor's," he said with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious.
"And what about the last one?" you asked slowly, biting your lip and keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead. You knew you shouldn't encourage him, but you couldn't help yourself.
"That one's tougher," he said with a dramatic sigh. "But I would tell 'em not to give up. And if they have an adorable daughter, I would tell 'em to bring her around to help play matchmaker."
You giggled and he smiled, pleased every time he could make you laugh. He had to resist the urge to reach out and hold your hand. He missed talking with you like this too much to risk ruining it again, and if this was all you were willing to offer him, he would take it.
As you walked by a carnival game, Joel chuckled under his breath at the men trying and failing to impress their girlfriends by shooting poorly at the moving targets with fake guns. One of them heard his laugh and twisted around.
"You think you can do any better, Sheriff?" one balding man asked with a smirk.
"I should hope so, Kenny," Joel said, stopping and shoving his hands deep in his pockets.
"Why don't you put your money where your mouth is, then?" another man said with a grin. A couple people walking past overheard the conversation and stopped to watch.
Joel shrugged and turned back to you.
"D'you mind?"
"Not at all," you said, waving him forward. You stood back with your arms crossed and watched as Joel tossed a five dollar bill on the table and took a seat on an empty stool. He picked up the toy gun and twisted it around in his hand, testing the weight and the sight before readjusting himself, spreading his legs wide and straightening his back. Your mouth went dry as you watched him lean forward and take aim before slowly letting a breath pass through his lips, gently squeezing the trigger and hitting the moving target right in the center.
A chorus of groans and jeers from the other men drowned out the low sound you made before you took a deep breath and watched him take aim once again. Your gaze was too focused on him and the way he handled himself with such ease and confidence to notice that the crowd behind you grew bigger, some were even recording it on their phones.
When Joel repeated the same action, deftly squeezing the trigger and once again hitting his mark, you felt a pull below your waist that completely distracted you from the loud cheers.
Three more times you watched Joel take aim and hit a bullseye without even breaking a sweat. Your pulse was racing and your knees felt weak by the time he stood up with a bashful smile and took a bow for the crowd. His gaze landed on yours and his smile faltered when he saw the look in your eye, but his attention was immediately stolen by the teenager running the game.
"Here you go, man," he said, handing over a stuffed penguin half your size.
"Christ, Joel, way to make us look bad," Kenny teased good-naturedly with a playful punch to his shoulder. Joel grinned and shrugged, his cheeks dusted with the slightest bit of pink.
"Better hit the range, then, boys," he said, turning away from them and heading over towards you, his gaze darkening as he approached.
"Here you go, buddy," he said with half a smirk as he handed you the prize. You cleared your throat, trying to rid your mind of the lust driven thoughts that took over your brain for the past five minutes.
"Don't you want to give it to Sarah?" you asked, hesitantly accepting it.
"Givin' it to you," was all he said, then jutted his chin, urging you to start walking.
"Thank you," you said breathlessly, looking down at the stuffed animal as you let him lead you away.
You walked side by side, a few people stopping to pat Joel on the shoulder and glance at you curiously before you managed to melt back into the crowd.
"That was something else," you finally said, breaking the silence.
"I'm an assassin in my spare time," he joked, and you giggled, the heat rising to your cheeks almost immediately. God, you were so fucked.
You went to the restroom to try to collect yourself, reminding yourself quietly over and over in the mirror he's just a friend, he's just a friend, stop it.
When you came out, your eyes scanned around until you spotted him with a funnel cake sitting at a picnic table with your penguin sitting in the seat next to him, his eyes cast down on the phone in his hand. Fuck, even just sitting there scrolling on his phone, he was too damn good looking. You slid across from him and squeezed your thighs together under the table, looking for some relief and hoping he wouldn't notice.
"Hey," he said with a warm smile, then tucked his phone back into his pocket. "Sorry. Just checkin' in with Sarah." He reached forward, ripping off a piece of the funnel cake and popping it in his mouth, then pushed the plate towards you, encouraging you to help yourself.
"How's she doing?" you asked. You took a bite and then closed your eyes, moaning a little when the sugar hit your tongue. When he didn't respond right away, you opened your eyes and paused your chewing. His eyes raked over your face slowly, his heated stare burning you from the inside out. You swallowed your food roughly and cleared your throat. Just friends.
"She's good," he finally said softly, still giving you that look that made your heart skip a beat and your insides feel like jelly. You nodded, your head spinning, trying to think of a way to break this sudden tension when he reached out a hand, his fingers pinching your chin and his thumb swiping over your lower lip, collecting some powered sugar that gathered there. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his touch on your lips. When your eyes reopened, you held your breath as he pulled his hand back and sucked the pad of his thumb into his mouth, his plush lips wrapping enticingly around his finger, refusing to break eye contact.
You could barely breathe. You needed to say something before you lost all control, but unfortunately, he spoke first.
"You're makin' it real hard to be your friend when you make noises like that, sweetheart," he said lowly. You felt the slick between your legs as you pressed your thighs together even tighter.
"You're not exactly making it easy, either, you know," you said, matching his tone. You could see the playful glint in his eye as the corner of his mouth tugged into half a smile.
"Yeah? How's that?"
"Showing off those shooting skills in front of the whole town like it was nothing," you told him, the words tumbling out before you had a chance to think. He leaned across the picnic table and licked his bottom lip.
"You liked that?" he asked, his gaze flicking between your eyes and mouth. You leaned forward as well, getting caught in his magnetic pull.
"Mhmm," was all you managed to get out as you felt yourself falling under his spell.
"Why?"
"Hm?" you asked, looking up and dragging your eyes off his little exposed patch of chest, your mind growing hazy.
"Why did'ya like it?" he clarified. His voice sounded strained and his jaw looked tense as he continued to stare you down across the picnic table. You grinned and sat back, trying to put a little distance between you, hoping it would cause one or both of you to snap out of it, but it didn't work.
"The answer to that question isn't exactly a friendly one," you finally told him, biting your lip to hold back your giggle when you saw his pained reaction. What were you doing? This was so wrong, but you couldn't stop.
"Tell me, I wanna hear it," he whispered desperately, his eyes dark pools of lust as he waited for you to speak.
You knew if you said what you wanted to say, there would be no going back. It would go a step beyond innocent flirting and it could lead you both somewhere you knew you shouldn't go. But you were weak, after all. So you said it, anyway.
"It made me think about what else those hands could do."
It was a good thing you weren't leaning forward any longer because the look in his eye made you believe if you were within reaching distance, he would have had you bent over the picnic table already, dress hiked up around your waist for the whole town to see.
"Fuck," he rasped, finally breaking eye contact so he could rub his face roughly with his palms. Suddenly he dropped his hands back down on the table, his eyes ablaze.
"Come home with me and I'll show you," he begged. Your arousal was becoming far too evident, to the point where you worried you would leave a mark on your dress. You wanted nothing more than to go home with him, but it wouldn't be right. You weren't being honest. He deserved to know the truth before he got mixed up with all your shit.
"That's not very friend-"
"Fuck being friends, I want you," he said, practically out of breath while his hand gripped the side of the table so tightly you thought the wood would crack. "And you want me, too. So what the hell are we doin' here?"
"I-" you stammered, immediately regretting letting this get so far out of hand. You weren't ready to tell him the truth. You knew if you did, it would ruin everything.
"What am I sayin'? I'm movin' way too fast," he said, his tone softening as he misread your hesitancy. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you. We can go slow, okay?"
And because you were so weak, you nodded.
"Slow. Okay."
He leaned back and the look of relief on his face instantly filled you with guilt. If you were going to do this - if you were going to really try to do this with him - you needed to tell him the truth. Sooner rather than later.
He insisted on walking you to your car, his hand finding yours at your side while he carried the stuffed animal with his other hand. The parking lot was dark and quiet the further you got away from the fairgrounds. He was telling you something about being safe at night but all you could hear in your head was tell him! tell him!
When you got to your car, he put the penguin in the front seat and jokingly secured the seatbelt around it, making you smile nervously. You couldn't let this go any further.
But when he rounded the car to say good night and looked at you with those soft, beautiful eyes, you felt the voice in your head grow more distant.
He reached up to cup your face with both hands and looked you in the eye for just a moment before bending down and brushing his lips against yours. It was so soft and sweet and gentle and unlike anything you've ever felt that you just melted into his touch, your shaky hands coming up to his chest. He tasted like sugar and he smelled like heaven and you couldn't get enough, so you deepened the kiss, your tongue tentatively exploring his mouth as he walked you backwards a few steps so you were pushed up against your car. His hands fell from your face to your hips, squeezing them gently with his fingers and pulling you ever so slightly forward so you could feel what you were doing to him. You gasped at the hardness caged within his jeans, and he took the opportunity to venture down your jaw, his lips gently nipping while he went as you instinctually tipped your head back, the sensation far too intoxicating.
"So beautiful," he murmured into your neck. "Gonna take real good care of you one day. Gonna make you forget about every other man who's ever had you, you hear me?"
Your eyes snapped open, reality finally sinking in.
"Joel, wait," you whispered, and reluctantly he pulled back, but he kept his hands firmly on your hips.
"What's wrong?" he asked, lips parted and slightly out of breath from excitement.
"I need to tell you something."
His grip loosened on your hips but he still held them there as he began to grow concerned by the serious look on your face.
"Okay," he said slowly.
You took a shaky breath in, knowing it was now or never.
"I'm married."
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Taglist: @harriedandharassed @merz-8 @sarap-77 @nandan11 @anoverwhelmingdin @fandomscollide @survivingandenduring @honeyedmiller @pedropascalsbbg @southernbe @pedrosfanny @gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts @missladym1981 @spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85 @maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie @sawymredfox @gobaaby-blog-blog @stevie75 @mxtokko @sleepylunarwolf
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755 notes · View notes
bumblebeesfromvenus · 6 months
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My precious Jewel ♧
Bale!Bruce Wayne x soon-to-be wife!reader
A/N: I got carried away. I'm very passionate about Bale!Bruce and just lost control at one point. I'm not sorry, hehe! This is for all my Bale!Bruce girlies. Can be read for any Bruce, though! Enjoy!
~Fi 🪻
Prompt: Bruce spoiling you to the high heavens and only wanting your love in return.
Requested by: my lovely mutual @vampkennedy
Warnings: NFSW CONTENT. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, very very fluffy, kinda possessive Bruce
Word count: 3.6k
PART 2 ♡
Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.
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There was not a morning where you didn't wake up like this. You were alone, yes, but you knew he wasn't far. He never was. This had turned into a game of sorts. A spiel where he would shower you in lavish gifts every single morning. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him and that you held his heart in your hands.
You sat up in your shared bed and stretched your arms, letting out a yawn. Your gaze fell to the sliver of light that your curtains couldn't keep out. Getting up, you followed it carefully, knowing that he wanted you to. He was Bruce Wayne, nothing was a coincidence. Everything was intenional. A small, red box sat on your vanity, a note right next to it. It was being perfectly illuminated by the slice of sunshine cutting through the darkness of the room. A smile crept onto your face as you read the note your lover had left you.
My beloved,
May this bring a sparkle to your life, just as you have brought to mine.
Love,
Bruce ♡
You rolled your eyes at how corny this was, but it still tugged at your heart strings in the best way possible. Every day there would be a new box and note for you to discover. Placing the gifts in just the right spot and, like today, draping the curtain just at the perfect angle to guide the way to his love. He was always awake before you were but that didn't stop him. He'd never missed a day and you doubt he ever would.
You looked forward to this as well, but not because of the jewelry or whatever other expensive gifts he had prepared. No. It was the notes. It were the cruelly scribbled down words that made your heart beat out of your chest.
You loved the gifts as well, but the notes held a special place in your heart. Putting down the piece of paper, you carefully picked up the tiny box and opened the lid. Your mouth fell slightly agape at the sight before you. In the smooth, white pillows sat a delicate necklace. It was glistening in the morning glow ever so nicely.
A beautifully crafted rose pendant hung from it, the intricate petals were cold to the touch as you gently grazed the tips of your fingers over them. This had been one of most extravagant presents he'd ever given you. Bruce did always call you his flower. You brought so much to his once dull and gray life; his heart and soul bloomed like the delicate daffodils did in early spring everytime he thought of you. You brought color and joy. Just like flowers did.
"Oh, Bruce..." you sniffled, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks. Carefully picking it up, you placed it around your neck and fastened the clasp. It fit perfectly, sitting ever so delicately on your skin. You admired yourself in your vanity mirror, your fingers slightly grazing the skin just around the necklace.
You couldn't wait to show Bruce. Yes, he'd picked it out but it looked so different on you than it did on the silken interior of the small box.
Throwing on one of your many, many silk robes that Bruce insisted on getting in every single color, you quickly made your way down the grand staircase. The cold marble tiles sending a delightfully cool feeling up your spine each time you took a step. You rushed down the stairs, a steady grasp on the railing. The sunlight streaming in through the many windows fell right onto your ring.
Slowing your pace, you held your hand up to the light and examined the shimmering band. A reminder of his love. He had proposed to you just a few days ago. It was incredibly special, just the two of you under the stars. He popped the question in the stunning garden of Wayne manor that Alfred worked so hard on.
Speaking of Alfred, he was more excited than either of you. He had to sit down and went through an entire box of tissues when you broke the news. What a kind soul. You had the dumbest smile on your face recalling the events from a couple of days ago. Letting out a squeal, you pressed your hands to your heart. You were getting married. Not only that, but to him. The love of your life.
You couldn't wait any longer, you had to see him. Hurrying the rest of the way to the dinning hall, you composed yourself before entering. And the sight. Dear God. Bruce was sat at the head of the table in his boxers and a white T-shirt, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He looked so domestic, so peaceful. Not like previous nights where he'd limp in, all battered and bruised.
Slightly looking up, his furrowed brows were immediately replaced with a wide grin when he spotted you. Putting down the mug and the paper he got out of his chair, walking your way. You met him halfway, your arms thrown loosely around his neck as his snaked around your waist.
"If it isn't my beautiful wife." He grinned, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. "Ah, soon-to-be wife." You corrected him, the smile on your cheeks never leaving. He chuckled lowly and shook his head. "What took you so long, Honey?" He questioned softly. You laughed at his eagerness to see you. "I was held up by your generosity, Mr. Wayne." You teased, taking one of his hands and placing it on your collarbone, right next to the stunning piece of jewelry.
His gaze fell to your neck and his smile faded, leaving him wide-eyed and with his mouth slightly agape. He tenderly caressed your soft skin with his thumb, tracing the shape of the necklace. "I knew it'd be perfect," He breathed out, followed by a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks flushed and you brought his hand up to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.
"Thank you, Sweetheart. For all these precious gifts. For always making me wake up with a smile on my face. You've made me the happiest girl in the world." You confessed, the softest smile on your face. Bruce swear his heart just melted inside his chest. He made you the happiest girl in the world? You have no idea how happy you made him. He felt invincible, like the king of the world. He was convinced he only needed your love to accomplish whatever he set his mind to. You were his oxygen, the blood in his veins, the very spirit of his soul.
Bruce was determined to show you just how much you meant to him, if that was possible. "Anything for you, my love." He said, having the most adoring look in his eyes. You'd placed your hand on his cheek in the meantime, the golden engagement band cold against his skin. "I love you, Bruce." You whispered, gently leaning in for a tender kiss. He didn't hesitate, pulling you closer to him by your waist. You relaxed against his lips, tightening the grip you had on the back of his neck.
You needed more, you needed him. He chuckled against your lips but complied, deepening the kiss. Pulling away for air, you were breathless and your lips were puffy. He would kiss you breathless forever if he could. And God knows you would let him. His playboy days paid off for something because this man could kiss. And you loved how you were the only one to feel those kisses.
"Look at you. My eager, little wife." A sly smirk was on his face and he made sure to emphasize the last word. You opened your mouth to correct him again, but he quickly interrupted you with another breathtaking yet soft kiss. You didn't now why you were so easily flustered by his kisses, you'd been together for years. There just something so electric and new about being his. Truly being his. Him being yours.
"I know we're not married yet, but I can call you whatever I want. You're mine." He said lowly, pupils dilated. His grip on your waist tightend. He's never done that. Never called you his. Told you you were his. It was implied, of course, but he'd never said the actual words. You just stood there, face flushed to the high heavens with the biggest lovesick smile on your face. His tone softened again when he spoke.
"I want you to wear the necklace to the Gala tonight." Your brows furrowed and you slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What Gala?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, it's a... spontaneous thing. There's a new dress in the closet." He answered. You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "Spontaneous, huh? Also, we talked about this, Sweetheart. I don't need a new dress for every event! I've barely worn the other hundreds." You laughed.
He just grinned in response. You knew he loved to see you in something new each time, he loved spoiling you. Only the best for his love. "That's where we disagree. Would you wrap a diamond ring in used wrapping paper?" He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "No, I wouldn't." You sighed.
"All the other dress just can't keep up with your inner beauty." He breathed, a soft look in his eyes. You folded. You could never be upset with him for long, you loved him too much. "Fine, I'll wear it. You're lucky I love you," you pouted. He wanted you to never stop saying that. That you loved him. Something he'd longed for, for so long. To be loved, truly loved. Not for his money, his status, his looks. But because of who he was. And you did just that. From the odd noises he made when he slept, to the extremely bad jokes he made. You were always there, tending to his wounds, whether they affected his body or his soul. Holding him so softly after a hard night, he feared you'd crumble under his calloused hands.
"Well, I'll get ready for the day. I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a quick peck to his lips. He hummed in response as you slipped from his grasp.
"Honey?" you turned around, already halfway up the stairs.
"There will be a lot more press and paparazzi there today," he said. "Why?" You asked curiously, fully turning around on the stairs. "They're expecting Mrs. Wayne." He shot you a wink and gave you one of those signature smiles as he walked away.
He was right. There were a lot more people. The streets leading up to the location were lined completely with camera wielding, and very nosy paparazzi and news anchors. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse. This was huge for the press. They probably thought that this day would never come. Bruce Wayne, Gothams millionaire playboy was settling down? Impossible. The moment you stepped out of the car they were all over you. Invading your personal space, shoving cameras and microphones in your face. This was sensational. They wanted to know more about the woman who tightly held Bruce Wayne's heart in her delicate hands.
They had written some pretty bad stuff about Bruce in the past, not that he cared. But when one peticular news article labeled you as just a trophy wife, all hell broke loose. He sued them until bankruptcy. How dare they. How dare they lable his wife, his world, his precious jewel, as just a trophy. You were the light of his life, you loved him and he loved you. He loved you more than they would ever know and he would burn them to the ground if they ever suggested otherwise again. No press had the guts to call you names again, or they would feel the wrath of a very in love Bruce Wayne.
He came to your rescue pretty quickly. Positioning himself between you and the paparazzi, acting as human shield. Bruce gently placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you through the doors. You let out a breath you didn't know you held.
"Jesus, do they not have better things to do.." you mumbled, hooking your arm with his. "This is their job, so no, Honey." He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him. You knew that, but did they have to be so obnoxious? If they asked nicely maybe you would actually answer some of their absurd questions. You made your way into the center of the room where the upper class of Gotham was already mingling with a glass of very expensive champagne in hand.
Bruce couldn't stop glancing over at you. The floor length, satin gown was tailored to perfection, showing of your body in the best way. The rose necklace sat nicely around your neck, sparkling under the bright light of the many chandeliers. Your hair was in an updo, showing off your earrings perfectly as they lightly swaying as you walked. Your soft hands were decorated with the many rings he had showered you with, the extravagant engagement band catching everyone's eye.
God, you looked so elegant on his arm, almost floating along the granite floor. The bright smile on your lips melted his heart as you greeted people. Unimportant people, if you ask him. "You look absolutely beautiful, my love," he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck, sending a chill down your spine.
"You flatter me, Darling. I'm glad you wore this suit, it's my favorite," you gently ran your hand down his chest. It too, was tailored just right. His heart beat faster. He didn't know you had a favorite suit. One that you longed to see him wear because it just made him look that good. "What's this Gala for anyway?" You asked, toying with the lapel of his jacket.
"Oh, you know, just some... charity," he responded with a breathy laugh. You raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes widened in realization and a knowing smirk made its way on your pretty face. "Did you plan this whole thing just to show me off?" You questioned amused. He stumbled over his words, a very rare occurrence.
"What? Of course not, Honey, that-that'd be absurd-" you interrupted him by pressing a finger over his lips. "Fine. Let them see. Let them see how much I love you." You whispered, smashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. One hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, the other was steadied on his chest. His hands instinctively snaked around your middle, holding you tightly.
All eyes were on you, hushed whispers and gasps filling the room. You pulled away, chest heaving. Bruce's pupils were dilated. "God, you're perfect..." he whispered breathlessly. He couldn't wait to leave this stupid event and shower you in his affection.
The Gala was a success and you were finally back at the manor. You were standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom and admired yourself one last time before you'd take it all off. Bruce came up behind you, the jacket of his suit discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses along your exposed skin. You let out a breathy laugh. "Look who's eager now," you teased.
Bruce chuckled against your neck. "Can you blame me when you look like that?" He said lowly. He dragged his hands up your back and slowly pulled the zipper to your dress down. With a gentle brush of his hand, he let the dress slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your panties, which quickly joined your gown and the floor as he pushed them down your plush hips.
"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?" You said softly, yet seductively as he continued placing wet kisses along your bare shoulder and neck. "You tell me, Honey," he answered. The taste of your skin was intoxicating. You turned around, putting your hands on his chest and slowly pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his thighs hit the bed, he sat down, pulling you into his lap.
"I think you are," you mumbled hazily, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the ground. You moved your hips over his hard cock, straining against his pants. A low groan erupted from his throat at your actions. You could feel your wetness dripping from you, leaving a wet patch on his crotch. He pulled you in for a desperate kiss as you reached down to unbuckle his belt and slip off his pants.
Bruce was left in his boxers, which were quickly taken care of. His throbbing cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. You took his dick into your ring clad hand and pumped up and down a few times, making his head fall back. "Fuck, Baby..." he groaned, squeezing your hips. Lifting your hips, you lined his length up with your pussy and sank down onto it, a long moan falling from your lips. "G-God.. you fit so well. It's like you were made for me.." you mumbled out, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. He was made for you, he was sure of it. He was yours, until the end.
He moaned out your name when you started moving your hips, which he guided with his hands. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, occasionally tugging and pulling at it. Bruce looked up at you as you bounced on his cock. Your beautiful face was contorted in pleasure, and the jewelry he had bought you still adorned you so nicely. There was a layer of sweat covering your skin, making you shine. Just like your necklace glistened in the dimly lit room. You looked like a Goddess above him, decorated with delicate pieces of jewelry. Jewelry he bought for you.
God, he wasn't sure he wanted to fuck you another way ever again. Your ring was cold against his skin, reminding him that you were his. For him to take, however he pleased. He would buy every diamond in Gotham if it meant having a sight like this before him. Your hips started moving faster, as you moaned. "Shit...M'getting c-close," you breathed out, letting your head fall against his shoulder.
He was almost upset at you for taking away his privilege of admiring you, but he never got the chance once he heard your cute little moans and whines right beside his ear. "Me too, Honey, keep going.." he panted. You pressed your body to his, your tits sitting beautifully against his chest. Bruce glanced down and saw the curves of your soft tits adorned with the stunning necklace.
It molded to their curve so perfectly, making him tighten the grip on your hips, frantically moving you up and down his cock. He chased his release, your warm, wet walls feeling too good. You gasped as his dick hit that one that that made your head spin. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to call you my husband.." you rambled out, barely registering what you'd confessed.
That pushed him over the edge as he shot his load inside you with a guttural groan, filling you up. Your husband. That was music to his ears. That's all he wants, to be yours, to be loved by you. You clenched around him and came with a cry of his name. Panting, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "Did you mean that?" He asked quietly, kneading the flesh of your hips.
"Did I mean what?" You asked, breathing heavily. Bruce hestitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "That you can't wait to call me your husband."
"Oh.. I did. I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. My heart is yours, Bruce," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "I love you too, Honey." He responded, kissing you passionately.
"I'll draw us a bath," you breathed, raking your fingers through his locks. He hummed in response, reluctantly letting go of you. You slipped off his cock. He watched his cum trickling down your thigh as you walked towards the bathroom. He groaned at the sight, falling back onto the bed with a smile.
Bruce was laying with his head against your chest, surrounded by bubbles and soap. His back was pressed to your front and your hands were wrapped around him. You could feel him relax against you, the tension in his shoulders fading. "I keep them, you know," you said softly from behind him. The water rippled as he turned his head to look at you.
"Keep what?" He asked. "The notes. The ones you always place next to my gifts? I keep all of them," you spoke, tracing patterns on his pecs. "You do?" He smiled. "Yeah, I read them when you're gone and I'm feeling sad. They're in a box in my nightstand." You mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you so much, Honey," he said quietly. "I love you more, Bruce."
From that moment on, he put more effort into his notes. They keep getting longer and longer, almost turning into letters as he confessed his love to you every single day. You would still read them when you're old and gray, because his love for you would never fade. Just like how your love for him would never be lost to time, you would love him until the end, continuing in your next life. Your souls and hearts were bound, and they would never stop searching until they found eachother once again.
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997 notes · View notes
sluttywonwoo · 1 month
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color me like you || l.jh
pairing: lee jihoon x f reader
summary: you put your heart into every piece of jewelry you make, so why does it only hurt when they're for him?
warnings: swearing, some jealousy, smidgen of religious imagery, smut (18+ ; mdni)
smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex
word count: 5.3k
author’s note(s): for @sluttywoozi's birthday <33 ilyyy
this was the hardest fic i've ever written ;-; idk why but it just kept fighting me the whole time // also did not mean to be so heavy-handed with the rubies it just sort of happened
“What would you pick?” 
Every single fucking time. It was like he didn’t know what he was doing by asking you that. And maybe he didn’t. 
Lee Jihoon’s consultations were your least favorite part of (nearly) every month. And it wasn’t because he was a rude customer or a schmuck just looking to blow his money or anything like that- but because month after month he waltzed into your place of work and bought a custom piece for someone who wasn’t you even though he never failed to ask you that god damn question.
It wasn’t like it was uncommon for jewelers to get asked that. In fact, it was rather common. Men tended to view women as a monolith, accepting any opinion from whoever was nearest as a reflection of their partners’ solely based on the other party’s gender. 
But with Jihoon it’s different. It was like Jihoon actually cared what you had to say about it, like it mattered what you thought of his decisions even though you were the one designing the piece and not receiving it. 
It sends you into a mini spiral every time. Every time he walks through the door, eyes automatically searching for you. Every time he sits down in front of you and leans over your desk to get a closer look at your work and you catch a whiff of the expensive cologne dotted at his pulse points. Every time you have to gaze into his deep brown eyes and swallow the jealousy rising in your throat as you bare your soul to him laid out on a satin pillow for him to take and give to someone else. 
You already know who it is once you see that the VIP Room is booked on your schedule. You groan internally, cursing the man as you run through all of your preparations. There isn’t much to do because almost everything is already ready for you but you try to stay busy anyway, finding yourself checking the clock on the wall over and over again until the bell above the door finally chimes to signal his arrival. 
Your back is to the door and you don’t turn around right away even though you know he’s seen you. You can feel his gaze on you. It’s piercing yet magnetic in the way things like glass and icicles are-  deceptively alluring, sharp enough to draw blood. 
When you do finally turn to face him, you note that he’s flanked by a security guard, not unusual for him but unsettling to you nonetheless. You don’t know what he does for work. You’ve never asked. Better not to get attached is what you told yourself, not that you were having much luck with that. 
Jihoon smiles politely at you and you return the nicety, gesturing to the door behind the counter for him to follow you. 
The lights in the showroom are dim as always. The dark, velveted walls seem to be absorbing what little light the decorative lamps are effusing. The walls are lined with built-in display cases, illuminating their contents and nothing else. 
In the middle of the room sits a desk, with a chair on either side. You take your place behind the desk and wait for Jihoon to sit before doing the same. He’s ditched his shadow so the two of you are alone, something you try not to think about as you organize your tools in front of you. 
“How have you been?” Jihoon asks, his voice breaking the silence but doing little to ease the tension between you. 
“I’ve been well,” you answer. It’s an honest answer, for the most part. “And yourself?”
“Busy,” he sighs, “but good.”
You fold your hands on the desktop in front of you, letting its cold surface ground you. You can already feel yourself starting to sweat even though the showroom’s the coldest place in the store. “So, what are we doing today?”
“A bracelet,” Jihoon says. 
“For you or someone else?”
You never ask your clients who their orders are for. In your profession, you’ve learned that being too nosy, even in good conscience, can be dangerous. You’ll ask if the piece is for the client themselves,  if it’s to celebrate a specific occasion, and what the person’s tastes are but little else. If they offer the information voluntarily, so be it. 
“Someone else.”
You grit your teeth as you ask the next question. “Do you have their measurements?”
Jihoon doesn’t answer right away. 
“Not exactly. It doesn’t need to be a perfect fit. They, uh, have about the same size wrist as me.”
“Then I’ll ask you to hold out your wrist for me…”
He extends his arm across the space between you, pale skin almost translucent under your Circline light. 
“Which way,” he turns his hand for you, “palm up or down?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He leaves his palm skyward like he’s waiting for you to take his hand but you wrap the tapeline around his wrist instead, bringing the magnifier closer to get an exact measurement. You make a mental note of the number and definitely not of the way his fingers are long and calloused and-
“That’s really pretty.”
Jihoon’s voice startles you out of your unprofessional thoughts, making you jump a little in your seat. He grins apologetically. 
“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you how pretty I think your ring is.”
Your eyes flit down to the piece of jewelry on your finger, a thin gold band looped around a few times like a wiry piece of thread. In between the strands of gold are three gems, diamond, alexandrite, and tourmaline, set in what looks to be random spots. You’ve worn it every day since you finished it but no one had ever commented on it until now. 
“Was it a gift?” Jihoon asks. 
“No, I made it.”
“I should’ve known,” he sighs. 
You want to ask him what he means by that but you know his answer will only make you more delusional. 
You release the end of the measuring tape and roll it back up, replacing it in its spot in your drawer and pulling out a leather bound notebook instead. You flip to a blank page and jot down Jihoon’s measurements along with the few details he’s told you thus far about the piece he wants made. 
“Do you have an idea of what you want your bracelet to look like?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject. “Or should I show you some of my previous designs?”
“I think I have an idea but I don’t know how to describe it.”
“How about I show you some pieces and you tell me if they’re similar to what you had in mind?”
“That sounds perfect.”
You stand from the desk and turn around to face the display cases behind you. There’s an assortment of original jewelry pieces made by you and your colleagues to choose from but you only select ones you’ve made, knowing Jihoon would instantly be able to tell the difference. It’s happened enough times before. 
You walk him through each of your selections, making note of what he points out about each of them. From his musings, you gather that he wants an argentium silver chain— thick enough to be inlaid with stones but not too thick that it would become too heavy or gaudy. 
Listening to him talk about the piece made you smile despite the envy twisted around your heart. He had started to pick up on the terminology after coming here for so many months and seemed so much more confident about his knowledge of it all. It was apparent in the way he held himself now during consultations. 
You get all of the initial details about the body of the piece squared away before moving on to the finer ones. Categorizing the steps like this helps you stay organized.  
“And do you know which stones you want embedded in the bracelet?” you ask. 
Jihoon rubs his thumb across his lips in thought. “I thought I did, but after seeing that,” he pauses to point at a necklace you’d shown him, “I’m having second thoughts.” The necklace he’s referring to is set similarly to the style of the bracelet, only gold and lined with rubies. 
“What was your first choice?” 
“Amethyst. Since it’s a birthday gift, I thought I’d go with their birthstone, but now I’m torn. What would you pick?”
There it was, the dreaded question. It was like he’d been holding a knife to your throat this entire time and finally decided to draw blood. Still, you answer like you always do. 
“I’m partial to amethyst,”  you admit, “and there’s the added significance of it being their birthstone, but the rubies would make more of a statement. It really depends on what kind of person you’re buying for. Are they a sentimental person or a flashy person?”
“They’re both,” Jihoon groans, putting his head in his hands. Then, after a moment, he sits back up. “But I think they’d like the rubies more. I feel like those evoke a more dramatic aura, if that makes sense.”
“It does. Rubies are associated with power and passion.” They’re also associated with romance but you choose not to mention that part. “In some cultures, they were believed to protect the wearers as well.”
“That’s perfect then.”
You clasp your hands together and force a smile. “Great! Do you want them around the entire band of the bracelet? From clasp to clasp?”
“What would two-thirds look like?”
“Let me show you.”
You discuss the size, cut, and spacing of the stones before calculating a price and timeline for the piece. You give Jihoon the receipt that states how much he owes today and how much he’ll owe when he comes to pick it up, circling the pick up date with your pen. 
He pays with his black card, the one you’ve become accustomed to swiping every time you see him. You expect him to leave promptly after the payment, that’s what usually happens, but he doesn’t. He lingers a little awkwardly as you put the jewelry back in their display cases, hesitating by the door like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 
“Jihoon?” you ask him eventually, “is everything okay?”
You refer to most of your clients by their surnames but Jihoon had asked you not to the very first time you met. “It makes me feel old,” he’d explained with a laugh. 
Now, he laughs again. This time, it’s a nervous laugh, one that draws confusion and sets your own nerves on edge. 
He swallows harshly. “I know this may be entirely inappropriate, but I promised myself I wouldn’t leave today without asking if you would go to dinner with me.”
“W-what?”
“Go to dinner with me?” he repeats, this time in the form of an actual question. 
You blink. “For real?”
“Um, yes? Unless your answer is no, then no, not for real.”
You put both hands on your desk to brace yourself, unsure what to make of his request. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused. Why would you want to go to dinner with me?”
“Because I want to take you on a date.”
“A date?!”
Jihoon clears his throat a little bashfully. “Yes, I thought that was implied when I invited you to dinner.”
“Dinner could mean a lot of things! Maybe it was a business proposal.”
He chuckles. “I’m a music producer, I don’t know what kind of business I’d have with a jeweler.”
It doesn’t even dawn on you that you’ve finally found out what he does for work because you’re so overwhelmed by the fact that he’s asking you out to comprehend anything else. You can hardly comprehend this. 
“You want to go on a date with me?”
“I- uh, I’ve been coming here for months just to see you. I mean, I was really getting gifts for people but they don’t give a fuck about what I buy them for their birthdays as long as it’s expensive... they don’t really care about the different gems and settings and shit.” You’re still processing his words when Jihoon lifts his head to peek at your reaction. “Are you... upset?”
“Upset? No, I’m relieved!”
“Wait, what? What do you mean?”
“This whole time I thought you were getting gifts for your partner, or partners, I thought you were taken.”
You watch the corners of Jihoon’s mouth quirk up into a smile as he realizes what you’re saying. “And that upset you?”
“Yes,” you mumble. 
“You like me back?” 
“Yes. It’s been terrible.”
“Pardon?” he chokes out. 
“Imagine the roles were reversed,” you explain, “I’m coming to you every month, getting to know you better and you’re learning more and more about me, I’m flirting with you, you’re starting to feel like we’re getting closer-”
“Only for you to buy the jewelry for someone else,” he concludes for you with a grimace, “presumably a romantic partner. Yeah, okay I can see how that would be miserable.”
“But then, who have these even been for this whole time?!” you blurt out, finally breaking your number one rule. 
“I’ll explain everything over dinner,” Jihoon promises. 
“But when is dinner?”
“What time does your shift end?”
-
Jihoon does explain everything over dinner, as promised. He gave you some time after work to get ready for the date and then picked you up from your place in a town car. He’d told you before that he’s never felt the need to get a drivers license, that public transport and ride services were plenty to get him to where he needed to go, and that he seldom left the house anyway. You offered to drive to dinner since you did have both a car and a license but Jihoon astutely refused, saying that while he wasn’t very old fashioned, he was the one who asked you out and he’s always liked the idea of a more traditional first date. 
Dinner is at a restaurant you’ve never even heard of but apparently has a Michelin star. The food and mocktails are delicious, but truthfully the last thing on your mind as you stare across the table at your date. He’s dressed in all black, like usual, but had chosen an outfit that was much more formal than what you were used to seeing him in: pressed slacks and a dress shirt that was buttoned just low enough to show off a hint of collarbone, cleavage, and a chain you recognize as one you’d crafted for him almost a year ago. 
He almost always wore a hat when visiting your store but tonight he’s forgone the baseball cap and swept his long hair back in a half up, half down sort of manner. There’s product in it but a few wisps of his bangs have escaped the hold of the gel and hang in front of his eyes. 
You briefly wonder if he’d let you style his hair, if he’d let you braid it back. He’d look so pretty with french braids-
At the end of the meal, after he’s paid, he asks the question. Not the question, the one you’re always dreading, but a new one that makes your heart beat just as fast. 
“Are you doing anything after this?” 
You take a sip of your drink, ignoring the watered down taste in order to keep the air of suspense. “That depends, what are you doing?”
-
Jihoon’s apartment is closer than yours. It’s in the middle of the city, nestled safely above the bustling crowds and chaos of the streets beneath it. You would call it a penthouse but it isn’t on the top floor of the building nor does it have a terrace- the point is, it’s bigger than the house you grew up in. You can tell just from standing in the doorway with all the lights off. The floor to ceiling windows lined all along the far wall give it away. They let in just enough light from the billboards and neon street signs below to cast shadows in the corners of the room that emphasize its depth. 
There’s music playing softly throughout the apartment when you enter.
“I wasn’t expecting this to happen,” Jihoon insists as he scrambles to turn on some lamps. “I swear, I just always have music playing.”
“Sure,” you tease him, bending down to slip out of your heels. 
You’re still a few inches taller than him without them on but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. You certainly don’t. “I can turn it off if you’d prefer,” he offers. 
“No, that’s okay. I like having it on when-” you stop yourself mid-sentence, cheeks blooming with heat. You had been about to say, ‘when I’m having sex,’ and Jihoon seems to fill in the blank himself from the way he smirks at you. 
“Really? That’s good to know.”
You’re too flustered to think of a witty response so you just pucker your lips like you do when you don’t know what to say and hope he can’t tell how insane with lust his answer just made you. 
The lapse in his gentlemanly manner is brief and before things can go too far he takes your coat and purse and leads you to the couch in the living room. You sit and watch as he crouches in front of the fireplace, rolling up his sleeves. It’s a gas fireplace so all he has to do is turn the dial to the desired strength, there’s no soot or ash or really anything that would make him dirty, but you appreciate the view of his arms nonetheless. 
You know Jihoon is a big fitness buff. It’s one of the first things he ever told you, apologizing for how sweaty he was as he shook your hand and introduced himself. It’s been hard not to let that knowledge distract you whenever you see him now. You’ve caught yourself ogling his biceps and quads (and ass) an unhealthy amount of times in your consultations. You can let yourself get distracted tonight, though. Now that he’s not your client and you’re the girl he’s brought home. Now that he’s got his forearms out on display specifically for you to ogle. 
He joins you on the couch a moment later, creating a respectful distance between you. 
“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks suddenly. “I don’t have any alcohol in the house because I don’t really drink but I could make you something like we had at dinner. I also have Coke Zero and water and-”
You put your hand out to stop him, relieved to know he’s just as nervous as you are. “Water would be great, thanks.” 
“Ice?”
“If you have it.”
“I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t,” he points out. 
“Right. That’s... right.”
He laughs affectionately and touches your knee as he goes to stand from the sofa. His hand is warmer than you expect, making you suck in a quick breath that makes you both freeze. Your eyes meet his before his gaze shifts to your lips. 
“Do you... still want that water?” 
Your mouth does feel dry but for an entirely different reason. 
“Maybe later.”
-
He’s on top of you as soon as your back hits the mattress, strong thighs straddling your hips. His hair falls into his eyes and subsequently yours as he leans down and gently cups your face. 
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes, kiss me,” you gasp, pulling him into you before he does. 
Jihoon groans the instant your lips touch his, grinding into you almost involuntarily. It isn’t long until you’re moaning too, practically writhing underneath him as he kisses you like he’s found God.
Everything about him is soft, except his hands. His voice, his tongue, his touch. His hands leave your cheeks and start to explore the rest of your body, grazing your chest and hips over your dress. 
His fingers skim the hem of it and dip just below the seam, lifting the fabric from your thighs before letting it float back down.You don’t know if he’s teasing you on purpose but it’s driving you crazy. You’ve wanted him for so long now that his self control feels cruel, like he’s dangling himself just out of reach. 
“I’m sorry, I got carried away,” he says, running a hand through his hair. 
“I honestly wanted you to get more carried away,” you admit.
“Really?”
“I thought I was making it obvious.”
“I didn’t want to assume,” he mumbles through a smug grin, “and I didn’t know how far you wanted to go tonight.”
“I want to go as far as you want to go,” you assure him. 
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
You’re not typically one to sleep with someone on a first date, not for any religious, moral (or internally misogynistic) reason, you just don’t like being that vulnerable with someone you’ve just met. You’ve also found sex to be a lot more enjoyable with someone you feel connected to. 
So even though it’s technically your first date with Jihoon, you’ve known him for what feels like half of an eternity and craved him for every single moment of it. You aren’t going to deny yourself what you’ve longed for for ages. 
“In that case, can I eat you out?” he asks.
“Fuck yeah you can.”
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs as he positions himself between your legs and pushes your dress up to your hips.
“Really?” you sigh.
Jihoon kisses the inside of your thigh and then hums against it. “Mhm, every single time we were alone in that dark room I’d just think about crawling under that table and spreading your legs apart...” 
“You should have.”
Jihoon scoffs. “You would have gotten fired.”
“Worth it.”
“But isn’t this much better?” he asks, pressing his tongue over your panties. “I can take my time with you and you can be as loud as you want...”
Jihoon repeats the motion with his tongue and you whimper as if to prove his point. He’s barely done anything and your panties are already soaked through. To be fair, you’ve been wet since dinner but that was his doing too. All he had to do was look pretty and you were melting for him. 
“Want me to take these off?” he asks.
“God, please.”
“Here, lift up for me then, perfect. Now put your legs over my shoulders... good, just like that.”
He drowns himself in you, worshiping your cunt with his lips and his tongue and his entire being. He takes his time tasting all of you before moving on to what he knows you’re actually waiting for. You try to be patient, you know he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have, and it feels good... you just need more. 
He does give you more, eventually. His tongue dips inside of you when you’re least expecting it and your thighs clamp around his head in surprise. He’s completely unfazed by this, and pries them apart with ease, holding your legs open as he continues to drink you in. 
He switches between tongue fucking you and sucking on your clit a few times to figure out which you like more, settling on a pattern that has his name echoing off the walls of his bedroom. 
You can barely hear the music playing over the obscene sounds he’s making as he eats you out but you find you actually prefer them anyway. 
His mumbling is incoherent, muffled by you in every sense of the word. Still, you can tell he’s praising you, encouraging you to surrender to the pleasure. 
It doesn’t take much convincing because he has you on the edge in record time. No man has ever gotten you so close so fast, you don’t even think you’ve made yourself cum this fast and you have that shit down to a science. It’s over for you as soon as he adds his fingers into the mix. You wanted to hold off a little longer just to prove a point but Jihoon has his own point to prove.
You don’t necessarily need penetration to get off but having something to cum around does make orgasms stronger for you. He must know this, or at least have an inkling, because he pushes two fingers inside of you right when your breath catches in your throat and your body locks up and your vision starts to blur…
-
“Baby- is it okay if I call you baby? Are you alright?”
It’s more than okay, you think to yourself and then you realize the disembodied voice that sounds a lot like Jihoon’s is actually expecting an answer.
You open your eyes the tiniest bit to see a very wet, very concerned-looking Jihoon hovering above you. 
“You can call me whatever you want,” you tell him. 
“That wasn’t really the important question out of the two,” he sighs. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great!”
He breathes a sigh of relief and collapses against your shoulder. 
“What are you doing?” you laugh. “Aren’t we going to keep going?” 
Jihoon lifts his head and gives you a look. “You just came so hard you blacked out, don’t you want to take a break?” 
You shake your head. “No? Why would I?” 
His lips part and he sputters, “because you just-”
“It’s sweet that you’re worried about me, but I promise I’m fine. I’ve never been better.” 
“Never?” 
“Never ever.”
“So… I can kiss you again?” 
“As many times as you want.” 
The power you’ve bestowed on him in that one sentence immediately goes to his head and he spends the next several minutes pressing kisses into your skin as he undresses both you and himself. 
He kisses you in between every piece of clothing that comes off, every button of his shirt that he undoes, dragging out every moment until you’re both completely naked save for your ring and his necklace (and a condom). 
He’s huge, unsurprisingly. What is surprising is how hard he is already. You knew he was turned on, you could feel him through his pants when you were making out and he was grinding into you, but you didn’t realize it was like this. You haven’t even touched him and his cock is rock hard and flushed at the tip. Did he get that worked up just from giving you head? Just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter...
He pumps himself a few times before easing into you, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he struggles to keep his composure. You aren’t faring any better, hands flying to his biceps when he bottoms out. The stretch is more intense than you’re expecting. It knocks the breath out of your lungs and the thoughts out of your head. All you can do is lay there on the satin sheets and feel as Jihoon makes himself a part of you.     
“Are you okay?” you hear him ask distantly, voice trembling. 
“I’m perfect,” you manage to respond. 
“You are,” he agrees.
Your brows wrinkle in confusion as you try to blink him back into focus. Hm?”
He just smiles and pets your hair gently. “Don’t worry about it.”
“O-okay.”
“Am I good to start moving?” 
“Yes, yes please fuck me.”
You wrap your legs around his waist and pull his body even closer just in case he needs further convincing, gasping in relief when he finally does start to move. It’s slow at first, experimental. You’re still sensitive from cumming so every sensation is heightened. Every stroke feels better than the last and you can only hope it feels just as good for Jihoon. 
“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, “how are you so fucking wet?”
“I really like you,” you laugh, “and you’re so good at, like, everything! It’s unfair and it’s, fuck, not my fault.”
“I really like you too,” he confesses, starting to fuck you harder. You expect him to elaborate but he doesn’t, not right away. Instead, he lets his body do the talking for him while he busies his mouth with yours. You can still taste yourself on his lips along with traces of your lipgloss and chapstick that he’d long since kissed off. It’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating.
When he raises his head and puts a hand on the headboard to steady himself, the necklace you’d made him dangles right in front of your face, the cross pendant just inches from your nose. He grabs it with his free hand and puts the charm between his teeth so that it won’t hit you, smirking at the way your eyes roll back.
“You like that?” 
 “Fuck you.”
He laughs, then mumbles, “God, you’re so hot. I’m so fucking close already.”
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, down into another kiss. The chain still in his mouth presses into your lips, the cold metal a striking difference from the heat of your bodies. 
“Please tell me you’re close too,” he whispers.  
“So fucking close.”
You just need a little more to get you over that edge again. You release one of your arms from around his neck and snake it in between yourselves to rub your clit but Jihoon pushes it away and replaces it with his own. He repeats the same motions with his fingers that he’d done with his tongue, begging you to cum with him. 
“Let go for me, baby,” he urges, “wanna cum together. Please let me feel you.”
You don’t black out this time but you do cry, fingernails digging into his back as you fall apart under him. Jihoon fucks you through it, helping you both ride it out. He’s shaking by the time the aftershocks pass and carefully lays himself on top of you like a blanket so that you can both catch your breath. 
“S-sorry, I thought I’d last a lot longer,” he apologizes sheepishly. “Next time I will. Maybe. Your pussy is crazy though so you can’t hold me to that.”
“You’ve got such a way with words,” you scoff. 
“What can I say, I’m a songwriter. It’s in my blood.” 
You snort and push him off you, searching your phone. Your best friend had probably alerted you missing to the authorities by now after not hearing from you for however many hours it’d been since you last updated her. You find your phone under one of the pillows and see a barrage of texts from her and the groupchat just like you predicted. Snitch. You would have to grovel later, though, because Jihoon had gotten up to start the shower and returned to get you now that the water was warm. 
He helps you step into the basin and shows you how to adjust the temperature in case it isn’t to your liking before asking if you want him to stay. You do, and you point out that he needs to shower too so it would be more efficient if you showered together anyway. 
He joins you without a second’s hesitation, kissing your shoulder from behind as he begins to gently lather your body with soap. You return the favor after he’s done with you and soon enough he’s wrapping you and himself up in plush white towels he’d grabbed from the warmer next to the shower.  
“Stay the night?” he asks as he dries you off.
You don’t have anything you need with you because you hadn’t planned on spending the night. It’s usually impossible to sleep without your overnight essentials but you’re honestly so exhausted you think you could fall asleep standing up. 
“Don’t feel like you have to,” he adds when he senses your hesitation. 
“No, I want to,” you assure him. “I just wasn’t expecting to have a sleepover so I don’t have any of my things.”
“I have an extra toothbrush,” he supplies helpfully, like that’s the only thing that could have been preventing you from making a decision. 
You smile, trying not to laugh. “Thank you, that’d be great.”
He smiles back. “Anything for you.”
this was something kind of different but i hope you liked it bestie <3 can't wait to hear your thoughts i love youuuu
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sunnyaelia · 2 months
Text
Selfcare Day
You and Alexia have a selfcare day that ends abruptly when you finally find out that she’s ticklish in a certain spot 
Pure fluff
-
Literally giddy with excitement you carried your bags with your skincare and nail polishes towards Alexia who was sitting on the couch looking absolutely unimpressed. 
It had been quite easy to convince her to take a long shower in preparation for the selfcare day you really wanted to do - however, now getting her to let you put a mask on her face and be patient while it works was a different obstacle. 
Her arms were crossed and one of her eyebrows raised as you plopped down on the sofa next to her, going through the bags to find what you needed.
First was the face mask, Alexia rolling her eyes when you chose the matching pink ones although she couldn’t deny that it was kinda cute to see you so excited. You had asked her to do this for a few days now and today she had given in, always intent on making you happy. 
She didn’t have a problem with face masks or anything else in general - just that it prevented her from moving around freely and she disliked how she would have to be careful as to not get anything on the couch. 
You applied it for Alexia, smiling when she closed her eyes as you carefully spread the light pink mixture over her face, making sure not to get anything in her freshly washed hair. 
You then moved to put your own mask on though Alexia beat you to it, snatching it from your hands and opening it before gently holding your face in place with one hand and applying with the other. 
The way she was so concentrated throughout, putting it on nice and symmetrical even though she couldn’t care less made your heart flutter, grateful to have  a girlfriend who just went with the flow to make you happy. 
And she did apply it really well you saw, as you took some pictures as memories, of course forcing Alexia into it as well who jokingly warned you not to post it - having a reputation to keep up with after all. 
She pouted when she moved to kiss you and you pulled away, not wanting the mask to smear and you squeezed her arm in consolation, promising her you’d make it up to her later.
While the mask was sitting on your face for 20 minutes, you brought out the nail polishes. You left Alexia alone for a moment as she watched a match on TV, concentrated on removing your old nail polish and putting new one on. You were extremely satisfied once you were finally done, your toenails and fingernails now perfectly painted in the same color. 
Dragging Alexia up to the bathroom, you both wiped off the excess face mask before washing the rest off.
Back on the couch, face glowing from the mask and the moisturiser, you were now begging Alexia to let you do her nails as well. She only relented when you agreed to only do a transparent one on her nails. She did like nail polish but disliked how quickly it would chip which then looked worse than with just unpainted nails. It was easier to hide with transparent one so she was content with that. 
Trouble arose when you wanted to paint her toenails as well since you had done yours, Alexia only very grumpily giving in and you soon found out why. 
“Hold still.” You grabbed her foot a bit harder, trying not to paint next to the nail as she twisted it again. At first you thought she was doing this on purpose, until you looked up with a slight scowl and saw how tightly she was holding her tracksuit pants, eyes trained on the ceiling. For a moment you were confused on why she looked almost constipated until you realised the problem when you moved her feet around a bit again. 
“You’re ticklish!”
Alexia’s eyes widened and she was quick to protest. No-“ Though not quick enough, jumping nearly a foot into the air as you tickled over the sole and she desperately tried to retrieve her leg, fruitless as you sat down on it. 
Alexia was a big fan of randomly tickling you, forever laughing at the way you’d hunch over in an attempt to get away from her. So this was finally revenge for it, lightly tickling over her entire foot, soon discovering that the middle part was the most sensitive one. 
Alexia could only put a stop to it when she grabbed you around your waist and pulled you onto her lap, holding both of her feet far away from you. 
With a relieved sigh as she could now breathe again, she couldn’t stop the smile on her face as she heard your still very amused laugh, leaning back onto the sofa with you in her arms and shaking her head as you tried again to reach her ticklish spots. 
Safe to say that she didn’t know one moment of peace, now that you knew that she was in fact very ticklish when you found the correct place to tickle. 
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evilminji · 5 months
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Can Danny see the Forbidden Shrimp Colors?
Like, as Phantom.
Because his eyes are goo.
They are not ACTUALLY human eyes with human limitations, nor possess human eye rods and cones etc. They are human SHAPED Ectoplasmic goo. That is working as the "Eye sight" area of his goo body. Honestly, it's the same question with his hearing etc. But SPECIFICALLY?
Does he get? Some sort of FULL spectrum sight?
Do ghosts and ghosts ALONE... see the world as it ACTUALLY is? Actually, genuinely, looks like? I know humans can tell apart more shade of green then most if not all other species. And a host of other things. But other animals have specialized sight too.
Do ghosts just get? All of it? Because that's just... Sight.
They no longer NEED specialized this or that, to hunt for food or escape predators. Their bodies are no longer bound by species specific limitations. Unless they, you know, felt like it.
Just?
Imagine what that must be LIKE? You transform and the world transforms with you. Everything becoming technicolor. BEYOND color. Depth and complexity, shades you don't have names for. The sky, the grass, trees and the BIRDS in them. All completely different.
An ocean of Shades, peacefully wandering along. Never destined to become Ghosts. Heading towards this afterlife or that. Some just sitting and watching the birds. Not even from just humans. The ground is covered by the Shades of plants long past. There are birds long gone floating along, off to some bird afterlife.
You can't even touch them.
They're like mist. Visible, but as solid as water vapor and reflecting light. They disappear when you transform back.
You can SEE more of space, of the atmosphere and the magnetic fields, of the folds of reality itself, then you ever thought were possible. You'll NEVER be able to put a name to even a fraction of the colors or shades. It's beautiful. Dances.
It's also gone when you transform back.
You won't be able to hear it anymore either. Or any other song and sound that rings out. That hums and buzzes, rumbles and croons. It will feel like climbing back inside a box too small for you and shutting the lid. Right up until it doesn't. Because the brain is a powerful thing, and you always seem to forget, how MUCH everything is.
Because you'd be unable to take it, if you couldn't let it go. If you couldn't keep forgetting. If being human didn't fit.
But it's cool.
You can see shrimp colors.
@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation
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gxdsfavgal · 1 year
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No Recollection
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Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Fem!Siren!reader
Warning: 18+ MDNI, smut, mention of siren powers, Xavier isn’t that obsessed with Wednesday here, language, fwb, Dom!Xavier, light spanking, piv, slight breeding kink?, reader is on birth control, not edited, not my best work
A/N: new obsession is Xavier Thorpe/Percy.. anyways this is my first Wednesday oneshot
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Xavier has been in a mood all of today, everyone knows that Wednesday isn’t his date to the Rave’N anymore. I was going to ask him but Bianca beat me to it.
I have nothing against Bianca. Xavier and I were only friends with benefits before and after they dated. I actually was the one who introduced them to each other, that was a mistake.
Now here I am dressed in all white alone with everyone else, except Wednesday of course. She was doing some dance moves that I’ve never seen before, she caught everyones attention. She even caught mine even though I was nested by the punch bowl.
All of the sudden in the corner of my eye, I see Bianca push away her seat next to Xavier. I took that as my opening, I filled another cup with punch and walked over to where he sat.
“What’d you say to make her mad?” I questioned as I held out the cup of punch to his face, taking the seat where Bianca sat. He took the punch and kept his eyes focused on the girl dressed in all black.
“Asked her to make me forget about her” I knew he was talking about Wednesday, I rolled my eyes at it.
“Hmm I’ll do it.” I said monotonous. 
He turned around in his seat, his body facing me. “You’re joking. You’re not supposed to take off your amulet on campus.”
“Did you already forget that I’m never the type to listen to rules? But if you’re serious then I’ll do it.” I shrugged my shoulders.
He turned his head to look at Wednesday talking to her date Tyler. “Let’s get out of here.” he looked at me with tiredness in his eyes, he wasn’t doing good on hiding how much he hated parties.
“But, if we do this we are doing this under my conditions. Okay?” I held out my hand.
“Yeah yeah.” he gave me a soft smile as he shook my hand.
I didn’t let go of his hand, I stood up and pulled him up with me. I walked towards the exit of the dance, dragging his body behind me. Bianca scoffed and rolled her eyes when we passed by her.
“Where are we going?” he questioned.
“You’re room.” I chuckled.
“Why?” he said playfully as he pulled my arm back to him so I wasn't dragging him, now we’re walking next to each other. 
“What? If you want to forget then I can’t do my siren shit on you with Weems there.” I looked up at him. His body always towered over me even with the heels I’m wearing.
“Always looking out for us.” he whispered, thinking that I didn't hear him.
“Yeah, I was always a good look out whenever we would y’know.” I poked him in the side, earning a chuckle and a sarcastic middle finger. 
We finally reached his room. He quickly opened it and let me in before closing the door.
He quickly took off his blazer and shoes, leaving him in his button up and dress pants. He flopped on his bed while I struggled with taking off my heels. Once I got my heels off, I flopped onto the bed next to him.
“God I hated that.” I sighed out.
“I should’ve just stayed in” he dragged his hands over his face.
We laid in silence, almost falling asleep until I remembered by I brought him here.
“So do you want to forget?” I sat up leaning on my elbow, my other hand playing with my amulet on my neck.
“Don't use your powers, make me forget a different way.” his eyes were blown with lust. The color is gone from his eyes, it’s just filled with black. I knew this look, I have it engraved in my mind.
“Are you sure?” I asked. This seriously wasn't on my agenda for tonight.
He brought his hand to the back of my neck, his mouth fanning over my ear. My heartbeat hasn’t beat this fast in months.
“Make me forget.” he whispered into my ear, leaving a peck behind the shell of my ear. 
He laid back down and I immediately threw my leg over him, straddling his hips. My hands cradled his face as I brought my lips down to his. Our tongues danced together as my hips moved against his hips. His pants tight on him now, his zipper catching against my clothed clit.
I moaned into his mouth. “Fuck I missed this.” I whimpered out as I caught my breath.
“Take off that dress.” he huffed out. 
I hopped off of him and unzipped my dress while he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off his pants. Both of us were standing half naked, I’m just in my bra and panties while he was just in his boxers.
He quickly walked over to me, his hand grabbing the back of my neck. He twisted me around and lightly pushed me agains the bed, forcing me onto my stomach.
His hand swatted my ass, the sting and impact making me groan into his bed sheet.
“Such a pretty ass” he lowered himself to leave kisses on the cheek he slapped, soothing it with his lips.
He stood back up, his body leaning against me as he peppered kisses along my back. His bulge pressed against me, I wiggled my hips to signal that I wanted more.
“C’mon Zay, fuck me already!” I whined out.
“Alright alright, always so eager.” his fingers circled around my clothed core. “God you’re so wet for me.”
He lowered his boxers that revealed his cock and that angry red tip. I turned my head to see that he used his hands to pump him before moving to my core. His fingers moved my thong out of the way.
His tip rubbed at my core, lubricating itself before sliding into me. There was a slight stretch from the girth.
He groaned at the feeling of me tight around him as he bottomed out. His pelvis warm against my ass. 
“Move” I told him.
He brought his hips back, leaving just the tip in me then he thrusted into me. He repeatedly did this. His hand weaving through my hair to get a good grip. He pulled on my hair as his hips pistoned in and out of me. The sound of skin slapping filled the room. 
“Oh fuck im gonna cu-” I tried my hardest to speak. 
He grunted with each movement.
“Fuck! you feel so good! Im gonna cum baby!” he never cared how loud we were.
“Cum in me baby” I forced out a mumble.
The feeling in my stomach tightened and his hips were stuttering.
“Right there baby” I clawed at his bed sheets.
His best was against my back while moved faster, trying to get both of us to that euphoria. His lips tickling the shell of my ear.
“Oh god!” I screamed into the sheets. He stilled inside of me as he groaned, his warm cum filling me. My body shook with sparks flying throughout my body.
Once we calmed down, he pulled out of me. The mixture of our cups dripped out of me which he quickly placed my thong back in place.
“Can’t let that leak out” he chuckled as he placed me higher up on the bed, laying down next to me and pulling the blanket over us.
“So… Wednesday huh?” I tried to make playful banter.
“Who’s Wednesday?” he chuckled as he pulled me into his body.
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