#if I haven’t heard from them by Friday I will be calling again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluentmoviequoter · 3 months

Text

Keep Living with Me

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Andersen!cop!reader (r's mom is Captain Zoe Andersen)

Summary: You fell in love with Tim Bradford quickly, and he receives your mother's blessing to propose. After you watch your mother's murder, his plans are thrown off and he gives you a place to heal.

Warnings: spoilers for ep 1x16 "Greenlight," parental death (Captain Zoe Andersen), grief, panic attacks, nightmares. comfort at the end! not proofread

Word Count: 4.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

“Good mornin’,” Wade greets as he enters roll call. “Before we get started let’s give a warm welcome to our newest Andersen. Welcome, all the way from Chicago! I know your mom is here so we’re all too scared to give you any grief, but I hope LA treats you well.”

“Thank you, sir,” you reply, nodding to the officers beside you.

“Andersen?” Tim whispers.

“Captain Andersen’s daughter,” Bishop answers. “She was working her way toward detective in Chicago but transferred a few weeks ago. Wanted to be closer to her mom, from what I’ve heard.”

“Meaning that if you want to lay some Bradford charm on her, you’d have to answer to your boss,” Angela adds.

“Cute,” Tim replies, giving Angela a fake smile.

“You said it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Bradford,” you call, jogging to catch up to him. “I just wanted to say thanks for the assist back there. I don’t know how that second guy got past me, but I’m sorry for not paying attention.”

“It happens,” Tim offers with a shrug. “And it’s my job to have your back.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some thanks every once in a while. I’ll let you get back to your rookie, but, seriously, thank you.”

“No problem.”

Tim doesn’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point, after you arrived in Los Angeles, he got attached to you. Now, he keeps an eye out for you and shows you a side of himself that very few people are lucky enough to meet.

Calling your name, Tim beckons you back to his side. “Let me buy you dinner? As a thanks?” he asks, squeezing his hands together nervously.

“Why would you be thanking me? You saved me,” you remind him.

“Just-“

“I’d love to. But I’m paying,” you answer, smiling before walking away again.

“Doubtful,” he murmurs to himself before returning to his shop.

✯✯✯✯✯

Two weeks after your first date with Tim, you smile at him over your shoulder in roll call. You haven’t told anyone about your feelings, and Tim is just as happy to keep your relationship private for now – that’s something he made clear from the beginning, private not secret.

“Bradford, Andersen, the captain wants to see you,” Wade says as he enters the room. Neither you nor Tim move until he adds, “I think that means now.”

Once the door is closed behind you, you promise, “I didn’t tell her.”

“Relax,” Tim demands. “It’s probably not about us.”

He opens the door to your mother’s office, and she points for both of you to sit. Pulling your hands into your lap, you fiddle as she looks at a paper on the desk before her.

“Care to explain?” she asks.

“Explain what, ma’am?” you reply.

“You’re in here as my daughter, though I’m not thrilled to learn you and another officer are dating without my prior knowledge.”

You look at Tim, but he seems content observing this confrontation.

“Mom, I-“

“It better be a good reason,” she interrupts. “Because it’s been weeks since Tim asked me if it was allowed.”

Looking over at Tim, your mouth gapes before you accuse, “You told her!”

“I had to,” he answers. “I wasn’t dealing with her wrath, as captain or your mother.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?” your mom asks. “You chose the best of them.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Tim says happily.

“Don’t think that makes you infallible,” your mother threatens. “I have a gun and I can fire you, and what I choose to do depends entirely on you.”

Tim nods severely, and they both chuckle when you release a relieved sigh.

“Congratulations,” your mom tells you. “I’m glad you’re happy, and I’ll see you both at dinner on Friday?”

Tim leads you out of the office, and you ask, “What’s Friday?”

“Probably a chance for everyone who loves you to threaten me.”

“Sounds fun.”

Tim reaches out for you, but you turn away quickly.

“You told my mother without telling me. No hugs for you until Friday.”

Smirking, Tim replies, “Yeah, you try holding out that long.”

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯ 1 Year Later ✯✯

“I’ll be back in a few,” Tim tells you, kissing your forehead.

“Where are you going?” you ask, looking up at him from your spot on his couch.

“To get your favorite breakfast,” he answers. “Because I love you.”

“Be careful. I love you.”

After a year of dating, you and Tim easily acknowledge the depth of your feelings for one another. He makes you feel important, loved, and like the center of his world. It was easy to fall in love with Tim, yet every moment spent with him makes you happier.

While you wait on his couch, Tim heads to your favorite café. Fiddling with the box in his pocket, he smiles as he thinks of you. You’ve gotten to know him so well you have become practically impossible to surprise. (At least since he first told you he loved you, holding you close under a starry sky in the California desert.) This, though, should be the best surprise yet.

The bell over the door chimes as Tim enters, and he quickly finds the woman he’s here to meet.

“Good morning, Captain Andersen,” he greets, sitting across from her. She looks at him until he amends, “Sorry, Zoe.”

“It’s been a year, Tim, you’re going to have to get used to it at some point,” she teases.

“I will. I actually asked you to meet me here because I have a question about my future with your daughter.”

Zoe’s smile grows, sure that she knows where this is going. Tim removes the velvet box from his pocket and slides it across the table.

“I want to propose, ask your daughter to spend the rest of her life with me, but I refuse to do that without your permission. So, Zoe, my question is, will you allow me to marry your daughter? I can’t bring her half as much happiness as she brings me, but I will love her until my dying breath.”

“Tim,” Zoe begins, pressing the ring box back into his hand. “I would love to have you as a son-in-law; of course, you can marry my daughter. And if your proposal is anything like that, I can’t imagine her saying anything other than yes.”

“Is she going to cry?”

“Most likely,” Zoe answers with a laugh. “But you should get going before she gets suspicious.”

Tim stands with Zoe, pulling her into a hug as he thanks her. She reminds him that the family is having dinner together on Friday, and his standing invitation still stands.

“We’ll be there,” Tim promises. “And I’ll let you know when I pick a date.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim knocks on Zoe’s door a week later, entering her office and closing the door behind him.

“I’m proposing this weekend,” he tells her, smiling as he thinks of you.

“Take it easy this week, then. You want everything to be perfect,” Zoe reminds him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you okay?” you ask Tim. “You’ve been… different.”

“I’m great,” he promises. “Just ready for the weekend.”

You nod, unconvinced by his brush-off answer. Trusting Tim is easy, so you know he will tell you when he’s ready. As the day progresses, with IA reversals, celebrities, and an attempt on Nolan’s life, you’re not sure you and Tim will be able to talk about whatever bothers him.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you hear about the shots fired and the greenlight on Nolan, you don’t hesitate to meet your mother at the scene. Not telling Tim yourself wasn’t a conscious decision, simply the result of your adrenaline surging and concern for your fellow officers. Lucy is talking to Nolan as you approach, walking behind your mother, and you notice Tim standing to the side, sending him a concerned look.

“According to intelligence, you’ve bee greenlit by Southern Front,” Captain Andersen – no longer acting like your mother – announces.

“How’s a rookie get greenlit before me? I gotta step up my game,” Tim adds.

“It’s not a badge of honor, Bradford,” you reply, giving him a stern look.

“I was kidding,” he promises, his full attention on you.

Listening to the facts and learning why Nolan is being targeted, you know that finding the gang in a city as big as LA will be next to impossible. As your mom and Nolan leave, you rush to catch up with them.

“I’m coming with,” you announce.

“Officer Andersen, no,” your mom argues.

“I have more gang experience, I assisted in countless cases in Chicago. You need to let me help.”

Shaking her head, your mother gestures for you to join them. You know you’ll get yelled at, lectured, and, if you’re lucky, encounter the wrath of a concerned mother rather than an undermined captain when you get home later.

✯✯✯✯✯

“K-9 unit already swept the property,” Zoe says as she leads you and Nolan into his place.

“Uh, no, Ben left for New York yesterday. So, what’s happening here?” he replies.

“The DA approved a VARDA alarm. It bypasses 911, sends a red alert to all the cops in the area.”

“So, what’s next?”

“That’s up to you.”

“I mean, I can’t just go to work, right? I’d be endangering everyone who came within five feet of me.”

“Being a cop is being at risk.”

“You’re saying I should just report for duty, act like nothing happened?”

“I think we tell the criminals what to do, not the other way around.”

“No matter the consequences?”

“No matter the consequences. But, look, it’s up to you. No one is gonna judge you either way.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Nolan, this isn’t about bravery. You have a family. Any cop who’s ever worn a badge understands that. It seems the system is up and armed. We have a unit parked out front. Try to get some sleep.”

“I’ll stay,” you offer. “And I’m sure West and Chen are on their way.”

“You call me if anything happens,” your mom demands. “And make sure West and Chen know that, too.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The next day, when you and Nolan enter the station, Tim gives Nolan a nod of approval. The rest of the officers break into a round of applause, and Tim’s eyes move to yours.

“You need to be careful,” Tim mouths.

“I promise,” you reply silently. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Riding in the backseat of the shop, you listen to your mom and Nolan while thinking about Tim. Being careful has always been a priority, but knowing that you risk not going home to the man you love puts everything into perspective.

The radio comes on as dispatch announces, “7-Adam-15, possible 459 in progress, 1936 Kristol Lane.”

“7-Adam-15, show us responding,” Nolan responds. “I hate this. Feels like everyone’s fighting my battle for me.”

“City still needs policing,” your mom points out.

An engine revs behind you, and you glance out of the back window, quickly noticing the nondescript van behind you. “Uh, mom?”

She nods once, removing her gun from its holster as the van moves into the lane beside the shop. You and Nolan similarly prepare to defend yourselves. The van sits beside the shop momentarily before turning onto another road.

“Uh, that was…” Nolan begins.

“Exilirating,” your mom finishes.

“I was gonna say ‘terrifying.’”

“What if we meet in the middle and say ‘dangerous,’” you recommend.

“That’s a good choice too.”

“7-Adam-15, go to channel 2 for Sergeant Grey.”

“Andersen,” Zoe calls after switching to the proper channel.

“It worked,” Wade says. “Midas forced Cole to lift the greenlight.”

“I guess you are back to being just another rookie,” Zoe tells Nolan as he takes a deep breath.

“But maybe keep your guard up for a few more days,” you suggest. “Just because there’s no greenlight doesn’t mean you’re safe.”

“Does this mean this little partnership is over?” Nolan asks.

“We got a burglary call to take,” Zoe answers with a smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

Following your mom and Nolan into the open door of the burglary location, you take the left side as your mother goes straight, and Nolan goes right. Nolan turns off a radio before a flashbang is thrown into the room. You cover your ears and move toward an assailant before he throws you onto the floor, taking advantage of your disorientation as another man sticks a cattle prod to Nolan’s chest. You’re unsure where your mother is, but as your eyes close, you hope she proves she’s always been the best cop in your family.

✯✯✯✯✯

You regain consciousness first, but the men don’t seem to care about you as they watch Nolan. Handcuffed to wooden chairs with your backs to the pool, you don’t have many options to break free, so you can only hope that your fellow officers have noticed how much time has passed since you radioed a code 6 upon arrival.

Nolan groans as he wakes, and you can’t warn him to stay quiet before he’s noticed.

“Look who’s awake,” Cole says as he turns toward Nolan, holding up the electrical prod. “Packs quite a kick, doesn’t it? It’s got four times the voltage as LAPD uses. Could probably cook the eyeball right out of your skull.”

Leaning back, Nolan replies, “Look, look, I did not intend to disrespect Astrid, okay? Or you, okay? And I would be happy to apologize.”

“Too late for that now. Only way this ends is with you dead.”

Your mom chuckles, and your head snaps toward her as she continues, “Yeah, I, uh, I’d heard that you were dumb, but it is shocking to see it in person.”

“Dumb?” Cole repeats.

“Dumb,” you say with your mother.

“Who lured you into an ambush with a false surrender?”

“Does your father know that it was false? Huh, junior? I can’t imagine that revelation’s gonna go too well, huh?”

“I think it’ll go fine.”

“Oh, he’s dubmer that I thought. What’s my rank?”

“What?”

“Her rank, idiot,” you interject. “You should be able to tell by her uniform.”

“Who cares?”

“I have a feeling you will.”

“You put a hit out on a rookie,” your mom adds. “But two bars and a badge that says ‘Captain’? You’ve just crossed a line that anybody with half a brain would run screaming from. A line that even your father might whack you for crossing. Understood? So, let me tell you how this is gonna go. You and your little goonies are gonna-“

Cole lunges forward, pressing the prod against her. You pull against your restraints as she yells in pain.

“Hey! Cole! No!” Nolan yells. “Hurt me! Right? I’m the one you want hurt, right? Killing me, that’s trouble you can handle, okay? But not her. You need to let her go.”

“Do you think I’m dumb, too?”

“No.”

Cole looks back and forth between Nolan and your mother. When he moves toward her, you and Nolan yell, “No!” but can’t stop him from kicking her chair into the pool.

“No! No! No!” Nolan chants, fighting the handcuffs.

While you pull as hard as you can, attempting to break free, you begin tipping your chair back toward the water.

“If the line’s already been crossed, then there’s no going back. Which means non of you are walking out of here. As long as your bodies never turn up, the murder can’t be pinned on me,” Cole says.

Twisting in your chair, moving onto two chair legs, you watch your mother struggle underwater through blurry eyes, your vision affected by your tears.

“No, you’re wrong,” Nolan answers before offering to make a video apologizing to Astrid. “Just get her out first. Right now,” he adds after Cole agrees.

“No, you got to make the video first. Come one!”

“Nolan!” you grunt, hoping he makes this quick.

Turning back to look at the pool, you think your mother’s arm is free, and as she swims to the surface, pulling one of Cole’s “goonies” into the water, Nolan tips his chair to tackle Cole to the ground. You move toward the other man, unconcerned, when he points a gun at you. Headbutting him once you’re on the ground, you flinch when a gunshot sounds in the pool.

“No, no, no,” you repeat lowly, turning toward the water’s edge.

Your mom raises over the edge, shooting the man standing above you.

“Mom, no!” you warn as Cole reaches for his gun.

You and Nolan struggle against the cuffs, and when a bullet hits your mom’s neck, time seems to slow down. She presses a hand to the wound before she lowers back into the water.

“No!” you scream, your voice cracking with emotion. “No, no, stay up!”

“No, Cap-“ Nolan calls.

“Mom!”

Nolan breaks his chair and dives into the pool as you watch helplessly.

“Come on,” Nolan repeats, beginning chest compressions.

“Nolan,” you whisper, sobbing against the wet concrete beneath you. “It’s too late.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Nolan tells you to stay still while he breaks your chair, but with your attention on your mom, that should be the least of his concerns. He frees you, pulling one end of the handcuffs away from the chair so you can move.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“It- it isn’t your fault.”

You begin crying again, looking at the bloody water as you kick the pieces of the chair away from you. Releasing a pained yell, you move to your knees, sitting beside your mom as sirens approach.

Nolan is beside you, unmoving, until Wade places a hand on his shoulder. Tim rushes to your side, kneeling beside you as he pulls you up.

“It was Cole,” Nolan says.

Tim leads you away from the pool as the coroner moves your mom into a flag-covered coffin. As you follow the procession through the line of officers, you stop beside Tim, waiting for his nod before you continue.

After the coroner leaves and Wade dismisses everyone with instructions to find Cade, you avoid looking at Tim. You can’t fall apart until you catch her killer.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk into roll call the following morning, Bishop offers you her seat, and you gladly take the place beside Tim. He slides the black strap over your badge before taking your hand under the table. You stay behind the roadblock, letting Nolan and Tim approach Cole to make the arrest. Once he is in cuffs and in the back of a shop, you holster your weapon and keep your eyes on Tim.

He rushes to you, pulling you into his arms, holding you close as you cling to him.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says against your hair. “Do you want to go with them?”

Shaking your head, you move toward Tim’s shop, and Lucy nods as she finds another ride back to the station.

“I- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without her, Tim,” you say when you’re alone.

“The hurt never goes away, but it lessens,” Tim promises. “And I’m right here.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Somehow, you manage to get through the funeral without falling apart. The moment you prepare to go home, to begin a life without her, that changes. You freeze on the sidewalk, looking back to the headstone.

“C’mon,” Tim murmurs as he approaches you. “You’re not staying alone tonight.”

“I can’t do this, Tim.”

“Yes, you can. Look at me. She loved you, and she wanted you to live and love, and do what you wanted to do. Do not let that monster take your life, too.”

Tim cups your cheeks, kissing your forehead as you nod.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but you’re not alone, okay?”

“I know,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim holds you against his chest until you fall asleep, but you don’t get much rest before a nightmare wakes you. Slipping out of Tim’s arms, you walk into his backyard and close the door behind you. Sitting on his deck, you feel like you’re back in Cole’s yard, frozen and unable to do anything more than scream. Why didn’t you take action like Nolan? Get the gun somehow before Cole got away from Nolan? … Why didn’t you save your mother?

Pressing your hand against your mouth, you attempt to silence your cries, but you should have realized that Tim would notice the moment you left his side. He closes the patio door softly, sitting beside you.

“Can I come closer?” he asks softly.

You shake your head quickly, and your thoughts spiral. So many things could have been done differently, and maybe this is a sign that you should have never come to Los Angeles, never have become a cop and that you are the reason she is dead.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim calls, demanding your attention as he grabs your hand. “Breathe. Breathe with me.”

As Tim grounds you, you crawl toward him, letting him hold you as you fall apart in his arms. Crying into his chest, you eventually fall asleep again, and Tim whispers a promise that he will always be here for you.

✯✯✯✯✯

The first few weeks are the hardest as reality sets in, and you relive the moment. Tim never leaves your side, though, offering a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, or a reminder that you are not to blame. As the time between tears grows longer and you can look at pictures of her and smile, you decide you’re ready to return to work.

“Are you sure? If you need more time, that is completely understandable,” Tim replies.

“I’m sure. You told me not to let Cole take my life, and I’m ready to start living again.”

“Still room for me?” Tim asks with a smile.

“Loads of room for you,” you promise, leaning against him.

“Then I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

So, when you walk into work three months later, you assume that Tim is responsible for the round of applause and the “Welcome Back” banner hanging in the bullpen. You and Tim are both surprised by how easily you return to the station, smiling as you greet your friends and able to walk past your mom’s office with nothing more than a sad smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

After practically moving into Tim’s house after the funeral, you know where everything is. So, when he spills a drink while watching the game, unable to draw his eyes from the screen, he asks you to get him some dry clothes.

“Sure thing,” you reply, smiling at him.

Tim yells when his team scores, and you shake your head in loving amusement as you enter his closet. Moving a small basket to get a shirt from behind it, you accidentally knock something onto the floor. When you stand after picking it up, you realize that it’s a jewelry box. Opening it, you see the one thing you didn’t expect.

In the other room, one of the teams calls a time-out, and commercials begin playing. Tim realizes that you’ve been in the bedroom for a while, so he stands, stretching as he sets out to check on you.

“Did you fall into a-“ he begins, freezing when he sees you staring at the engagement ring.

“Sorry,” you say, snapping out of your shocked stupor as you close the box and put the ring back. “I knocked it off and didn’t think, uh, here’s a clean shirt.”

Tim grabs your hands rather than the shirt, stopping you before you can walk around him.

“I’ve had it for a while,” Tim explains. “I just- I could never find the right time to ask.”

Wiping a tear from your cheek, you press the shirt against Tim’s chest and ask, “Can you get dressed, please?”

“For what?”

“I need a hug, but you’re really wet.”

Tim laughs, changing right beside you before pulling you toward the bed. He rolls onto his side, looking at your face as you reach for him.

“What about the game?” you whisper.

“Who needs a game when I have you?”

“Well, if you’re not using the tv,” you begin, trailing off.

Tim sighs, kissing your cheek as he reaches over you for the remote. He turns on your favorite movie, inviting you to lay against his chest as you cuddle against him.

“Yes,” you say a few minutes later.

“Yes what?” Tim asks, looking down at you.

You pause the movie, rolling toward Tim to look up at him as you lay your chin against his chest. “If you proposed, I would say yes. No matter when or where.”

Tim smiles, and you decide to watch him rather than the movie.

Considering what his proposal may be like, you whisper, “I wish my mom was here.”

“A few months ago, I left to get breakfast, and then I was acting different the rest of the week. Do you remember that?” Tim asks. You nod, and he continues, “I went to see your mom that day. I showed her the ring and asked for her permission to propose. She told me that I had her blessing and she’d love to have me as a son-in-law.”

Tim smiles as he remembers Zoe's excitement after learning about his plans.

“I was going to propose the weekend that – that she died.”

“She loved you,” you remind him as he brushes his thumbs over your cheeks.

“And I love you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Get dressed,” Tim whispers in your ear as the movie ends.

“What?”

“Put clothes on. Unless you want to go to dinner wearing that,” Tim replies, gesturing to your well-loved pajamas. “Not that you don’t look beautiful, of course.”

“Move,” you mumble, pushing past him to reach the dresser he emptied for you after the funeral.

As he drives you to dinner, you watch Tim’s profile, feeling like the luckiest, most loved woman ever. He stops at a park, exiting beside a tree covered in fairy lights. Walking to the passenger door, he takes your hand and helps you out of the truck.

“Tim, what is this?” you ask.

“Something I should’ve done before,” he begins, kneeling. He looks into your eyes, reflecting the lights above you as he speaks. When you say yes, crying just as Zoe said you would, Tim stands, pulling you into his arms before sliding the ring onto your finger.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hi,” you greet, lowering to sit in the grass. You look at the sparkling ring on your finger and smile. “Tim proposed. I- I wouldn’t have seen it coming if I hadn’t found it in the closet.”

The wind blows, wrapping around you like a comforting hug.

“He told me that he went to see you and you gave him your blessing. I know you loved him, and you knew how much I loved him, but… sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve him. He singlehandedly held me together after that day with Cole. And I don’t want to receive more than I give.” Leaning toward the headstone, you read your mother’s name and ask, “What do I do to show him I love him?”

“He knows,” Tim answers, approaching with flowers. “May I join?”

You smile, inviting Tim to sit with you at your mother’s grave. He lays the flowers against her headstone before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“What are we talking about?” he asks.

“Us.”

“That’s my favorite topic.”

As you fall back into conversation with your mom, and Tim joins you, you feel like your mom is sitting across from you. With her love and Tim’s, plus all the love you have to give, you know you will be okay. Great even, you think as you lean against Tim, and the sun glints off the ring on your left hand.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #requests #fem!reader #tw: death #cw death #tw parent death

293 notes · View notes

moondustpugh · 1 month

Text

Still Love You Anyway

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe just got a new haircut and you have mixed feelings about it.

Author's Note: This was requested by @readergf, so thank you for that! I miss writing Joe, so here's a little something something :)

Wordcount: 1K

Getting home on a Friday afternoon was such a relief for you. You were exhausted for the week, and you were ready to curl up with your nice warm blanket and just watch TV all weekend long. You just hoped Joe also felt the same because you honestly didn’t want to do anything or go anywhere else. The thought of you being in his arms as you exited the tube was the only thing that kept you going. Walking down the street, you watched as the sun set on the horizon, reflecting between the tall skyscrapers. You took a deep breath and pulled out your keys as soon as you arrived at the flat.

The flat was quiet, and you figured maybe Joe wasn’t home yet. Kicking off your shoes, you sighed in relief and flopped yourself on the sofa for a minute and closed your eyes. Then, a buzzing sound and a quiet clatter from down the hall made your eyes fly open.

“Joe?” You called out.

No answer.

Getting up from the sofa, you made your way down the hall and turned the doorknob of the bathroom door, only to find it locked.

“Joe, are you in here?” You asked.

“Oh, you’re home!” Joe exclaimed through the other side. “I didn’t think you would be home early.”

You furrowed your brows, wondering what was going on inside there.

“Yeah, I was tired, so I decided to leave a little early.” You replied. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

It was unusual.

Since when did you both lock the bathroom door? You were comfortable enough in this relationship where you both don’t lock doors anymore. The sound of buzzing started again, and your eyes widened when you realized what it was.

“Joe, what are you doing?” A hint of panic in your voice.

“Almost done, darling.” Joe answered.

After a minute, the buzzing stopped, and the doorknob was unlocked. A loud gasp immediately escaped from you as soon as Joe had swung the bathroom door open. You stood there with wide eyes, your jaw dropped on the floor, and your feet glued to the ground. You couldn’t move or say anything, while Joe gave you an amused smile.

“I’m guessing you don’t like it?” Joe’s smile suddenly fades when you haven’t said a word for the last minute or so.

“No.” You cleared your throat when you heard your voice croaking. “I—”

You clamped a hand over your mouth and slowly walked towards him.

His head was buzzed.

Buzzed!

The crime scene of his perfectly brown curls were scattered all over the bathroom floor. Not that he had his hair long for a while now but still!

The crime!

“Wh…Why?” You asked, blinking repeatedly, and hoping this was just a dream.

“It’s for Warfare, darling.” He shrugged. “It’s for a role. It’ll grow back.”

You watched as he ran his hand on his now buzzed head, and you couldn’t help but mourn over his beautiful brown curls. Not that he didn’t look good. Joe always looked good no matter what his hair was, but the curls!

Oh, how much you would miss running your fingers through them.

Slowly, you reached your hand above his head, and Joe couldn’t help but chuckle. He watched as your shaky hand slowly grazed over his new haircut, and you bit your lower lip trying your best not to make a reaction. You noticed his features were more prominent with this new look of his. His chocolate button eyes looked bigger—beautiful. His cheekbones were more sharp.

“It’s okay.” Joe laughed softly, bending down to clean all the pieces of his hair on the floor. “You can tell me the truth.”

“Not that I don’t like it.” You murmured. “It’s just that… I’m going to miss running my fingers through those curls.”

Throwing the pieces of his hair in the bin, Joe walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning in to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

“It’ll grow back pretty quickly.” Joe reassured you. “And you could tug on my hair as much as you want.”

You chuckled softly, running your hand over his buzzed head again.

“Hm…” You studied him for a moment.

Joe laughed softly, pressing another kiss on your lips. You let out a soft hum as you pulled him closer to your body. You deepened the kiss and let your hands immediately reach up to where his hair was only to be met by his buzzed head.

No hair to tug. No curls to run your fingers through.

This was torture for you.

“This is so unfair.” You groaned softly, pulling away from the kiss.

Joe laughed again, shaking his head as you gave him a small pout. He reeled you in his arms and walked you back to the living room, his soft hands softly caressing your arms.

“How was your day?” He asked.

You flopped yourself on the sofa and said, “Long. Rough. I was ready to just go home. I didn’t expect my boyfriend to be buzz cutting his hair the moment I did.”

Joe let out a laugh as he buried his face on your neck, breathing you in. You could feel the sharp edges of his hair on the line of your jaw tickle you softly. You couldn’t help but laugh and wrapped your arms around him.

“It tickles.” You said.

Joe smiled through your skin and softly rubbed his head against your jawline, making you laugh.

“Okay, okay. Now, you’re like a cat with sharp fur.” You teased, your hand finding his head again. “Although, I’m getting used to this.”

Joe laid his head on your lap as you smiled down at him, softly caressing the sharp edges of his newly hair.

“Be honest, does it look bad?” Joe asked.

“No,” You chuckled softly. “It’s new for me, but you are still beautiful.”

Leaning down, you planted a soft kiss on his lips, making Joe smile through the kiss.

“Still love me?” He asked, his chocolate button eyes soft and deep.

“Always.” You smiled. “No matter what your hair is, I will still love you anyway.”

Sitting up on the sofa, Joe smiled and pulled you in his arms, a soft kiss planted on your hair. You sort of found it funny that he asked you that question. Although the look was new to you, he was still your Joe.

Always. The End.

***********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn Fics #Joe Quinn Fics #Joseph Quinn Fanfics #Joe Quinn Fanfics #one shot #still love you anyway #moondustpugh

168 notes · View notes

meguemii · 6 months

Text

Throwing Rocks at Your Window.

Synopsis- in which you and your boyfriend satoru gojo and you have a silly argument but you have to go home quickly before saying goodbye to him and you end up getting your phone taken away for a week. Satoru shows up at your window because you haven’t been responding to his texts and calls.

Warnings- A very small cut in your forehead, nothing crazy. FLUFF AND SILLY CRY BABY GOJO.

word count- 1.8k

navigation station🚉.

gojo satoru’s playlist🎧. (kinda angsty LOL)

Emi’s notes- you guys know i literally never proofread my works. this is such an american romcom LOL.

You had been hanging out with everyone on a friday afternoon after school grabbing food and doing some shopping. It was pretty hot for a spring day and you had been talking with Shoko and Haibara about a show you guys watch. The other two were teasing Nanami about stupid stuff. After stuffing your face for 10 minutes and laughing you ass off, your throat started to get dry. Asking your oh so sweet and loving boyfriend to grab you a drink so you could keep talking with your friends. “Get it yourself you rat” he replied in a sassy tone because of course you HAD to date a sassy man. “Satoru Gojo, i’m literally be parched don’t be a jerk!” you retorted as crossed your arms with a ‘hmph’ “Yes Satoru, go get the love and light of your life a soda” Suguru mocked him. Nanami also chimed in telling Gojonto be a gentleman.Gojo rolled his eyes telling nanami to shut up and once again told you to get it yourself “stop being a lazy mole rat and get yourself a drink” he stuck his tongue out at you like a child and you rolled your eyes. “Screw you Satoru” you said slumping in your chair. “I can get you something to drink” Haibara offered and you turned him down with a smile saying it was okay.

Checking your phone as it buzzed notifying you that you had gotten a text. ‘Get your butt home!’ from your mother. “Oh here we go.” you huffed as you collected your things saying your goodbyes and that you had to go, quickly scurrying off to get home and see what your mom was mad at you for.

“Where’s she going?” Gojo asked as he watched you leave. “She’s pissed and said she didn’t want to be near you” Shoko chuckled evilly as she stirred the pot, out of love of course. Any chance to scare Gojo she would take in a heartbeat. He started to feel bad about it and texted you an apology quickly after.

You arrived home to find your parents at the kitchen table seeing a pack of smokes and a lighter laying on the table, mumbling a small “shit” under your breathe. “Y/N M/N L/N, Care to explain?” Your mother asked with a ticked off look on her face. Trying to find a million excuses in a matter of milliseconds, “They’re Ieri’s, she left them here the other day when she spent the night. I swear.” Crossing your heart hoping she’d believe your lie, as well as to try and prove your false innocence. “Grounded. Hand me your phone.” your father said flatly. “But I told you they weren’t mine!”you protested just as any teenager in trouble would. “Even if they are Ieri’s why would you let her leave them here?” your mother asked as she pinched the bridge of her nose in disappointment. “She was literally supposed to sleepover this weekend and said she’d grab them then!” another excuse, you were on a roll! “Give them back on monday. I never want to see another cigarette in this home unless it’s your father’s.” you grumbled in anger handing over your phone and retreating to your room. “I’m calling Ieri and tellingnl her your sleepover is canceled! You’re not going anywhere for a week!” you heard your mother shout from the kitchen. “Whatever!” you shouted back.

Great. Now you’d be bored all weekend without any human interaction besides speaking to your parents. Maybe you’d catch up on your actual schoolwork since you couldn’t train.

Entertaining yourself with music from your ipod, and reading all weekend. You couldn’t help but snort to yourself recalling friday afternoon and that stupid argument you had with Satoru, you wondered if he missed you or if he wondered where you’ve been all weekend as it was a sunday night.

Little did you know that he was panicked and distraught all weekend thinking you were ignoring him because you were actually mad. You guys had ‘fought’ and then you ran off and started ignoring his text messages and calls all going straight to voicemail. “C’mon Y/N pick up” he whined as he dragged out the ‘p’. “Hi this is Y/N! Can’t talk right now! Leave a message but only if it’s worth listening to!” That was literally the only thing he’s heard you say all weekend. A prerecorded message, he even called your house phone and your dad picked up saying to leave her alone which really scared him. Did you tell your parents you hated him?

He quicking dialled Suguru’s number, waiting forever for him to pick up. A groggy voice picked up the phone “Satoru it’s 11:45pm on a sunday night. what could you possibly need?” He said while yawning making it clear that he had been woken up. “Have you heard from

Y/N?” he frantically asked. “No? We never text or call, I don’t even think I have her number saved. Is that all you need? Because if so I am going back to sleep. Do not disturb my slumber again.” Satoru scoffed at Suguru’s attitude. “Okay for starters don’t be rude. Secondly she hasn’t been answering me at all this weekend and I called her home phone and her dad told me to leave her alone!” He whined, god he was such a baby. “She hates you man. Maybe you should have gotten her that drink.” he teased his crybaby friend. “Dude I’m being serious. What if she hates me and wants to break up? What do I do?” He cried out clearly scared his girlfriend *does* hate him. “I don’t know man, maybe she wants you to apologize in person. Girl’s like that romantic shit.” Gojo threw himself backwards into his bed as he sighed in frustration with himself. How could he be so stupid? All she wanted was a drink and he couldn’t even get that for her? what a joke. he thought to himself and thanked Suguru saying that was a good idea and saying a quick goodnight before hanging up and getting ready to leave.

It was around midnight and you were so close to falling asleep, to the point your music would cut out as you drifted only to snap back awake and started hearing it again and something else, sounded like something got knocked over in your room. Freaking out and sitting up while reaching to turn your lamp on, you heard it again. Something was hitting your window. Was it a curse?? Was there a curse outside of your house? You groaned in annoyance as you got up, tossing your ipod and headphones somewhere and scuffled over to check your window while pretty much tripping over your feet to see what was outside, pulling your curtains. Without actually checked you whipped your window open and yelled “are you serious right n-“ SMACK. A rock flew straight at your face and collided with your forehead. Stumbling backwards and rubbing your poor forehead, positive you had the indent of a rock there. An “Oh shit!” could be heard from outside. Of course It was your idiot boyfriend throwing rocks at your window.

Marching right back to where you were previously standing at your window. “Are you kidding me right now?!” Looking down to see the white haired teen looking up sheepishly at you. Staring down in disbelief, had he really walked to your house in the middle of the night to throw rocks at your face? “Can we talk?” he shouted up you, his face full of concern. “I wanted to apologize!” You laughed at him “You wanted to show up at my house in the middle of the night to throw a rock at my face only so you could say sorry?” you joked with him. You weren’t mad, more so amused.

“What? No! I wanted to apologize for making you hate me! I don’t want you to dump me! I should have gotten you a soda the other day, and I clearly upset you because you’re mad at me!” You paused and tried to stifle your laughter. He did this because he thought you were actually mad at him about that? ‘He’s such a poor soul’ you thought to yourself. He looked like he rushed over here, his hair was disheveled, his shoes were unlaced and he was wearing weird halloween pyjama pants. What a sight to see, if you had your phone, you’d take a photo.

“I don’t hate you and I don’t want to break up!— hold on let me come down and explain!” Quickly and quietly creeping through the halls of your home to get outside, passing your parents room you closed their door quietly. Throwing on your shoes and running outside to greet the boy, you were immediately met with a bear hug as he buried his head into the crook of your neck thanking you for not breaking up with him. You smiled and patted the back of his head while giggling. This was so funny to you.

He finally pulled away as you playfully smiled at him. “I got grounded and my parents took away my phone, that’s why I haven’t been answering you.” His mouth immediately falling into the shape of an ‘O’. “And I left because I got a text from my mom telling me to come home.” you finished your story, wasn’t a very long one but it cleared up the misunderstanding. “How long are you grounded for?” he asked, hoping you’d say only for the weekend. “A week” you sighed and hung your head low in a dramatic shame. Satoru groaned in annoyance and flicked your head. “Moron. Try not to get in trouble anymore.”

And that was that, the two of you talked as you sat in the front yard just talking and staring up at the stars. Satoru explained how he had been worried all weekend and what mental torture he had been going through. It was probably around 2am now and you had said your good nights and that you’d see each other in a few hours. “I love you Satoru.” You said as you hugged him goodnight, he kissed your forehead and said goodnight as well, adding a ‘rat’ at the end teasing you, and you stuck your tongue out watching him as he walked away waving bye to you. Smiling to yourself as you walked back into your house. Kicking your shoes off and quietly creeping back to your room, unaware your parent’s door was now open. Opening your own door to see your mother sitting on your bed with her arms crossed. “Make that 3 weeks.” you groaned and through your head back.

Bonus!

You walked into school late as you had gotten no sleep as you had gotten a lecture from your mom about sneaking out especially when you were already in trouble. The bags under your eyes looked like a literal black hole. You opened the classroom door being greeted by Yaga with a “you’re late L/N. Go sit down.” shuffling over to your seat and leaning over to Satoru’s desk you whispered “make that 3 weeks” which resulted in him standing up and frantically yelling about how that’s not fair.

WOWOWOW— WHO KNEW I WAS ACTUALLY BACK TO POSTING MORE THAN ONCE A MONTH AGAIN?!!?! me when i have time on my hands🧍‍♀️

Silly gojo, what a meanie. (¬_¬) we stan him either way. I always hope my fics are good, i haven’t written anything for gojo in a long time and i crave silly blue eyes man constantly. lmk if you wanna see more of him >w<

reblogs and comments are vv appreciated ٩( 'ω' )و

much love, emi!🩷

tags- feel free to ask to be added ! :3

@kasumitenbaz

#emi’s archive ┆彡 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x yn #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo oneshot #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x yn #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen one shot #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru one shot #i love him #he’s so silly #silly jjk

289 notes · View notes

allyeardepression · 3 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic | feb 20 shiver | words: 864

yeah, so, someone said they would like a part 2 to this so i wrote it. i don’t know if it’s any good but here it is, hope y’all like it (also sorry for all the mistakes, english still isn’t my first language)

next part 👀

“He just stayed over for dinner, Sirius. It was a ‘thank you’ for helping me with Gigi” James repeated for what felt like a hundredth time.

“Oh, I know your ‘thank yous’. Don’t try to fool me, I haven’t met you yesterday” Sirius laughed through the phone. James was surprised his best friend didn’t get mad at him for spending the evening with said friend’s brother.

He was expecting the man to throw a tantrum about it, that’s why he called Moony and asked for Sirius as soon as Regulus left his flat with the dog.

“You know, it’s kind of your fault. Why would you leave your phone to your brother? If you hadn’t done that nothing would have happened!”

“So, something did happen?” James heard the cheeky smile even though he couldn't see it and simply groaned at the response he received. Sirius could be his best friend, who James loved dearly, but he could also piss him off like nobody else.

“Don’t change the subject, just- why did he have your phone? I really was terrified with the whole situation and as if it wasn’t enough I almost got a heart attack because you really didn’t have your phone and I didn’t know who got my address, and if they wouldn’t ki-“

“Okay, James, breathe” he heard from the other side. He did just that. “Now, stop spiralling. He had my phone, because I left it there on my way to the venue. He was fucking with you, you know how he is” Sirius explained calmly and James felt a little better. But then “While we’re on the topic of fucking-“

“I’m hanging up” his bestie just barked a laugh at that.

“Yeah, Reggie’s here anyways, I have to pester him now. Bye, love ya” and with that Sirius ended the call.

James breathed heavily and slumped into the couch. Excluding the Gigi incident, the evening was really nice - he and Regulus prepared the butter chicken together (using tofu instead of chicken since Reg doesn’t eat meat). They laughed at what the vet said about them not being good uncles to the dog and talked about their lives. James knew from Sirius that Regulus went to art school but still listened eagerly as the younger man talked about his latest project.

“You should come to the opening. I think you’ll like it” Regulus said midway through his dish. He also smirked when James started choking on his rice. After a moment he calmed down, whipping his face with a napkin.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll try to make it. When is it exactly?” he asked, pretending like nothing happened just seconds ago. Regulus laughed at him, sounding so very sweet again, and James tried to hide the small smile and blush that appeared on his face.

“Next Friday at 8” the black-haired man replied simply, going back to his meal. He looked so soft and peaceful sitting at the table, the older man felt a need to squish him tightly, because what the fuck - how can someone look so pretty?

With James’ internal crisis and Regulus’ quiet chewing they fell into a comfortable silence. It was new to James - usually, while eating with his parents and friends, it was very loud, everyone talking and laughing all the time. But it was nice - to just sit and enjoy a dinner together.

When they were finished Regulus took Gigi and said he’ll drop her off at Sirius’. James just thanked him again, walking the other man down the hall. When Regulus was out, he turned over his shoulder and smiled warmly.

“See you next Friday” he said and walked to the elevator. James didn’t even have a chance to reply as the younger man disappeared behind the metal door.

He took another deep breath and went to his bathroom, taking a quick shower and preparing to go to sleep. He was halfway through his skincare routine when his phone beeped. As always, he didn’t bother checking it while he’s having his alone time, but as soon as he laid his head on the pillow he opened the unread message.

Unknown

Sirius is fucking mad

Whatever he says to you - do NOT believe him

He’s delusional, I swear

It’s Regulus, by the way

James felt a pleasant shiver going down his spine. Regulus didn’t ask for his numer, but apparently took it from Sirius’ phone. Sneaky little thing he was.

James

didnt expect you to be not only a murderer but also a thief

and i know your brothers mad ive known him half my life

Reg

I’m not a thief, I’m THE thief

If I managed to steal your number maybe I’ll be able to steal some of your time ;)))

THAT MESSAGE WAS FILLED WITH SARCASM

James laughed at that.

James

yeah sure

you can steal as much of my time as you want

THAT MESSAGE WAS ABSOLUTELY NOT FILLED WITH SARCASM

The reply didn’t come right away. He could see the three dots appearing and disappearing every now and then, though. And when it finally came, James just smiled at it.

Reg

You’re being cheesy, please don’t act like that at the opening

#jegulus #starchaser #dead gay wizards #james potter #james x regulus #regulus black #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders

113 notes · View notes

delta-piscium · 1 year

Text

I wrote this in September and it’s been collecting dust in my docs and staring back at me with judgement whenever I post or write something else so here

“Steve” a familiar voice shouts across the room.

Steve turns around, and there, on the other side of the crowded room is Tommy. It really shouldn’t be as big of a shock to see him as it is. Steve is at a house party on a Friday night, it would have been weirder if Tommy wasn’t here. But still, that doesn’t mean he’s prepared to see him, they basically haven’t talked in three years, ever since Steve ‘chose’ Nancy over him and Carol (aka finally dropped them because they were horrible and didn’t drop Nancy because she isn’t).

Still, he plasters on a smile, making it as polite as he can, and waves. Hopes it will be enough but of course, it isn’t. Tommy starts weaving through people, pushing and elbowing his way toward Steve.

“Its been ages,” he says clapping his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “how have you been man.”

Steve resists the urge to shrug his hand off, but it’s a close thing.

“It has.” Steve doesn’t add ‘because you’re an asshole and I hate who I am around you’ and he feels very mature for it. “I’m good.” He very deliberately does not ask Tommy how he’s been.

“Me too, me too.” He responds anyways, at least he finally removes his hand from Steve’s shoulder which makes him relax marginally. “Still dating Nancy?”

And, okay yeah, he and Tommy haven’t really spoken since he and Nancy were still together but Hawkins is a small town and he’s sure Tommy knows that Nancy had both broken up with Steve, gone on to date Jonathan for two years, and recently broken up with him as well. Actually, he thinks he remembers a shower conversation with Billy just days after she dumped him and went off to Murray with Jonathan, a conversation that Tommy was also present for.

“No, we broke up years ago.” He dutifully replies anyways, because what else can he say?

“Yeah, heard she dumped you?”

Steve is gonna remain calm, play along in whatever game Tommy is playing, and not react.

“She did,” he agrees easily.

“And got with Jonathan right after? Should have listened to us and stayed away.” He grins as he speaks, grins as if Steve is gonna agree with him.

“We’re still friends,” Steve shrugs, letting the fall of Tommy’s smile bring one to his own lips.

“Was for the best that we broke up, we’re much better as friends.”

Tommy squints a bit, his hackles raising and Steve only notices because he once knew him so well. Why he’s still getting defensive talking about Nancy Steve doesn’t know.

“Oh Stevie, you still hung up on her huh?”

It’s deliberate, he’s trying to press Steve’s buttons. ‘Well, tough Tommy-boy.’ Steve thinks, ‘those ones don’t work anymore, have been defunct for ages. You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want a reaction.’

“Nah,” he says, lets his smile be a bit more genuine when he continues, “she’s great but I’m dating someone else.”

“Rebound?” Tommy whistles, “she hot?”

Why Tommy is convinced Steve is still pining after Nancy he can’t say, or maybe it’s the only angle he has on Steve nowadays? Except they basically lived in each other's pockets all through high school and if Tommy really wants to get under Steve’s skin there are other things, better things. Things he has used against Steve before and seen the effect of. Why he isn’t he using them now when he clearly has some agenda Steve can’t say.

Steve is about to respond, has his mouth open and ready to speak when someone calls his name again. Thankfully this time the source is a lot more pleasant.

Tommy turns around to see who it is, completely exposing his back to Steve. It’s probably the last few years of fighting hell monsters that has ingrained a distrust in Steve. Making him hyper-aware of his surroundings and never willing to leave his back open like this to people he doesn’t trust. He knows this but still, he thinks there should be some primal instinct in Tommy to stop him from making himself so vulnerable to Steve, the action speaks of leftover trust that Steve isn’t ready to face.

“Munson? You know Munson?” He turns back around, an incredulous look on his face.

It snaps Steve out of his thoughts and reminds him Eddie had called for him. He leans to the side, stretching out so he’s visible behind Tommy, catching Eddie’s eye and waving him over.

“I do, yeah.”

Tommy’s face twists into something Steve can’t immediately place. He recognizes it, knows he’s seen Tommy make that face before. It’s not disgust or confusion but maybe something in between? Before he can figure it out it clears.

“Oh, King Steve getting drugs? Who would have thought?”

Steve rolls his eyes, the only reason he had stopped smoking weed for a while in high school was because athletes got tested. Why Tommy is pretending Steve ever had some moral issue with it now is beyond him but not much of this interaction has made sense to him so far so what’s one more thing?

“What Steve doing drugs? He’s a very responsible young man and would never” Eddie says, twisting past the last couple of people.

“Right Stevie? You wouldn’t touch the stuff?” Eddie–knowing very well that Steve would in fact ‘touch the stuff’–asks.

“Not with a ten-foot pole.” Steve–who smoked yesterday–deadpans.

“Knew I could trust in you to stay a good boy.” Eddie coos as he steps into Steve's space and kisses him despite where they are. It’s quick enough that no one who isn’t watching would catch it though and the only one who is watching is Tommy. When Steve looks back at him his face slack with shock.

“Hagan,” Eddie says with a short nod.

“You-?” Tommy looks between them, that same look as before flashing on his face, still just out of Steve’s grasp.

Steve contemplates what he should do for a second but Tommy already saw them kiss, already knows. And honestly, Steve doesn’t really care what he thinks and he knows Tommy won't say anything. Steve has too much dirt on him.

“Oh sorry, Tommy this is my boyfriend.” His voice is deceptively sweet as he introduces Eddie as if that’s what Tommy had been getting at.

Steve turns to Eddie, “baby, you know who Tommy is right?”

He’s laying it on thick, asks despite Eddie greeting him by name two seconds ago. Knows others' unabashed confidence and being on the outside are things Tommy can’t handle.

“I think so,” Eddie plays along, “you were friends once right? Before you found better people?”

It’s mean but Steve wouldn't have thought too much of it if it weren’t for the wounded noise Tommy makes. When Steve looks at him again his face is cracked open and it finally clicks what that expression is.

“Aw, you jealous?” Eddie says in a mocking tone, hitting the nail on the head because that’s exactly what that expression is, jealousy.

It’s the same look he had whenever Steve told him about a new girl, the look he’d have when Steve started bringing Nancy around. It’s deeper though, not only jealousy. He also looks like he did when Steve told him and Carol to leave him alone. He doesn’t just look jealous, Tommy looks heartbroken.

He tries to pull it together, scrunching his nose up in disdain, and scowls at them. Quickly looks away from Steve when their eyes catch and his mask falls a bit, instead focusing on Eddie who raises one eyebrow in response.

“Hardly,” he scoffs, it comes out strained, “I would love to stay and chat but-”

He doesn’t elaborate, just turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd.

Steve is frozen to the spot, a war going on in his head. Puzzle pieces he didn’t know were missing falling into place.

“Come on, let's get out of here.” Eddie grabs Steve’s wrist and starts pulling him outside, away from the party. He gets them in his car and doesn’t try to speak to Steve, probably sensing he’s having some earth-shattering realizations right now.

“He liked me,” he finally manages to say. “That’s why he hated Nancy so much. He was...” he trails off, knows it’s true but can’t quite say it.

“Jealous,” Eddie finishes softly.

“You knew?” Steve asks because Eddie doesn’t sound or look surprised at all.

He shrugs, “I had my suspicions.”

“But how-”

“We looked at you the same,” his smile is wry, self-deprecating, “I recognized it.”

And Steve can’t really process this right now even though he knows it’s true so he grasps at straws, “Carol, he was with Carol?”

Eddie reaches out one arm and cups his face in his hand, glances at him quickly before he looks back at the road with a sad smile.

“If you’re in love with your best friend, your male best friend who you believe is straight, you do what you need to do to push it down, to hide it. Especially in high school and in a small town.”

“In love?” Steve rasps because he’d said ‘like’.

“Yeah, sweetheart. In love.”

Eddie brushes his fingers under Steve’s eye and he realizes it’s because he’s crying.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I don’t know why I'm reacting like this.”

And it’s true, he really doesn’t understand why it feels like a big hole has opened in him. He never liked Tommy, not like that, yet it feels like he’s lost something, fucked something up.

“He used to be your best friend, it’s a big thing to realize.” Eddie parks outside of his trailer, turns to Steve making no move to get out of the car. “Kind of changes everything, or at least puts it in a new context, explains some things.”

Steve feels the blood drain from his face because he’s suddenly remembered something and oh god does it put it in a new fucking context.

“Baby?” Eddie asks when Steve sits frozen again.

“We used to get wasted and make out,” he whispers the words, shame coursing through his veins.

Eddie goes still and Steve rushes the explain.

“Not often and not after he got with Carol, just,” he takes a shallow breath, “It happened a few times. We’d steal my dad's whiskey and get so beyond drunk and, well, kiss a lot.”

He’d smile at the memory if he wasn’t so horrified by it at the moment.

“The first time Tommy had never kissed anyone, asked me to teach him so he wouldn’t fuck it up when it mattered. Then after that it just kind of continued to happen. We’d get drunk, make out, and pretend like nothing. It stopped when he started seeing Carol, he tried but I stopped him. Told him he didn’t need to practice now when he had the real deal. We never talked about or even mentioned it.”

Steve sees Eddie’s arms shake and when he looks up he sees Eddie holding back laughter, eyes filled with barely concealed amusement.

“Are you laughing right now?”

Eddie stops holding back, letting the laughter burst out of him and Steve is so confused because he thought Eddie would be mad at him. He’s not sure why, it’s just that this has been such a deeply buried secret wrapped in shame for years with a big ‘do not talk or even think about it’ sign placed in front of it. That it would be met with laughter was never a possibility.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps through it, “It’s just such a cliche.”

Steve’s confused face only makes Eddie laugh harder. When he calms down he takes Steve's face in both his hands holding him firmly and looking him in the eyes.

“Steve, baby, sweetheart. Tommy used the oldest trick in the book on you, asking you to teach him how to kiss and you did it multiple times because what? he needed practice? That’s the flimsiest excuse to gay kiss your best friend and it’s also fucking done, it’s a cliche.”

Steve blinks, realizes that while he never had feelings for Tommy he had definitely found him attractive, had enjoyed kissing him. Had very deliberately not thought too deeply about his or Tommy's motives because that would have made it something he would have had to face.

“Oh,” he says.

Eddie smiles, wide and warm, “yeah, oh.”

“You don’t think I used him?” Steve has to ask, “if he had feelings for me and I didn’t have any for him.”

“No,” Eddie says, “not more than he did you. And you were kids, just messing around and trying to figure yourselves out in a not-very-accommodating world.”

Eddie squints a bit in thought, “though he probably thought you were more on the same page, that you could continue even though he was with Carol. Must have stung to be rejected.”

Steve snorts, “wasn’t really interested in helping anyone cheat, even under all the pretenses.”

“I know.”

Eddie's eyes are soft, looking at him with so much warmth that Steve momentarily forgets what they were talking about until Eddie's mouth twists into a sly grin.

“I can’t believe your first gay experience was with Tommy fucking Hagan.”

Steve gives him an unimpressed look, “at least I didn’t come in my pants ten seconds in, like some people I know.”

Eddie draws back, clutching his chest with his hands, “harsh words, love. It was at least a minute.”

#the amount of times i used the word realize- Steve in this and kylie jenner in 2016 #🤝 realizing so much #listen Tommy being in love with Steve and them kissing as teenager just takes up such a specific part of my brain always #like look at them- they would okay #don't ask me what this is beyond that #Steve and Eddie are assholes together b #but only (mostly) when it's deserved #Dels steddie thoughts #My writing #my post #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #tommy hagan

513 notes · View notes

vivalas-vega · 9 months

Note

Oooh my, your requests are freaking open???? I've got an idea in my head for a long time and now I give it a try and send it to you. I'm obsessed with Jake (and Bradley) x Roomie (fem reader or oc) trope, so apologies in advance for this one (also a sucker for hurt and comfort 😬). I try to keep it as short as possible: Rooster's and Hangman's new roomie has a sad past. She has sleeping issues and bad nightmares. They hear her whimpering and crying in her sleep. The guys are worried but she plays it down, feeling bad for waking them up with her shit. Maybe she starts to sleep walking and unfortunately hurts herself during this episode. The guys find her in the middle if the night hurt. And she opens up to them telling them about her dreams and her past.

ahhhh !!! I'm so glad to finally get this one posted, I'm so sorry it took so long ! I am such a sucker for the roommate trope, and I love writing stories that are strictly platonic, just focusing on lovely friendship vibes bc those are just as important as the romantic ones !!! I hope you enjoy!

(this doesn't have a title yet bc it's admittedly the thing I'm the worst at when it comes to writing fics)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some suggestive humor, language, brief and vague mentions of death, lmk if I missed any

“Are you going to eat these leftovers?” you asked Bradley, who was sitting at the kitchen island keeping you company as you cleaned out the fridge and he stared at the tupperware container for an infuriatingly long time, contemplating his options before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Bradshaw, it’s pasta. Yes or no?”

“No,” he finally answered. “You’re in a mood.”

“No mood, it would just be nice if you could be snappier in your responses while you just watch me clean the kitchen.”

“Yeah, definitely not in a mood,” he muttered under his breath but you heard it anyway. “Do you know where Hangman is?”

“You two share a bathroom and you still can’t call him by his name?” you asked with a chuckle. “He’s at the gym, should be back soon.”

“We only share a bathroom because you got the master,” he protested and you laughed again.

“I needed the bigger closet,” you shrugged. “I told you you’re welcome to use mine anytime.”

“After you reamed me for using your face wash? Thank you, but no thank you, I haven’t been yelled at like that since I borrowed my moms car to take Cindy Daniels on a date.”

“I only yelled because you used a forty dollar cleanser as body wash and somehow managed to use half the bottle. Besides, your mom was right to yell at you too, you stole her car and you were thirteen.”

“I was covered in grease! And my date with Cindy is none of your business.”

“Are we having the face wash fight again?” Jake asked as he came in through the garage, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he reached around you to grab a bottle of water, but you only pushed him away, muttering something about keeping his sweat away from you. “Take the blame, Chicken, you wasted half a bottle of Drunk Elephant, you’re lucky she didn’t put you on the porch for the night.”

“See, the craziest thing about this whole situation is you were just as outraged as she was.”

“Good skincare is not just for women, you might want to invest in a routine of your own.” he smirked before disappearing down the hallway and you heard the sound of the shower turning on.

“You working tomorrow?” Bradley asked, getting up to wash the containers you’d placed near the sink.

You shook your head, “a Friday and Saturday off, Penny was feeling extra generous.” You’d met the two of them, along with the rest of the team, when they’d first gotten to town for the infamous and secretive mission that almost claimed the life of the man currently donning cherry-printed cleaning gloves and scrubbing pasta sauce out of tupperware. You’d all become fast friends, they’d coax you out from behind the bar on your breaks or when your shift was over for darts or pool, and when your lease was up just as they received word of a permanent assignment it seemed to make sense for the three of you to find a place together. It was a godsend for you, it got you out of your cramped apartment with dismal lighting and into a beautiful craftsman only a few blocks away from the beach. Even with arguments with Bradley about face wash and a sweaty Jake, it was a no-brainer.

“Could we convince you into coming to your place of work on a night off? These new recruits are testing our patience, Phoenix wants a fun night out to blow off steam.”

“I could potentially be persuaded,” you replied, shutting the fridge after deeming it was as cleared out as it was going to get.

“Which translates to as long as I’m not mixing them, I’ll always show up for drinks,” Jake said, walking back into the kitchen with freshly washed hair. “Do I get any kind of welcome home now that I’m not sweaty?”

“No, because now you’re wet, did you even dry off?” you asked, snapping him with a dish towel before he rounded the island and wrapped his arms around you.

“Enough,” he answered, squeezing you tight as you pretended to hate it. Really, you loved living with these two. Being on your own before was starting to take its toll on you, and they reminded you of a different time in your life, one that felt like it was ancient history. “Not to dampen the mood, but… we did want to talk to you about something.”

“Sounds serious, should I break out the house meeting wine?” you asked, eyeing them skeptically as they shared a look with each other that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“We just wanted to… check in,” Bradley started and you raised your eyebrows. “The past few weeks we’ve heard certain sounds coming from your room and-”

“Okay, first of all,-” you started to cut him off, eyes wide at what you thought he was insinuating.

“Not like that, sweetheart,” Jake interjected. “But feel free to get louder when you do,” he half-joked and you hit him with the towel again. “What bird boy is trying to say is sometimes we hear what sounds like nightmares coming from your room and it’s happened enough that we just want to check in and see if everything is okay.” You suddenly felt nauseous.

“If there’s something going on, or you need someone to talk to, you know we’re here, right?” Bradley asked and you nodded softly.

“I know, everything is fine, I’m sorry if I woke you.” you said, trying to dismiss their concerns altogether as you occupied yourself with looking over the mail.

“It’s just… it doesn’t sound fine, if you don’t want to talk to us we can help you find someone else to talk to, we just want to make sure you’re okay.” Jake tried and you gave him a forced smile.

“And I am, but I’m glad the two of you finally found something to agree on.” You tossed some junk mail in the garbage before turning to face them again, “I have some errands I want to run early tomorrow morning… text me if you need anything from the store but I’m going to turn in. Goodnight,” you said with another forced smile before heading down the hall and letting out a sigh as your back pressed against your closed bedroom door. You thought that things had gotten better… that enough time had passed. They seemed to be happening less and less, but maybe that wasn’t as true as you once thought.

Your footsteps down the hallway were an unusual sound for this time of night… nightmares or not, once you went to bed you weren’t seen until the following morning and it was enough to stir Jake from his slumber. You on the other hand, were completely unaware of what was going on, still stuck in a dream, stuck in a fluorescent lit hallway with tears streaming down your face only you weren’t… you were in your living room, walking straight into the console table and falling onto the broken glass of the picture frames and vases you’d knocked over which was enough to jolt both of them out of bed.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Bradley asked, crouching down beside you as you came to.

“Mav- Maverick?” you asked, voice hoarse as you struggled to place where you were, the images from your dream still fresh in your mind. He looked at Jake confused who was on the other side of you and carefully pushing glass aside.

“No, it’s Bradley… Honey, what happened?” You blinked a few times, finally recognizing you were on the floor of your living room and the searing pain of broken glass in your palms and knees.

“I don’t- oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you winced as you tried to stand but Jake was quick to scoop you up, holding you tight as he walked to the kitchen and carefully placed you next to the sink while Bradley grabbed the first aid kit. “I- I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m okay, you can go back to bed.” He just frowned at you and when Bradley returned he started pulling the shards from your palms while Jake worked on your knees. Silent tears were still streaming down your face and they were both trying to figure out how to ask you what was wrong, but one thing they knew for certain was no one was going back to bed until they got to the bottom of what was going on with you.

“Sweetheart, do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Jake asked softly, looking up briefly to meet your eyes before gently running his thumb along your cuts, making sure there weren’t any pieces he missed.

You shook your head as you wiped your cheeks, “nothing, I just… I don’t know, I guess I was half-asleep? I’m really sorry I woke you,” you said and they both looked at you like they didn’t believe a word of it.

“Alright, I was willing to maybe let it go before but you could have been seriously hurt tonight. Something is going on with you,” Jake said, voice firm as he stopped what he was doing to wipe a few of your tears.

“Whatever it is, you can tell us. Why did you say Maverick’s name when you woke up?” Bradley asked and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath before letting it all out.

“I uh… there’s something I never told you about me.” you started, taking a moment to breathe as you felt your throat tighten. They stayed quiet, both carefully dabbing at your cuts with a damp cloth or rubbing aquaphor over them before bandaging them. “I wasn’t a teacher before realizing I liked bartending more, I was a pilot.”

“Wait, what?” Bradley asked, shock evident in his tone and Jake elbowed him, eyes silently pleading for you to continue.

“My callsign is- or was Flash… like the superhero,” you chuckled but there wasn’t much humor in it and both of their eyes widened. “I was on a mission that went south really fast, we were outnumbered and outgunned, we ran out of resources quickly. I was hit, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t save it, I couldn’t save him.” you choked out.

“Who?” Bradley whispered, you were all cleaned up now and they were both focused solely on you. Jake was rubbing reassuring circles on your thigh as Bradley held one of your hands in his own.

“My wizzo, we called him Genie… we both got to our squad at the same time, and on our first night out his icebreaker was if you had three wishes, what would you wish for?” You laughed again, but this time it was genuine.

“I’ve heard of him,” Jake said, noticing your breathing quicken just at the mention of him. “Both of you, actually, from what I’ve heard you were a hell of a pilot.”

“He couldn’t eject, something went wrong with the handles… I’d already pulled mine when I heard him say they were stuck and the next thing I know the jet is crashing into a hillside below me. I thought the dreams were getting better, and that I was maybe starting to move past it… I don’t think I really registered that it was happening again, or maybe that it never stopped.”

“Honey, why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Bradley asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and you focused your gaze on your hands.

“I just… I didn’t want you to know that I failed my wizzo,” you choked out. “Or that the last time I was in a cockpit I nearly crashed again and Mav had to talk me through landing a plane I’ve landed thousands of times before because I panicked. I didn’t want you guys to censor yourselves when it came to work stuff out of pity for me being a failed pilot, and I guess… I just didn’t want you guys to look at me differently.”

“Hey, what happened wasn’t your fault,” Jake said, squeezing your thigh gently and prompting you to look up at him. “And we would never look at you differently for that, we understand.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that… and just know that we don’t think of you as a failure. We’ve both heard about that mission, there was nothing you could have done. Faulty equipment and being outgunned is not your burden to bear.” Bradley added, running a hand along your back.

“What is it that you say sometimes? It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot?” you asked, sadness seeping into your tone and he just pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to your head.

“There’s not much the pilot can do if the plane fails them.”

“You went through a trauma, we would never fault you for not flying again after that.” Jake said and you smiled softly.

“Mav could… god, he tried so hard, he was really there for me after it happened, but… when I finally got back into a plane I just couldn’t shake it. It was like I could still hear him in my backseat even though he wasn’t there.”

“Just because Mav could, that doesn’t mean you’re a lesser pilot or a lesser person for not being able to, if anything I think it makes you stronger. You knew your limits, and instead of pushing through it when you couldn’t trust flying again you took a step back. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t make that same choice.” Bradley said, nudging Jake and you let out a laugh as you wiped your face again.

“Yeah, I thank my lucky stars I never crossed this one’s path when I was still flying,” you said and Jake’s face twisted up in shock.

“Hey, why are we ganging up on me now?” he asked and you laughed again.

“You make it so easy,” you teased and they both smiled, happy to see you coming back into yourself a little.

“We’re here for you, okay? So is everyone else,” Bradley said, pulling you into him again and you let yourself wrap your arms around him as you laid your head on his chest and Jake kept rubbing circles into your skin.

“No matter what, you can always come wake us up if you need someone.”

“I love you guys, you know that?”

You could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice as he said, “oh, we know.” He wrapped himself around the other side of you as the two of them squished you between them. “We love you too.”

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivestuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr @amatswimming @camilaricci @nolita-fairytale @dempy @pinkpantheris @aviatorobsessed @tiredqueen73 @pono-pura-vida @binnieslove @nik2blog @waklman @abaker74 @halstead-severide-fan @percysaidnever @memeorydotcom @eli2447 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @djs8891 @Genius2050 @stargazer-88 @chloeforde @kmc1989 @casa-boiardi (if your name is struck through, it means I couldn't tag you - sorry!)

146 notes · View notes

rubylize · 1 year

Text

Summary: you being popular and making Stiles flustered.

Pairing: Stiles x reader

Word Count: 1,568

Warnings: none

Not edited

“You look so pretty.” Y/n heard Stiles say, they sat next to each other in Chemistry class, she tried to ignore him so they wouldn’t get in trouble for talking. “Babeee.” He whispered, trying to get her attention. “Shh.” she softly replied, it didn’t necessarily annoy her, well sometimes, but she knows he does it out of love.

The hallway was crowded with a bunch of students, “Babe.” She heard Stiles ask, “Yeah?” She replied. “Can you know, we.. um.” Y/n stopped in her tracks to look at her boyfriend, “Yes?” she asked softly, Stiles looked down to his feet, “Can I hold your hand?” He asked shyly. Y/n grabbed his hand intertwining them, she brought their hands up and kissed the back of his palm. The spot felt tingly for Stiles, he enjoyed it, it was like electricity went through him.

They walked towards Y/n’s locker, their hands broke apart while she put in her locker combo and exchanged books. “Y/nnn.” Bekah dragged her name, Y/n looked at Bekah giving her attention. “There’s a group date going on, you in?” Y/n contemplated it but wanted more information “When is this group date?” She asked while slowly closing her locker.

“Friday. Are you in?” Bekah asked once again. “I’ll think about it.” Y/n announced, Y/n saw Bekah walking away, she then turned her attention to Stiles again. “Why didn’t you say yes?” Stiles asked her confusingly. “It's a group date, meaning everyone is bringing a partner, which I have of course, but I have to let them know too and see if they're free or if they even want to go.” Stiles fiddled with his fingers, “To be clear I’m the partner right?”

Y/n smiled at him “Of course you are.” She said while her arms laid on his shoulder, she played with the back of his hair. “Do you wanna go?” She asked, his face cringed. “Good me neither.” Y/n’s hands traced down Stiles’ arm, she then placed his arms on her waist, while her arms went back to his shoulders. “You sure you want my hands there?” Y/n nodded, “I want your hands there.” She clarified.

“Do you want a kiss?” She asked Stiles softly, Stiles didn’t trust his words so he nodded. “Then kiss me Stilinski.” She smiled at him, when he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. When they came apart, she kissed him on the cheek. “Do you need anything from your locker?” She asked. “Yes.” He breathed out, looking at her eyes, being mesmerized by them. “Lead the way.” She said, while her hand gestured down the hall.

Stiles grabbed her hand and they went towards his locker. When they made it to his locker, Y/n patiently waited for him to get his things. “You look cute.” Stiles stopped what he was doing to look at her. “What?” He asked, his brian trying to register her compliment. “You look cute.” She repeated, “T-thanks.” He stuttered out. She smiled at him, “Stiles!” She heard her boyfriend being called.

Scott, Stiles’ best friend came into view. “Yeah?” Scott smiled at Y/n, “Do you guys wanna hangout with us on Friday, at my house?” He asked. “I'll let you know.” Scott gave Y/n another smile before walking away. “Do you wanna go?” Stiles asked her popular girlfriend.

“Sure, but only if you want to.” She told him, “Why didn’t you wanna go with your friends?” He asked.

“I don’t know if you haven’t noticed but my friends are dicks. I actually like your friends.” She admitted. Stiles chuckled, “Sorry.” Y/n frowned, “Don’t be sorry cause you thought something was funny.” She told him, Stiles nodded his head in understanding.

After school they went to his house to study and help each other with homework. Stiles for the most part focused on his homework but sometimes got distracted by Y/n, he couldn’t help but stare at his girlfriend.

Y/n yawned, gaining attention from Stiles, “You can nap if you want.” He suggested. Y/n looked at him, “Only if you nap with me.” She told him. Stiles nervously put his books to the side, slightly dropping his book. Y/n put her books away as well, she was already on the bed, she laid down waiting for Stiles to join her.

Once he got on the bed next to her, Y/n wrapped her hand around his waist and her head on his chest. “Wanna know something I noticed about you?” Stiles hummed in response, she felt the vibration from his chest next to her ear.

“I notice that I make you nervous.” She waited for a while to complete her thought, she heard his heartbeat speed up. “But you know just cause I’m popular doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell you what to do. You’re my boyfriend and I know you have feelings, you have an opinion. Sure my friends may not accept you but I don’t care. You don’t have to be nervous.”

Stiles felt loved, he felt relief run through him, he felt safe, he felt warmth around his heart, he happily kissed her forehead. Y/n lifted herself up to look at him, “Wanna know something?” She asked, looking at him. “About me?” He asked sarcastically, she laughed at him. “No. About me.” She clarified.

“Sure.” He replied. “I like you a lot.” Stiles raised his eyebrows, not in surprise, not in confusion, but in admiration. He had a big goofy smile on his face, “Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/n asked him. “Cause the most beautiful girl in the world is in front of me.” He admitted.

Y/n blushed at the comment, “Thank you.” She looked down for a second but then brought her eyes back up to his when she said “Pretty boy.” Stiles’ ears got hot, he felt his cheeks get warm as well. She was perfect for him, even if she was popular.

He then kissed her, she accepted, once they broke apart they looked at each other. “I’m not sleepy anymore.” She told him. “Can you help me with homework?” She asked with a smile on her face. “Mhm.” He replied.

They broke apart, Stiles sat at his desk, she told him which problem and before he started explaining he placed Y/n on his lap. Once he finished helping her with a problem, she kissed him on the cheek, “Thank you love.”

“Babeee.” He once again whispered in class. “Yeah?” She whispered back, actually talking to him this time. “I’ll tell you later.” He chickened out. Y/n looked at him with a raised brow, “You okay?” He nodded in response.

Once again they were in the hallways hand in hand though. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked again. “Yup.” He simply responded, she frowned at him worriedly. “Stiles..” she warned. He let out a breath, “Meet me on the field in 10?” She nodded confusingly.

She waited exactly ten minutes before going to the field, once she walked on the field she saw Stiles had a bouquet of roses. “What’s up with the roses?” She asked. “They’re for you.” He held them out to her, she smiled at him. “But why? It’s not our anniversary.” She told him while smelling the flowers.

“Because I have something really important to tell you.” He confessed. She nodded in understanding before Scott came out of nowhere and gave him a bear and chocolates, Y/n was amused by the best friend. “Hiya Scott.” She acknowledged. He mumbled a quick hi before reaching for his pocket and roses fell above them.

“Stiles, you don’t have to do all this to tell me something important.” She smiled at him. Scott then fled the scene, “I know but I wanted to.” He then gave her the chocolates and the bear. She happily accepted giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I love you.” He finally said, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re not only my girlfriend but my best friend. I love how we help each other with homework. I love how you clarified that I didn’t have to be nervous just because you were popular. You’re perfect. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen and I love you.” He confessed.

Y/n’s eyes watered, “I love you too.” She replied, Stiles let out a breath. “Oh thank god. That feels good to get off my chest.” He smiled happily at his girlfriend and her back at him. Y/n jumped on him Stiles grabbed her waist while she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me too.” Stiles laughed lightly. “I love you.” He said once again. “That’s never gonna get old. I love you too.” She told him, and she then kissed him. She then heard a “Wohoo!” She looked at the bleachers to see Scott, she laughed at him.

“I love you too Scotty.” She told him looking at him, while Stiles kissed her cheek. He knew that she meant it as a friend. When she said that Scott immediately looked at her, he widely smiled at the couple. He gave them a thumbs up. “Love you too!” He replied, while skipping away like a kid, causing the couple to laugh.

#stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #teen wolf stiles #cutestiles #new blogger

416 notes · View notes

underoossss · 1 year

Text

What I Like About You – S.H

pairing: steve harrington x drummer!girlfriend (friends to lovers goodness)

warnings: one annoying dudebro, some curse words, other than that nothing.

an: i know i haven’t posted in a while so thank you for being patient with me while i got my shit together. i dedicate this to you💖 Enjoy and let me know if you liked it!!

Masterlist part two

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

“Hurry up! We’re going to miss it!” Robin calls over her shoulder as she dashes out of his parked car and towards the front door. “We probably did!”

“Wait up.” Steve says to no avail; Robin runs inside a second later, leaving him behind.

Stepping out of the car and locking the doors, Steve stuffs his hands inside his jacket pockets. Keith had them work until past 7 tonight, making them late to see Robin’s crush perform—she had a band that plays here every Friday according to Robin, sort of like Eddie’s but less metal, more Rock Pop. She’d begged Steve to drive her tonight, but had her hopes crushed when Keith didn’t let them leave an hour earlier. So here they are, one hour after showtime, and from what Steve can make out the band is still playing. The moment he steps through the door music floods his ears, and he takes notice of how packed the place is. There’s probably close to a hundred people at Annie’s 50 of which are gathered in front of the stage; Robin had stayed by the door waiting for him, or maybe just staring at the lead singer in awe.

Annie’s is a new spot everyone has been hanging out at for the past couple of months. From what Steve can tell, it’s a diner that’s been remodelled into something more youthful looking. It looks like a diner but the tables are gone and the bright lights have been replaced with dimmer ambience lights. The red cushioned booths have been scattered around for people to sit, and high tables are scattered here and there for people to chat while they eat the fried food from the kitchen. There’s a stage towards the left side of the place, where the band is playing– Kelli, Robin’s crush, sings while her two bandmates play in the back. The place feels slightly too warm but everyone is jumping around or singing as best they can to the band’s rendition of Van Halen’s Beautiful Girls. Kelli keeps the crowd entertained, dancing around the stage in her black combat boots and ripped jeans. She laughs with her band mates and jokes around with them, but their playing isn’t fazed at all by her antics. They only laugh and keep playing. Steve wonders briefly what the band’s name is, he hasn’t heard of it and Robin forgot to tell him. But given the number of people singing along and cheering by the front of the stage, they’re pretty popular. His eyes wander to the drum set on stage and instantly spot the name there. Hot Pink Melody.

Huh. Steve moves his gaze up towards the drummer and back to Robin’s crush, before he whips his head back to do a double take. He looks at the drummer again, and his mind goes instantly blank. Steve apologizes if he every called bullshit on love at first sight, because he’s sure this is it. You’re sitting there, rocking out to the song, singing the background vocals as you play the drums, and smiling a mega-watt confident smile. In just one second Steve is a goner.

“She’s so hot.” Robin says besides him, from where they managed to find a little bit of room to see the show from the back. Her eyes are glued to Kelli, but Steve’s are glued to you.

“She’s so hot.” Steve echoes, eyes not leaving you. His gaze jumps from your beautiful smile, to the half ponytail your hair is in, to the way the sleeves of your white t-shirt are rolled up to your shoulders, showing off your arms as you play. But it’s your contagious energy, which already has him tapping his foot to the rhythm, that has him hypnotized with no escape in sight.

“She’s so cool.”

“She’s amazing.” Steve says and something in his voice makes Robin turn back to him and follow his gaze. He sees her smile knowingly and nod out of his periphery.

“That’s YN, you should know her from high school but I’m talking about Kelli.”

He’s not paying much attention to what Robin says as his mind goes over you name, repeating it on a loop. He goes over his memories and finds you briefly in random days during high school but other than that he’s never talked to you before. How has he never noticed you before. “I want to...”

“Kiss her silly.” Robin nods, thinking she guessed what he was going to say correctly. It might have been true for her and Kelli, but Steve was thinking about something else.

“What!? No.” Steve shakes his head, then glances back to you. “Be her boyfriend.”

“But you also want to kiss her silly, I can see you staring at her.” Robin nudges his arm with her elbow twice, before she focuses on the lead singer once more.

Steve rolls his eyes but concedes because he does. “Okay, yes.”

“Remember we are not here for you! You’re supposed to be my wingman tonight.”

“I know that.” Steve rolls his eyes with a nod and goes back to watching you when the crowd claps as the song ends. “And I am, but you have to help me out too. Introduce me.”

“Deal.” Robin leans closer to talk to him over other people’s cheers. “Now shh! Kelli’s talking.”

“Thank you!” Kelli says over the microphone smiling at the crowd. “This is out last song for the night, so make some noise! Y/N take it away, girl.”

“If you know this next song, I hope you sing along with us.” The microphone amplifies your voice as you speak, the confident smile on your face making another appearance. You hold your drumsticks up in the air and tap them against each other to give the guitarist a beat. “One, two… one, two, three, go!”

The guitarist starts strumming the first chords of Blondie’s One Way or Another and the room erupts into cheers for the iconic song. You begin to play a few seconds later —a strong hit to the cymbals— until Kelli joins in with the first few lyrics of the song. Robin cheers loudly along with the crowd and it makes Steve laugh and join in.

He sings along, eyes unable to stray away from you. If your energy levels were high when he first saw you, they’re through the roof with this song. Especially when the bridge comes along, and you keep the beat going while everyone stomps their feet on the ground alongside you. Steve smiles, not helping himself, and decides to use the last minute the song has left to work up the courage to talk to you. He has to.

Robin sings along with Kelli, screaming the lyrics and absolutely thrilled that her crush likes Blondie just like her. Steve knows she totally has a chance with the lead singer, and it brings a grin to his face before he directs his gaze back to the stage. The song picks up the pace once more and suddenly, most likely due to Steve’s intense staring, you meet his eyes across the room. Steve feels his traitorous stomach flip but doesn’t chicken out, he keeps his eyes on yours. He sees you now, he regrets never doing so before. You smile for a second before you look down at your drum kit, your smile becoming shy as the song comes to an end.

“Thank you! Thank you! We’re the Hot Pink Melody, see you next Friday everyone!” Kelli says into the microphone, then motions towards the guitarist and you. “Give it up for my girls, they did a great job tonight.”

People applaud, whistle, yell and cheer, and Steve finds that he’s doing the same; it really was a good show, it’s a shame he didn’t get here on time. The lights on the stage go out after a minute and not much later the crowd out front starts to spread around the dinner now that the live music is done for the night.

“It’s now or never. Come on” Robin says, grabbing Steve’s wrist and pulling him along with her. “Come on, Steve.”

“Wait, where are we going?” He asks as they make their way through the crowd of people around him. He throws sorry’s here and there every time Robin makes him bump into someone else. “We’re not going to–”

“To the stage!” Robin says, looking back at him and almost colliding with a waiter and his tray of fried food. “So I can introduce you to your girl, that way you can help me out with mine!”

Steve tries to say something but they’re suddenly on the side of the stage. You’re standing there, putting your drumsticks back into their case and disconnecting various cables from the amps. He sees Kelli on the other side of the stage, talking to a lot of people, and the guitarist is showing off her guitar to a couple of girls who approach her.

“Great gig, babe.” Robin tells you, which makes you turn around. Your eyes light up when you see her and you’re quick to give her a hug.

“Robs, I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” You take a step back to look at her. “Thank you! You look great, did you get a haircut?”

“Only being honest, and I gave myself a haircut.” She holds her hands up and winks, before she remembers Steve. “Oh, YN this is Steve, my personal chauffeur.”

You scoff playfully, and Steve can tell that you know Robin’s bluffing. Then your eyes are on him, and he feels his mind go blank again; you have the prettiest eyes Steve’s ever seen.

“Hey, Steve. I hope you enjoyed the show.” You smile at him.

“Hi… I– I did! It was great.” Steve says, his mind and his mouth struggling to sync up. “We could only listen to the last two songs, but they were amazing.”

“Yeah, we had to work late tonight.” Robin rolls her eyes with a huff. “But the last two songs, incredible.”

“Thank you, although that’s mostly all Kelli.” You tell them, motioning towards the blonde who’s waving goodbye to the people she was talking to. Steve follows your gaze and so does Robin, who keeps staring at the vocalist for more than a couple of seconds.

“You know, you should just talk to her Robin.” You nudge her with you elbow, an encouraging look in your eyes. “She knows me, I know you. It’s the perfect opportunity.”

“And risk making a fool of myself? No.” Robin shakes her head, a panicked look settling on her face.

“You won’t make a fool of yourself. She’s the girl of your dreams, Robin, you have to at least take a chance and try to get to know her more. Right?” You direct your gaze towards Steve, urging him to back you up with a look.

Steve nods, words stuck in his mouth before he clears his throat. “Yeah, Robs. You said you’d talk to her tonight.”

“I’ll introduce you. Let’s go right now.” You volunteer with a smile, hooking your arm on hers so she won’t walk away. It makes Steve chuckle, it’s the same thing Robin did to him just seconds ago.

“I guess you’re my wingman now.” Robin tells you in defeat, then looks at Steve. “Sorry, dingus.”

Steve can only shrug. “I was going to be charming but…”

“I think she’s got more charm than you.” Robin winks, meaning She really charmed you, and then she leaves with you dragging her to the other side of the stage. Steve follows you with his gaze, and sees how you introduce Robin to Kelli –who immediately starts chatting away with Robin. Steve doesn’t need to see Robin’s face to know she has a lovesick look on her face; he smiles, she’ll be more than okay.

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie Munson appears behind Steve’s back, which makes him jump. “What brings you here tonight.”

“Munson.” Steve nods his head. “Robin asked me to drive her, but this place ended up being pretty cool.”

“Better than the Hideout right?” Eddie teases then laughs when Steve rolls his eyes at the memory of the place.

“I think anything is better than the Hideout.” He tells Eddie, chuckling along with him.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks, curious. “I didn’t know you hung out here too.”

“I’m here to check out the competition.” Eddie grins slyly, then spots you coming back to where they stand and his eyes light up mischievously. “Oh I see Harrington, you’re here to help me convince buttercup here to play for my band.”

So everyone knows you, but me, Steve thinks.

“Eddie.” You roll your eyes but smile anyways. It’s easy to assume that you’re used to him asking you to leave your band, but he can’t really imagine you playing with another group. The friendship you have with yours was obvious in your performance.

“But you already have a drummer.” Steve thinks out loud, making you smile in triumph — it lights up your entire face, and all the air in Steve’s lungs disappears in a second.

“See, Steve is on my side, not yours.” You tell Eddie, looking victorious as you shrug.

“What can I do to convince you then?” Eddie asks conspiratorially.

“Admit defeat. You’d have to fight my band and I don’t think you’d win.” You smile innocently. “They need me.”

“She’s got a point. Ugh, help me out here, Harrington.” Eddie asks him, clapping his shoulder to urge him into his defence.

Steve laughs, assuming this is an antic the two of you usually partake in. He can only put his hands up and shake his head. “Looks like she’s made up her mind, man.”

“I have.” You confirm with a decisive nod.

Eddie surrenders with a small bow in front of you. “Another day then.” He says, starting to walk away but not without taking notice of Steve’s lovestruck gaze towards the drummer. “I…gotta get going but take care of buttercup here, alright Harrington. She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

You meet Steve’s gaze –your eyes wide– before you look away shyly. Steve smiles, finding it endearing how you shy away from compliments.

“She is.” Steve says and decides that your shy smile is his new favourite thing in the whole world.

“Thank you, Steve.” You bring one of your hands to the back of your neck as Eddie leaves the two of you alone. “So… what have you been doing? I’ve never actually seen you around anymore since you finished high school.”

Steve chuckles and rubs his chin as he looks at you, remembering how he was thinking about the same thing earlier. “Uh, I worked at Scoops Ahoy one summer, but after what happened to the mall I’ve been working over at Family Video.”

He thinks his answer is stupid, and not at all impressive, for just one second until your eyes light up suddenly.

“Oh my brother John loves FV!” You tell him enthusiastically as you sit on top of big metal box nearby. “You’ve probably seen him loads of times, he’s always there on Fridays renting for the weekend.”

Steve goes over your words for a bit –trying to place a John that always visits on Fridays– until he remembers a guy that went to the store today. His hair was just like yours, and now that he thinks about it, he did look a lot like you. “Yeah, I think I know who you mean.”

You smile and Steve feels his breath stutter.

Trying very hard to keep himself calm and collected, Steve asks you a question this time —eager to know you more. “What about you? You’re graduating with Robin right?”

“Yeah, I… um work on the café on Main Street after class every day.” You shrug your shoulders and look down at your dangling feet. “I’m saving for college.”

Steve’s eyebrows meet in the middle as confusion makes its appearance on his face. “The gigs don’t pay you?”

“Oh, they do, but we only play once a week and split it 3 ways… so it’s not a lot.” You chuckle meeting Steve’s eyes with your own. “The other job helps.”

Steve hums, contemplating your answer. He’s seen many bands over the years and none of them have been as good as yours. And he’s not saying that only because of his crush. “They should pay you more, you’re very talented.”

You shy away from the compliment again, just as Steve was expecting you to. “Thank you, Steve. I guess we just need more experience before we ask for a raise.” You laugh softly as you shake your head, unaware of how Steve’s stomach flips at the sound. But he’d never admit to it out loud.

“I need your help with something over here for a bit!” The lead guitarist tells you after calling your name. “Please.”

You turn your head to look at her and nod before looking at Steve once more. “That’s Sarah, our guitarist.” You tell Steve with an apologetic smile as you hop off the box you were sitting in. “I should umm… go help her.”

“Wait.” Steve says then runs a hand through his hair to get some courage. Words start to escape him, but he doesn’t let them. This is the girl of your dreams, you’d told Robin. Well, it’s the same for him with you right now. He takes a step closer to you. “Would you like to go out for dinner… with me?”

You smile at him, surprise evident in your features but no rejection in sight. Steve feels like a helium balloon, about to float and fly towards the ceiling. “Like a date?” You ask, your pretty eyes lighting up with hope. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah, a date.”

He nods and you nod too –both of you unsure of what to say next, both flustered beyond belief.

“Tomorrow at 6?” Steve asks you, hoping that you’ll be free. Is this too much? How obvious is it that he really wants to see you again?

“Y-Yeah, 6 is good.” You smile widely then bite your lip like you don’t want to give it away. It makes Steve want to untuck it from your teeth gently with his thumb, then kiss you; would it make your skin buzz just like his is at the thought?

“Okay, yeah.” Steve nods, shaking the thoughts away and clearing his throat. “I’ll… umm pick you up at 6. Where?”

“Robin knows my address” You smile at him once more, then wave goodbye before you turn back to the stage. Then you meet his eyes over your shoulder, grinning softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Steve gives you a pathetic wave back and nods like a fool as you walk away towards your band mates. You’d said yes, he’s seeing you tomorrow, and if he’s not reading this wrong… you feel some of what he’s feeling right now. Steve looks around the diner and tries to find Robin, she’s not going to believe this.

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

Steve Harrington is picking you up at your house any minute now, so why does it still feel like you made up everything that happened last night? Out of everything that you could expect to happen at a gig, the last thing that would have come to your mind is Steve Harrington walking through the door. Scratch that. Steve Harrington watching you in awe as you played, completely unaware of how nervous he was making you with those pretty eyes of his.

You were never going to deny the hopeless crush you had on him when he was still at Hawkins High; something you were quick to crush down, no pun intended, when you realized you probably had no chance with him. So you stayed in the background and only stared after him whenever he passed by, heart fluttering in your chest traitorously. Last night though, the same fluttering appeared in your chest when him and Robin approached you after the show. It intensified when he gave you one of his disarming smiles, and it all but burst when he looked just as nervous as you felt when asking you out. He’d changed, you’d heard that much from Robin who’s now his best friend, but you’d finally seen it last night. Steve Harrington was finally acting like himself. He smiled freely, carried himself in a carefree way, and for the first time you saw him look genuinely happy.

You can’t exactly explain the way seeing him like that made you feel, but your hopeless crush was back –more hopeless than ever. Oh, and he asked you out.

You’d spent an hour raiding your closet to find what to wear because you didn’t know where Steve would take you. You’d narrowed your choices to three different options but settled for your favourite dress with your nicest pair of high tops. After a quick shower and checking the clock to see how you were doing with time, you’d settled in front of the mirror to get ready. Which is where you are now, applying the peach-coloured lip gloss you’d gotten today. You went for a light of makeup, mostly to cover the dark circles under your eyes, but also because you always feel your best when you look your best. Leave it to a good outfit and your hair styled to your liking to boost your confidence. Considering how sweaty you must have been last night, this is most likely a huge upgrade from how Steve saw you last time.

Almost as if you conjure him with your mind, the doorbell rings and you spring up to your feet. You feel a smile appear on your face even as your stomach flips with nerves; you take your small purse with you and go out of your room. As you reach the last step of the staircase you take a deep breath and walk to the door, ready to go on the date you only ever dreamed of.

Steve Harrington stands on your porch in all his handsome glory. He’s wearing a pair of those perfect-fitting jeans of his and a dark blue polo. Simple but perfect, especially with those brown locks of his. You bite back a smile as you look him over once before locking the door behind you. If only your past self could see you now.

“Hi.” Steve smiles the moment he sees you and it lights up his face. “Wow, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You smile back at him, feeling shy under his gaze but looking into his eyes anyways. “You look great too.”

He chuckles, looking down at his shoes briefly before looking at you again. “I got you these.” A second later he shows you some flowers he was hiding behind his back. “I didn’t know which ones you like.”

You take the small bouquet from him and touch the soft petals with your fingers. A smile appears on your face at their beauty– an assortment of pink and orange flowers: daisies, small carnations, and lilies. “Steve, I love them.” You tell him truthfully, your heart fluttering inside your chest. “I’ll take them with me.”

“Alright.” Steve nods, a happy smile on his face. “Let’s go then. The place I have in mind is a bit of a drive away.”

You take the hand he offers you and give it a squeeze when you feel your skin buzz at the contact. You wonder if he feels it too only for a moment because one second later, he squeezes your hand back.

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

The place Steve had in mind ended up being a cool pizza place 30 minutes outside of Hawkins. It stood out in the darkening sky, its colourful neon sign shining its light on Steve’s car as he looked for a parking spot. It was very creatively called A Pizza Place, and the name alone made a laugh burst out of you.

“I like this place already.” You told Steve, who smiled at you.

“I had a feeling you would.” He said.

Once inside and waiting in line, you find that the restaurant is lovely in a strange and colourful way. The concept seems to be dinner, meets cinema, meets roller skating rink lighting. But, if you’re being honest, it works for them. Most important of all, it’s unique –everything from the movie posters on the wall, the pop music playing through the speakers, and the black and white floors make you smile. You’ve never been to a place like this.

“Steve.” You smile as you turn to him. He’s still holding your hand; he has been since he opened the door for you when you arrived —the bouquet he gave you is held carefully in your other hand. “How did you find this place?”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly, “I was driving around once and found it. It’s not only pretty, wait till you try the pizza”

You smile and look over the toppings displayed behind the counter. “Hmm, they do have lots of options.”

“You got any toppings in mind?” Steve asks you as the line moves up a spot.

“I actually like almost every topping. I usually mix them up.” You smile at him. “You got any favourites?”

“I like all of them.” Steve tells you, your hand moving slightly as he shrugs his shoulders. “Let’s mix them up.”

You beam, stepping closer to him until you’re shoulder to shoulder. “Okay. How about… pepperoni with…”

“Mushrooms,” Steve suggests after scanning the menu again.

“And black olives?” You tilt your head in question, glancing at Steve to see if he’s okay with the third topping.

“Sounds like we’re going to have a delicious pizza in our hands.” He smiles and squeezes your hand.

“Well if we do we’ll have to name it after us.” You tell him, “It’s only fair.”

“You’re right, but there’s only one way to find out if it’s worth it.” Steve says looking at you with a soft yet playful look in his eyes. “We gotta try it first.”

Twenty minutes later, and a mouthful of pizza you find that it is in fact worthy of your names.

“We’re geniuses!” Steve declares, wiping his mouth with a napkin and smiling as you continue to chew on your bite. “This is officially the best pizza I’ve had.”

“You’re absolutely right.” You nod and take a sip of your cola, “I think it’s the olives, right?”

“Yeah, definitely, so much better than regular pepperoni.” Steve nods exaggeratedly and it makes you laugh. He shifts closer to the edge of his seat, “So…”

“So.” You grin, leaning your elbows on the table as you lock your gaze with his. When was the last time you smiled this much?

“When did you start to play the drums?” Steve asks, taking another slice of pizza, looking at you with curiosity –like he truly wants to know you better.

“My dad played, so he taught me,” You tell him, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to remember how old you were. “I think I was eleven then.”

Steve raises his eyebrows in surprise like he wasn’t expecting your dad to be a drum player too. It’s everyone’s usual reaction. “That’s cool, does he come to your gigs?”

“No.” You say trying to keep the disappointment from showing in your smile, the last thing you want is to ruin the mood of your date. “He left us when I was twelve and… I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Oh… shit I’m sorry.” Steve’s surprise turns into mortification.

“No, you’re fine. I’m okay with it, it’s just a story for another time.” You shrug and try to reassure him; he looks more than guilty to have made you step into this conversation but you’re quick to move on.

“I needed extra lessons after he left since he only taught me the basics, so I went to this small music class every afternoon.” You continue, chuckling at the memory. “My teacher was the same as Sarah’s; she’s the–”

“The lead guitarist from your band.” Steve nods, all of his attention solely on you.

“Yes,” You smile, “We ended up learning our instruments together and practised different songs as the years went by. By the time we were both 15, Kelli moved into town and ended up in our music class because she wanted to be a singer.”

“So it was fate for the three of you,” Steve takes another bite of pizza

You take a small one too, which you chew quickly so you can continue. “Yes, soon we started to cover different songs until we found our rhythm as a group. Then in high school when we needed jobs, we decided to record our cover of Blondie’s Call Me, so we could play it for different restaurants and see if they would hire us.”

“You guys really like Blondie, right?” Steve asks you, not in a judging way but with genuine curiosity. It makes something like butterflies fly in your stomach.

“It’s our favourite.” You confirm with a smile.

“Sorry, I interrupted. What happened after you recorded the song?” Steve leans his forearms on the table, listening intently to your words.

“We carried a Walkman with us so people could hear the song and it got us small gigs here and there.” You take another bite of your pizza and shrug. “None of them stuck; Annie’s is our first real one, she hired us for all Friday nights until the end of the year.”

“That’s huge, the place was packed last night.” Steve leans back and holds his hands up dramatically. “I could barely see you guys play from the back.”

You nod and laugh. “Yeah, it’s become a great spot to hang out and listen to live music. Other bands play there too, like Eddie’s but he has Thursday nights.”

“I heard you sing last night; do you ever sing with Kelli?” Steve tilts his head slightly with the question.

You feel your ears burning as you chuckle in embarrassment. “No… I leave that to Kelli. I can only sing background vocals.”

“You have a really nice voice,” Steve smiles widely and you shy away from the awe in his eyes, just like yesterday. He chuckles like he was expecting your reaction.

You take a sip from your cola and pick up your pizza slice again, deciding to take the attention away from you. “I’m talking too much and haven’t let you say a word.”

“That’s because my life is pretty boring.” Steve tells you as you take a bite.

“Not true,” You shake your head, covering your mouth as you speak, “And even if it is, I’d still like to hear about it.”

Steve smiles, playing with his napkin before looking into your eyes. There’s a vulnerability shining there that makes you pause for a second. “What do you want to know?”

Everything about you, you think, but decide to say instead, “Anything you feel like sharing.”

He smiles and begins to tell you about his first job. Which leads the story to the kids he babysits now and then. He pretends to be annoyed by this fact, but when he tells you about the free icecream he gave them. and how he’s helped them with bullies; or whatever trouble they get themselves in, you realize it’s all bluff. He’s fond of those kids, and you can bet your college savings those kids like him to bits. The conversation is easy, its lighthearted at times but also deep and emotional at times. Steve tells you about his struggling relationship with his dad and you tell him about your past struggles at home, how hard it was when your dad left you all behind.

Time passes like a blur around you, food slowly disappearing as you hear the other talk –you don’t even realize when you started to hold hands over the table. By the time the stars are out in the sky and only 3 slices of pizza are left, the two of you have shifted closer to the table, leaning closer to hear the other with your full attention. Warmth floods your body at the way Steve looks at you and it feel like stepping into a patch of sun during a cold day. You like this boy so much.

“What?” Steve asks you quietly as you lean your cheek on your free hand to look at him.

“Nothing you’ve told me has been boring.” You smile, enjoying the way his lips mirror it a second later and a lovely pink paints the apple of his cheeks. “I don’t think I’d ever describe you as boring, Steve.”

Steve seems flustered at your words, or just not used to receiving that many compliments, either way you don’t push him. Instead, you slide the hand that’s holding his up to his wrist and turn it towards you slightly to check the time on his watch. 10:30.

You sigh and frown in defeat. “I don’t want to leave but I think we have to get going.”

“Curfew?” Steve asks.

You nod, “Yeah, 11 sharp.”

“Let’s go then.” Steve takes your hand once more and brings it to his lips as the two of you stand up.

So you take your pink bouquet from where it lies on the table and walk back to his car hand in hand. You look for a good radio station to listen to on the ride home and don’t feel surprised anymore when Steve takes your hand again once it becomes free. He holds it between the two of you over the centre console tapping his thumb over the back of your hand to the beat of the music; you’re starting to catch on that physical touch seems to be his love language and you don’t mind it one bit. From then on, it’s soft melodies and quiet conversation as you leave A Pizza Place Behind, and it makes the next 30 minutes go by too quickly for your own liking. The last thing you want is for the night to end —to leave Steve’s side. You don’t remember the last time you felt so comfortable, so listened to, so… you.

Once back in Hawkins and in front of your home, Steve opens the door for you and walks you to the porch.

“I had a great time.” You tell him, looking down at the flowers and then at him. “Thank you, Steve.”

He steps closer to you and pushes a strand of hair away from your face. “I’m glad.” He says gently, grinning. “Can I ask you out on another date?”

“Yes.” You bite your lip, trying to keep your smile from growing. “You know where to find me.”

He nods, “I know.”

The two of you hesitate, not awkwardly but unwilling to leave the other’s side. It’s like tonight made you grow used to each other’s company and now neither of you want to go back to being alone. A moment later, Steve’s eyes move briefly to your lips, and you feel your ears burning when yours do the same and look at his. You move them back to his eyes instantly, pretending you’re not dying to kiss him. You are. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about kissing him, ever, but you chicken out; all the courage you had left fizzling out for the night.

You lean on your tiptoes and place a kiss on his cheek, lingering close for a moment. “Goodnight, Steve. Drive safe.”

Steve nods slowly, eyes following your every move with affection. “Night.” He says before you smile go inside your house, just as the clock strikes 11.

If you’d turned around once more, you’d seen the love stuck look on Steve’s face as he stared after you, willing it to be tomorrow already.

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

“Here’s the last song of the night, so I want to hear you sing along!” Kelli addresses the crowd before pointing at Sarah. The guitarist starts to play the opening riff of What I Like About You and the crowd –as always– floods Annie’s with cheers.

Unlike the first time he saw you play, Steve is now in the middle of the crowd; he places his hands around his mouth as he cheers as Robin jumps up and down next to him. In the three months you’ve been dating, the Friday night crowd at Annies has more than doubled, all for Hot Pink Melody. Steve can’t even begin to describe how proud of you he feels, Annie even gave your band a raise as a thank you for improving her business. How could she not, when the three girls playing in front of him enchant the whole place with electric enthusiasm and contagious energy.

He knew he was a goner from the first night he was here, and every day he grows even more mesmerized by you. Even right now, as he sings along and enjoys the show with Robin by his side, his eyes stay glued to you. The way you play out of memory, interacting with your bandmates as you do and never missing a bit. You even wink at Steve as you sing the background vocals with Kelli. You know you look good, and confident, and sweaty in a way that makes Steve’s weak at the knees. He fucking blushes, from just that wink. He can only shake his head at you while he smiles; he sees you hold back a laugh and it makes the itching to get closer to you, hold you, worse. Do you know how crazy you drive him?

His feet move towards the stage the minute the concert is over, and his heart skips several beats when he sees you’re running to meet him half way. The smile on your face is wide as you throw your arms around him for a hug. Steve’s wrap themselves securely around your waist as he spins you around; your face is on his neck as you laugh and Steve squeezes you tighter.

“You were amazing, babygirl.” He places three kisses on your cheek when you pull away and it makes you giggle. It makes Steve entire day.

“Steve, I’m sweaty.”

“So what?” He chuckles, “You know I don’t mind. Do you want some water?” He pecks your lips and feels so so in love.

You nod your head, stealing a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

You nod again and watch him walk away to the counter where 3 other people stand in line, ready to order. After a quick glance back to the stage, you spot Robin talking to Kelli, their hands clasped between them. You smile fondly, knowing that they make each other so happy. Not unlike you and Steve; it seems crazy to think you’ll have been dating for 4 months next week. Is it too soon for you to say I love you, and does Steve feel that way too. You’ve just started to walk back to the stage to start gathering up your things when someone stops you.

“Hey sweetheart, nice playing up there.” It’s some guy you’ve never seen before, and the way his eyes look at you makes you squirm with discomfort.

“Uh thanks.” You dismiss him with a tight-lip grin and try to continue towards the stage.

He follows you until he’s stepping in your way. “Maybe you can come to my place for a drink. I’m having people over.” He tries to take a step closer to you but you take one back.

“I’m not interested, thank you.” You reply curtly, trying to side-step him. “If you’ll excuse me.”

As per usual, a negative answer seems to mean everything but a no in his language. “Come on you know you want to.” He steps in front of you again and moves to grab your wrist, but you yank it away from him before he can.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” You finally let your temper show, beyond annoyed with the man in front of you. Your eyebrows pinch together, and your lips turn into a sneer.

Before he can say anything else, Steve appears by your side and pushes him away while simultaneously wrapping a protective arm around your waist. The water bottle he’s holding is cool against your skin but you don’t mind, feeling safe by his side. “You got a problem here babe?” Steve turns briefly to ask you before staring down the guy in front of you, who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

You shake your head. “I think he got the picture.”

“Don’t you dare try to touch her, or bother her again, you hear me?” Steve’s voice is low and menacing; a quick glance his way allows you to see the anger in his features. Steve is pissed off.

The other guy only nods yieldingly before Steve stirs the two of you away towards the stage. You’ve never seen him shoot daggers out of his eyes before, and you’re thankful for his help. But you also wany to ease the tension that has fallen over his body, so you urge him to sit down on the stage and step between his thighs.

Your hands hold his face gently. “Thank you, Stevie.” You brush your thumb over his forehead, erasing the furrow of his brows. “Don’t worry, I’m okay. Let’s just forget about it.”

“Okay,” Steve nods and you lean down to peck his lips. He grins and gives you the water bottle, “Here you go, babe.”

“Thank you.” You run a hand through his hair then motion towards the equipment behind him. “Let’s go load up the van before we go home.”

Steve waits for you to have some water before he stands and steps on the stage. He offers you his hand and just like clockwork the two of you begin unplugging all the instruments and mics. Steve’s been helping you every Friday, so he’s more than familiar with the process. So is Robin, who comes over with Kelli and Sarah help you pack everything up. Once everything is ready, each one of you takes something to carry out to the van that’s parked by Annie’s back door. Robin huffs as she carries an amp, refusing to carry something lighter because that’s what the patriarchy wants her to do. Steve has to take over in the end when she puts the amp back on the floor, halfway to the van. It takes the five of you 30 minutes to load up the van and secure everything in place, but soon enough Sarah is driving the van to her place, giving Robin a Kelli a ride to their respective houses.

Despite your tired arms, you swing the hand that’s holding Steve’s back and forth between you. It’s a long way back to the parking lot from the back of the building, but neither of you mind. The air hasn’t cooled much despite it being autumn already but it’s cool enough that you enjoy the breeze. After hours inside the crowded restaurant, it is more than welcome. A few minutes later you arrive to Steve’s car in the back of the parking lot. There are many cars still outside Annie’s but no one out there with you, so naturally Steve wastes no time kissing you.

He smiles as he presses your back against the passenger’s door and holds your waist while his lips leave you breathless. Steve is practically buzzing with energy when his hands move under your t-shirt, his warm skin touching the softness of your waist above your jeans. It makes you lightheaded, him showing you his emotions shamelessly.

“You were. So amazing tonight.” He says in-between kisses, words mumbled against your lips. He leans back and shakes his head, “Fuck baby, you’ve got any idea of how hot you look when you’re performing?”

His mouth is on yours again a second later, teeth catching on your bottom lip before his own soothe it with another kiss. “I mean, you always do, but when you’re up there… it’s magic.”

You feel him smile against your lips and you lean away to brush your nose against his —slightly out of breath and full of love. Your eyes gaze into his own that are looking at you so softly, you don’t know what you did to deserve it. Steve’s love is so intense, so warm, it makes your skin hum and an incredulous smile appear on your face.

Steve smiles back. “What?” He brings a hand up from your waist to your face, caressing it softly with the back of his fingers; his other remains on your waist, thumb rubbing your skin back and forth.

“It’s just that since the girls and I started the band, we’ve had more and more people come to our shows…”

“Good, you guys are great.” He nods.

You smile, “Yes, and those people are all Kelli’s fans, which I’m more than okay with! I just never thought I’d have a fan of my own…that you would be my biggest fan.”

“I’m sure you have other fans babe, but you’re right.” He beams at you, “I’m your biggest fan, I’ll always be because the most talented person I know happens to be my girl.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

You smile at him, shying away from his adoring gaze and dipping your chin to your chest. “Thank you, Stevie.”

Steve chuckles and brings your gaze back to his by gently holding you chin between his thumb and index finger. “How is it, that you play and sing one night a week in front of so many people easily… but you shy away when it’s only me?” His eyes get impossibly softer, making your stomach flip incessantly. “Not that I don’t love it.”

You shake your head. “Those people aren’t you, Stevie. They don’t look at me the way you do.”

“And how is that?” He asks in a whisper, brushing his lips against yours briefly.

“Like you can see right through me.” You tell him softly, breathlessly. Honesty coats your words. “Like I’m precious to you.”

“You are precious to me.” He pecks your lips again, smiling when you do.

“Stevie.” You say, breath mingling with his, your eyes meeting his cedar brown ones. “I’m so in love with you, and telling you feels like falling down a rollercoaster, but I can’t keep it from you anymore.”

Steve’s lips spread into a big smile, the kind that wrinkles the corners of his eyes before he leans down to kiss you. His other hand travels up your body to hold your face as he kisses you slow and sweet. It’s a gentle caress of lips, his own hushed love confession in his love language. “You made me fall for you that very first night I saw you up on that stage.” He tells you softly.

“You did on our first date.” You share with a smile.

“So I win.” He smiles triumphantly, and his eternally competitive nature gets a loud laugh out of you, head thrown back. Steve being the menace he is, takes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck, which spurs on your laughter.

“I think that means I win.” You giggle.

Your boyfriend brushes his nose against yours. “I know, but I won because I have you.”

“Corny.” You kiss his lips slowly. “I won too.”

He places one last peck on your lips. “You still want to get those milkshakes?”

“Yes please.” You nod enthusiastically, eyes lighting up at the idea of a chocolate ice cream shake with whipped cream.

“Then let’s go, drummer girl.” Steve moves to open the passenger door for you with a wink.

“Ha ha you know that’s a bad nickname.”

“It’s not, come on babygirl you gotta let me win one!”

“I didn’t know it was a competition!” You can only laugh as he closes the door and goes around the car to settle in the seat next to you. You look at him and meet his smile with one of your own, heart bursting at the sight of him –at the beauty and fun of being with him, of giving him your heart.

“Stevie.” Your voice is quiet now that you’re inside the car.

“Hmm?” He asks, turning on the engine with the turn of his key.

“I love you.”

His smile lights you up from within in the dark car. “I love you. More.”

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎ the end❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎ PART 2

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #joe keery #steve x you

718 notes · View notes

scarletsknight · 2 years

Text

house call

wc: 3.6k

pairing: eddie x afab!reader

synopsis: after making a delivery to your house, your dealer decides you shouldn’t spend friday night alone

cw: 18+ mdni!!, smut, use of marijuana, pet names, brief mention of reader having glasses but not wearing them, teasing, eddie’s rings (yes it needs to be a warning), nipple play, oral sex (receiving), multiple orgasms, marking, lowkey dumbification, sex while under the influence, protected sex, eddie has a big dick but wbk, pretty much pwp

***repost cause t*mblr is anti black and shadow banned my other account 🙄

You were trying to carry all the snacks you grabbed from the kitchen to your bedroom when you heard the doorbell ring.

“Shit,” you muttered.

You know you told him to be here at 9, but you weren’t expecting him to be on time.

“Just a second!” you yelled. You ran upstairs to throw the arm full of snacks onto your bed before you went to answer the door.

You opened the door and immediately felt the fluttering in your stomach as a smile made its way to your face.

Leaning against your doorframe, wearing his signature hellfire shirt, along with his black leather jacket and ripped jeans, he lifted his head to meet your eyes.

“Good evening, miss. I believe you requested a house call."

"Hi, Eddie,” you smile even wider, “Thank you so much for doing this,” you step aside and let him into your house.

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything for my favorite customer,” he smiled at you as he passed by. Eddie’s eyes scanned down your figure, a smirk playing on his lips, “You didn’t have to get all dolled up for me,” he said.

Forgetting what you were wearing, you look down at the old AC/DC shirt and pajama shorts you had on, along with your fuzzy socks.

You roll your eyes and scoff, “Shut up."

Eddie follows you into your dining room, where you sit at the table. Placing his little black tin box on the table, Eddie sits across from you.

Your relationship with Eddie was…interesting. You know how most people at school perceive Eddie, but you don’t care. You ignore the weird looks your friends give you when they see you openly talking to him in the cafeteria or in the hallways and the things they make up about Eddie to try to get you to stay away from him.

When you found out he sells weed, he was the first you went to since he was the only person in town you trusted enough to buy from. After that, the two of you started talking more, your relationship forming into some sort of friendship. Eddie always thought you were crazy befriending him, but that’s also what he liked about you.

"So, I have two choices for you,” he took out two plastic bags, “alien thrax and peanut butter cookies."

You laugh, starting to believe that he’s just making up the names of the strains at this point.

"What’s your recommendation?” you ask, leaning closer with your elbows on the table.

“I haven’t tried the cookies yet. It’s some new shit I got from Rick, apparently from California. But this,” Eddie shakes the bag of alien thrax in his left hand, “will get you where you need to be. A personal favorite of mine.”

You carefully made your decision.

“I’m gonna trust your judgment on this one,” you pointed to his left.

“Chose wisely. I’ll even throw in a little extra.”

“You always this generous with all your customers?”

“Just the pretty ones that spend Friday nights alone.”

You smile at the compliment.

“I’d very much rather be alone than at another one of those stupid parties.” you roll your eyes at the thought.

“What if I propose something better than you just spending the rest of the night alone, getting high?”

“What?”

. . .

Soft giggles spill from your lips as you take the joint from Eddie.

“What?” he asks with a lazy smile.

“I never thought I’d be smoking in my bedroom with Eddie Munson.”

“What would the perfect posse say if they knew?” he jokes.

You shrug, “I don’t give a shit about what’d they have to say.”

A beat of silence passes between you before Eddie speaks again.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you even friends with them? I mean, I don’t know shit, but you don’t seem to like them very much.”

“I can tolerate them to a point. But I wouldn’t say they’re my friends. Jenna’s the only reason why I get invited to parties and sit with them sometimes. We’ve been best friends since third grade, and I guess she didn’t wanna just leave me behind when she joined the cheer team.”

He smiles at the thought, familiar with Jenna as the only other person from your “friend group” relatively nice to him aside from you.

“Well, you know if you ever need an escape from them or anything, you can always come find me.”

“I will.”

Eddie likes this. Being able to just sit here with you and talk. He likes that you’re comfortable enough to open up to him. He likes that you don’t care with him. He likes the habit you have of scrunching your nose when the smoke hits the back of your throat. And the way you keep tucking your hair behind your ears every time he compliments you. And the way that you stare at him when you think he doesn’t notice. And-

“Now, wait a minute,” Eddie’s eye catches something sitting on your desk, “Are those what I think they are?” he asks, moving across the room.

“No-”

“I thought you stopped wearing these after middle school,” he picked up your glasses.

Embarrassed, you jump to your feet and try to take them from him, but the height he had on you works to his advantage.

“Eddie-”

“Jesus, you’re as blind as a bat,” Eddie put them on, and you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Eddie!” you whined, snatching the glasses off his face. “I only wear them at home sometimes-” you pause and backtrack, “Wait, you remember me from middle school?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m pretty sure you were the only person who didn’t call me cancer kid because I-”

“Was bald!” you gasp as the memory comes back.

“Hey! I wasn’t bald. I just had a buzz cut.”

“Same thing,” you giggle, “But you’ve redeemed yourself.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t know when you got so close, but you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. You’re so close you can tell how pink his eyes are and could smell the weed on his breath.

“Yeah,” you have no resistance to the urge to brush his hair out of his face, “s'very pretty,” you mumble.

You feel Eddie’s hands rest on your hips, the two of you still not saying anything. He just stared at you while your gaze falls to his lips. You just wanted to know what they felt like or how’d he taste against your tongue.

Eddie softly calling your name brought you out of your thoughts.

“What?”

“I really wanna kiss you,” he says.

“Okay.”

“Can I?”

You’re nodding, “Yes-” before you could get the word out, you’re already cupping his face.

This is not what you imagined. No—it was so much better.

His lips are soft and taste like smoke. Eddie’s hands moved to grab your waist, pulling you even closer than you already are.

You part your lips to grant your lungs the oxygen they’ve been aching for, and you moan into Eddie’s mouth as he slips his tongue past your lips. Your fingers found their way into his hair, tangling in his messy curls.

The back of Eddie’s legs hit your bed, and he fell onto the mattress, bringing you with him. You dropped with a bounce, your legs landing in Eddie’s lap as he found your lips again. Eddie couldn’t get enough of your lips, tasting of weed and something sweet. His hand rests on your thigh, and the cool metal of his rings bites into your skin deliciously.

You moan against his lips, thinking about the imprints his rings could decorate your skin with, marking you as his.

“You keep doing that, it’s gonna make it harder to stop.” Eddie says lowly.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?"

Eddie lowly cursed under his breath.

"You don’t know what you’re doing to me, angel."

You grinned as your lips connected again. Eddie slides his hand between your legs, inching closer and closer to your core. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip when you feel his fingers come into contact with your pussy. Eddie groans from the pain as his cock twitched in his jeans. You were much more sensitive to his touch from still being high, so when he firmly pressed two fingers against your clit, close your legs around his hand with a whimper.

"So responsive, princess,” Eddie hummed.

“Eddie, please,” you whisper.

“What, baby?”

“Please touch me,” you flutter your lashes at him.

Eddie starts trailing kisses down your neck as one of his hands slips under your shirt, finding the hem of your shorts and toying with it. With his lips not occupying your mouth, moans freely tumbled out as Eddie left kisses and lovebites down your throat.

You lifted your hips from the bed when you felt Eddie beginning to tug at your shorts. Tossing them to the floor, Eddie cups your sex, humming when he feels your wetness seeping through the thin cotton.

“This for me, baby? You get all this wet just for me?” he asks with a teasing grin.

“Yes. God, Eddie, please,” you whine, feeling his finger run up your slit.

Eddie tears your underwear down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder before he coats his fingers in your slick. You widen your legs for him, and he starts stroking your clit. Eddie started to tease you, slowly circling your sensitive nub with the tip of his finger.

“You’re so wet, angel,” Eddie cooed, “I could probably just slip right in,” he watched your face melt into pleasure as he slipped a finger inside of you. Your hips rise against his hand, trying to get more than what he’s giving you.

“M-More. I need more."

Eddie laughs as he adds a second finger, "Always giving you more than I should. You’re pretty spoiled, you know."

"Can’t blame me when you’re the one always spoiling me,” you say with a smirk.

Eddie watches as the smirk gets wiped from your face, moaning when he curls his fingers against your velvety walls.

“Fuck, Eddie. That feels so good."

"Yeah? You’re taking my fingers so well, sweetheart,"

You were no longer fighting the noises that spilled out of your mouth. Eddie presses his thumb to your clit, and he feels your walls open up for his digits even more.

Your eyes flutter shut, and your head falls back, feeling the cool metal wrapped around his ring finger digging into your warm skin. The tips of his fingers reach that sweet spot inside you, hitting it each time he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

"Eddie.”

“What is it, baby?”

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you pant.

“Yeah? You wanna cum all over my fingers?"

You eagerly nod your head.

"Come on, be a good girl and cum for me.”

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave of euphoria, your legs clamping shut around Eddie’s hand. Eddie held your convulsing body as he continued to finger you through your orgasm.

You pushed his hand away when he started to overstimulate you.

You buried your face into Eddie’s neck, catching your breath.

“I bet you taste as good as you look,” you heard Eddie say.

You lift your head to see him examining his fingers covered in your juices; even the ring on his finger glistened in your slick.

When Eddie brought his fingers to his lips, you felt your insides coil and pressed your legs together with a small whimper.

After licking his fingers clean, Eddie started repositioning your legs so he could settle between them.

“You gonna let me get a real taste of you, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, slowly rubbing his hand up and down your thigh.

You nodded.

“I’m gonna need words, baby."

"Yes,” you said barely above a whisper.

The smile stretched further across Eddie’s face as he lowered himself onto his stomach and pulled you closer to his face by your thighs.

No one’s ever gone down on you. The guys you’ve hooked up with in the past were too selfish or clueless to do so. But Eddie’s clearly neither of those things. He parts your folds with his tongue, licking a fat stripe up your slit, letting your juices flow onto his tongue.

“Eddie,” you mewl.

“Yeah, baby?”

Looking down at him between your legs, you think your brain short-circuited, seeing his lips wet and swollen with pupils dilated twice their size, and you’re sure it’s not just from the thc.

“Please, don’t stop."

Eddie grins as he lowers his head again, taking your clit between his lips. Your arms could no longer support you, and you dropped your head to your pillows. Eddie pulled your legs over his shoulders, his blunt fingernails digging into the plush of your thighs as he buried his face into your pussy.

One of Eddie’s hands slides up your torso under your shirt, cupping your tit in his hand. Your gummy walls fluttered around Eddie’s tongue, feeling his nose nuzzling into your clit.

Your whimpers and moans mixed with the obscene sound of him fucking you with his tongue filled the room. You could feel that knot in your stomach tightening as Eddie ate you out like a starved man.

"My fucking god, Eddie, what are you doing to me,” you moan.

He laughs, the vibrations from his mouth shooting straight up your spine.

You tangle your fingers in his hair again, keeping him right where you need him, rolling your hips against his face.

“Please, Eddie,” you look down at him briefly to see him completely lost in the feeling of you on his tongue, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again,” you throw your head back.

Eddie swirls his skilled tongue around the bundle of nerves. Your back arches away from the bed, and Eddie wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you from moving as you came.

Eddie continued to lap at your folds, making sure not to miss a single drop. He came up from between your legs, half his face covered in your juices.

“That was so fucking hot,” he licked his lips and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

You grin as you grab his shirt and pull him closer, crashing your lips into his. The taste of you still staining his lips and tongue.

“Eddie.”

“Mhm?” he hums, kissing your face.

“Please fuck me,” you say against his lips.

You hear a low groan rumble in his throat.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want you so fucking badly,” you tell Eddie. He sees the glimmer of mischief in your eyes when you slide your hand between your bodies and palm him over his jeans. “I know you want me too,” you smile, feeling how hard he is through his clothes.

“So fucking badly,” he says, cupping your jaw and bringing your lips to his.

You begin to tug at his shirt, silently telling him you want it off. He granted your wish, breaking from the kiss to pull the shirt over his head. You barely have time to admire the ink decorating his skin before Eddie’s claiming your lips with his again.

You tug Eddie closer by the leather belt wrapped around his waist and begin to unbuckle it before he stops you.

“Wait—shit,” he groans.

“What?”

“I don’t have anything.”

“Second draw in my nightstand,” you tell him, and he raises his eyebrows at you, “What? Better safe than sorry,” you say.

Reaching into the second drawer in your nightstand, Eddie locates the box of condoms. Eddie was less bitter when he found the box was still unopened.

You sit up on your elbows, looking at Eddie as he stands in front of you. Your eyes trail down his toned figure to the little tufts of hair on his lower stomach. You press your thighs together and bite your lip thinking about where following the happy trail would lead you.

Eddie notices you ogling him. Giving you what you want once again, Eddie pushes his jeans down his legs along with his underwear, allowing his cock to spring free of its confinements.

You feel all the air leave your lungs, and you hear Eddie laugh from the expression on your face, continuing to stroke his ego.

He really just walks around like this??

You pick up your jaw, realizing how dry your mouth is, and bring your eyes back to his face.

Eddie rolls the condom onto his shaft, stroking his length in his hand while pushing your legs apart with the other.

“What, princess? Don’t think your pretty little pussy can take me?” he challenged.

You furrow your brows, “I can.” you say, knowing damn well he could break you in half. (and you would gladly let him)

“We’ll see about that,” he said with a wink.

Lining his cock up with your entrance, Eddie takes his time. It was hard to hold himself back when he felt the way your warm wet walls opened up for him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he sighs.

Your eyes screw shut as the painful stretch melts into pleasure. The last few inches slip in easily with how wet you are. Eddie softly grunts once he’s bottomed out.

“Eddie,” you whine.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he peppers kisses all over your face.

“You feel s-so fucking big. Feels so f-fucking full,” you stutter.

“Yeah? You like that, don’t you? Being filled up by me.”

“Eddie~” he laughs when he feels your pussy flutter around his cock.

“That’s my name, princess,” he grins, kissing you.

“Please move.”

He drew his hips back, almost pulling out of you completely, only leaving the tip in before sliding back in.

Eddie rested his forehead against yours, finding a steady rhythm to fuck you.

Eddie started trailing kisses down your neck as his hands pushed your shirt up over your chest. His mouth enclosed around your nipple while his fingers toyed with the other. He tweaked the perky bud between his fingers, making you cry out, and soothed the pain with his mouth, circling his tongue around your areola.

“Eddie, please.”

“What, sweetheart?”

“Go f-faster,”

“So demanding,” he huffed.

He grabbed your waist, bringing your hips to meet his in sharp slaps, and you held onto his shoulders, your moans deliciously filling his ears.

The sight beneath him is one Eddie wants etched into his brain forever; you shamelessly crying out for Eddie as he fucked you the way you deserve.

Your nails scratched down Eddie’s chest, leaving red streaks on his skin. He hissed from your nails digging into him, but that only seemed to fuel the fire you’ve ignited in him.

“Please-shit, don’t stop-fuck—please,” you stumble over your words as you place your hand on your headboard to prevent your head from hitting it.

“Look at you, baby. All fucked out from my cock, you can’t even form full sentences.”

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” Eddie pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing sloppy, uncoordinated circles, “Come on, princess. Let me feel that pretty little pussy cum around my cock.”

Eddie tried his hardest not to cum before you. He wrapped his arms under your thighs, fucking you even harder that the headboard started banging against the wall.

“Yes—fuck, Eddie!”

Your eyes roll back into your head, and your limbs go numb. Your pussy had a vice grip on Eddie’s cock, making it harder for him to move.

Eddie dropped his head to your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he released his load into the condom.

For a minute, the room is only filled with your heavy breathing as the two of you come down from your highs.

Eddie’s body slumps against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck. You softly run your fingers through his hair while he presses kisses to your damp skin.

He finally lifted his head, studying your face as he brushed your hair away from the features he adores so much.

“Hi,” his nose brushes yours.

“Hi,” you giggle before he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Better than. You have no idea how long and how badly I’ve wanted this—wanted you,” you say. Your words make Eddie’s soft cock twitch against your walls as he is still inside you.

“Don’t try to get me started again, princess,” he groaned, slipping out of your heat and falling down onto your bed next to you.

You rolled over onto your stomach and landed right on Eddie’s chest. You giggled as you kissed him before getting off the bed.

“Shit,” you grab onto your dresser to steady yourself on your wobbly legs.

“Need help?” Eddie asks with a laugh, watching you walk like a baby deer to your bathroom.

“Fuck off,” you say to him over your shoulder.

Slipping your shorts back on, not even bothering with your soiled underwear, you reenter your room to find Eddie with his jeans back on but still lounging on your bed shirtless.

Eddie’s eyes followed you as you walked back over to your window, picking up the joint the two of you never finished.

You strike a match, having no idea where the lighter Eddie had earlier went, and let thick clouds of smoke fill your lungs.

You lift your head to find Eddie staring at you.

“What? You promised me we were gonna smoke, and we never got to finish,” you explain as you stand between his legs.

He shrugged, “We got sidetracked. It happens,” Eddie wrapped his hand around the back of your thighs and pulled you down onto his lap.

You bring the joint to Eddie’s lips, his hands too occupied with cupping your ass, and he takes a long drag.

“You gonna let it happen again?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Only if you will,” Eddie says before exhaling the smoke he was holding in his lungs.

“Nothing wrong with a little bit of a distraction."

a/n: if it seems rushed it kinda was :/ i was h*rny and eddie has been plaguing my mind since i finished season 4. but thank you sm for reading <33 feedback is appreciated!!

2K notes · View notes

siriusleee · 8 months

Text

you're stunning

Rodolfo Para x f!reader For @glitterypirateduck's Fall4Rudy challenge. Prompt: It's your choice A/N: #6! Four more to go for my 10-part drabble series! The challenge ends in 2 days so I can do it lol. Although I may be a rebel and post one a day late, since I will be working the homecoming game on Friday. tags: borderline smut. nothing to explicit, but it's enough. To see others in this series, you can find them at my masterlist here.

Rudy doesn’t love like other men you’ve been with: a race to the end, to see who finishes first and forget about the other. He doesn’t even undress you quickly, instead opting to touch you above your clothes.

It’s a wonder the bed sheets haven’t gone up in flame from the heat rolling off the two of you; you’re sweating and panting before he’s even done anything other than touch you, his fingers tracing your jaw.

“I need you Rudy,” you practically beg, lips parting as his thumb traces the outline of your lip. You capture the tip of his thumb in your mouth, swirling your tongue and savoring the taste of him.

You can see his pulse quicken, and you want to kiss him at his pulse point, like away the sweat that’s starting to form there.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” Rudy whispers against your skin, sliding your shirt up, pulling it off of you.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” You ask, hands wrapping around the hem of his white shirt, marveling at the contrast between the color and his skin as you tug it over his head.

“You never called me Rudy.”

You never thought you needed to. The sleep is burnt from your body as Rudy hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down until you can kick them across the room.

Rudy shifts so that he’s kneeling between your knees; he bats away your hand when you try to reach for his belt buckle. His eyes linger on the stitches at your temple, the bruises you collect through each operation, the little scars picked up from everyday living.

Your whole body bushes beneath his gaze.

“You’re stunning; you know that?”

You’ve heard others say it - but not once had you ever felt like it was anything other than an excuse to move forward, but when Rudy says it you know he’s telling the truth.

Rudy takes his time with you, refusing to let you touch him until you’re nearly broken from the overwhelming feeling of him, and when he finally bury’s himself in you, he doesn’t fuck you. He holds you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world, pressing into you enough to stretch you out, hands caressing every inch of your body he can reach.

He doesn’t stop when you come undone beneath him; he talks to you in slow Spanish, kissing you when it gets too much.

He doesn’t leave after he finishes, a rush of belt bucking and searching for socks.

He presses a gentle kiss to the stitches on your temple, rolling you over so that your back is pressed tight against his chest, hands drawing soft circles on the sensitive skin of your stomach. Outside it’s dark, stars rolling across the sky, and you fall asleep again to the warmth of him.

#my fics #fall4rudy #cod rudy #rodolfo rudy parra #rudy x reader #rudy cod #rudy parra #cod rodolfo #rodolfo x reader #rodolfo cod #rodolfo parra

101 notes · View notes

punk-in-docs · 2 years

Note

Ok ok ok I cannot stop thinking about the dynamic of Eddie x Pencils when they’re in their new fluffy lovey relationship. Possibly even Eddie being jealous AF cause all his friends just love hanging out with her (maybe a little too much) I just love them together. I can see Eddie being all screechy/shrieky cause he’s not getting one on one time and it’s starting to piss him off! Love those two sm!

🕷 Green is the Colour 🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader

6.6k words

Summary: EDDIE X PENCILS RIDE AGAIN - listen I’ve been thinking about this ask for two days and I thought what if- what if everyone else loves pencils so much and rudely robs Eddie of her time and the fallout of the kids being all steal ya girl- poor Eddie-

“I swear man, I’m about to start plastering her poster on telephone poles and milk cartons. It’s getting pretty freakin’ dire over here.” Eddie speaks as he presides over the squares of the board splayed before him.

Friday night. Doused under the blooming tulip bulbs of the Hellfire club room. Shadows spot the room where the dramatic lights can’t scrape. Swimming sea blue and fiery Sahara amber.

The candles are lit. Jerky flames flicker their licks of light. Stage set. Atmosphere geared up for the adventure and the conflict that may come. The dice are gathered. Board awaits. Poised for another one of Eddie’s imaginative campaigns.

Some would say sadistic- he would say mildly warped at best.

Folks were still strolling in from end of class. Numbers not assembled to full platoon yet.

Gareth, Jeff, Sinclair, and Matt are the first ones to rock up. Still waiting on his other tardy freshmen. They sit at the table. Drink sodas. Scarf down the snacks Gareth bought cause it was his turn. Cheetos, red vines, pretzels, and Reece’s pieces.

Eddie chucks himself back in his throne. Sits with his heels popped on the table edge. They sit and slowly kill time. He listens to them munch chips loudly, bicker over dumb shit, and somehow, the conversation had turned its attentions onto you-

His pencils. His maiden. The Art to his Garfunkel. Only much, much, hotter.

Gareth chucks Eddie a Reece’s cup. He catches it one handed - but there’s no celebratory fist pump. No jerking smile. He doesn’t scoff it down in three seconds like his usual bottomless-pit style when it came to candy.

He’s subdued. Something irks at him. Like a thread he can’t find the end of. He taps the edge of the table.

“So you haven’t seen your girl in a while then huh?” Jeff asks in reply to Eddie’s statement about milk cartons. A sloped smile on, as he snaps open a Pepsi can.

“Nada.” Eddie answered. “It’s really starting to grind my gears.”

You ate lunch at their table some days. Were welcome to, in fact. Sought after. Your absence is noted on the days you don’t, with curiosity and longing.

You caught a ride with Eddie to school. Mixing with them with no hint of awkwardness, and arguing about which was better, Sabbath or Motörhead.

I’m sorry but Motörhead rules in my book. Have you heard Lemmy play? Like c’mon open those ears kiddos. You know Ozzy wanted originally wanted to call ‘Iron Man?’ Metal bloke. C’mon.

As Eddie walked into school with his arm slung around your shoulders. You were still arguing with Jeff about it. He couldn’t get a word in. Once you start arguing about music you cannot be placated.

Alright, alright then can we at least agree that Twisted Sister is better than Bowie, Jeff tried in vain to argue.

You turn to your boyfriend. Clutching your pearls. Choking on the crazy statement.

Edward the children are delusional. What have you been feeding them? LSD?

He cackled all the way to class.

You got in on their jokes. Poked fun with them at the jocks. Correct their English homework when they get spelling mistakes, cause you happened to walk that class last year and got an A+.

Dustin honey, you spelt transcendence wrong. As you rubbed out his mistake with him with the end of your pencil eraser and filled it in. Told him to put his argument in the first paragraph to give it more punch up top. Science he got, lit essays were hard.

Your girlfriend is a freakin genius, man.

You think I don’t know that? C’mon you think I couldn’t pull the brainiest, hottest chick around? Please? I’m beating off chicks with a stick over here. Comes that devil Munson grin.

You patted his chest. Do I need to put a tongue depressor in your mouth? Are you getting hallucinations again?

C’mon pencils that was one time after a bad trip.

You’re slowly growing into familiarity in the social circles Eddie turns in.

Not like you could be apart for long. You two were inseparable and grossly in love. The making out was frankly, sickening, in its duration, frequency, and volume. Like something strummed right out a carpenter song. Heart throbbing teen love. And oh, it’s clutches were fierce.

That was, when he could lay eyes and hands on you. Which hadn’t happened now for four hellish, crawling days. Time is being waded through treacle for him.

It’s making Eddie fucking itch.

“Maybe I should file a police report.” He jokes. But in all seriousness, it’s actually crossed his funky little mind.

“I think I saw her earlier. She was out in the lot helping that Mayfield kid. Putting stickers on her skateboard or something.” Gareth told him.

“Not you too, red.” Eddie sighs muzzily as he crashes his head back to his seat in despair. Arms flailing out. Pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Does everyone in this school get a bigger slice of her than I do? Oh you know. I’m only her boyfriend for fucks sake.” He whines.

“She is pretty cool though.” Matt piped up. “Even by our admittedly limited standards.”

Eddie side shoots him a acid glare that says ‘yeah, no shit.’

“She busy with schoolwork or what?” Sinclair asks.

Eddie flails his hands. A mock attempt at trying to assuage his lovesick heart.

“I guess. I mean she does looovvve to stick her head in the books that one. Or she’s always sketching away. I know she had a history paper at the start of the week she had to stay home and work on but seriously, I’m dying of vicious neglect over here.” He makes a clawed hand over his heart like it’s gonna slowly squeeze to a stop.

“Yeah, it’s like we’ve gone what? Three lunch times now without seeing you guys noisily attached to each other’s faces.” Sinclair the elder, chuckles.

Eddie lobs a Reece’s piece at his head. “Ow. Hey?”

“That was called for. You know it. Pain is a part of life.” Eddie frowns at him.

“You’re just snippy cause you haven’t sucked face in so long.” Sinclair pointed out.

“I wonder if she remembers what I look like.” Eddie dreamt dazed. Staring at the ceiling so wistfully. Always so dramatic.

“It’s Friday night. I’m sure she’ll be free.” Jeff tries to play the kind and hopeful card.

“She better. Or else I’m not joking about that milk carton idea.” He wags an over accessorised finger in warning.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gareth placates as he chews on a red vine.

The bang of the doors has Eddie’s eyes slamming across. Ready to beat seven shades of shit out the tardy pair. Hellfires club rules were absolute: Eddie was known to take his rules seriously. To the death.

Henderson and Wheeler come careening through the doors. Wary of the lateness of the hour. Incurring the Munson wrath.

“Hey, don’t mind us.” Dustin says as they throw themselves into their usual seats and grab their things.

“Sorry we’re late. Got- held up.” Wheeler explained as he rooted elbow deep in his bag.

“Oo red vines. Gimme.” Dustin screeches. Mike snatches for the Cheetos packet.

“It’s ok man. We were just talking about Eddie and how he hasn’t seen pencils in like, forever. It’s driving him nuts.”

Silence. Thick as soup. You could sip it.

Eddie drags his eyes up and catches the way Wheeler flicks his eyes across to Henderson. Who has suddenly clammed right the hell up. Sat there holding a red vine.

Henderson usually trilled on and on like tweetie pie. Something was definitely up. All was not right in whosville. Boy better not bother with poker. Not with a giveaway face like that.

Those whiskey dark Munson eyes never missed a thing. Dagger tips that scratch into his two young opponents.

Henderson knows they’re being scrutinised. The way that crazy mane of Eddie’s flicks where he tilts his head at the two of them.

He braces his arms suddenly on the throne and sits up to crouch on his heels. Dustin and Mike actually flinch.

Their terrifying rabid DM coming level like a metal perching gargoyle. Really, Hellfire wasn’t Hellfire without Eddie scrambling around or climbing on shit.

“Something to say there, gentlemen?” He pressed. Sawtoothed edge to his voice that grates. Cuts skin. He claps his hands together.

“No. No. Nothing man.” Henderson spits out. His knuckles are white on the edge of the table.

At the same time of Wheeler’s “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

They’re prickling with sweat along the hairline. Hands fidgeting with their back pack straps. Plus, the inevitable fact that Eddie’s dark-cold stares are among the most intense things ever known to man. Arctic frostbite skimmed off a razor cold ocean could cut less.

Through narrowed whiskey eyes. “Have a seat.” He bit out each word.

Dustin tried to make small talk as he unzipped his bag. Got his character sheets. Very loudly excited over the prospect of snacks. Loved everything. Everyone looks good tonight. Everyone’s good. Good, man. Cool.

Wheeler just kept his mouth shut. Eddies eyes burned holes in the both of them like bleach.

“Why so late.” Eddie asks punchily. Creeping accusation hangs heavy on his tone.

“Uhhhhh. We-“

“We, why are we uh, late? Mike do you- recall.”

Eddies white knuckles crack together. His teeth will soon be dust.

“We… ran into Mr Clark. He started chatting about- science and, shit. You know, other stuff.” Mike got out.

Eddies bullshit-o-meter was creeping into the red. Hazards flashing. Alarm bells wailing. The rest of the guys at the table are side eyeing each other with drawn back smiles. Biting lips to stem laughter.

“Name the stuff.” He grins. So wide. Too wide. Scary wide. Calling the bluff.

Mike gulps. Dustin’s mouth gaped and no words came out.

“Man-I-think--I-think-we-should-just-tell-him.” Dustin whispers out the side of his mouth. Turning to Wheeler who was crumbling under the famous Munson poison stroked gaze.

“I feel like a rat.” Wheeler explains.

“Funny. Cause In about five seconds I’m gonna feed you to an entire army of rabid rats unless you spill, and tell me what the shit is going on.”

“We, have an advanced calculus test on Monday.” Dustin piped up.

“And?” Eddie urged snappy.

“And, uh, we needed some help and luckily, you know this really awesome someone, very selflessly offered us some assistance in furthering our education. Which is really nice of them, when-when you think about it” Dustin yammered.

Eddie nodded. Sucking in a deep breath. Eyes darting back and forth on them.

“This someone-“ He started.

“Man I told you he’d be wicked pissed.” Wheeler snuck out the side of his mouth at Henderson.

“Shut-the-hell-up. It was your idea.” Dustin hissed between clenched teeth.

“Describe them to me.” Eddie waved his hand in a curling motion.

“Who?”

“This selfless being who helped you. Describe them.” Eddie’s eyes threaded with steel.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

They blink owlishly at him. Mouths slack like guppy fish.

“Medium height. Hair. Uh, Eyes.”

“Do they also have feet and teeth, cause that’s not narrowing down any of the general populous for me.” He bitches at them.

“Studies art. Likes all kinds of cool music. Works in the record store. Loves Billy Idol. Bout yay big-“ Wheeler explains. Holding his hand up to roughly your height.

“You probably… know who we’re talking about… now.” Dustin summed up with a closed fist nervously waving in the air. Smoothing his clammy hands down to the table top.

Eddie slumps back to his chair. Rubs his fingers into his temples. A storm of pins starting to thunder at the roof of his skull. Like top pitch Slayer shredding screams in his ears. It’s deafening. Pins and needles plucking in his brain.

“Let me get this straight-“ He announced with the usual Dungeon Master fanfare from his ornate throne. Voice booming in the quiet of the echoing room.

He crosses his arms. Rattle of his chain bracelet. Clack of those rings as he swirls a finger in the air trying to pluck at the right words.

“I couldn’t lay eyes on my own girlfriend for the entirety of my week. I don’t see her at lunch. Or after school. Not a peep. I look everywhere for her today. And I mean everywhere man, and now you’re sitting there, telling me, she was helping you pipsqueaks, finish your calculus paper?”

He leans forwards and stabs his finger into the tabletop. The whole thing quakes. Storm Munson hitting hard. Expect casualties.

Wheeler looks at his shoes. Dustin nods nervously.

“That’s hmm, about uh right. Yeah-“

“You are skating thin thin ice my friends.” Eddie warns.

“Whilst we’re on the subject, I suppose I should mention, I uh, did invite her over to watch band practice tomorrow night. She said she’d bring cookies.” Gareth revealed.

“Awhh neat score man. What kind?” Matt asks.

“White chocolate and raspberry.” He grinned.

“Oh my god.” Jeff giggles in glee. Fist pumping.

Eddies fit to tear his hair out.

Wondering how long he would have to spend in prison for the completely spontaneous and cold-blooded murder of his entire DnD club.

He wonders if he could make it worth it. Or to the border-

“I can’t believe I have to share my girlfriend with all of Hawkins and now I have to try and compete with you morons? Unbelievable.” He mumbled to himself.

“Are we gonna start this campaign or what?” Gareth asks. “As you say, we don’t come here to chit-chat. We’re here to play.” He pushes his hand on the table before him in emphasis.

“You’re lucky I don’t banish you.” Eddie snaps. Eyes crazed.

“Banish me? Wait. Like in real life. Or the game?”

Eddie stares at him for a second too long. Raps knuckles on the table.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Gareth shrinks in his seat.

“C’mon man take it easy. Nothing wrong with everyone liking her. Surely that’s a compliment right?” Jeff tries to argue.

“Oh yeah. I’m feeling the benefits right here. Hey, if I need any help scheduling a date with my girlfriend anytime soon I’ll just ask one of you bozo’s. She free tonight, how about next Thursday?” He jokes around. All jocular and pissy.

“Nah man, she said she was going home tonight to-“ Dustin began but tapered off when Eddie shot his famous ‘really’ look. Deadly.

“…study for chem lab.” He finished slowly. “But she said to say she’d call you…. After… Hellfire.”

Eddies committing war crimes in his head. Truly.

“I detest you all so much. Let’s start please, before I-“ He clenches his hands and cracks his knuckles. Takes a deep breath.

“So, we start in the wild plains of-“ Eddie explains. Voice slipping into hushed storytelling mode.

“Hey, does she play DND?” Gareth interrupts, with something that definitely looks similar to flirtatious. Big big smirk.

Eddie glares. It’s steeped in all kinds of poison.

He reaches across and flicks over Gareth’s figurine. It clatters to the floor.

“Oops. Look at that. Bad storm.“

The sun dips low over the low slanted street of houses as you walk up the smooth tarmac of Gareth’s drive towards the Garage. The Fall night pricks unkind at your back and churns your breath silver.

Through the trees on the horizon the sky is stroked into layered slices of punchy lilac and petal pink. Black trees loom thick from the woods like prickly pine sentinels.

You’re lugging a tugging heavy bag crooked on one arm, and a whole plate of cookies in the other. Rocky road and raspberry and white chocolate. Teenage boys ate like a ravenous pack of wolves half starved.

You smile as you come to the muffled metal wall of sound thrashing it’s rhythm the other side of that garage. The crash of drums. The bass. The cry of that warlock you recognise so well.

Hands not free, you rap awkwardly on the clanging door with your elbow. You ick when your banging disturbs some rain drips that scatter off the overhang and drips chilly down your collar.

You gaze up as an eruption happens the other side of that door. You smile at hearing the music come crashing resoundingly to a clunky screech and stop. The pitchy whine of the amps and microphones.

Voices blare over the din. You hear the rush of footsteps. Sneakers scraping over the tarmac. You know exactly whose-

The garage door clunks up so fast with a fierce rattle. Rolling from the other side. Showing you in slow degrees, the red drum set. The mic stands. Rust square of carpet. The corroded coffin sign emblazoned proud on the wall.

Cords snaked everywhere. Boxy amps and all those metal posters Gareth tacked around the place. Half of them were from you. You bought him two more today from work that Sal let you snag.

You hear Eddie’s shrieky shouts rattle at the door. “Back off. Hey, hey hey hey, back off. My girlfriend, man. Mine.”

“Hey guys- uhfff“

A gut punch of a sudden attack crashes into you because your boyfriend ducks under the partially open door, and full body tackles you. Like the scurrying menace of a jangly golden retriever that he is. Beloved guitar slung right around his back. He toddles you backwards down the wet driveway.

You hold your arms out either side with the cookies in one, and your bag in the other as he limpets like lichen. He bends his knees and scoops you up off the floor. For a skinny guy he was freakishly strong when he had to be. Your sneaker toes scuff and drag the rain sheened tarmac.

Wiry leather arms enclosing you. But they’re strong too, clutching you to a firm warm chest draped in a black Zeppelin tee. His mouth at your neck. Apple smelling hair tangled in your mouth. Elbow hooked around your head.

You hum a smile. Cause it’s just entirely wrapping you up. Leather and bar soap. Red smoke smacking into you. Eddie. He’s burying you alive in one of his all encompassing hugs that you just burrow yourself into. Warm t shirt body surrounded by the outer colder layers of denim and leather.

You knock your head to rest into his. Whole body fluttering with the giddiness of being near again.

Eddies hooked his arm around your neck like he’s keeping you there, hostage.

Sweat damp bangs and burning off so much manic energy, and a smile splitting his lips. Waterfall spill of curls cupping that face. Making a frame out of those intense espresso dark eyes.

“Missed you.” He rumbles as he rubs his cheek on your hair. Delighting in the smell of you in his nose. Coconut and perfume. You, soft and real under his hands and you’re here- listening to the slow dub-dub of his heart as he holds you closer than was physically possible. If you were any closer you’d be on the other side of him.

“Never would have guessed-“ You smart at him. But you can’t crow too loud. Your stomach is cartwheeling. This boy has you so soft. It had been an interminably miserable week without him. Like being sat in the darkness for a week without your spots of golden sun.

“Missed you too, Munson.” You peck a kiss back on the side of his head. “You gonna put me down anytime soon?”

“Unlikely.” Is his answer. If anything he wraps around you tighter. Squeezes the stuffing out of you like a crushing boa. Like he could crush you up and snort you. Swallow you. Anything- still wouldn’t be close enough.

He does put you down. Mainly so he can cup your face and shove his lips onto yours. Warm hands on your cheeks tugging you to a messy kiss. He presses every ounce of yearning into it. Pours it into you via those pillowy lips.

“Gotta stop that annoying school habit. Y’know. It’s really getting in the way of my quality one-on-one pencils time.” He says with the tip of his nose brushing into yours. Stroking your hair back off your neck.

“Fine. It goes. Tomorrow.” You smirk back.

Tipping in so he can kiss you again. You smooch him all slow. He leans into it. Humming a moan that sends a reactive zing up your spine. You want to grab at his denim back and kiss him some more but your hands are annoyingly full. He sucks on your lower lip and scraped teeth, your breath skips.

“Please for the love of god, keep it PG.” Gareth calls out. Sat at his drums still. Twirling his sticks in hand as the band stands and watches Eddie kiss and kiss, and twirl you around in the cold stained twilight air. How it brushed you both in cloaking purple.

“We don’t need to see that.” Matt piped up. Looking down at his guitar.

“Man, you ruin all my fun.” Eddie grins back at his friends. Slinging his accessorised fingers into your belt loops. Reeling you inside.

“Can you take these before my arms freakin fall off?” You laugh to Eddie.

“For me? Shucks.” He takes the cookie plate off you. Of course he does.

“Don’t scarf them all down to yourself like last time.” Matt pleads.

“Or lick them all.” Jeff adds.

Eddie is already tearing the saran wrap off and shoving a rocky road cookie right into his mouth. The whole thing. Opens his mouth as he chews making his signature demon face. Charming.

Covering his shirt in a waterfall of dark chocolate crumbs. You kindly brush them off him as you step past.

“Sounded good guys. Another Judas Priest cover?” You ask as you come inside and dump your bag down by the ratty old couch off to the far side.

“We’ve almost got enough new covers for a set“

“Next gig at the hideout is in two weeks, right?” You asked. You recall Eddie telling you over the phone.

“Yup. And we wanna have a couple of new songs rehearsed by then.” Jeff says. Nervously trailing his hands over his guitar strap. Shuffling his feet on the squashy carpet.

“Nice one.” You comment. “Can’t go wrong with Judas Priest. Though you know in my opinion you should totally throw a little Blondie in there. Crowd pleaser.”

They all groan in unison.

“You always say that. Or Talking Heads. You’re unnaturally obsessed.”

“Debbie Harry is such a babe though, man.” Gareth sticks his tongue out.

“Really?” You ask as you stand and chew a cookie. “This coming from the boy who has the Kim Wilde poster up in his bedroom.”

“That’s not mine. It was my sisters.”

“Crawled it’s way into your room did it?” Eddie winked at you. Beaming. Leaning against the couch arm.

“I hate you guys.” Gareth decided.

You round back and confiscate the cookie plate off Eddie and hand them round. He snatches off what he can before they’re ripped away. Noisily sucking chocolate off his fingers.

The guys cluster around to get one. About time they stopped for a break and a snack anyhow. He’s all set to pout at you until:

“I also have a Six pack in my bag.”

Eddie’s smile whips back around tenfold. “God, you’re a babe.” He sticks his lips to your temple with a disgusting wet smooch. All lips and spit.

“Awh c’mon.” Gareth opened his arms wide. Disappointed at the lack of the beer being shared around.

“It’s band practice not a kegger.” You pointed out. “Besides I brought Pepsi and spent half an hour of my day making cookies for you guys. I’m not totally evil.”

That was met with a chorus of disgruntled mumbles and grunts.

“Evil pencils.” Eddie whirled in close and hissed naughtily in your ear. His breath on your neck made goosebumps break across your skin.

“I’m sorry. When did you all turn 21? I must have missed the party invites.” You smile at them with your arms crossed. Stroking your hand over Eddie’s arm, as you made sure they all got a cookie.

He made a ‘suck it’ face to his band mates as he cracked open a cold one.

“You’re 18 and Eddie’s 20.” Matt unhelpfully pointed out with a grin.

“Watch your mouth when you talk to your elders.” Eddie pasted his chest to your back as you handed the plate around. A ring clad hand flashes for another one. White chocolate and raspberry was his weakness after all.

“You can’t have all the cookies and a beer. Not fair man.”

“Pencils baked the cookies. Guys. Pencils is my girl. Which means that the cookies are mine too. SO, you only partake if I decide to let you, idiots.”

“So, if she’s hanging out here with us in band time, does that make her our groupie?” Gareth asks cleverly. Waving the cookie in his hand around, gesticulating.

Eddies hand reaches over and lightly flicks the curly hair near where the top of Gareth’s ear should be.

“Hey.” He winced and cupped the side of his head.

“Any more groupie talk and one of those drumsticks is going up your nose, man.” Eddie warns. Gareth did love sticking his neck out

“I’ve got two posters in my bag drummer boy, don’t make me take them back to Sal.” You threaten with a grin. Eddie is making devil eyes at him.

“What’s the score?” Eddie asked you. Hands linked around your waist. Just enjoying the way he could sway bodily into you. Chin nesting on your shoulder. Cold beer within reach. And his guitar. His perfect Saturday night was set. His two favourite chicks.

“Scorpions live tour 85’ and, a Sabbath poster from the 1980 tour Live at Last.”

“Comment rescinded, Mi’lady.” Gareth decides as you chucked him over the shiny rolls of paper.

“I’m keeping you geeks in posters and new tapes here. You should build a monument to me. Fifty feet tall.” You joke as you grab a beer.

You toss the nearly empty cookie plate down on the coffee table and fold your legs up to sit criss-cross on the old orange couch with its sagging cushions and patchwork blanket thrown over the zig-zag floral pattern.

Eddie tips his head back to look across at you. Slumps down the arm to crash next to you. “We will dance around it naked, light a fire, and beat our chests whilst howling at the moon.” He smirks with mischief skated eyes.

You crash your sloshing beer can to his. “There’s the devotion I so crave.” You admire him being close by - at last - brushing the salty sticky bangs off his head with your fingertips.

“The very least I could do. You keep these bozos happy. You keep me in beer and kisses and…” He lowers his voice and sneaks his head closer to your ear to whisper “other much dirtier things.”

You smile. Letting your head fall back to the couch cushions. Eddie’s full out and out beam catching yours. Laying his head down to this saggy couch. Slotted right next to yours.

Heaven really as a place on earth. He’s sat here gazing into your eyes like they’re a new fascinating form of glittery stars.

“It’s been a long week without you, Munson.” You tell him with a note of gladness taking up your whole throat. It was a relentless flurry heartache, of school, work, homework heaps and heaps. Too much. You feel stretched thin and brittle as burnt twine.

“Those little puffy baggies under your eyes are a dead giveaway, pencils.” He thumbs below your eyes, squishing down softly at the bags that seem darker and more black-purple than usual.

“Insane workload this week. Rudely kept me from seeing my favourite metal head.” You said with sulk.

“I can remedy that.” He twists to set his beer down on the floor. Returns with hands free to tuck you close. Hand slipping around the back of your waist. Splaying you to his chest. Plucking a deep inhaling kiss into the nest of your sweetly tropical scented hair.

“M’here now. You’re here. The world is set right again.” He comforts.

You smile and welcome the touch. Hand on his soft stomach. Grounding yourself in the barely soft pudge of his tummy through his shirt. Sat hip-to-hip at last with your menace of a metal head. Breathing in worn leather and smoky reds and it’s like he’s your jagged little rock n’ roll touchstone for normality. You can sink into relaxation now he’s here by your side.

“Apparantly you were really mean to whole of Hellfire yesterday.” You asked with humour traced on your mouth.

“That’s subjective. I can be a fair DM.”

“Mhmm? Apparently you banished Gareth.”

“He was being annoying.”

“You made him cry.”

“Who told you that?” He fidgeted. That meant it was true.

“My little birds and spies.” You mocked in a witches cackle.

“That’s concerning.” He commented.

“Lucas chatted to Red about it. She tells me all the goings on.” You inform him.

“Dammit, red.” He cursed with a silly grin.

“Why were you being mean?” You coaxed out like he was a toddler throwing a tantrum over someone touching his favourite hot red fire truck.

He slung his eyes up to yours. All dewy lashes and bambi. “Because-“ he starts with stroppy inflection. His arm unconsciously squeezed you in closer.

“They’re stealing you off me. If I can’t find you, you’re in the library helping Henderson and Wheeler with their homework. I come to see you at work and you’ve got this gaggle of meddlesome kids I have to bat away to get a look in. I find you at lunch and you’re monopolised drawing npc’s for Hellfire club or band posters for our next gig.”

You can’t help smiling. Oh, Eddie.

“Here, I didn’t even ask you here tonight. Gareth did. You brought cookies for them all and posters for the little shithead. You ask Jeff about his mom and his brothers broken friggin leg, and Matt’s asthma.”

“Is his brothers leg any better?” You check.

Eddie grits his teeth.

“He broke it at the football try outs. He so wanted to make the team. It was very traumatic.” You added openly.

“I just wasn’t counting on having to share you around with the entirety of Hawkins High.” He shakes his head. His hair goes all flicky. Something sad skates across his eyes.

You parse his sullen words through a filter:

One day you might chose them over me. And I wouldn’t blame you if you did.

“Munson?” You say seriously. He sulks but catches your gaze. “What?”

You answer by cupping his chin and lean in to smooch him real slow. The way he likes. He can’t stand half ass cold little pecks on the cheek. What have we been married for forty years- fuckin C’mere I’ll show you a kiss, pencils. Propriety be damned.

Eddies way was always to devour whole. All or nothing.

You hold onto his face even when you pull back. Lips all kiss stung. His eyes are all yummy and dark chocolate heavy. He’s dazed already.

“I don’t mind the babysitting. They’re cool kids. They adore the absolute shit out of you, and I’m glad they don’t despise me. And this goes without saying but I only have one rockstar in my life. That’s always gonna be you, baby. Period.” You tell him. Rubbing your thumb across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks all dopey. Puppy grin on his big silly mouth.

“Fuck yeah.” You grin. Eddie kisses you so hard it tips you sideways.

You laugh and it’s mumbled and crushed onto his lips. His sneakered foot flails out and catches his beer. Whips it over. Hoppy bud lite spilling everywhere.

His band mates clamour over the new sight of you both slanted horizontal on the couch. Eddie piling on top of you and some definitely sloppy making out happening.

“Heyyy-“ they all shout. “No dear god, please stop.” Like you’re a couple of dogs they’re trying to stop from humping.

“No no. We don’t have time for you guys to be horizontal right now. We have band practice!”

Eddie ignores them. Selective Munson hearing.

“Come over after this?” He asks with a low tone that you definitely catch onto the very sultry meaning of.

“Unchaperoned? Brazen. I’ll be ruined.” You tease.

“I’ll make the ruination very worth your while.” He picks the back of your hand up and kisses it all soppy and daft.

“Don’t you always.” You smile. Biting your lip. He’s simping hard when he nuzzles into your neck and lays out his arguments. Giving you those huge sad baby cow eyes.

“I’ve got a list of reasons you should accompany me home.”

“What are they, pretty boy?” You ask. Tucking hair behind his ear before it sticks to his lips.

“Number one, You just called me pretty…” He held up as his hand as he ticked off his reasons.

“Number two, you’ve got a really nice butt. Really. It’s like, super cute.”

“Thank you. Number three?”

“Wayne’s missed you. Asking me every damn day when I’m bringing you over again and you know I don’t like to disappoint.”

“Of course.”

“Number four, there is a spider in my room that looks like it might eat me. And I need a witness in case it tries something.”

“I’ll have to consider that.” You negotiated. But truth be told you made your mind up hours ago.

“I might consider it. Even if only for the express reason of spider protection. Not for any other reason whatsoever.”

He nods solemnly. “Mhmm yeah. I’m just trying to be safety monitor you know? Safety in numbers.” He says as he slides his hand up your sweater. Brushing over your stomach. You hold his hand over you.

“I like your thinking.” You tell him. He seals a lush kiss at your lips. Playing around with you.

Eddie parts from you with a sticky smooch. Licking lips. Your fingers tunnelled into the back of his hair. Lost in the sea of wild curly black. “Later, rockstar.” You bite your lip.

He blushed so much at your praise. That’s one other gorgeous thing. The amount of compliments you can pour into this boys ear in whispered praise or dirty filth: he lights up with the giddiness of it every time. Bulb bright. Megawatt.

He scrambled up and off you. “Alright, alright you little shrimps-“ He hissed moans and groans where he hauled himself up, and away, after smacking a wet kiss to your cheek that lingered.

“Where were we huh?” He crowds in and peers at the scribble of their set list. Leaning over to take a look.

You mop up the spilt beer with the too big sleeves of your sweater. Dabbing the floor. Gareth’s mom wouldn’t care for the garage being left smelling like a frat house.

You put the can back into the table. Laughing to yourself as they start to bicker over what song should be next.

Jeff sidles over to you all nervous as you’re knelt on the cold floor. “Can I beg a favour?”

He gets a pretty mangled tape out of his pocket. “Player in the car chewed it up on the way over. I know you have the touch.”

“Indeed I do.” You wipe your beer hands over your jeans and shimmy your fingers and take it off him with a curling grin. Slipping a Bobby pin out your front jeans pocket. “Leave it with me kid.”

You look down at the Corey Hart tape. Hook a brow. “Sunglasses at night, Jeff?”

“It’s my moms.” He offers all jittery. Hands sliding into his pockets. You nod. Carefully handling the shiny tape that needed rewinding.

“That’s what I say to Eddie about the Bryan Ferry and ABC I have shoved under my car seat and if you dare tell him- I will kill you ten different ways.” You grin with narrowed eyes. “Everyone’s allowed a guilty pleasure.”

“Secrets safe with me. You’re awesome.” He lisped bashfully, before joining the rest of his band. Who were now breaking out into a full blown argument now. The air fragrant with it. Thick shouts and interjections layered over each other. Everyone rising over each other to be the loudest.

Eddie is, of course, winning. Shaking his mad head and snatching the red sharpie and scrubbing over Gareth’s writing and almost running the pen over his fingertip on the page.

Stuffing another cookie in his mouth. They’re clamouring louder and louder. He’s spitting crumbs everywhere and now it’s turning into “Ew, gross dude.”

You shake your head and settle on the couch cross legged, sipping back cold beer occasionally, and patiently put Jeff’s poor mangled tape back to rights.

“You’re coming right?” Floats over to you. You break your concentration and look up. Gareth is talking to you.

“To what? You ask. Feeling behind and dumb.

“Our gig at the Hideout. It’s totally your thing.” Gareth flirts.

“Mmm audience of six drunks. I promise to be there and to misbehave.” You say methodically as you focus back on the cassette.

Eddies giving his best Billy Idol attitude glare at Gareth’s head. “Did you just invite my girlfriend to our gig?”

“What? She’d totally be into it.” He defends.

“Nothing wrong with getting some babes in the audience, right?” You shrugged, looking over at Eddie with a snappy wink.

“Exactly.” Gareth answers. A touch too flirty.

Eddie inhaled deep in rage as he snatched his own drumstick off him. “This is going up your nose, now.” He snapped.

Gareth wound around the drum set and Eddie gave chase. You watched them loop the damn thing ten times whilst Eddie shrieked at him and aimed random things at his stupid curly head. Half a cookie. An Iron Maiden cassette tape. Empty Pepsi can.

Symbols clash where they sprint past. Dodging cords underfoot. “Interfering son of a- MY girlfriend. You hear me, MINE, you lil shit.”

You stayed in your corner. Saturday night now apparently in full swing. Shaking your head as you smiled. Boys.

The crickets are creaking and the stars were vivid, winking so bright, when you and Eddie step out the garage door, and into the relentless night air. Thick and cool. So smooth you could sip it like a dirty martini.

It pricks bumps up your arms as he slings his metal clad fingers through yours, and lopes along with you. Band stuff corralled messily into the back of his beaten old van.

He stops when he scans the street. Shoes scuffing the sheet of tarmac.

“Huh.”

He flicks his eyes around. You lurch ahead of him. His hand still stuck wrapped in yours.

“Something up?” You ask.

There’s a glint of promiscuity in your eyes. It’s a menacing conspiratorial look. One that you’ve studied and poached off him, no doubt.

“Lack of a certain Capri sat on the curb out here, pencils.” He looks around. Making sure his eyes don’t deceive him.

You grin. “Yeah huh. How strange.”

He comes level to you. Twirls you into his chest. Arms linked around your middle. Those pillowy lips grazing the top of your jaw. Clever Pencils.

“Guess l’ll have to stay over now.” You accept. One hand over his. The other holding your overnight bag you’d assembled hours before.

“Seems that way.” He flirts all grinning, as he waddles you down the drive. Inside he’s fist pumping and yowling at the top of his lungs.

He pitched for you again. Leaning down and shouldering into you. Biting his lip all cheeky as he growls out a sound as he flips you over his shoulder. Carrying you with your legs dangling down at his back.

“I win. Pencils. I win. Suck it kiddos. How you like me now.” He says as he clumsily runs with you down the drive.

“Eddie!” You shrill. He slaps your ass. Makes an Mmmm sound as he does.

“I got your juicy ass now baby. I ain’t sharing anymore.”

Your laughs and shrieks and his cackles echoing in his ears all the way.

May I also just say the feedback from this series is a fever dream cause you’re all SUCH BABES and you’re so nice leaving such lovely comments and interacting. I’m truly so grateful-as ever my thanks must be given to @wayward-rose for listening to me chat all things about Eddie a lot. Luv ya babes.

My taglist for the JQ babes; @ceriseheaven @indouloureux @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @starbxcks @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns @gvtosbith @munsonswhore86 @munsonlov3r @lunatictardis @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-tittie @anaisweird @cerinthussulpicia @cinnamoncunt @thincrusttheworks @manicpixiedreamcurl @therosietoesy @fanficappreciationblog @thicksexxualtension @tvserie-s-world @sharp-and-swift @dadsbongos @2clones-1kamino @edsforehead @chcolateeyelver @seven-glass-kids @forever-is-not-for-everyone @creme-bruhlee @bkish @wayward-rose @wyverntatty @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @churchmuffins @chickpeadumpsterfire @choke-me-levi @prozacandnicotine @xeddiesbattattsx @s-u-t @alyssaaaaa-r

#eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson x reader #eddie my boy #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x oc #eddie x pencils #jealous eddie #jealousy #everyone trying to steal his girl #poor eddie #eddie my beloved #i would die for this man #punkwrites

700 notes · View notes

chicgeekgirl89 · 5 months

Text

Festive Friends- Read on AO3

Rating: T

Words: 8600

This one is for @strandnreyes as part of the @tarlos-santa 2023 exchange! I chose the prompt: AU - Carlos and TK unknowingly have each other for the office secret santa exchange. Up to you if they’re pining idiots, “enemies”, secretly dating, or anything else! Hope you enjoy and have the most festive of holidays!

“Good morning Mr. Reyes.”

Carlos looks up to find the office intern, Mateo, standing cheerily next to his desk, a stack of envelopes in his hand. “Good morning Mateo. And again, you can call me Carlos. Mr. Reyes really isn’t necessary.”

“Sorry Mr. Reyes, I’m just not really used to being like, a real adult yet I guess,” Mateo says sheepishly.

Carlos keeps a chuckle to himself and doesn’t admonish the kid again. “I understand. Whatever you feel comfortable with is fine.”

“Cool. Thanks Mr. Reyes. I brought your mail over for you.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says, accepting the stack from him.

“Can I get you anything? A coffee? Oh! I think Mr. Strand has some new kind of energizing smoothie or something in the break room. Although, it looked kinda gross to me,” Mateo says.

The thought of that smoothie sends a shiver down Carlos’ spine. He hasn’t known Owen Strand for very long, but his health nut tendencies have quickly become too much for Carlos’ taste. “No, that’s okay. I don’t need anything right now. Besides, your job here is to learn about the business, not fetch everyone’s coffee.”

“Right. Yes. Learning. I love learning all the things. Hey, are you coming to the office tree lighting on Friday afternoon? I heard they’re gonna have those little pigs in a blanket.”

Carlos’ eyes dart back to his screen and the half finished email staring at him. “Um, yeah. I’ll be there for a little bit.”

“Awesome!” Mateo seems genuinely thrilled and Carlos once again has to bite back an amused smile. The kid is ninety nine parts enthusiasm and one part overly helpful. “Well I’ll let you get back to it. Lots of…what exactly does HR do?”

“Emails,” Carlos says. “Lots of emails.”

“Right. Sounds fun. Good luck with that!”

Mateo sends him a parting wave and then disappears around the side of his cubicle.

Things have been absolutely crazy at PD and Sons since they merged with 126 Designs a few months ago. Owen Strand had been brought in to manage the merger and insisted on hiring a significant number of new staff. Onboarding the new hires like Mateo has been a ton of work, especially since Owen insisted on being extremely involved in the entire process. Carlos has been in non-stop meetings for weeks and today is the first day he hasn’t felt completely overwhelmed in forever.

He flips through the stack of mail, tossing a few random flyers in the recycling, and setting aside the important envelopes to open later. He wrinkles his forehead when he finds a folded up piece of red paper at the bottom of the stack. When he opens it his eyes immediately widen in horror.

What. The. Hell?

“Lexi.” He stands up and looks down into the cubicle next to him where his work wife is busy with some kind of design project. “Why did I just get a paper telling me who my Secret Santa is this year?”

“I signed you up because I knew you wouldn’t do it otherwise. It’s the season of giving and part of that means giving up your Grinchy ways and pretending like you’re interested in getting to know all the new people in the office,” Lexi says without looking up at him.

His jaw drops. “Okay, first of all, I’m not uninterested in getting to know them. I just haven’t had time to get to know them. And secondly, I hate Secret Santa. Nobody ever really knows what to get you, so you end up with all this random crap and candy that you don’t want and it all sits in a drawer for three or four years until finally you throw it out.”

She finally stops and turns to look at him. “Wow. Okay Uncle Scrooge. First of all,” she echoes him, “it’s not Secret Santa, it’s Festive Friends. Not everybody celebrates Christmas. Get your terminology right. And secondly, it’s not about getting good gifts, it’s about spreading joy for the holiday season. So take the Christmas tree out of your ass and start fa la la-ing with the rest of us.”

“Lexi,” he grinds out her name between his teeth and quickly glances around to make sure no one is in earshot. “I got T.K.”

Lexi is the only one in the office who knows what an incredible disaster meeting T.K. Strand has been for his life. A week after the PD Austin and 126 Designs merger the entire office had gone out for drinks. One thing led to another, which led to another, and ultimately ended up with T.K. very naked in Carlos’ bed.

They’d been incredibly hot and incredibly heavy for a couple weeks after that, sneaking around together, making out in the supply closet, booty calling each other in the dead of night, and Carlos had been so ridiculously happy. T.K. Strand had turned him into a horny freaking teenager.

And then he’d made the mistake of surprising T.K. with dinner. He’d thought it would be romantic. That it might move them from booty call status into something a little bit more permanent.

But T.K. had freaked out, stormed out, and shut Carlos out of his life. Thank god his cubicle is all the way around the corner on the other side of the building. They barely have to see each other except for the occasional awkward brush in the break room or men’s room.

Carlos’ heart has been more broken than he’d like to let on, not to mention his ego is bruised too. The whole thing has made getting to know the other people from 126 Designs like Marjan, Paul, Nancy, and Judd very awkward.. They’re T.K.’s friends. And he doesn’t want to piss T.K. off anymore than he already has.

Of course he has to interact with T.K.’s father, Owen Strand, he is the manager after all, but other than that he’s kept everyone else at an extremely polite and professional distance.

So finding T.K.’s name in his hands is like a punch in the gut.

“Good,” Lexi says, surprising him. “You’ve been pining for him for weeks anyway. Might as well do something about it.”

“Lexi, this guy hates my guts,” Carlos says. “He doesn’t want presents from me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. You’re Carlos Reyes. No one hates you.”

“Please switch with me.”

“No.”

“Lexi!”

“No! I got Paul. I already have ideas. I’m not switching. It’s only three gifts, you’ll be fine.”

“Three?! I thought Secret Santa was only one gift!”

“God, do you even read your email? It’s three gifts in the week leading up to the holiday break. This will be good for you. Now go away. I’m working.”

Carlos sinks back down into his chair, misery settling in his stomach. This is going to be absolute torture.

He takes another look at T.K.’s scrawl. His writing looks hurried in a way that suggests he’s so excited that he can’t be bothered to slow down and shape his letters more carefully. It has that same kind of frenetic, joyful energy that drew Carlos to him in the first place. Now the only energy he exudes toward Carlos is coldness.

Carlos catches himself tracing his fingers over the letters of T.K.’s name and balls them into a fist before forcing himself to read T.K.’s answers to the Festive Friends questionnaire. T.K. has written down that he likes sour candy, Harry Styles, boba, and interesting tea flavors. He doesn’t like black licorice, the Mets, or anything with alcohol.

Carlos frowns at that. He doesn’t remember T.K. mentioning anything about alcohol during their weeks together. But then again, they didn’t exactly spend much time talking. Their mouths had been occupied with other things.

It feels unfair to have this scrap of T.K., to get this little glimpse into his life. These are things he doesn’t want Carlos to know. He made that clear when he stormed out the door of Carlos’ condo and left nothing behind except Carlos’ fractured heart.

He takes a breath and squares his shoulders. It’s just a stupid office tradition. They’re colleagues. They’re going to have to become cordial at some point. Maybe this is how he can start to smooth things over. Besides, it’s not like he has to talk to the guy. That’s literally the point. To keep it secret.

This is going to be fine.

It is not fine. It’s not fine because Carlos is the type of person that agonizes over gifts. And in this case, there’s even more pressure because the gifts have to be perfectly impersonal so they don’t say, “Your dick was life changing and I don’t think I’m ever going to recover because now you hate me and I don’t really know why.” He’d much rather they say, “I’m fine and I don’t ever think about you and that thing you did with your tongue that one time.”

Ugh.

He arrives Monday morning the week before Christmas with a gift bag in hand, a Yankees baseball cap tucked inside. It’s a lame gift. Perfectly impersonal. And the rest of his gifts for the week aren’t much better. There’s a small part of him berating himself for not doing a better job. He could at least try. The guy broke up with him, he didn’t murder anyone.

But then he remembers how miserable he was in the days after T.K. had stormed out. Whatever. He didn’t sign up for this anyway. T.K. deserves his boring gifts.

The office is quiet as he makes his way to T.K.’s cubicle. Even just the sight of his desk makes Carlos’ heart ache a little. There’s a picture pinned to his bulletin board of T.K. with their other co-workers, Marjan, Paul, Judd, Mateo, Nancy, and Tommy all smiling and having fun, clearly out for a night on the town together. He’d known 126Designs was small and that was part of the reason for the acquisition; to bring on a tightly knit team to help their own, but seeing T.K. so happy with them all doesn’t really feel great.

He’s been so preoccupied by his own shopping that he completely forgot that he is also getting gifts until he steps into his cubicle and sees a bright green bag with little white Christmas trees all over it. He inspects it carefully, relieved to find there’s no glitter anywhere.

He hates glitter.

There’s a little card attached to the handle and when he opens it it reads “Hope you have a Write Christmas- FF.” It takes him a second to figure out that FF must mean Festive Friend.

He carefully extracts the tissue paper and looks into the bag. It’s office supplies. Pens, post-its, a new stapler, blue paperclips, and a ball of rubber bands.

The pun on the card makes sense, even if it is as terribly lame as the gifts inside. At least it’s practical. He can always use new pens.

“Hey!” Lexi pokes her head in. “Ooh what’d you get?”

He shows her the bag and she nods in approval. “Your Festive Friend knows you like office supplies. Nice.”

“If you’re expecting a thank you for going behind my back on this, you’re going to be waiting a long time,” Carlos tells her as he sits down and opens up his laptop.

“Pretty sure people with that attitude get coal in their stocking,” she tells him, flipping him off before heading to her own cubicle.

It’s midway through the morning and Carlos is about to make yet another phone call when Owen Strand steps into the middle of the bullpen. “All right, attention everyone!” he calls.

The ambient sound of typing and low chatter ceases. “Thank you,” he says. “I just wanted to remind everyone that we have our first team building activity this afternoon. So if you have anything scheduled this is your last chance to rearrange. Mandatory fun is in store for all!”

Carlos bites back a groan. He is really not into mandatory office fun. Especially when it means he’ll be in close proximity to T.K. But he’s also not one to flaunt the rules, so he’s going to have to suck it up and deal.

No one has been allowed in the conference room all morning and when one o’clock rolls around Owen waits at the door with a massive grin on his face. The man is clearly thrilled with whatever he’s cooked up to torture them today.

When Carlos walks through the door he sees why. The tables have been covered in red plastic tablecloths and every two feet or so sits a pile of materials like graham crackers, marshmallows, frosting, and candy. It’s immediately obvious how they will be team building today.

“All right everyone!” Owen says when they’re all assembled. “As you can probably guess our team building activity for today has taken a turn for the festive. And I’ve taken the liberty of assigning you all a partner to work with. Each team will be assembling a pre-determined part of our gingerbread village. Paul, you’re with Marjan.”

They immediately turn and high five, clearly thrilled.

“Nancy with Lexi, Judd with Tommy, Mateo with me,” Owen flashes him a smile and Mateo lets out a whoop.

Carlos’ stomach drops. That leaves him with—“T.K., you’ll be with Carlos.”

Fuck.

“Send one person to grab your pre-assigned building assignment! Remember this is not a competition. We’re all working together to build our village. Just like it takes a village to run a company.”

There’s a brief silence in which everyone internalizes what a dumb, schticky thing Owen has just said and then he claps his hands. “Okay, get to work!”

Everyone claims a spot around the tables. Carlos takes a paper slip from Owen and then looks around to find T.K., who is sitting across the room with his back to Carlos.

Carlos reluctantly walks over and sits in the empty seat next to him, all the while wondering if he can fake sick or claim a family emergency to get out of this. When he finally looks up at his partner he recoils in shock. T.K.’s lip is split and swollen, and there’s a dark ring of bruising underneath his right eye. “What happened to you?” Carlos asks, a surprised reflex releasing the words from his mouth before he can stop them.

The look T.K. sends him immediately reminds him that they’re not friends anymore. It’s full of vitriol and misery and…Carlos looks a little closer. Pain. There’s a rawness there that Carlos doesn’t remember seeing before.

“Sorry,” he says. “I just…that looks like it hurts.”

“Doesn’t feel great,” T.K. agrees, his voice stiff. “What are we supposed to be making?”

Carlos looks at the paper. “Police station.”

“Perfect. Way to read the room Dad. ACAB and all that,” T.K. grouses as he reaches for a pile of graham crackers and immediately begins squeezing icing all over.

“Um,” Carlos hems and T.K. stops.

“What?”

“Don’t you think maybe we should make a plan first?”

T.K. sighs and dramatically drops his piping bag onto the table. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“No I—I didn’t mean—” Carlos struggles to find the right words. “It’s fine. Let’s just try and get something standing first. That’s the hardest part anyway.”

They spend a couple minutes in silence gluing graham crackers together with icing and using some marshmallows to prop them up until they have something that roughly resembles walls and a roof. “You’re kind of good at this,” T.K. says.

It’s the closest thing to niceties that they’ve shared in weeks.

“I have a lot of nieces and nephews. Not my first gingerbread house. Although it is my first police station,” Carlos admits.

“Cool,” T.K. says, then winces, his lip clearly hurting.

“You sure you don’t want to tell me what happened?” Carlos asks, feeling a little emboldened by T.K.’s compliment.

T.K. shoots him a glare. “You’re kind of annoying. You know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Carlos says, trying to let the jab roll off his back. “But I know you’re new around here and you’ve obviously gotten into some trouble. Sometimes it helps to talk things out.”

He gets silence in return. God what the hell is wrong with this guy? He’s literally just trying to help. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me. But you should probably tell someone before whoever gave you that shiner comes back to give you a matching set.”

T.K. goes quiet, fiddling with the icing bag in his hand. When he speaks his voice is soft.“I went to a bar last night.”

“Ah. A little drunk and disorderly,” Carlos says, aware that he’s being snarky and not caring in the least. “So you have an idea of how the inside of this police station should look then.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” T.K. says quickly and Carlos remembers his Festive Friends answers. He looks down. “I just went through a really bad break up. Like nuclear bad. And then I relapsed.” He looks around and lowers his voice. “I relapsed with substances.”

Oh.

Carlos sets down the graham cracker in his hands, his full attention now on T.K. as memory slices through him. “I tried to pour us champagne during dinner. I’m such an idiot I’m sorry—“

“It’s fine, ” T.K. cuts him off quickly, like if he gets interrupted now he won’t ever be able to find the strength to share this again. He fiddles with the peppermint wrapper in his hands. “Ever since I’ve gotten here it’s just…it’s grey. And I just feel numb all the time. So I went out to a bar looking for trouble. And I found it. Big time. I guess I just…I wanted to feel something.”

He’s pulled in on himself, his body looking vulnerable and wounded. Carlos gets it now. The overenthusiastic sex. His no-strings attached mentality. The complete meltdown during dinner. This is a man who has been hurt, and he’s struggling to find a way to heal. Carlos had unknowingly probed at the wound in his soul and T.K. had lashed out. It makes sense, even if it wasn’t fair.

T.K. looks miserable and despite their history all Carlos wants to do is make him feel better. “Judging by that lip, I’d say mission accomplished,” he says, trying to lighten the moment.

“You’re really busting my balls right now?” T.K. asks, an unreadable expression on his face.

“No,” Carlos says. “I’m busting your jingle bells.” He tries and fails to hold back a smile at his incredibly stupid joke.

T.K. blinks at him. “That’s terrible,” he says, but he is also struggling to keep his face neutral.

“And yet you’re smiling,” Carlos says. He feels lighter, like there’s been an ominous blizzard hanging over him in the weeks since they stopped seeing each other. Now it feels like the snow has finally started to fall and all the ugliness of the bare world in winter is being covered in a fresh layer of soft white powder. There’s a sense of hope to it.

“I’m laughing at how stupid it is,” T.K. says.

“Well laugh while you work,” Carlos says, reaching for a bar of Hershey’s chocolate to put on the roof. “I know your dad said it wasn’t a competition, but Marjan and Paul seem to be working on a second story. So I’m not sure they know that.”

Together they finish the roof, adding on lots of dripping icing as snow and icicles. Carlos carefully starts to add windows while T.K. works on the landscaping.

“Tommy I don’t know why you’re trying to make me do these little details when you know I’ve got fat fingers,” Judd is saying across the way as he and Tommy try to add a steeple to their church.

Marjan and Paul’s apartment building does indeed have two stories and they’ve somehow managed to chisel out actual windows in the graham crackers. Lexi and Nancy are creating a ski chalet that includes a chairlift, and Owen and Mateo’s fire station sports a fire pole made of pretzel rods.

“There,” T.K. says, plonking a creation down in front of where Carlos has crafted a front door out of Kit Kats.

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “What is that?”

“A snowman.”

Ah. Now Carlos sees it. There are two marshmallows stacked on top of each other and T.K. has shoved pretzel sticks in each side for arms. There is a lifesaver on each one and they’re connected by a thread of Twizzler. “What’s on its arms?” he asks.

“Handcuffs,” T.K. says.

“The snowman is getting arrested?”

“Or getting ready to do something kinky.”

“In front of a police station?”

“Some people get off on a little exhibitionism. Don’t judge Carlos,” T.K. says, a smirk on his face.

Damn it. They should have stayed mortal enemies. Now that they’re talking again, Carlos feels the urge to drag T.K. into the nearest cubicle and kiss the shit out of him. He didn’t need to go to a bar to find trouble. He could have shown up on Carlos’ doorstep and gotten into plenty.

Carlos’ attempt at a police cruiser has them both laughing; the oreo wheels keep falling off the rice krispie body (which T.K. snuck out and stole from the break room and has loudly been declared illegal by half the staff in the room) no matter how much icing he uses to try and stick them on.

“Stop eating our building materials,” Carlos admonishes a few minutes later when he goes for another red gum drop and finds they’re nearly gone.

“Why? They’re delicious. Tis the season for sugar,” T.K. says.

Carlos goes to give him a look and notices a dab of frosting on the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got some—“ He mimes brushing it away.

T.K. grabs a tissue and wipes, but misses completely. “No other side,” Carlos directs without success. “Here just, let me.”

He swipes the tissue from T.K.’s hand and dabs carefully, taking care not to pull on T.K.’s split lip. Their eyes meet and a heat passes between them, setting Carlos’ bones on fire. He clears his throat. “Got it.”

“Thanks,” T.K. says quietly.

They spend another half hour decorating before Owen makes them put all the buildings together into a little town while he snaps a picture for the company social media accounts. It’s actually pretty adorable once assembled and Carlos goes home that night strangely optimistic about what the rest of the week has in store.

Tuesday is business as usual and by the time Wednesday morning rolls around Carlos finds himself excitedly driving into work, his gift for T.K. in the passenger seat. He’s scrapped all his other gifts and spent the last two days looking for better items. Last night he visited a local tea shop and probably went a little overboard. They’d definitely upsold him on a few things and he’d let it happen because Monday’s gingerbread decorating had put a kernel of hope in his chest and…it can’t hurt to make sure T.K. likes his gifts, right?

He drops off T.K.’s gift bag and is only mildly disappointed when he walks into his own cubicle to find his desk is empty. It doesn’t matter; at least, that’s what he tells himself. Honestly, he’s not surprised. People are terrible at doing Secret Santa, it’s very likely that his person has forgotten him in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season.

He heads to his desk and gets right to work because they’re all heading out early to help with a toy drive at the local fire station; another of Owen’s brilliant ideas to encourage office camaraderie. It means he has a lot more to take care of than usual to try and make up for the lost time, and by mid-morning he’s in desperate need of a second coffee.

He’s about to get up and make one when his phone rings. It’s Ernie, their security guard from downstairs informing him that there’s a delivery waiting for him. Confused but intrigued Carlos heads for the elevator.

“Hey Ernie, all set for the holidays?” he asks when he reaches the desk on the ground floor.

“Just about. Got a couple more things to pick up today, but then I should be good to go,” Ernie tells him. He nods toward a bag and a coffee cup on the desk. “That’s for you.”

“Thanks.”

Carlos picks up the white paper sack and has to hold back a snort when he sees what’s written on the side. Hope the holidays don’t make you “cronuts”- FF. He peeks inside and inhales the scent of cronuts from Twiggy’s. Cronuts are a massive weakness of his, and a sip of the coffee tells him it’s made just to his specifications, a little bit of cream, no sugar. Whoever his Festive Friend is, they know him well. His suspicions are definitely leaning more and more toward Lexi.

He gets back in the elevator and when he steps off he nearly runs over T.K. “Whoa, sorry,” he says, holding up the coffee so it doesn’t spill all over T.K.’s chest.

“Lunch?” T.K. asks, nodding toward the bag.

“A snack from my ‘Festive Friend,’” he says. “Cronuts from the Twiggy’s.”

“That place is great. Enjoy,” T.K. says.

“Do you want one?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself. God he’s needy. “I um, I got two and I can’t eat both. They’re really only good fresh, it’s not like I can save one—“

“Sure.” T.K. thankfully interrupts his ramble and the affirmative response sends a jolt of electricity through him.

They step into the break room and T.K. boils some hot water for tea before settling down across from Carlos at one of the high top tables, a kitschy little vase of fake flowers between them.

Carlos pulls out the cronuts and puts each one on a paper plate. They’re decorated for the season as little Santa bellies, and hopefully they’re as delicious as he remembers. He slides one toward T.K. before picking up his own and taking a massive bite. He has to hold back a groan. They’re freaking amazing.

When he looks up he finds T.K. staring at him with an amused smirk on his face. “Sorry,” Carlos says, feeling his cheeks heat. “I um, these are my favorite.”

“So I can see,” T.K. says, the smirk widening a little. “The last time I saw that look we were both way more naked.”

Carlos feels his entire face go red at the reminder. He finishes chewing his bite, trying not to let memories of said naked time take over his brain. “So your dad,” he says. “He’s really into the holidays huh? We’ve never had so many festive office events.”

“Yeah my dad doesn’t really do anything by half measures,” T.K. says. “I think he might be overcompensating on the holiday cheer a little bit this year. The move down here was kind of a lot and I haven’t exactly been a bundle of joy lately, so he’s trying to fix it with cocoa and faux Christmas wreaths.”

Carlos takes another bite and thinks carefully about his next move. This new dynamic between them still feels tenuous, and he doesn’t want to fracture it. But at the same time, he can see the unfiltered hurt in T.K.’s eyes and he longs to help bear the weight of it. “You mentioned a breakup the other day,” he says quietly. “Is that part of why you came?”

T.K. blows out a breath and looks down at his cronut. “It’s the whole reason we came.”

Carlos watches as he wrestles internally and he’s just about to say that T.K. doesn’t have to tell him anything, when T.K. starts to speak again. “I had a boyfriend, in New York. Alex. We were together for like…I don’t know, a year I guess? He was the first boyfriend I’d had since getting sober and I wanted it to work so badly. Like this relationship was proof I finally had my shit together, you know?”

Carlos nods.

“I had this plan, I was going to propose to him. Had a ring, a restaurant, the whole thing. I was basically down on one knee and he—he told me he’d been cheating on me. With his spin instructor.”

Something hot and violent shoots through Carlos. “That motherfucker,” he says, before he can stop himself.

T.K. looks up in surprise and lets out a startled laugh.

“Sorry,” Carlos says. “That’s just…wow what an asshole.”

“Yeah he definitely was,” T.K. says, looking a little more relaxed now, as if Carlos’ angered sympathy has put him more at ease. “For a long time I think. I can look back on it now and see little moments. We only ever went where he wanted to go for dinner. He was always busy when I asked him to meet my friends. There was stuff I was overlooking because I was trying to prove to everyone else that I was stable.”

“I get that,” Carlos says.

T.K. shifts a little. “I went home after that, found a bottle of pills and…took them until I couldn’t feel anymore. My dad had to bust down the door to save my life.” He shrugs. “And that’s how we ended up here. He knew I needed to get away, so he took me as far as he could get.”

He looks up at Carlos. “I’m doing better now. Well, kind of.” He indicates his black eye. “But that’s why I freaked out on you that night. It wasn’t the champagne or anything you did. You were—you were so kind to me Carlos. I just wasn’t ready for it. And I’m really sorry that I walked out on you.”

The urge to reach over and touch him, to hold his hands and soothe away the hurt that’s painted into the lines of his forehead is overwhelming. But he’s not sure T.K. would be into that so he grips his own thighs instead. “Thank you for telling me,” he says. “That all sounds really difficult. I’m sorry I ambushed you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t more understanding when I realized you were uncomfortable. I think um, I think my ego took a little bit of a hit,” he says sheepishly.

“Oh you think Mr. ‘I Know It Doesn’t Look Like a Lot of Work’?” T.K. asks with a grin.

“Hey, that fish took me like three hours to make,” Carlos teases. “You missed out.”

T.K. sobers a little and fiddles with his cronut again. “I think I missed out on a lot.”

Carlos opens his mouth to offer a response, but Lexi pokes her head into the break room. “Carlos, your phone is ringing off the hook.”

“Coming,” he says, sliding off the stool and picking up his plate with the last couple bites of cronut on it. “Are you going to the toy drive this afternoon?”

“Boss dad said be there so yeah, I’m going,” T.K. says. “Thanks for the cronut.”

“You’re welcome,” Carlos says and then hustles back to his cubicle, where his phone is indeed ringing off the hook. He shoves the last bite of cronut into his mouth as he sits down, chewing furiously before he picks up. “This is Carlos.”

An HR crisis means Carlos is the last one to leave the office and arrive at the fire station’s toy drive. He looks for T.K. as soon as he gets there, but Lexi pulls him over to a table where they’re taking donations for one of the local food pantries.

“So,” Lexi says as they fill boxes with canned beans and stuffing mix and mac and cheese, “looks like someone’s back on Carlos Reyes’ nice list. Although with the way you were looking at him, seems more like you’d prefer he stay on the naughty list.”

“Lexi!” Carlos hisses, looking around. “There are kids here!”

“Oh they can’t hear me,” she scoffs, handing him a bag of flour. “They’re all at the make-an-ornament station.”

Carlos looks over and finds T.K. hunkered down by that very table, laughing and smiling as he helps a couple kids glue pompoms and sequins to colored paper. It’s adorable and Carlos’ heart melts a little at the sight.

“See? That look right there. You’ve got it bad. You want him to jingle your ba—“

“I’m going to remind you that I’m your HR rep and you probably shouldn’t finish that sentence,” he says quickly.

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “But you two did look pretty cozy in the break room earlier. The great branzino war is over I take it?”

“Yeah we had a good talk,” Carlos says.

She clears her throat. “You can say thank you anytime now you know.”

He furrows his brow. “For what?”

“For making you do Festive Friends and fixing your broken heart.”

“My heart was not broken,” he scoffs.

“You have been acting like you’re in the last ten minutes of a Hallmark movie for weeks. Time to finally realize you’re in love and kiss under the mistletoe,” Lexi tells him.

“Just because we’re friendly now doesn’t mean we’re going to kiss.”

“Okay. Sure. Believe whatever you want.”

There’s a massive influx then from a church group and thankfully the matter is dropped for the rest of the night.

On Friday Carlos stops at home to change his clothes before heading to a local bar for their holiday party and the big Festive Friends reveal. He puts on a pair of dark jeans and winces when he pulls on the ugly sweater that Owen insisted they all wear. As far as they go, his is pretty tame, albeit with a bit more sparkle and pizazz than he usually goes for. It says Feliz Navidad in tinseled letters with some primary colored pom poms decorating the rest for good measure. It had been part of a family white elephant a few years ago and has sat in the back of his closet since for good reason.

He gabs the box he wrapped up for T.K. on the way out the door. It’s nearly as brightly colored as his sweater. Generally he tries for a more sedate theme in wrapped gifts, but T.K. is so vivacious and colorful that he broke into the stash of wrapping paper he usually saves for his nieces and nephews.

He’s nervous as he drives and he can’t quite put his finger on why. Is it because he wants T.K. to like his gift? Because things between him and T.K. have shifted in a more positive direction and his stupid heart can’t quite stop believing that tonight might be like that first night at the honky tonk? Is it because he feels very stupid in this sweater and he really hopes everyone else obeyed Owen’s instructions from the email invite?

Probably all of it.

Ah well. At least if things don’t go well there will be liquor around to help drown his sorrows.

There’s immediate relief when he walks in through the doors of the bar and sees holiday themed knit-ware all over. “Hey Carlos, glad you came,” Owen says, greeting him at the door in a sweater with a massive reindeer head on the front.

“Mr. Strand,” Carlos says, giving him a nod.

“Carlos we’ve been over this. You can call me Owen,” Owen says, a tinge of good natured exasperation in his tone.

“Yes, right, sorry” Carlos says, embarrassed. Didn’t he just chide Mateo for the same thing last week? Somehow this seems different. And definitely a weird way to address the man who fathered his most recent hookup.

“Go ahead and grab a drink, there’s hors d’oeuvres, I highly recommended the stuffed mushrooms, and then when the time feels right make sure you deliver your gift to your Festive Friend,” Owen says brightly. Then he leans close. “I got Judd a new belt. Italian leather, handcrafted, this thing is a masterpiece. He is gonna love it!”

“I’m sure he will,” Carlos agrees.

“Oh! Nancy! Come on in!” Owen gives Carlos a pat on the shoulder and moves past him to greet her.

Carlos says hello to Judd and his wife Grace, his eyes searching the room and finally landing on T.K. who is standing at the bar chatting with Mateo. Carlos’ heart flutters at the sight of him even as he tries to figure out what the heck is knitted on the back of his sweater. It appears to be a long, yellow tail, but that can’t possibly be right, can it? He takes a breath and then abruptly loses courage and goes to find Lexi instead. “Nice earrings,” he says when he gets to her table.

“Thanks,” she says, pushing her hair back so he can see them better. “They’re from my ‘Festive Friend’ Marjan.”

“Great,” Carlos says as he grabs a chip from a bowl on the table. “Did you give Paul your gift?”

“Yes, he is thrilled with the crime novels I got him. He hasn’t read that author yet so hopefully he likes them.” She gives him a look. “Why do you still have T.K.’s?”

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Carlos says defensively.

“You mean you saw him and you’re too chicken to go over there because you’re having feelings and don’t know what to do with them,” she says bluntly. “Are you going to ask him out when you give it to him?”

“I—I don’t know,” Carlos says. “That seems pushy.”

“You two were practically making out in that break room.”

“We were literally sitting three feet apart,” Carlos says dryly.

“Fine. You were emotionally making out.”

He wrinkles his nose. “That’s not a thing.”

“I think you should ask him. It’s Christmas. The season of miracles. And wishes. And Santa shit. This is your chance!” she says enthusiastically.

“How much have you had to drink?” he asks.

She scoffs. “This isn’t drunkeness. It’s my Christmas wish that you grow a pair and ask T.K. out.”

“That is a terrible wish,” Carlos says.

“Well it is what it is. You wouldn’t want to break a girl’s heart at Christmas would you?”

He opens his mouth to respond but Paul calls Lexi’s name and beckons her toward him. “That’s my cue,” she says, hopping off her bar stool. “Gonna go kick Paul’s ass at darts. Good luck!”

And with that she’s gone, leaving Carlos alone with his feelings and his gift box. He stares at it for a moment and gives himself a stern pep talk. It’s a gift. Not a marriage proposal. If T.K. hates it, it’s whatever.

“Hey Carlos.”

He’s waited too long. He looks up to find T.K. standing on the other side of the table, a smile on his face. Carlos can now see the front of his sweater. Some kind of lizard smiles at him, clearly the front end of the tail he spotted before. Above it are the words “Merry Crickets.” It is truly the most hideous thing he’s ever laid eyes on, but somehow T.K. makes it look adorable.

“Hey,” he replies..

Excellent. Great. He’s crushing this.

“Nice sweater,” T.K. says, taking a sip of the drink in his hand.

“Thanks. This is some party. Your dad is quite the host.”

T.K. rolls his eyes, but there’s a fondness to it. “Just be grateful I talked him out of chartering a party bus. And roller skating.”

“Your dad thought our holiday party should be at a roller rink?”

“He was going with an 80’s holiday theme at first,” T.K. says. “It took a lot of bargaining to get him down to ugly sweater instead. I think he was an event planner in a former life.”

“He definitely has a flair for it,” Carlos agrees. He looks down at the present in front of him. He should have gotten a drink before doing this. “So um, actually, I’m your Festive Friend. Surprise. This is for you.”

He slides it across the table and T.K.’s eyes immediately light up. “Can I open it now?” he asks eagerly.

He looks like a kid on Christmas morning and it’s so endearing that Carlos can barely breathe. “Yeah, yes, it’s all yours.”

T.K. pulls off the bow and rips open the paper, lifting out the soft yellow sweatshirt inside. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and Carlos feels a flutter of nerves. “It’s—“

“The sweatshirt Harry Styles wore in New York last summer,” T.K. says. His tone is almost reverent, his thumbs moving back and forth to stroke the material. “Oh my god. I have Harry Styles’ sweatshirt.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not the exact one he wore,” Carlos says, feeling sheepish. “But I know you like him and hoodies so it seemed right.”

“It must have taken forever for you to find this,” T.K. says.

“Oh, no, it was…it was no big deal,” Carlos says, omitting the entire night he spent on instagram combing through Harry’s outfits of the last few years and trying to find them for sale.

“Thank you Carlos,” T.K. says, sincere gratitude in his voice. “This is amazing. All your gifts were amazing.”

“I mean, that hat was kind of lame,” Carlos says, still embarrassed that he bought something so generic.

“No it’s great! I’m going to wear it the next time I go to an Astros game,” T.K. says, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

Carlos chuckles. “Yeah good luck with that.”

“Did you get your last gift yet?” T.K. asks casually.

Carlos shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Any guesses who it might be?”

He has no idea. There’s no one in the office that knows him well enough to send him cronuts besides Lexi and he knows she had Paul. “No,” he says. “Usually I’m pretty good at figuring this kind of thing out, but everyone in the office is so new I haven’t really been able to get a read on anyone.”

“Marjan?”

“She had Lexi.”

“Paul?”

Carlos looks around until he finds him standing in a corner next to a Christmas tree, laughing at something Lexi just said. “I don’t think so. He’s from Chicago, I doubt he would know about Twiggy’s.”

“Judd?”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t know about cronuts either,” Carlos says with a laugh. “I feel like it has to be someone who knows me pretty well, but Lexi is the only one—“

His eyes land on T.K.’s face and he knows. He can see it in his eyes and he feels stupid he didn’t realize it before when T.K. used that false casual tone. “You?” he asks in surprise. “You’re my Festive Friend?”

T.K. reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an envelope. “Merry Christmas,” he says as he hands it to Carlos.

Still in a little bit of shock Carlos carefully lifts the flap on the envelope to reveal a printed out email inside. “A cooking class?” he asks, looking up to search T.K.’s eyes.

T.K. nods, a flicker of nerves flashing over his face. “It’s bruschetta, pasta, and a dessert. A husband and wife team run it out of their home. I thought, I mean you obviously know how to cook, but I thought it might be fun.”

“It sounds amazing,” Carlos says genuinely. He’s always wanted to try his hand at homemade pasta.

T.K. nods and takes a breath. “I um, I got you two tickets. You can take whoever you want, but I—“ He runs his hands nervously over his jeans. “I know I fucked things up between us, so I was hoping that maybe this could be kind of a do-over for us. If you want?”

“Yes,” Carlos says immediately. It’s embarrassingly fast and absolutely gives away how badly he wants them to try again, but he doesn’t care. “Yes I would love a do-over.”

“Yeah?” T.K. asks, his eyes full of hope.

“Yeah,” Carlos says. A smile plays on his lips and he’s about to thank T.K. for his other gifts when something occurs to him. “You little shit!” he says incredulously. “You bought me those cronuts and then sat there and ate one like you had no clue who’d given them to me!”

T.K. sends him a wicked smile. “I was counting on your holiday generosity,” he says.

“How did you even know about that bakery?” Carlos asks.

“You mentioned it,” T.K. says. “I don’t know, it was the second or third time we hooked up. I saw a flyer for them on your fridge and you told me how good they were.”

“You remember that?” Carlos asks in surprise. After their blowup he’d convinced himself that he was just a warm body for T.K. to be with, another notch in his bedpost who’d meant nothing to him.

T.K. looks at him, his face serious. “I remember all of it Carlos.”

The words make his heart swell and he hysterically wonders if this is how the Grinch felt when he heard the Who’s singing on Christmas. “I remember too,” he says. “It was incredible.”

“That first night, in the honky tonk. Best bathroom hookup of my life,” T.K. tells him.

“Only bathroom hookup of my life,” Carlos says.

“Yeah, I know,” T.K. says with a roll of his eyes.

“How could you know that?”

“Because you kept looking around like it was the most unsanitary thing you’d ever seen in your life,” T.K. tells him. “So I made it my mission to make you forget all about it. Pretty sure I succeeded.”

Carlos flushes as he thinks about T.K.’s mouth and his hands and the way they felt on his body. “You definitely did.” His gaze drops to T.K.’s lips. “God, I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

T.K. smirks, clearly please that he’s turned Carlos on in the middle of this bar. “What’s stopping you?”

“Um the fact that all of our co-workers are here. And also your dad,” Carlos says with a laugh.

As if on cue Owen’s voice rings out over the crowd. “All right everyone!” He claps his hands a couple times. “If I could have everyone’s attention please! Thank you all for coming to the 126 Designs holiday party. I have a little surprise up my sleeve. Tonight, we are going to be participating in some holiday karaoke!”

A bar employee rolls a karaoke machine in out of nowhere to cheers from the crowd. “Did you know?” Carlos asks.

“No,” T.K. says. “But I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Get on over here!” Owen encourages them. “Judd! Let’s hear a little Deck the Halls buddy!”

“Come on.”

T.K. reaches for Carlos’ hand and pulls him toward a side door. “Wait, what about karaoke?” Carlos asks.

“Do you really want to stay here and listen to my dad attempt a version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town?”

Carlos considers this. “Actually…”

T.K. laughs and tugs him again. “Come on Reyes.”

They step outside into the night, the door closing behind them. It’s quiet and the air has a slight chill. Nothing that would even hint at a white Christmas, but enough that it feels like the holiday season instead of the dead of summer. A few stars have managed to permeate the light pollution and the moon shines brightly above them.

The side of the restaurant is lit by a single streetlamp, giving them just enough light to see each other, but also the illusion of privacy from anyone else who might be walking by. T.K. leans against the brick of the wall and tugs Carlos toward him, dropping his hand so he can grab his waist, his thumb pressing into the crease between Carlos’ thigh and his hip through his pants. “Well,” T.K. says, the cocky ass smirk on his face that shoots something hot through Carlos’ veins. “Go ahead. Kiss away.”

Carlos looks around in fake concern. “Mmm, I don’t know. Someone could still see us out here.”

“Don’t worry,” T.K. pulls a sprig of mistletoe from his pocket and dangles it over their heads. “I swiped this from inside. Now you have to kiss me. Christmas rules.”

“Oh is that right?” Carlos asks with smile, pressing in a little closer, and lifting a hand to run it through T.K.’s hair before sliding it down to cradle the back of his neck.

“Definitely,” T.K. says.

Carlos doesn’t waste another second before leaning in and fitting their lips together. The sparks inside him whirl and dance before bursting into full on flames. It feels like coming home.

T.K. opens up and invites him in, their bodies coming flush together, searching for as much contact as possible. Carlos fists one hand into T.K.’s hair, the other landing solidly on his lower back and urging him closer, while T.K.’s roam everywhere, traveling Carlos’ biceps, his chest, his back, his ass, and everything in between.

Carlos slots a thigh between T.K.’s legs, pressing into him and T.K.’s head falls back against the wall, eyes closing as he lets out something between a groan and a sigh. Carlos smiles and uses the change in position to press kisses into the sensitive spot just below his ear. “I missed you,” he says in between breaths.

“I missed you too. Am I going to have to report this to HR?” T.K. asks.

Carlos pauses and pulls back, sending T.K. a withering look. “Haha,” he says dryly. “Thanks for reminding me that I’m going to have my hands full with this one in the new year.”

“My ass is quite a handful,” T.K. says with a smirk. “But you can handle it. It’s just a little bit of paperwork. And someone got you really nice pens for the holidays.”

“Yeah someone did,” Carlos says, poking him in the side until he squirms. “Speaking of paperwork, you owe me a thank you note for your gifts.”

T.K. bites his lip. “Why don’t you take me back to your place and I’ll do a little better than a thank you note?”

Fuck. Carlos swallows hard. “What about the party? Won’t your dad be upset?”

“I’m spending Christmas day with him. He’ll live.” He slides a finger along the waistband of Carlos’ jeans. “We can go back in if you really want to though. I do a mean rendition of Jingle Bell Rock. We can stand in there with all of our co-workers and you can try not to think about how good I’d make you feel if the two of us were in bed together.”

Carlos strokes a thumb across T.K.’s cheek. “As much as I would like to hear you sing Jingle Bell Rock, I think I’d rather take you home.”

T.K. gestures toward the street. “Then lead on Festive Friend.”

It’s the merriest Christmas Carlos has had in a long time.

#Tarlos #Tarlos Secret Santa #tarlossanta #tarlossanta23 #Festive Friends #Office AU #Christmas #Secret Santa #Christmas Fluff

51 notes · View notes

youthereader · 8 months

Text

Near Zero part 2.

PAIRING: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 2.1 words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

RATING: eventually E (no smut in this part); age gap (10+ years), infidelity, period-typical sexism

A/N: Though based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character. This is not intended to be historically accurate, merely written as entertainment. Many thanks to @indulgence-be-thy-name for helping me figure out how to bridge scenes and for being my soundboard. Thanks for the love for the first part, and I hope you like this one, too! 🖤

masterlist.

A week goes by, and you rarely see one another.

You search for him sometimes on your walks home, but never see him. One evening, when you’re swinging your pocketbook with a cigarette in your other hand, practically dragging your feet from exhaustion, one of your next-door neighbors comes out their front door, beaming at you.

You’ve managed to avoid them until now. She may have been waiting for you by the timing of it all, calling out:

“We always seem to miss each other!”

You pause, smiling automatically, watching her march over to you. You admire the effort she’s put into her appearance; her blonde hair is perfectly coiffed, her nails are long and glossy to match her lipstick. Your attire feels dishevelled by comparison, and you haven’t seen your reflection in a few hours. Undoubtedly, you don’t look as put together as you did when you left that morning.

Her scent hits you – rosewater and gin – and you awkwardly rearrange your things to quickly shake her hand, inhaling the last of your cigarette.

“I’m sorry I haven’t made the effort already to say hello.”

You’re not being entirely honest. You could have gone months without ever having met her. She gives a dismissive wave.

“You’re obviously extremely busy. Do you work with Dr. Oppenheimer?”

You nod, feeling your smile begin to slacken. You wish someone would ask about you, not one of the men you work with.

“Yes, I’m part of the theoretical physics branch.”

“That must be very interesting.”

She says it in such a way that gives you pause. She glances behind her and calls out:

“Barb! Come meet our lovely neighbor!”

She turns back to you again, murmuring:

“I’m Mary, by the way.”

You offer your name, and she gives another smile, as you wait for Barb to appear. She’s taller, with auburn hair, but a similar breed of woman to Mary. Sophisticated and not at all like you. You feel self-conscious, clearing your throat.

“She works with Oppie,” Mary says to Barb, and the women exchange a glance.

Barb smiles like a cat. “Do tell.”

“I haven’t seen him lately,” you admit. “We’re not in close proximity most of the time.”

“Shame,” Barb says. She surveys you. “He can be very… friendly. At least, it’s what I heard.”

Mary gives her a little smack on the arm and they both smirk. They seem to wait for you to add something, but you don’t indulge them, glancing down at your burnt-out cigarette butt, considering another.

“Where do you work?” you ask, and Mary sighs a little.

“Oh, we’re both secretaries,” she says. “Nothing as complicated as what you do, I’m sure.”

“We all need typists,” you offer, thinking of a recent incident in the laboratory.

One of the men attempted to hand you their notes, asking you type them up. He considered it women’s work, but all you did was stare him down, cigarette dangling from your lips. After a long minute, several others began to laugh and he folded, stalking off to find a typewriter to do it himself. You returned to your paper and were left in peace for the rest of the day. He hadn’t spoken to you since. He hadn’t even glanced in your direction.

“Say, you ought to come to the mixer we’re having this Friday. I mean, for God’s sake, we’re going nuts in here,” Mary says, leaning over, dropping her voice. “We need something to do around here.”

“She’s probably too busy,” Barb drawls, and you look at her, blinking.

“No, I’m… I’d love to,” you lie.

You like to put your feet up on Fridays with a drink and a big book. You’re lucky if you leave your place at all when you have time to yourself. But the more you think about it, the more likely you are to see Oppenheimer again if you tag along.

“I’ll see you two there. When is it?”

There is instant regret the second you walk into the hall teeming with drunken, loud people. It’s like all the faculty parties you skipped when you were at college. The music and voices overlap, smoke hangs in the air, and crowds of strangers squeeze past you to get in and out the door.

You walk inside with your breath held, hating that you came alone. Some people glance your way, but none are familiar faces. You keep moving regardless, until you spot Barb and Mary by the wall with a group of several couples, all holding their own drinks.

“You actually came,” Barb says, and Mary’s eyes widen, impressed.

“Anyone need a top-up?” you offer, but no-one takes you up on it.

You don’t want there to be a whole production when it comes to introducing yourself. You hope the girls give a short explanation when you walk away, heading towards the bar at the very back of the hall. You have to weave through more groups, and finally more recognisable people appear.

“Holy shit,” Feynman says, and you stop, feeling your face flush at the sudden attention. “Since when do you leave the labs for some fun?”

“Give it a rest, Richard,” a man says nearby, one of the human computers.

“I think we should document it,” Feynman goes on, and you try to smile in good humor. “The first instance of fun for the woman!”

“Not quite,” you retort. “I’m parched. Excuse me.”

You just want to work. You just want to be alone, so you don’t have to feel like you’re under scrutiny. You just want to do something meaningful, and it feels like that can only happen at Los Alamos. You feel silly, reminded of high school when your teacher on the last day of your senior year told you to ‘lighten up’. The man had no idea the damage he’d done with that advice, how small and silly he’d made you feel.

You reach the bar and order a daiquiri. You may have a few before facing anyone else, you haven’t decided yet. When you’re handed the drink, a low, smooth voice to your right makes you freeze:

“You do know we have things other than rum to drink here?”

You twist around, drink aloft, and see Oppenheimer beside you, your stomach giving a little flip at the sight of him. You missed him. God, you really, really missed him.

“It’s out of habit,” you reply, taking a sip for courage. “Is the government sending all their scotch our way?”

He gives a smile, and you return it. “I could have that arranged if that isn’t the case already.”

There’s a raucous call of ‘Oppie!’ and one of the experimental physicists slaps him on the shoulder. You’re forgotten, turning back to the bar as the men chat, the stranger more than Oppenheimer.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Classified, Lewis. You know that” Oppenheimer replies. “How’s the wife?”

He slips into another character, someone friendlier but in a superficial way. He becomes Oppie the leader, and yet it doesn’t seem to come naturally to him. He doesn’t light up all the way, and his smile doesn’t reach his piercing eyes.

You don’t expect him to pay any more attention to you, so you take a few steady gulps as you eavesdrop and then tune everything out…

And then it’s as if you’ve left the hall, when you feel a hand brush yours, fingertips meeting your own as Oppenheimer listens, his colleague talking his ear off. The vacuum you suddenly occupy makes your skin tingle, because it’s unmistakable – he’s stroking your fingers teasingly out of sight of everyone around you.

The moment stretches on and on, and you could live there, with all that potential. All that secrecy. He slips away, stepping aside to shake his colleague’s hand. He turns back to you when he’s gone once more.

“I should try one of those,” he says, nodding to your drink.

Your heart races when your eyes meet again. The warmth there, the intensity of it, turns your insides molten. What you suspected was an attraction is full-blown desire, and you can only stare back at him, hoping – hoping for what?

“Do you have a cigarette?” he asks, when you say nothing, and you nod.

You drain your glass, placing it on the bar, then take out your pack of cigarettes from your pocketbook. He takes them, putting one to his lips, and you step forward to light it for him. Perhaps you can have these little moments, and that will be all. And that will have to be enough.

“Thank you, darling,” he whispers, and you blush. “Can I walk you home, after?”

You nod, desperately wanting more. More pet names, more touches, more stares. Instead, you’re interrupted by Feynman.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you, while gripping Oppenheimer’s arm. “Lemme make it up to you. Let’s have a dance.”

“Oh, I don’t—”

“Come on, we’re all dancing,” he cuts in. “You don’t have to be good.”

You see Oppenheimer is occupied with his own thoughts, smoking in silence. As mortifying as it is to dance, Feynman has a point. No-one at Los Alamos is here because they’re good at dancing.

You try to remember the last time you danced, as you’re dragged along by hand. It must have been before the war when your friends bullied you into a group date.

You endure it, not minding the music. It’s fast and a little chaotic but everyone is laughing, and you find yourself smiling, if a little awkward on your feet. Feynman is a good sport and bows extravagantly when it’s over.

“I forgive you,” you say, chuckling.

He dips to kiss your knuckles and you swat him playfully.

You feel drunk, and it’s because of Dr. Oppenheimer. That’s what you tell yourself when you manage to mingle with everyone for the rest of the night without wanting to run away. It’s a miracle.

Feynman was right – you having fun is a first. Not that you tell him that, but you still talk a lot, and laugh genuinely. You haven’t given anyone a proper chance, and it’s kind of a relief, having this turn out better than expected when you first walked in.

Oppenheimer is missing at the end when everyone starts peeling off in groups for home. It’s after midnight, and you search for him, trying not to seem eager. No-one needs to know that you’re looking for him, or if he’s waiting for you.

Barb and Mary beckon you, holding their coats and bags as you dawdle. You give a short sigh to yourself and follow them out, wondering how you missed Oppenheimer again. You hope he’s waiting outside somewhere, but there are only other tipsy patrons, bidding one another farewell.

The three of you walk the short distance back to your street, and you keep your eyes peeled for any sign of the director, heart hammering when you think of his fingers touching you before.

Darling. The word curls in your stomach and makes you daydream, your attentiveness to your neighbors coming and going as they chat next to you. You make it to your corner before your disappointment sinks in and you’re alone again at your front door, Mary and Barb disappearing into their place.

All the good feelings from the mixer don’t remain. The laboratory is a much harsher world when you expected the opposite. Egos clash, men storm out when arguments arise, and you receive a letter from your parents citing their concern for you, since you’re unable to tell them anything about your position at Los Alamos.

You crave the attention you had, though fleeting, from Oppenheimer. He’s nowhere to be found for a few days. What was once a usual thing has become intolerable, you have no idea how long it will be until you see him again.

He walks into the laboratory one afternoon when you’re midway through your sandwich, deciding to not leave for lunch as some of the others have. He moves right past you, and for a moment it’s as if you’ve imagined him or wished him into view. He greets Bethe and Teller but doesn’t look at you.

You stand, sandwich forgotten, wiping your face of any stray crumbs. You wait, but he still doesn’t give you an acknowledgement. That’s fine. You’re used to waiting. You’re used to being in the background, ignored for the most part.

And then he leaves, after less than five minutes talking about the progress of the group. He walks right by you, and it’s as if you’re invisible. He can’t have missed you, and yet it’s as if you’re less than the dirt on his shoes, or the ash that falls from his cigarette as he moves past you.

You stare at the space he occupied once he’s gone, feeling hot with shame.

Oof, yes. That was a little cruel. I promise it picks up in the next part! Finally, there'll be some smut. 😈💕 Likes and replies are appreciated and reblogs make me swoon. Thanks for reading!

#oppenheimer x y/n #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #fem reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #near zero

135 notes · View notes