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ash5monster01 · 1 year

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More Than You Know

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader(Plus-size!)

Warnings: fat shaming, body image issues, swearing, angst, lots of yelling, fluff

Summary: You had liked Steve since the day you met but you never entertained the idea of being with him because you figured a popular guy like him would never date a girl your size. Coming to terms with this didn’t mean you’d stop defending him in a world full of ungrateful girls. So you reach your breaking point when you’re sick and tired of watching girls miss out on something that would be so good for them. Thing was, Steve heard everything you had to say.

word count: 2047

Masterlist

“Looking good today Lola” you could practically see the smirk on Steve’s face from the sound of his voice. Looking up you saw his eyes trained on the blonde beside you, who had yet to put returns you had finished rewinding back on the shelf, her nail file much to important.

Lola Grant was everything you were not. Blonde, primp, perfect. Steve loved her for all of those things including her tiny waist. You on the other hand hated her for all of those things. She wore dresses with flower patterns and you still wore the same tattered converse, ripped and worn in all the best ways. Your jeans and Motley Crue T-shirt didn’t compare. You were not the same.

“Thanks Stevie” you hated the nickname, especially how it brought a smile the shaggy haired boys face.

“I was wondering if you were free Friday night, I’m having a movie night with the kids and was wondering if you wanted to join?” you had lost count of all the attempts Steve had made to ask the girl out. There had to of been a billion by now.

“Sorry Steve but that sounds pathetic spending Friday night with underage kids” she sneered, meanness dripping from her tone. Steves smile faltered only slightly and despite how much you hated him for still trying he was still your friend.

“Then what’s your ideal date Lola?” your tone was sharp, accusatory, and just plain angry that she couldn’t see how great a guy he was. Not that she deserved him anyway.

“A fancy dinner, wine, making out in a movie theater, third base in the back of a BMW. Nothing to do with babysitting” she responded promptly. Steve hummed with satisfaction, a dopey grin on his face. The sentence immediately making him forget how rude she was in the first place. His mind now only in the backseat of a BMW.

“Classy” you quipped, and she offered a forced smile but knew you were judging her. Yet a girl like you didn’t really get under her skin. How could you when you guys weren’t even in the same league of girls.

“We could do something else, maybe a movie?” you didn’t hide the roll of your eyes as Steve tried again.

“Maybe another time Stevie, I’m busy this weekend” a lie and you knew it, and maybe he did too. Finally picking up the stack of tapes you rewinded she moved off to place them on shelves.

“Get real Steve” you snipped, the moment she was out of ear shot.

“What’s your deal?” he asked and you shook your head, amused he couldn’t see how shitty she was.

“My deal is that girl sucks, you’ve got so much more going for you” you said pushing a new tape into the machine and hitting rewind. Steve moved behind the counter, taking Lola’s previous spot.

“She doesn’t suck, she’s cool and hot. Hard to get but I don’t give up” he smirked as he crossed his arms and you groaned, annoyed that he was so blinded by her fake appearance. She was nothing more than a girl who peaked in high school and Steve was so much more.

“She’s not cool nor is she hot. Don’t you ever think? If she actually had anything going for her she wouldn’t still be stuck here working in a video store” your anger caused the words to rattle out and Steves face dropped.

“Wonder what you think of me then?” you instantly realized your mistake and began shaking your head. You wished Robin wasn’t at school and was here to defend you.

“That’s not what I meant Steve-” but he was already shaking his head in offense and pushing himself off the counter.

“It’s exactly what you meant Y/N” he spoke harshly, hurt by his friend and the words you had spoke as he walked into the back room. Sighing you dropped your head on the counter, upset you pissed him off.

“What’s wrong? Did he deny you?” Lola chuckled as she returned to the counter now free of VHS tapes. Lola viewed life as a social ladder. She was on the top, Steve right below her, which is why she never dated him, and you were all the way on the bottom. She was out of Steve’s reach but you were miles away.

“No Lola, thanks for having faith in me” sarcasm laced your tone as you lifted your head.

“How could I have faith in you, you’ve never had a date in your life” she chuckled, annoyed you gave her so much crap when she saw you as absolutely nothing. She didn’t even think Steve should be talking to you.

“Shut up Lola” you spoke, not wanting anymore shit, already angry enough.

“You want to know why you haven’t had a date Y/N?” Lola expression turned menacing as she moved towards you, mean girl genes firing through her bones. “Because you’re fat, and weird, and no guy is attracted to that”

“You know what?” normally Lola would get to you, break your heart and allow tears to pool in your eyes. But today was your breaking point. She could treat you as badly as she wanted but you were done with her treating Steve like that.

“What?” her amused expression didn’t falter as she waited for some lame comeback bound to fall from your mouth.

“You’re a bitch Lola. Nothing more than a washed up high school mean girl. You’re gonna spend the rest of your life in this God forsaken town, running though men like their a God damn marathon, until you end up stuck with some creepy old man who knocked you up, and you’ll never be anything more than that girl from high school absolutely everyone hated” Lola was shocked as you continued to raise your voice at her, alerting Steve from the back room.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about” Lola began to shake her head but you were beyond angry now, laughing as you approached her. Steve moved to the door, listening to everything you both said.

“Yes I do, because everyday you treat Steve like shit when he thinks you’re the best thing on earth. Do you know how crazy that is? Steve is the greatest guy I know. He cares for so many people when he doesn’t even have to, including me, he even drives Robin to school everyday even if he doesn’t have to be up for work, because he’s such a great guy. He’s the kind of guy who would treat you right and every day for no fucking reason you tell him no” Lola opened her mouth to speak but you quickly held up a hand, not done with your spiel.

“Not to say you deserve a guy like that because you don’t, and twenty years from now, while your holding your child on the porch of your trailer home, you’re gonna be wishing you said yes to him. Every day I hope he’s gonna walk through those doors and ask me out instead because I know what he’s worth. He may be way out of both our leagues but at least I appreciate him. The only reason he still asks you is because you are the skinny, pretty girl, and that fucking stings. Yet I guess that’s how this cruel world works. So leave us both the fuck alone from now on” heavy breaths left your mouth as you finished, Steve having heard the whole thing, shocked to hear such passion come from you.

“Okay, I’m sorry” Lola muttered, before rushing from behind the counter. “I’m gonna take off, my shift is up anyway”

“Bye” you snipped, and she wore a guilty expression as she quickly collected her things and fled the building. You dropped your head back on the counter, now worked up from the drama. Steve finally walked out the back room, knowing Lola was gone.

“You think I ask her out because she’s prettier than you?” your shoulders tensed at his voice, not realizing he heard the whole thing. “Because you’re way prettier than her”

“Don’t lie to me right now Steve, guys don’t date big girls like me” you looked up as you shook your head at him. Steve didn’t care the enthuse the idea.

“I never asked you out because I thought you were too good for me” you furrowed your eyebrows as he continued to talk anyway. Steve had always thought you were pretty and on top of that you were also the best person he knew.

“I’m nothing special and you’re kinda the coolest person I know. I ask Lola out because she’s the kinda girl I’m gonna end up with, not because of her looks compared to yours. I’m just not good enough for you” you scoffed, not believing a word because you truly had never heard kind words like this before. It was also hard to believe he could feel like same way you had all this time, used to people avoiding you because of your size.

“I’m not looking for the you’re not fat, you’re beautiful speech. You weren’t supposed to hear what I said. So can we just drop it” you said turning away from him, uninterested in this lame attempt at making you feel better. You had accepted your fate a long time ago.

“You are beautiful Y/N. Fuck, why can’t you see that? I never asked you out because you were the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen and I didn’t want to ruin that” tears pooled in your eyes because if you let yourself believe him and it wasn’t true you weren’t sure you’d ever recover.

“You’re a great guy Steve, you wouldn’t ruin anything. I would” Steve’s heart warmed because he heard how you had defended him like that. Not even he thought he was so great and apparently you noticed him more than he thought you did.

“Thank you for defending me, and it made me realize that I do deserve someone who would defend me like that. So go out with me Y/N, and not just because of this whole thing, because I’ve wanted to date you since the day we met” you shook your head, the tears now falling down your face.

“Steve if you hurt me, I just can’t. I wouldn’t be able to handle it” Steve felt his heart break as he looked at you. Really looked at you and he felt terrible he had never made you realize how amazing you were in the first place. He was selfish staying away because you deserved to be shown you were just as beautiful as any girl Steve had dated.

“Let me prove you wrong” he said gripping your arms and you looked up at him, tear filled eyes, and he felt the wind get knocked out of him from the look in your eyes. The fact he never realized you loved him back before was shocking because he could see it written all over your face.

“Okay” you muttered and before you could even react he tugged your lips against his. Arms gripping you for dear life and your eyes were wide as you realized what he had done. He had kissed you and you had never even expected it. Then you realized how soft his lips were, how he tasted like cherries, and his warm mouth soothed every ache in your heart. Your hands gripped his shirt as you settled into the kiss, relaxation taking over you, eyes fluttering shut as he moved to wrap his arms around you. If you had known yelling at Lola would make Steve Harrington kiss you like this you would’ve done it a lot sooner. You weren’t even fully sure you were supporting yourself anymore, knees weak from the fire he has ignited in your stomach.

“Holy shit” Steve panted as he pulled away, a dopey smile on his face, because he had never felt like that from kissing a girl before.

“I know” you panted right along side him and he let out a giddy chuckle, moving to pull you back into his arms.

“I may not deserve you but after that I’m not going down without a fight”

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus sized reader #steve harrington x you #joe keery #stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x ofc #steve harrington x y/n smut #imagine #stranger things imagine #netflix

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justanamesstuff · 1 year

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Fix me - Matty Healy x f!reader

Based on this request.

A/N: Couldn't find a better pic, but I liked this one :)) Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: hospital environment, blood, stitches, swearing, fluff, flirting, trypos.

Word count: 2K

Blog MASTERLIST

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot.” George didn’t hesitate to express his current thoughts.

Matty walked, staring at his side profile, meanwhile he spat, “Can you keep your mouth shut, you twat?”

They had been quiet during the driving from Matty’s house to the nearest hospital. George was moving forward along Matty’s side, holding a white cloth secured around his friend’s hand. The drummer tried not to show entirely how annoyed he was with the situation. He knew Matty didn’t mean to sliced his finger, while cooking dinner for them, but coming to the ER wasn't his ideal plan for a Friday evening.

“It amazes me how smart and fuckin’ dumb you can be at the same time.” George continued, slightly scolding Matty.

“Oh, really?” Matty’s voice dripping with sarcasm. “Want me to tell you what I think about you knobhead, ha?” his finger was hurting like a bitch, and George giving him shit for his actions wasn’t helping.

They suddenly stopped at the front desk of the hospital area, without acknowledging the person at the other side. George and Matty were face to face, while the taller one held the cloth tight.

“Please, be my guess-” the drummer encouraged his friend to keep talking.

“All right…”

Although, someone cleared their throat. The guy’s stunned faces turned to look at the nurse. “How can I help you, gentlemen?” she accentuated the last word in an ironic tone, making the guys blush as they were behaving like proper children.

“Sorry.” Gorge was the first one to stated, Matty followed him close behind.

She didn’t waste one more second, her sight fell on Matty’s hand. The cloth was no longer entirely white, the blood was coming through. “What happened?” Y/n inquired.

Matty stayed in silence, admiring her features. She was young and visibly hot. The singer found himself feeling incredible nervous around her. The young nurse was very front forward, he wasn’t really used to girls like her. There was something unique about her. It made him look insecure.

George made him snapped out of his daydreaming, hitting the back of Matty’s head slightly. George’s mate turned to gift him a look.

Matty returned his sight to the nurse, “I cut my finger.” he simply said.

“How deep?”

“Very, very deep.” George interfered. Something about his tone rubbed Matty off.

“Thank you, George.” Matty groaned.

“Please, fill this.” she gave G a paper to put Matty’s information in.

G completed it as fast as he could. On the other hand, Matty watched the nurse taping the computer keyboard.

Her hair was up in a messy bun, her uniform accentuated her body, and she didn’t have makeup on. He liked the natural aura she exuded.

“Done.” George broke the silence.

George let her take the form from him, walking with the paper far from the desk. She said, without turning around, “Thanks. Follow me, boys.” she took a good look at the information.

******

The emergency room was small and very white, Matty thought, trying to focus on something else than his finger throbbing under the cloth.

The nurse instructed him to sit at the hospital bed, placing herself in front of him, almost between his legs. Matty felt the room got one degree hotter.

“Let me see.” she asked, going to remove the fabric. “Oh, yeah…” Y/n exclaimed when her eyes found the wound. “Definitely, you’re going to need stitches.” she held his hand between hers. “Sorry, what’s your name?” Y/n inquired, looking up at his eyes, not letting his hand go.

“I’m Matty.” he muttered.

George –interrupting the intimate moment– introduced himself, “And I’m George.” Y/n blushed, realizing Matty’s friend was in the room with them.

“Nice to meet you guys.” Y/n’s sight went from one to the other. “I’m going to call someone to fix your finger, alright?” she let Matty know.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Matty said, watching her leave the room from the other door opposite to the one they came in.

Y/n stopped with the door half open when her name came from Matty’s mouth. “How..?” she looked surprised.

“Name tag.” Matty smirked at her.

“Right.”

She left the room without saying anything more.

Once she was out, George couldn’t help to laugh at Matty. His mate questioned him, “What?”

“Leave her alone.” G leaned backwards on the opposite wall, folding his arms.

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Sure, mate.”

“Oh, come on! She’s fit…”

“Matty…”

Matty’s mouth asked before he could stop the words from spilling out, “Ask her if she’s single.”

“I’m not going to do that, idiot.” George answered to his request, while he put his hood up.

“Please, I’ll pay you for it.” Matty begged.

“No.”

“Please.”

The small fight was interrupted by Y/n’s return, “Okay, everyone is busy. Big car crash.So, lucky you…I’m going to do it myself.” she informed Matty.

“Perfect, not complaints from me.” he winked his right eye.

George rolled his eyes, “Excuse him, Y/n. Sometimes he behaves like a four-year-old.” he excused his friend.

Y/n chuckled, “Are you mates?” she tried to know, going to get all the things she needed to fix Matty’s finger. Y/n tried to not feel nervous, or even show how restless she really was.

“Sadly, yes.” the drummer replied.

“And ‘m the child…” Matty protested, following Y/n’s form.

“Okay, time to work.” Y/n left the supplies at Matty’s side, proceeding to take his hand. “I’m going to clean the wound, yeah?” she checked with him.

“Do your worst, Y/n.”

She started to clean the wound with so much care, paying attention to his little sounds and movements.

“What were you trying to do when you…?” Y/n interrogated Matty.

“When I chapped my finger?” Y/n laughed, going to throw away the used gauzes.

“Yes.”

“Cooking dinner.”

“Oh, you know how to cook?” Y/n returned to his side.

Matty felt proud of himself, “Yep, I can make something for you, if you want…” he suggested.

“Very kind from you.” Y/n tried to dodge his proposal.

Next, Y/n took the needle and thread, going to star the real fixing. She tried to stabilize her shaking hand.

“If it hurts too much, let me know, and I’ll anaesthetise the area.” Y/n let him know everything she was going to do before every one of her actions.

“Okay, Y/n.”

Her hand continued to shake, not matter how hard she tried. Y/n ignored it and went to pinch his finger with the needle. Before Matty could feel anything, Y/n moved slightly backwards. Matty frowned, looking at her hesitate.

“G, can you go and get me some snacks?” he asked without taking his eyes from Y/n.

“What?”

“Snacks, George. Now!” he urged him out of the room.

“Okay, okay.” G stomped out, leaving the pair alone.

“Hey,” Matty moved his good hand, reaching for her right hand. “What’s wrong?”

Y/n felt embarrassed to admit, “It’s my first time.”

“Fixing someone?” Matty drew circles on her skin, trying to distract her.

“Stitching a real person.” Y/n shared with him.

“I’m taking your stitching virginity?” Matty regretted speaking when Y/n contracted his face. “Sorry, joking…”

“I know, I know…and yeah, you’re taking my-”

Matty interrupted her, “Please don’t complete the phrase. ‘m so stupid, sorry.” Matty hid his face behind his good hand.

“It’s alright. I’m going to-” Y/n encouraged herself to keep going.

“Come on, you can do it! I believe in you.” he cheered for her, which she found it charming.

“Here I go.”

Y/n took a big breath, focusing again on his finger.

When she pierced his skin with the needle, Matty hissed. “Hurts?” she inquired. It really did hurt, but Matty tried to be brave and macho with the pain.

“A little.” he let Y/n know grudgingly. “I have a lot of tattoos, so I’m used to this.” It wasn’t anything similar to get a tattoo.

“That’s really cool, I always wanted to get one.” Y/n made conversation with him.

“You should.”

Even though the conversation was short. Y/n wasn’t stupid, and she knew the procedure was painful.

Matty grew anxious with the silence, so he admitted, “Never thought I’d witness you getting nervous.”

Y/n looked up, taking a break Matty thanked in silence. She crooked her eyebrow, silently asking.

“Don’t know…I judged you by how you cut our shit out there.”

Y/n chuckled. “Do you guys bicker that much?”

“Nah, George is pissed I forced him to take me here and waste the night.”

“That’s a shame. I can feel he’s a good mate.”

“He is, definitely.”

Y/n continued to work. Matty stared at her puckered forehead and the tip of her tongue coming slightingly between her lips. She looked fabulous, all focused on him.

“You’re doing amazing.” he tried to motivate her.

Y/n tried to mess with him, “Shut up, you know nothing about this.” but it came all wrong.

“You don’t know me, sweetheart. I’ve cut fingers, knees, and a lot of places of my body multiple times.”

“I’m sorry…was stupid to assume that.” she apologized.

“Y’know…you can get to know me.” Matty made his try to ask her out, more obvious this time.

“Oh, really?”

“If you want…”

“Did you flirt with every nurse that fixes your wounds?”

“Only with the pretty ones, and I’ve only encountered one…tonight.”

“Your girlfriend don’t mind?” Y/n stared at his eyes.

“Sweet of you to assume I’m taken.” Matty smiled at her without breaking eye contact. “For your information, I’m single…had been for a long time now.”

“Mmm.”

“What? Don’t you believe me?” Y/n started to finish her work, feeling better with herself.

“I have eyes, Matty…”

“Does your partner mind you flirting with patients?” It was his time to ask if she was taken or not.

“He doesn’t.” Matty’s stomach sank with her replied. He was really hoping she was single. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m single, if you so want to know.” Y/n rapidly said.

“That was rude.” Matty pouted. “I’m not sure any more if I want to ask you out now…” he teased her.

“Oh, really? Were you thinking about it?”

“Since I first saw you.” Y/n cheeks turning red was the best encouragement for him.

“Cute.”

“Yeah, you.” he kept going.

Y/n cut the thread, wrapping his finger on a clean gauze, finishing with her work.

“Alright, charmer. All done.” she said, taking a step backwards.

Matty checked his finger, “You were nervous? This is the best work I’ve seen.”

“So full of shit you are.” she dared to say.

Matty snorted. “That’s not a nice way to talk with a patient.”

“Are you only a patient?” Matty watched her fold her arms in front of her. She was so cute in his eyes.

“I hope I’m not just another patient for you.”

Y/n analysed Matty, still seated at the hospital bed.

“Give me your phone.”

The singer only managed to give her his phone, without muttering a single sound. She could be so extroverted and so introverted at the same time. The duality amazed him.

Y/n saved her contact in his phone, and then said, “There. Gotta get back to work, Matty.”

“I’ll call you, Y/n,” he said, moving the device in the air.

“Okay.” she smiled at him, and start to leave the room.

Matty shouted from behind her, “Wait for my call.” coming to his feet.

She turned around, “Sure.” Y/n didn’t sound so convinced.

*************

Matty left the emergency room, founding G seated not so far away.

“So?” the drummer inquired.

Matty, proud of his actions, exclaimed, “Got her phone number.”

“Was asking about your finger!” George stood up. “Really?” he asked.

“Yeah, she’s amazing.” Matty started walking down the hall towards the exit.

“Can see that.” Matty’s friend poked him.

Once in the car, George started talking about some random history while he waited. Matty didn’t listen to him. He opened his text, pressing to start a new conversation.

Tell me if I'm wrong, but I can't call you during your shift, can I? x Matty

It took her a minute to answer.

No, you can’t. I have my break in 5 minutes though... x Y/n

Calling you in 10 then ;) x Matty

Matty smiled looking out the window.

#matty healy #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy imagine #matty healy x y/n #george daniel #the 1975 #matty the 1975 #matty healy x f!reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x female!reader #matty x y/n #matty x reader #matty x you #matty healy fluff

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atxxzist · 1 year

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with a touch of sweetness | c.s

pairing: choi san x f!reader

summary: working at a cafe, you have to deal with a certain customer with dimples who always like his iced coffee extra sweet

genre: fluff, slight angst?

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i should be using this time to write my series but this idea came to me at 1am and i couldn't stop myself sdjskdssfkf

friendly brew

the font isn't too eyecatching, the style is a little bland, and the size of the cafe isn't ideal. but it's right next to a big and bustling university--attracting a lot of customers.

usually young, sleep-deprived college students, but it does well in business despite its shortcomings; a couple regulars who are very loyal, they frequent the place so often, you've come to match names to faces, as well as their usuals.

especially, choi san.

your face drops when you see it's him, trying to reframe from an eye roll as you go to tap the screen, mumbling in such an unenthusiastic tone, "one iced coffee?"

"yes please. and with extra vanilla syrup, please."

you don't say anything, a huff under your breath because you don't know why he always want his extra sweet. the regular one is already too sweet, in your honest opinion.

"thank you, angel."

"don't call me that," you snap quietly, pinching your brows together.

"why not?" his mouth draws a straight line before leaning closer to the counter and settling his arms on it, a smile eventually blossoming on his handsome face that makes those stupid dimples pop out. "you really are one, though. you always make my coffee the way i like it."

"because that's my job," you reply, going on to scribble his name on an empty cup before turning around to scoop up some ice for the drink.

after pouring the brewed coffee onto the cup of ice and milk, not forgetting the extra vanilla syrup as he requested, you place the finished product on the counter again before slapping a lid over it.

"well, then how come yoojung and kangmin never makes it the way i like it?"

you shrug, scooting the drink his direction.

"maybe they just don't like you? i mean, can you blame them?" you try to be snarky, but instead pretty much walked yourself into his trap.

"so... does this mean you like me?" he smirks, the retort immediately whisking your breath away. "because i swear..." he picks up the cup and takes a sip, your eyes innappropriately trailing to his adam's apple before he puts it down again to glare at you.

"you always make it the sweetest." he smiles softly and you hate how your heart dances around in your chest; hate the look in his eyes, and hate how much--

"you haven't even paid for it," you change the subject, trying the very best to hide the effect he has on you because god knows how smug he'll be if he finds out you're also just very good at putting on a performance.

he giggles and searches his pockets, pulling out a ten dollar bill and placing it on the counter.

"keep the change."

he grabs the drink and downs another sip, uttering in that usual sly tone, "thank you again, angel."

the wink before he fully exits is the last thing that does you in. he's so annoying, but like every other times, you can't help but to look forward to his next appearance.

ever since you got hired six months ago, having been a replacement for an older lady who had quit, there's not a single monday, wednesday, or friday that you do not see him. those are the days he comes in.

the boy having sparked an interest in you shortly after the first encounter, finding out the mean ahjumma who never made his drinks the way he likes it--it was always either too bitter or had too much milk--have been replaced by a girl about his age with a pretty smile, and who always makes his drinks exactly the way he prefers it.

"you know, angel, maybe someday, you'll finally draw some hearts around my name," san remarks, observing his name written plainly on the cup.

a dry chuckle tumbles out of you.

"you should be grateful i even wrote your name when i really wanted to put dickhead instead."

he frowns, placing his free hand over his chest and pretends to be in pain.

"ouch. i thought this was friendly brew? you're not being very friendly right now."

your interactions with him typically plays out like that, always with the small banters and playful exchanges; your harsh words and dismissive behaviors countering his that are the complete opposite.

but whenever you hear the bell to the door clink and you see it's him, the butterflies in your stomach along with the tiniest smile that graces your lips always prove otherwise.

"what other names to substitute instead of dickhead? maybe pervert? creep? nuisance?" you cock an eyebrow.

"okay now, that is a reach. i just really really like you."

there's a short silence that befalls when he says that, your eyelashes blinking and the quietest gulp traveling down your throat.

"san, don't say things you don't mean."

"who said i don't mean it?"

"but... i'm mean to you."

his lips quirks to the side, his shoulders shrugging and not moved in the slightest from your statement.

"i don't mind."

"and also, i can't even stand you."

"even better. i love a challenge."

you roll your eyes, bouts of giggles suddenly appearing from behind, turning around and seeing yoojung and kangmin straightening up immediately as if they weren't prying on your conversation with the boy who you have already denied having a crush on.

you absolutely do not like san. not at all.

you just get a little giddy at the sight of him, and lately, you've developed a knack for listening to stories about how his day at campus went, although you always act like you don't care.

and sometimes--not often--but sometimes, your stomach will churn in the weirdest way whenever he'll talk about his female classmates; the worst being when he actually comes with one of them, her eyes full of admiration and his with something you can't quite read but still effective in invoking that pang of jealousy you're in denial of.

but something else so consistent about him aside from his flirty tactics, is the smile on his face never falters. you don't think you can ever recalll a single time he didn't walk into the shop with that idiotic grin.

which is why you know something is off the minute he comes up to the counter and a rather sullen look is his current expression.

"one iced coffee?" you're the one to speak up, and he nods in return, the silence from him is almost too out of character.

he doesn't even seem to be paying much attention when you go on to write his name, his mind seemingly elsewhere, so you take the chance to grab a sticky note to write something on it, sticking it on the cup when finished.

"one iced coffee with extra vanilla syrup."

he fiddles with the pockets of his jacket and gives you eight dollars to be exact. you remember asking him why he would sometimes give more than the cost and he told you it was for the 'service'.

yoojung and kangmin has assured you they never got tipped for their 'service' before.

he picks the drink up and shoots you one last smile, mumbling, "thank you, angel."

you have to remind yourself that san isn't just the cute annoying guy who would always hit on you every time he comes in for his coffee. that he has a life outside of conjuring up butterflies and pestering you, he's going to have bad days and you shouldn't overthink so much.

next time he comes in, it will be with that idiotic grin alongside those pleas that's become a permanent residency in your head.

except... he doesn't.

not this wednesday and not the following friday.

you see wooyoung the next monday, recognizing him as san's friend the few times he came with him to grab a cup of americano.

it's a constant battle whether you should or should not ask about his friend who'd usually pay you weekly visits, but now all of a sudden dropping off the face of earth.

eventually, you settle for should not, bidding wooyoung the customary parting; a melancholy feeling brewing when there's no sight of the black-haired boy with sharp eyes and dimples on wednesday, as well.

it's a known, rather unspoken fact that you always look forward to the showing of san, no matter how pestering and annoying he is with his attempts that makes you want to roll your eyes all the way to back of your head, the small ten to fifteen minutes exchange you'd have with him were always the highlight of your shift.

if he has given up or found someone else who makes his coffee even better, you think it'd be nice to get a proper notice at least.

friday shifts are usually your favorite because there's no tedious routine you have to follow, like commuting from class a good couple minutes away; you get to rest on the weekend after, and you start early, so you get out early, allowing the remaining of the day to be spent however you'd like.

the hour and a half left before you get to clock out is slow, the counters being wiped over and over again because you're trying to kill time, bending over and under to get spots you think you might have missed, when you hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

"welco--"

the word cuts short and the towel in your clutch drops onto the counter, your eyes only able to stare ahead in a starstruck gaze at the person before you, your heart doing laps but at the same time, there's a wave of relief that comes over.

"hi." san smiles, his messy black hair slightly falling over his eyes and the gray hoodie he's wearing clipped under his backpack makes him look like the college boyfriend you wish you had.

you swallow a knot, playing it cool.

"darn, i thought i finally got rid of you for good."

san chuckles... damn him for being so good looking.

"oh, i know you were miserable, yearning for that something that was missing from your everyday life."

"please..." you dismiss, actually hating how much truth it holds.

"you're not going to ask why i was gone?" he pouts.

you lowly sigh in annoyance, though the question has been plaguing your mind ever since his mysterious disappearance.

"okay... why were you gone?" you try to contain the tone, afraid you just might let the eagerness slip through.

"i was sick."

you raise an eyebrow in concern.

"oh... well... how are you now?"

his eyes swell innocently, genuinely surprised by the softer voice.

"a lot better now. thank you for asking, angel." he cracks a tiny smile.

oh, how you have come to miss such a nickname that used to raise your blood pressure just because you haven't heard it in over a week.

"i thought you have officially ran away or maybe you found a better shop."

he retracts with an offended scowl on his face.

"never. i would never do that to you."

you fight off a smile, quick to tap the screen and divert the subject.

"one iced coffee?"

"well, yes, but actually," he fidgets in his spot, "i was thinking if you want to uh... hang out after your shift?"

you look up from the screen to glare at him.

"huh?" you heard him, you just... want to make sure.

he's always flirted with you shamelessly, but actually asking you out is something he's never tried before. of course he's had a few impulses but have always reframed from acting on them, until now.

"i'm asking if you want to do something together. cause you know... just figured we can catch up. when you're done with your shift, of course."

the longest stare-off between you and him ensues shortly after, and you think for the first time, san might be growing shy.

you chuckle quietly, breaking the silence, and a smile blossoming on your lips.

"i get off in about an hour and a half."

"perfect. i'll come back then."

you find san seated on a nearby bench when you're out, watching the way he whips his head side to side to admire the scenery.

"your coffee," you announce, your arm stretched out, and he snaps to you immediately, eyes scanning over your attire.

he's never seen you in anything other than your work uniform. he thinks you look even prettier with that sweater vest and pair of jeans. but then, you're always too pretty for your own good.

"extra sweet?" he asks, all playfully.

"extra sweet," you reply, taking the seat next to him and observe as he goes to confirm it.

"doesn't taste like it."

you scoff. "well, maybe you have officially lost your taste bud."

he hums and scoots even closer to you, the side of his leg touching yours.

"that would require more testing. maybe you can help? bet you taste sweeter than anything. i wonder how it would be, to kiss an angel."

an even louder scoff falls from you.

"don't flatter me. and i'm not kissing you."

he laughs and shakes his head.

"i'm not lying when i say that. i was honestly having such a shitty time, having been denied an internship i really wanted, only to get sick not even a day after."

the amusement on you is fast to dissipate, replaced by a look of sympathy.

"oh... was that why you looked so down that day?"

he smiles rather lightly.

"yeah. but it's whatever. i'll just try again next time or apply for a different one."

there's a moment of the birds chirping high in the sky and the sound of pedestrians walking until you speak again.

"sorry to hear..."

you feel bad for him, understanding the feeling all too well; like you're incompetent and not good enough. on top of that, he even got sick afterward.

"i always knew you cared about me," he says, breaking all the empathy bones in your body--you having to settle for a major eye roll.

"pfft."

"you know... when i sick, i always looked back to your note and it always made me feel a little better afterward despite quite literally dying in bed."

a sheer chuckle bubbles out of you at the confession.

"i don't believe you," you tell him.

he looks you straight in the eye and shakes his head, vouching for his honesty.

"i'm forreal. look, i even brought it with me today."

your eyebrows furrow together as you watch him search his hoodie with his free hand, pulling the familiar piece of paper out of one of the pockets, still able to comprehend the black ink you were responsible for.

i added just the littlest bit more of vanilla syrup bc you seemed a little down. not too much though bc i'm already worried abt ur glucose level. but hope u feel better soon.

"you're... crazy."

the temperature on your cheeks heats up like crazy, san witnessing them in action as they turn a bright shade of pink, unable to help the lovesick smile that breaks out on his face.

then another stare-off follows, the longest silence hanging between you two that both badly wants to break but too unsure how.

you take the opportunity to admire his features; his keen jawline, sharp eyes, and oh... the slit in between one of his eyebrows that makes him look extra attractive.

then your gaze travels to his lips. plumped, luscious, and just waiting to be taken in--and it must've been how you've been wanting to kiss him for so long now, that one second you're apart, and the next, your lips are stilled against his when you go to place a peck on them.

pulling away, you search him for a reaction; he's a bit dazed and stunned, until the corners of his mouth turns and a soft smile overtakes his expression.

"you really are an angel sent from heaven."

#san fluff #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x reader

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madridfangirl · 5 days

Text

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fanfic)

Chapter 1

(Chapter 2)

Jude * female reader. No warnings.

……………………………………

Madrid was such a beautiful city. Ananya had been here for nearly four months now, yet couldn’t stop marvelling almost daily over some or the other detail she kept discovering. She loved the hustle bustle but also the quaint historical aesthetic that the city provided. That way, it was quite similar to Delhi, the city she was from.

She was practically in a different continent now, far far away from India. To move to another country, with a completely different language and culture, while she was just 20, had been a tough choice. But she was offered a great job in her undergraduate college placements and no career-minded adult would say no to such an opportunity. So, she had managed to convince her overprotective parents to let her move to Madrid, on her own. Her parents thought she would want to return in a few months itself, but she surprised even her own self with how well she was adjusting to the city. Madrid was beautiful, after all.

As she sat in a sweet little cafe on the side of a small road, close to her office in downtown Madrid, on a Friday evening, she smiled to herself on how the last few months had transpired. So much had changed in her life, and she was loving the ride she was on. An independent girl, with a decently fancy job in one of the best European cities. Life was good right now.

This tiny cafe was one of her favourite spots in the city. It was run by an older couple who always greeted her with a smile and the best churros in the galaxy. It was never too crowded, most people just took takeouts. So it was an ideal place to relax, and it was walking distance from her office.

She pulled out her laptop while munching on her plate of churros. It was already Friday evening but she still had a few hours of work left. Investment banking was fun but the hours came with it. Mr. Iglesias (the owner) quietly placed a cup of cappuccino, her usual, next to her plate. She smiled gleefully at his hospitality, then engrossed herself in her work.

30 minutes later, a distinct baritone and accent broke her out of her reverie.

‘A Spanish omelette please?’

Ananya turned around, drawn to the voice. A tall man, wearing stylish all black attire, was standing at the counter. She could only see his back.

Mr. Iglesias drew a blank expression. The tall man tried again.

‘Umm, an omelette, Spanish omelette, por favor?’

‘Un tortilla de patatas, senor.’

Mr. Iglesias nodded happily at the man and signalled 10 mins with his hands.

The man whipped his head in her direction, and smiled gratefully at her.

She had to look away. Immediately. Not just because he had the most infectious smile in the world. But because she recognised who it was and she absolutely would die if she acted crazy at this instant. No, she willed to not make a fool of herself.

But he was walking over to her now.

‘Hey, thanks a ton for that.’

She had taken a few deep breaths by now and was back to her typical poise.

‘No problem at all. I could see you were struggling there.’

He hung his head and laughed sheepishly.

‘I did learn what it was called in Spanish, I swear. But had a long day and completely blanked out. Umm, Spanish is not my first language you see. But I am learning.’

Despite the situation, she somehow managed to smile back genuinely at how he was trying to explain himself to a complete stranger.

‘Well, I am new to the city and the language as well. But my favourite dishes are something I never forget. Can’t go without those, right?’

He smiled at her again. A smile that lit up his whole face. A smile that could light up a black hole. She was amazed at how real, how normal he came across. He was wearing his cap backwards and had glasses on to serve as some disguise she supposed, but she doubted whether those would generally be of any help to him. Not anymore at least.

He played with the back of the chair opposite hers, and looked around.

‘Umm, are you alone? May I join you?’

She channelled all her inner poise before answering.

‘Yeah sure.’

And he flashed her another joyful smile while settling on the small table, opposite her. Man could charge 1000 euros for each smile and people would line up to pay.

He removed the godforsaken glasses, unveiling his big, coffee brown eyes. The hat he just turned backwards, which somehow suited his chiseled face even more.

‘You said you are not from here. May I ask where you are from?’

‘Sure, I am from India.’

‘Wow. I have heard so much about that place. Some of my neighbors back home are also from India. Would love to visit sometime.’

‘You should. There are many flavours to India which you could only experience when you visit.’

He nodded along, agreeing with her wholeheartedly. Mr. Iglesias waved to him from the counter, signalling 5 mins more. He smiled at him as well. Was that his default setting? Not that she was complaining. Oh hell, no.

He suddenly looked back at her.

‘Hey, I didn’t catch your name. So silly of me to not ask earlier.’

She found herself smiling again.

‘Ananya.’

‘A-nan-ya?’

He tried to break down the foreign sounding name in syllables. It was her turn to giggle now, and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

‘Not A as in Ancelloti but A as in Alvaro Morata.’

He leaned back in his chair, still rubbing the back of his head, and looked straight into her eyes.

‘So, you do know who I am?’

She tuned her laptop towards him. The screensaver was her in the trophy room at the Bernabeu, along with the 14 Champions League trophies.

He looked at the photo and her beaming smile. Her love for the club was evident.

‘Been a Madridista since 2009. 15 years. That’s 75% of my life. So yes, I do know who you are Jude.’

Somehow, just somehow she had managed to find her footing amidst all this madness and was having what would appear to be a fairly normal conversation with a global superstar. She felt it was because of him, though. Because how easygoing and grounded he seemed.

‘Wow. That’s awesome. You know, I didn’t even like football at that age? It’s strange, I know. My dad always wondered what was wrong with me. But one day, suddenly, I decided I wanted to play.’

‘I get it. Sometimes god acts in mysterious ways. You won’t even know how or when, it just happens.’

‘I know right.’

They fell into a comfortable silence. Just looking at each other. And smiling. Both couldn’t stop smiling for some reason.

Mr. Iglesias appeared then with the omelette and Jude nearly hugged him in delight.

He stuffed his face with a gigantic bite, moaning at the taste. Then, he ended up coughing vigorously because the bite was almost one third of his plate.

‘Easy. Here, take this.’

Ananya offered her glass of water to him, which he gulped down in three sips. Then rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked back into her eyes.

‘My mom had once gotten me an omelette from this place. Felt like little drops of heaven. Since then I have been meaning to have this. Sorry for the clumsiness, I got a little carried away.’

He was apologising to her again, which was so endearing. And that accent made everything sound twice as cute.

They went back to their food, and the comfortable silence was back. But she was learning that he couldn’t stay silent for long.

‘Since you already have a head start in knowing about me, would you tell me something about you? What brings you to Madrid?’

‘I work at an investment bank here. Kind of my dream job and my dream firm.’

He leaned forward, tapping his fingers on the table.

‘Ooooh fancy.’

‘Yeah right. Look who is talking.’

‘No, it is fancy. Seems like a smart person thing. I had a feeling you were like that.’

He spent the next 15 mins learning about her job, and by the end he accused her of showing off by using big terms he won’t understand. She neither confirmed nor denied that accusation.

He took another mouthful again, completely ignoring what happened the last time. She couldn’t help but be amused at his antics.

‘So, have you seen any match live?’

Her whole demeanour changed and she was practically bouncing off the chair now. He found that extremely amusing.

‘Oh yes. I was here for internship last year and I managed to watch one game. Vini scored two kickass goals and we won. It was amazing - easily one of the best days of my life.’

‘Um-hmm.’

Something in his tone was off but she was too happy to care.

‘Is he…your favourite player, then?’

‘Oh he’s amazing. Us fans have seen him since he was 17 I guess? And look at the journey. Love the player he has become. But my favourite will only ever be one. I am a Ronaldo fan girl.’

Well, that seemed to cheer him up. He kind of figured that given she had mentioned 2009.

He watched her face fondly for a few seconds as she turned nostalgic and relived the memories in her head.

‘Nothing this season, then?’

‘No luck. The tickets are always sold out. Last year also it was our firm which arranged them for us.’

‘Hmm.’

She hadn’t seen him play, then.

He went back to his last bite and turned it around with his fork a few times, pondering over his next words.

‘Well, there is a home game tomorrow.’

‘A HOME GAME? It’s the first Classico of the season. Ofcourse I know that. God I am so nervous. Hated them winning the league last year. Hate their guts. Jude, you guys better win tomorrow, please. ’

He watched her keenly though her rant, thoroughly amused.

‘Thanks for the order. But, what I meant was, do you want to watch the game tomorrow?

‘But, Classicos get sold out in the beginning of the season right?

She looked confused. Still not getting the point. He realised he would have to spell it out for her.

So smart in her work but not as much in this, which was cute in its own way.

‘Ananya, do you want to watch the match tomorrow from my box? Because you are welcome to do that.’

Oh. Oh.

She stayed still, and he scanned her face for a response.

A volcano erupted inside her. She had been so lost in talking about Madrid and that match that she had completely missed the way he had been looking at her. And what he had asked her just now.

He could tell from her face that something deep was holding her back.

‘Listen, bring your friends / colleagues if you want to. Many of my friends have attended. Plus the boxes are all next to each other so the media / fans can’t really tell who is in whose box, if that’s what’s concerning you. You can just attend as a friend, that’s it.’

She wasn’t buying the last line.

‘That’s it?’

She called his bluff while meeting his gaze. Which he admired. The smart girl was back.

‘Well, after the match, we could grab a bite maybe? Doesn’t have to be a public place, don’t need that drama. So maybe, your place? Or….mine?’

She shook her head sadly.

‘Jude…it’s not that you are not…but…we live in very different worlds and…’

He had an inkling of what was coming and he cut her off before she could finish the sentence. Taking no for an answer was not an acceptable option right now, not when the last 30 mins had been so pleasant and refreshing.

‘What if I score tomorrow? Against the team you detest? How about then?’

She looked at him with her mouth half open. Which made him look down to her lips. But he had the good sense to quickly revert to her eyes.

‘Won’t you want to give me some extra motivation to score against Barca? Or would you rather I be sad and distracted tomorrow?’

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was really doubling down on this.

‘Let me get this straight. You are seriously using my love for Real Madrid to get me to go out with you?’

He leaned back in his chair, smirked that gorgeous smirk, and shrugged casually, with an iota of arrogance, knowing he was going to win this. Even the arrogance suited him, for crying out loud.

But then, he leaned forward and covered her hand with his, expression all sincere. Her breath hitched at his touch.

‘Look. I just want to spend some time with you, and I really would love for you to see me play. I get that my lifestyle comes with a zillion challenges but that’s step 10. Can we please just spend a few hours together, just you and me, where we talk and get to know each other? I promise, that’s all I am asking. And you don’t have to say yes to that now. You can decide tomorrow after the match. How does that sound?’

The earnestness in his silky smooth voice was drawing her in. She believed him, and was on the verge of saying yes.

But he got restless and played his final card, which he always had up his sleeve.

‘Also, Zidane is going to be there. Their box is just two rows down from where you would be.’

She burst out laughing and threw the table napkin in his face, which he caught easily. Then flashed her a million dollar smile.

‘You really are something aren’t you?’

‘Well, I try.’

She had forgotten that his hand was still on top of hers and was reminded of it when he squeezed it briefly, then withdrew it.

He pulled out his phone and slid it in front of her.

‘Gonna need your number to send the passes.’

Her mind was still registering what she had agreed to but her body reacted involuntarily and typed in her number.

He saved it quickly and sent over the passes in seconds.

‘So, I will see you tomorrow then?’

‘Yes. You leave me no choice. And you better win now, after what you just pulled.’

His phone chimed with a reminder then, for an evening home fitness session prior to the match. He had to leave, she could tell.

He stood up, and she got reminded of how tall he was. His lean physique made him look even taller.

He reached out for her hand again, shaking it this time. And lingered for a few seconds.

‘I will have to go thank my mom now for recommending this place.’

He chuckled, while finally getting go of her hand. She couldn’t stop admiring how his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

‘Can I drop you home?’

‘I have some work to finish - you carry on.’

‘Ok. Looks like it’s gonna rain tonight so pls leave soon.’

Gosh, could this guy get any more charming?

‘Yeah, I will.’

Grudgingly, he went towards the door of the small cafe but looked back one final time.

‘Ananya - such a beautiful name.’

He said it perfectly this time and she gave him a hearty smile, exactly what he needed before he made his way out.

She fell back in her chair, buried her face in her hands and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Tomorrow was going to be nuts. She was going to see Zidane, who she loved to bits. She was gonna watch El Classico. And then, if Jude had his way, she was going to go out on a date with him.

………………………………………………………..

Author’s note: This is set in October and pls assume the classicos were reversed :)

Lots more to come, hope you liked the setup.

#jude bellingham #jude fanfic #bellingham x reader #bellingham latest #Bellingham #jb5 #real madrid

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eomayas · 10 months

Text

new thing (pt. 6) • pcy

pairing: chanyeol x f!reader, age gap, established relationship

synopsis: your break with chanyeol lasts longer than expected and you try to make something work.

genre: heavy angst, smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! bit of fluff

warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!! lots of angst and unspoken feelings, swearing, pwp (kinda) p in v, mentions of alcohol and drinking and being drunk

a/n: bruh yall inspired me to writeeee so here you go! i love reading all of your messages omg they’re so funny and sweet! i hope you like this 🩷 thanks for all of the support

a ‘little while’ turns into 2 weeks. the school year begins within those 14 days, and you throw yourself into your courses, occupying your time with 1 credit classes so you don’t have time to think about anything other than graduating and your education. when you do have a moment to yourself and to think, you force yourself to think of everything but chanyeol. it’s hard, since nearly everything reminds you of him. you’ve thought about texting him but resisted, chickening out at the last second.

it’s a friday night and you have no set plans. seulgi is going out with her boyfriend, so you have the house to yourself and a movie queued up on your laptop. ideally, you’d have someone to spend this quiet friday night in with, but alas. you’ve been single before; you’ll survive a movie night alone.

looking through your cabinets, you sigh at the lack of snack options, and things you want to eat. it’s been awhile since you’ve been shopping, having gotten used to being around somebody who constantly cooked for you, or took you out to eat. it’s the little things about not being with chanyeol that you feel like you took for granted. in this case, it’s grocery shopping.

grabbing your keys and purse, you throw on a sweatshirt before heading out of your apartment and down to your car. you hop in and make the short drive down to the corner store.

a quick glance around the parking lot would’ve told you to stay in your car, but it slips your mind as you’re here for a snack run, not expecting to be here long.

you beeline for the chip aisle, grabbing a bag of chips for yourself and another bag for seulgi. you stay there for a second, scanning a few other options before feeling satisfied and going to the coolers. there, you grab an iced tea and a water before getting ready to close the door, but a voice makes you freeze and stiffen, the door stuck mid-swing in your palm.

“bro, stop fucking around,” you know that voice better than you know your own. you’ve dreamt about it constantly, wishing for it to call on you, to say sweet things to you, like it used to. but now, it’s not yours to even want in that way.

slamming the cooler door, you quickly spin on your heel, racing down the aisle, not paying attention to where you’re going, but knowing that you need to get out. but you slam into a hard body, nearly knocking you backwards. “holy shit!” the man says, quickly turning around and reaching out an arm to steady you. “are you okay?” he asks.

footsteps round the corner, curses flowing from the mouth that belongs to the one you want more than anything, more than these snacks in your arms. “what the fuck did you do now? sorry for my cousin, he’s an id-“ his voice cuts off when he gets closer, stopping a few feet behind jongin. you raise your head, your eyes zeroing in on chanyeol.

“it was my fault,” you mean to say it to jongin, to apologize for not paying attention, but you can’t rip your eyes away from chanyeol. but now you’re apologizing to, technically the wrong person, but they both deserve two different types of apologies. “i wasn’t thinking.” you say, wondering if he can read between the lines and take it as an apology for the end of your relationship.

“he’s an idiot,” chanyeol says, making jongin scoff. there’s that glimmer in his eyes, the one that doesn’t fail to make you smile every time, but now you hold it back. you almost forget jongins there, until he mutters that he’s going to leave you and chanyeol alone.

there’s an awkward silence before chanyeol takes a single step closer to you. “hey,” he says, offering you a small smile. your heart hammers wildly in your chest, feeling like it’s going to crack through your bones and beat right out of your chest. “how’ve you been?” he asks, his voice softer than usual.

“fine. and you?” it’s like making small talk with somebody in an elevator; it’s terrible. you want to scream and run out of here, but you’re rooted to the floor and don’t trust your legs. you wonder if he can see your trembling hands, or if the snacks in them are doing enough to obscure their shaking.

“i’m good!” he says, and he sounds like he means it. it breaks your heart again, because there’s been countless nights where you’ve lain awake with thoughts of him running through your mind. you’re not even to being ‘good’, barely surpassing being ‘fine’.

you mumble a ‘that’s good’, and he says he’s going to go find jongin. “it was nice seeing you, y/n,” and you could call to your knees in tears, because it’s the first time he’s said your name in 14 days and you miss how it sounds coming from him.

“you too,” you squeak. he glances down at your arms full of snacks and gives you a small smile. you’re about to return it until you glance down at his hands, and feel your blood run cold.

chanyeol follows your line of sight to his hands and tries to indiscreetly hide the box of condoms, but you’ve already seen them. he can feel his neck heating up and feels the need to explain himself, that no, he has no intentions of using them soon, but the words don’t find him. your throat burns and your eyes sting, but you manage to not any tears fall, or let your voice give way to what’s happening inside of you when you say, “i’m gonna go,” and speed walk away on shaky legs.

luckily for you, there’s nobody in line at the check. you throw your stuff down on the counter and glance over your shoulder to make sure you don’t see either chanyeol or jongin. you pay as quickly as you got in line, thank the cashier and grab your bag of stuff.

chanyeol and jongin are walking towards the checkout as you’re taking your stuff, and you practically sprint out with how fast you walk and the strides you take.

outside, your eyes come in direct contact with his black corvette and you scream internally, wondering how you missed it when it’s right there, practically in front of the doors and not too far from you own car.

you feel like some sick joke is being played on you, and you throw your stuff into the backseat before speeding out of the parking lot and down the road. you drive half a mile before your eyes start to well up with tears, and drive another 500 kilometers before turning on a random street and pulling over to bawl into your hands.

you allow yourself to let go, to let nasty, ugly sobs from feo within your chest escape. you shake against the steering wheel, wishing you never went out for food you have no appetite for anymore, so that you could avoid seeing him. by the looks of it, he’s truly no longer yours because the two of you rarely, if ever, used condoms. there’s somebody else who’s going to get to experience him in ways that you long for.

when you get back to your apartment, you forego your movie plans and instead text some friends and ask if they’re busy. they tell you they are, that they’re going out (like most people you know), and ask if you want to come. you don’t hesitate to say ‘yes’, and start getting ready. chanyeol isn’t going to ruin your night, and you’re not going to sit here and mope and be single.

nearly two hours later, you’re ready and your friends wait for you downstairs. you wear the littlest black dress you own, one that barely covers your ass and is backless. it’s cowl neck is low, showing a good amount of cleavage, and your heels are high. you don’t intend to go home with somebody, but you plan to get attention in whatever way it comes.

shortly after you get to the club, drinks are practically thrown your way. decent enough men buy you drinks, and in return get a bit of your conversation before you always dismiss yourself to your friends. every time a man comes up to you, you make a mental list of every way he is not chanyeol, comparing everything down to their finger nails. of course, no man is going to compare to him, at least for now, so you drink until you start to forget what he looks like with your eyes closed.

you do cut yourself off, though, not wanting to vomit all over everything and everybody in this club. you take a seat in your section and go on your phone, checking your instagram to see all the photos and videos you’ve been tagged in tonight. you repost all of them to you stories, smiling as you type out silly captions for all of them.

one of your friends comes over to you, drunk and slurring as she tells you to come dance. you abandon your phone and get into the circle with your friends, dancing sensually with whatever the DJ decides to play.

by the time you call it quits for the night, you’ve sobered up enough to make it safely into your apartment. you stumble down the hallway to your bedroom as quietly as you can walking in heels on wood floors, and fall onto your bed. you lie there for a moment before you remember to wake yourself up and at least take your shoes off so you can go to bed.

plugging your phone into the charger, you look at your screen and see you have an instagram dm from chanyeol. your stomach flips as you unlock your phone and click on the notification, biting your bottom lip.

he’s replied to a video on your story, one of you dancing. but you’re not dancing alone, you’re dancing on a man, his hands holding onto your hips and lower back as you throw your ass on him. you don’t remember doing this, and the man doesn’t look familiar but it definitely happened.

real_pcy: so this is what we’re doing now?

11:53pm

you: we’re not together.

1:31am

real_pcy: lmao alright.

1:35am

you wake up hours later with a raging headache, a terrible taste in your mouth, and the feeling that you did something bad. you pat the bed next to you to make sure there’s nobody there, and sigh in relief when it’s empty and just pillows.

you can barely remember anything that happened after you got in the uber to the club and before you got into your bed. you remember bits and pieces, but they’re muddled and incomplete.

a frown takes over your features as you try to remember, but nothing solid comes to mind. you glance over at your digital clock that reads 12:12pm, and sigh, sitting up and groaning when your head feels like somebody is stomping on it.

grabbing your phone, you gasp and let it slip out of your grasp. it’s a bad idea to scramble out of bed to get it, but you do anyway and pick it up from the floor. you frantically open it and go to your messages, expecting to see chanyeols name at the top, but you don’t. you frown again as you try to remember where you messaged him, or if you made it up.

an instagram notification pings on your phone like a lightbulb going off in your brain, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you check your dms. again, his account isn’t at the top, and your frown turns into a scowl. “what the fuck?” you mutter. you go to the search tab and type in his username. it pops up, but when you click on it, it says ‘follow’, rather than ‘following’ like it should.

your brain rolls around in your skull as you realize what’s happened, what he’s done. even during your little break, you guys remained mutuals on social media. of course, you never messaged each other, but no blocking transpired. clearly, he made the first move and removed you from his account entirely, making you an outsider.

you decide to do one better, and block him completely. you block him everywhere else, but hesitaste on his number. that’s different, feels more personal. you still want him to have access to you and vice versa, assuming he didn’t block you first.

backing out of his contact, you leave his number untouched and sigh. if you thought it was over before, it truly is now.

fourteen days turns into twenty-six, but you’re not counting. it’s been school, school, school, for you, and if you’re not on campus then you’re most likely asleep, unless it’s the weekend. you find things to occupy your two days off, like doing things with seulgi when she’s not with her boyfriend, or taking yourself out. you’ve been getting your hair done lately, wanting to change something in your control.

you drain the last of your coffee and rinse out the mug in the sink. an unfolded bag of laundry waits to be put away, on the couch, and you saunter over to it and pick it up and take it to your room.

you dump the bag onto your bed and start separating your clothes into piles. you get into a zone until you pick up a tshirt that is far too big and not yours, and purse your lips. you toss it into its own pile and search for the rest of the clothes in the pile that belong to him, which is a lot more than you care to admit.

folding everything neatly, you snap a picture and open your messages with him. your stomach roils at the thought of texting him, your last messages being nearly a month ago, from the night you ruined everything.

you chew on your bottom lip for a while before saying ‘fuck it’ and sending him the picture of his folded clothes and a message.

yn: hey these are yours. can i drop them off later?

chanyeol: yep. i can give you your things too. does 4 work?

yn: yes

chanyeol: see you later

you blow out a breath. you didn’t think he would respond so quickly and be so complying. had it been the other way around, you would’ve hoped he’d ship you your stuff in the mail so you didn’t have to deal with him. but now you have 6 hours to stress about seeing him since that fateful day at the drug store.

and those six hours roll around quickly, so quickly that you’ve changed your outfit twice, unsure of what you should look like when you see him. you decide on jeans and black cropped tshirt, and some sneakers. you figure it’s a regular enough outfit, and stuff his clothes into a tote bag before leaving your room.

“i’ll be back,” you say to seulgi, who sits on the couch, painting her nails. she looks up and waves, her eyes traveling to the full bag in your hands. “dropping off some stuff to chanyeol.” you clarify.

she raises an eyebrow. “you’re dropping off stuff?” she questions. you nod and her eyebrow manages to go up higher. “you sure that’s all?” she says, almost like she can see right through you, and the fact that you put on a matching set underneath your clothes—just in case.

“and i’m picking up my stuff,” you manage, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“do you plan to go inside?” she asks, and you hate this interrogation, but she’s seen you mope for nearly a month over him. you shrug and she sighs, going back to her nails. “just be… careful. i’ll call if i get worried, you know.”

you smile a small smile at her words. “i know. bye,” you leave after that and head down to you car. you take a deep breath before you put the key in the ignition, feeling many things at once. your stomach flips wildly and your hands are clammy at the mere thought of going to his house to see him.

you drive too fast for somebody who is supposedly just going to drop off items to their ex. you really shouldn’t be this… energized at seeing him, since you two didn’t exactly end on good terms. you told him to get out the first time and the second time you solidified that you’re both single. sometimes you wish you could bite your tongue more.

his neighborhood comes into view quickly, and when you hook the left onto his street your heart leaps into your throat. you drive slow down to his house and parallel park you car on the curb in front of his mailbox. this is one of the few times you’ve been here alone to see him, your toyota looking out of place in a neighborhood where the average car owned is a mercedes.

getting out, you grabs the bag of clothes and hold it tightly in your hands, taking ginger steps up his driveway to his door. you suck in a breath when you knock three times, and clutch the bag to your midsection.

the door swings open and you feel your knees buckle when you see chanyeol. mild shock passes on his face like he forgot you were coming over, and then he checks his watch. “hey, sorry i lost track of time,” he says, awkwardly standing in the door way. he looks at you, eyes quickly giving you a once over before they land on the bag in your hands. “shit, let me grab your stuff. do you want to come in?” he asks, already moving out of the way before you have the chance to respond.

your feet take you into his house before your brain can process what’s really happening. “i’ll be right back,” he says, jogging up his stairs while you stay in place in the corridor. you peek your head out to look in the living room to note any major changes and see one. you feel like there may be something different about his kitchen, but he’s already bounding back down the stairs when you think about looking. “here you go.” he says, extending the clothes to you.

you pull open the tote bag and try to grab his clothes, but the bag isn’t wide enough so they fall back in, most of them unfolding. chanyeol takes the bag from you and holds it open so you can grab them easily. it’s not even been 5 minutes, and you’re already embarrassing yourself.

“sorry,” you cringe when you hand him his unfolded clothes before you put your own in the bag.

chanyeol gives you a small, reassuring smile that makes your pulse skyrocket and you avert your eyes. “it’s fine,” he says but it only makes you flush more. “how are you? how’s school?” he asks.

“uh, fine and fine. i’m taking bullshit classes for the credit, so,” you say, shrugging. “you?”

chanyeol shrugs too, a small smile still on his face. “same old stuff; i’m helping kai produce some songs, getting sehun in the studio more now,” he says. you nod awkwardly look around, not really knowing what to say. chanyeol leans against the wall and slots his clothes underneath his armpit and presses it to his side so they don’t fall. “you seeing anybody?” he asks suddenly, making your eyes snap up to him, narrowing immediately.

“is that really any of your business?” you question, defense all in your voice. chanyeol shrugs, as it to say ‘i’m just asking’. “we’re not together.”

“obviously not,” he laughs, but he doesn’t find it funny. it actually makes him mildly sick to be reminded of it, for it to be said out loud by you of all people, because he had every intention of coming back to you until you seemingly called it quits for good. “but i saw that video.” chanyeol adds, his tone more serious.

“and i saw you buying condoms,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“okay, but you’ve never danced with me like that,” he says, a hint of jealousy in his voice that you are definitely not imagining. you scoff at his words and shake your head.

“we’ve never gone out together, and the one time we happened to be out at the same time, we’d just met and then fucked in your car.”

chanyeol gives you a look that makes your face fall, one that makes you want to ball your hands into fists. he rubs underneath his lip and glances down at his feet. “what?” you ask, daring him to say what’s on his mind.

“nothing,” he says, brushing you off. you stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to look at you but he doesn’t.

“i’m not like that,” you say, frowning.

“i know,” he lifts his eyes to you and your draw your bottom lip in. it’s gets silent again, and you wonder if this is a good moment for you to make your escape, but you don’t really want to.

“are you seeing anybody?”

“no,” his response sounds honest, but you don’t completely believe it because of what you saw.

“i saw you buying condoms, chanyeol,” you say, pressing your lips together. he rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair.

“yeah, because i plan to practice safe sex in the future, y/n—whether that’s with you, or with somebody else,” your cheeks flush at his words and a knot forms in your stomach. you don’t know whether to be semi flattered, or gutted knowing that there will be others after you, like there were before you.

“well, we’re not having sex,” you declare, and chanyeol shrugs.

“that’s fine.”

it’s fine, but somehow you end up face-down-ass-up on his bed, his palm pressing on your tailbone to give you a deeper arch as he pounds into you. with every thrust into you, a desperate mewl leaves your mouth.

chanyeol has a right grip on your hips to keep you in place every time you try to run away from him. he yanks you back and tells you to stay with him, to take it because he knows you can, and you’re not used to me anymore? you only cry out his name in response, tears prickling in your eyes.

“fuck,” he spits when his shirt keeps getting in the way of seeing where you to connect, whenever he pushes into to you. his momentum barely falters as he puts the hem in between his teeth to keep the material out of the way. both of you aren’t even fully undressed, that’s how rushed it was; you’re still in your top and thong, the tiny material being pushed aside so he can enter you, and him his tshirt. it’s the first time—other than the night you met—that neither of you are fully bare, and you can’t tell if that’s a sign that he doesn’t deem you worthy of getting undressed, or if it’s a sign that you’re about to start over.

it’s also one of the few times he’s started with doggy first. chanyeol alwyas liked to look at you; always liked you on top of him or under him, but he liked to see your face the most. you don’t know if it’s a slight that he has you turned away from him, or if he just wanted to watch your ass move.

“ch-chanyeol—fuck!” tears stream down your cheeks and you grip the sheets tightly, trying to pull your body away from him but he yanks you back in place. you cry out his name and hate how desperate you sound, like you’ve never been fucked a day in your life. you bury your face into a pillow, but he rips that away from you too.

“wan’ hear you,” he mumbles, continuing to slam into you. you can only curse and clench around him in response, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter as he goes on with his mission to touch your spleen (at least that’s what it feels like).

“g-gonna c-cum,” you hiccup, whining out his name when he snakes an arm around your front and starts flicking on your clit. the stimulation makes you clench your eyes shut and tense around him, gasping before crying out his name as you gush all over him.

you expect him to stop, but he fucks you through it, never stopping his ministrations on your clit. “please, yeol!” you beg, feeling your legs start to shake as another wave of deep pleasure comes over you.

“you can do it, baby,” he grunts, running a hand up your back before gently pressing down on your spine. the pet name makes you whine dramatically and release once again, white liquid running down your thighs.

he finally pulls out when you beg him again, feeling too hot and overstimulated. you crumple onto the bed and roll onto your back, trying to regain your breath. you hear chanyeol shift next to you and then he taps you on the knee. “you alright?” he asks.

“give me a minute,” you croak, licking your dry lips. your body feels like you’re running a fever, and you sit up to pull off your top before flopping back down.

chanyeol gives you a literal minute before tapping you again. “are you gonna be okay?”

“yes, i’m just so fucking hot right now,” you say, blowing air into your face.

“you wanna take a break?” he asks and you crack an eye open to look at him. his shirt is off and his dick is still hard in the condom. you take his comment as a challenge, being that he’s never asked if you’ve needed a break before. maybe he thinks you can’t handle it and have gone soft on him, but you’ll show him otherwise.

“no. come here,” you say with authority. he obliged and crawls on top of you. you pull him down to your mouth and make out with him, hooking a leg over his back. chanyeol kisses down your jaw and to your neck before kissing down through the valley of your breasts. he pulls back and looks down at you, pulling at your bra strap and letting it snap back against you.

“you’re matching,” he comments, glancing down at your underwear. busted.

“so?” you say, reaching for him.

“you said we weren’t having sex,” chanyeol points out, making you let out an exasperated sigh paired with an eye roll. “you wore a thong.”

“i always wear thongs.”

“and we always fuck.”

you roll your eyes again and sit up to take your bra off, tossing it close to his head on purpose. “just shut up and fuck me,” you say, pushing down your underwear. chanyeol pulls it down the rest of the way for you and wastes no more time positioning himself in between your legs.

“y/n,” he groans when he pushes in, tossing his head back. you mouth falls open and you let out s few breathless pants. “shit.” he grunts, looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. you can only stare up at him with wide eyes, clenching right around him like he didn’t just fuck you so hard you felt like you needed an ice bath to recover.

chanyeol pulls in and out of you slowly, trying to hold back from coming too soon. you can see it in his face, the concentration, and it clicks for you. he can’t handle looking at you while he fucks you because he’ll finish too fast. your sex in the past was never quick, but the effort of restraint he’s putting in is something you haven’t seen.

“y-yeol,” you moan, putting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. but he just presses against your lips, his breath fanning your mouth. “faster.” you mumble, tangling a hand in his hair.

he whimpers and pushes himself up on his arms and speeds up just enough to keep himself under control, but you still want more. “more,” you urge, wanting to watch him fall apart because of you, even if you don’t get off before or with him.

“baby,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as he gives you what you ask for. your cry out his name and part your legs wider for him. you lift one onto his shoulder and hook it around the nape of his neck to pull him closer to you, a grunt leaving his lips. “y-y/n, im c-close,” he whimpers, holding onto your thigh that rests near his head.

“yeolie, you feel so good,” you manage, grabbing a handful of the sheets. his hips stutter and he lets out a groan before he cums, his muscles flexing.

you almost smile as he falls apart on top of you, especially knowing that it took looking at you to get there faster.

chanyeol pulls out of you and drops down onto the bed next to you. his chest heaves up and down rapidly and you push hair back from his forehead. “you didn’t come,” he mumbles, reaching out and putting a hand on your stomach.

“no,” you admit. ever the gentleman, he gets up and discards the condom before settling his face in between your legs to return the favor.

after what feels like an eternity, you two decide to give it a rest. “shower?” he asks you, sitting up on the bed. you nod, your inner thighs sticky from all of your shenanigans.

you follow chanyeol to the bathroom on shaky legs and latch yourself onto him once you’re under the water. your arms wrap around his middle and you rest your head against his chest, sighing into him. chanyeol places a kiss on your forehead and you nearly whimper, missing the domesticity of it all.

you two wash up and then he gives you some of his clothes to wear. you smile to yourself at him knowing that you weren’t going to leave so soon. he tells you he’s going to order takeout, since he doesn’t feel like cooking, and passes you his phone to choose what you want to eat.

it’s easy to fall into that old rhythm like no time has passed, and like you didn’t let this whole thing crumble right before you.

while you wait for the food, you ride him on the couch, and then after you eat he fucks you lazily on the counter. your body feels beat up and tired in the best way, and the familiar limp you start to walk with feels good again.

you wake up to the smell of food, your limbs sore as you stretch. the bed is empty next to you, and it takes you a moment to realize that this isn’t your bed or your house. the realization makes you bite your lip, and you slip out of his bed and make your way downstairs.

“good morning,” he greets when you walk into the kitchen, a smile on his face. you return it and he pulls you into him, placing a kiss on your lips that leaves you feeling dizzy and slightly confused, but you don’t say anything. instead, you accept the plate of food he hands you and go sit down at the table.

chanyeol sits down beside you and pulls your legs across his lap, and your fork stills in midair. it’s all overwhelmingly familiar, and you still have yet to discuss where your relationship stands after last night. it wasn’t just sex for you—it never is with chanyeol—and you don’t know if he feels the same way.

you let him talk through breakfast, your mind swimming with thoughts that wonder what this all means. you don’t know if he was just testing you out again, but you don’t think he’d allow you to sleep over, and then cook you breakfast in the morning. you feel lightheaded, like you just got flipped upside down one too many times.

“you alright? what’s on your mind?” his voice takes you out of your head where you feel yourself drowning. he raises his eyebrows at you and you wave your hands in the air vaguely.

“just… thinking,” you try.

“about?”

you let out a breath and scratch the back of your head, pulling your gaze away from him. “um, us,” you say. chanyeol sits back in his seat and clears his throat. “i dont… what does this mean for us? what are we?” you ask helplessy, finally looking at him. chanyeol opens his mouth but closes it almost as quickly.

“i dont know,” he answers. you slump in your chair because you have no idea either.

“well, what do you want?”

you can see the gears turning in his brain and him weighing each response. the tension builds in the room as you stare at him, waiting for his answer to see if it’ll align with yours. “well… i dont really know if i want a relationship right now,” your stomach drops and you blink once, twice. “i like what we did last night, though.” and without actually saying it, he wants you two to be friends with benefits. he wants you, but not all of the extra baggage.

“okay,” you say, discreetly wiping your face and swiping away the tears pooling in your eyes.

“yeah?” he asks, and you nod even though it’s far from what you want. you just want him, and you’ll take what you can get.

you hold back tears as he fucks you on his bed again, but not because it feels so good and like too much at the same time, but because he’s stomping on your heart and doesn’t even realize it. your heart can’t handle a FWBs situation with him since you’re already way into deep with him.

it becomes too much as you think about it, your mind not in the present moment of him thrusting into you. the tears start to fall, one by one, until you’re full on sobbing and covering your face. “w-what’s wrong? am i hurting you?”

“yes!” you cry, and he immediately gets off of you. you roll away from him and curl yourself into a ball, feeling disgusted with yourself that you were willing to let him use you in such a way, dangling your heart on a string in front of you.

“y/n, talk to me,” chanyeol says, putting a hand on your shoulder. you shrug him off like you did during your initial break up, and he feels like he’s getting deja vu again. “please, y/n. talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.” his voice is full of concern because he knows there’s something else that’s really upsetting you.

“i cant do it,” you know you’ll probably lose him for good, but you’re willing to take that risk if you can’t have him the way that you want. you want him next to you in the mornings and calling you in the middle of his day. you don’t want to be a late night though, a booty call, to him. “i just can’t do it.”

chanyeol knows that you’re talking about your little agreement. he knew you’d end up backing out at some point, because he himself can’t even take it that seriously. he knows he’ll just wind up with feelings for you again since they never left.

“that’s okay,” he says, and he means it. your heart is heavy as you sit up and look over at him. chanyeols heart breaks to pieces when he looks into your eyes, feeling guilty for what he’s done. if only he could just confess and be honest about his feelings this time.

your goodbye is quiet and awful, and you feel like digging a hole and putting yourself in it the entire time. you leave feeling empty and hollow, and like you just got ran over by an eighteen wheeler. but hey, at least it wasn’t your fault this time.

#exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo x reader #exo x you #exo smut #exo angst #exo fluff #chanyeol angst #chanyeol smut #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol x you #chanyeol fic #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol imagine #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fluff

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roosterforme · 2 years

Text

Is It Working For You? Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Just in case you need to start at the beginning or visit an earlier chapter, check out my Masterlist!

Summary: As the mission you've been training for is about to begin, you let Bradley know how you feel.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angst, fluff, some swears, adult banter

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Your seat in the Comanche transport was somehow even more uncomfortable than you had anticipated. You were smashed in between Cam and Admiral Simpson, both of whom had managed to fall asleep within minutes of takeoff. You'd only been in the air for an hour, and you were already pleading with your bladder not to let you down.

You knew Bradley, Phoenix and the others had taken off in their Super Hornets just after you had. This mission was so short and specialized, they needed to have you all hop aboard the carrier and then leave again, assuming everything went to plan. You promised your parents you would text them when you landed in Hawaii, just to check in quickly before turning your phone off completely.

And now you were thinking about Bradley's Hawaiian shirts. And his face and his smile. And how great his face, smile and Hawaiian shirts would look on a beach in Hawaii. You briefly wondered if he'd ever been there for fun. Maybe you and he could take a vacation there someday. You were drifting off into a daze, thinking about all of the things he'd told you last night. Being together, missing each other... it had actually all sounded pretty ideal to you too.

Maria, who was sitting across from you, was waving her hand to get your attention. She wiggled her eyebrows, winked and then shrugged. You took that to mean, How was last night?

You sighed and grinned, and then tilted your head and shrugged. She looked a little alarmed and mouthed to you, What happened?

Holding a full conversation without actually talking was a bit challenging, but if anyone could do it, it was the two of you.

You formed your hands into the shape of a heart and held them up.

"You told him?!" she squealed.

"Shhh!" You tried to hush her, not wanting anyone else to hear. Then you shook your head.

Maria's eyes lit up. He told you? she mouthed, miming a swoon. You shook your head again, but you were smiling.

You hazarded a glance at everyone else, none of whom were both awake and paying attention to you. "No, but I know he does."

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

Bradley landed on the Naval airstrip in Hawaii just as the sun was coming up. His jet was very low on fuel, and this would just be a quick stop to refuel before continuing to the carrier. As he flew he only thought about two things; his desire to fly this mission, and the future he desperately wanted. He was trying his best to keep his mind clear, and every time he thought about you, he felt like he could do anything.

He climbed down from his Super Hornet, hoping to catch a glimpse of you on the airstrip. He even took out his phone and thought about texting you, but he needed to get himself used to not being around you for the next little bit. Which kind of sucked. Because the Hawaiian sunrise was beautiful, and he would have loved to watch it with you.

"Rooster!" Phoenix called as she walked toward him from the tower. "Want a coffee?" She handed him a disposable cup before he even answered her. He took a sip. It tasted terrible compared to that fancy French press shit you constantly made at your apartment. God, he already loved your cooking and your fancy coffees.

"Thanks," he managed to tell Phoenix, taking another sip.

"So what's going on? I haven't seen you since Friday night when you left the Hard Deck in a snit. I'm assuming you didn't blow things completely with your dream girl, because she looked pretty mellow when we left this morning, all things considered."

Bradley downed the rest of his coffee in one go. "Last night I told her in no uncertain terms that I want a future with her." He crumbled his coffee cup in his hand.

"Whoa!" Phoenix exclaimed, sloshing coffee onto her boots. "Bradshaw, I never thought I would live to see this day! Holy shit!"

Bradley just smirked at her and put his aviators on as the sun rose higher. "Yeah, well, I guess we'll see what happens. I told her she didn't have to say anything yet; told her I didn't need an answer right now. This all moved really fast. I want her to be sure about me, you know?"

Phoenix just looked at him in awe. "You're like turning into a real adult, Rooster. One with emotional stability and shit."

"Yeah, I guess I am, Nat."

He couldn't help but think that his mom would have been very proud of him.

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

The USS Theodore Roosevelt was like a bustling city. It was your first time on this aircraft carrier, and you got to work as soon as you arrived. It would take about a day to set everything up and make sure all of the interfaces were working correctly for the Daggers mission. Different officers and crew members made their way in and out of the communications room, and you were lost in a sea of names as introductions were made. Thank goodness for name tags, because you really just wanted to focus on your work.

All you could hear for the first few hours that you were setting up your computers was the clipped voice of Cyclone and the soothing tones of Warlock as they strategized with Maverick. It was impossible to keep track of time in a place that was always pretty dark and let in no natural light, but it must have been pretty late.

"You've decided on your teams then?" Cyclone asked Maverick. You were sitting on the floor near them testing your wiring. You looked up and met eyes with Maverick. You didn't know if you were supposed to like him or hate him, but since you were on Team Rooster, you gave him a guarded nod as you returned to your task.

"Yes, I'm all set," Maverick responded after he gave you a brief smile.

Cyclone nodded. "Let's make the announcement tomorrow morning. Then the following day we'll launch the mission. Let's get this over with and get out, the sooner the better."

You wondered if Bradley's name was in Maverick's mind. You wondered what Bradley was doing right now. You hadn't seen him once since you landed on the carrier, but you had seen the fighter jet with his name emblazoned on the side, so he had to be here somewhere. Bottom line, it had been less than twenty-four hours since you'd seen him, and you missed him terribly. You were itching to text him, but you knew he wouldn't have his phone turned on either.

Instead you worked tirelessly for hours, testing your computers and operating systems. Cam and Maria along with some of the engineering staff permanently deployed to this carrier helped get everything in order. Everything needed to be immaculate, and you made sure it was. You answered questions and helped some of the junior officer engineers troubleshoot issues.

You barely made it to your bunk before you were falling asleep, but you were only afforded five hours before your alarms went off. You showered and got yourself dressed in a fresh uniform as quickly as you could, because soon you would at least get to see Bradley, if not actually talk to him.

You tore through the labyrinth of hallways until you found the correct meeting room. You were the only one there besides Maverick and Fanboy, and you were embarrassingly out of breath as you tried to casually strut into the room like it was a completely normal day. "Good morning," you managed to say. Maverick nodded to you with a smile.

"Hey, Lieutenant Y/L/N," Fanboy said with his signature smile before lowering his voice a bit. "If you're looking for Rooster, I'm bunking with him. He was still showering when I left, but he should be here soon."

"Thanks, Fanboy," you replied, looking down at your boots as you felt yourself blush. "And yes, for the record, I was looking for him."

"I could tell. And don't worry, he gets a really stupid look on his face too whenever anyone mentions you around him." Fanboy laughed as you gave him a patronizing look. "I think you two are cute together."

You just shook your head and walked away, watching the door for new arrivals. Maria and Cam arrived, eating protein bars and handing you one. Your hands were starting to shake, from hunger or nerves, you weren't exactly sure. With one minute to spare, Rooster walked in, his gait as confident and graceful as always. And when his smile hit you, all you could think about was kissing him and pulling him down on top of you, feeling his body weight pressing into you. God, you needed to know you'd be able to feel that again.

So when the announcements began, and the teams were about to be named, you felt increasingly torn inside. You hoped you would hear Bradley's name called; you knew how badly he wanted this. You knew it would help him get that promotion, the house, some stability. You knew what that meant for the pair of you. But a tiny part of you was begging and pleading with Maverick to call any other names. Not your Bradley.

You tried to stand as still as possible, listen as much as you could. All you really heard was Payback and Fanboy and Phoenix and Bob as the selections for the Foxtrot teams. You saw the elation on Phoenix's face from across the room. She turned to Bradley and he winked at her, and now he was the one with the hopeful look on his face.

Maverick took his time naming his selection for his wingman, but as soon as you heard him say Rooster, your heart soared at the same time your chin dropped toward your chest. You cautioned a look at Bradley, but his expression had remained neutral. After Cyclone made a few more announcements and doled out orders, everyone started to disperse, and the aviators congratulated each other.

"Looks like your boy really is the best," Cam whispered to you.

"I already knew that." You watched Bradley shake hands with everyone, and you figured it was okay for you to head into the mix and congratulate them as well.

Bradley caught your eye as you walked over with your right hand out. He shook it and held on way longer than was really appropriate as you said, "Congratulations, Rooster. Come back safely."

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

Bradley hadn't been sleeping well on the carrier. First of all, Fanboy snored, loudly. But mostly it was because he was already so used to the way your body felt pressed against him all night. You were like a beautiful heated blanket, and now he felt cold and uncomfortable. And he had to be up and ready to fly in the morning.

He could not believe Maverick had chosen him as wingman over Hangman. He couldn't believe you had chosen him over Hangman either. Maybe he should start being a little nicer to Jake. Poor guy.

Jesus, now Fanboy was talking in his sleep. Bradley hopped out of his bunk and dug around in his bag for some earplugs. Everything he touched in the bag reminded him of you: his flight suit, black tee shirts, his dog tags. He thought about how good you looked when unzipping his flight suit and dropped to your knees in front of him. He pictured you wearing his black tees to bed. He thought about how he really wanted you to wear his dog tags around your bedroom. Just the dog tags, nothing else.

Great, now he had to climb back into bed with a semi. At least the ear plugs were doing the trick. After a while, Bradley finally fell asleep and dreamed of you.

When he woke the next morning, ate breakfast and started on his safety checks, he was feeling a lot better, a lot calmer. When the tower and communications room ran through their tests, he could occasionally hear your voice over the speakers out on the deck. When he checked the audio connection in his helmet, he heard you there too. He smiled every time.

There was a lot of commotion as crew members ran about, setting up the catapults and arresting cables that would be used multiple times today as a part of this mission. It struck Bradley as crazy how many people were part of this operation, and he counted himself lucky that he had met you in the middle of it all.

When he saw Maverick starting on his own checks, Bradley made his way over toward him. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, knowing there was a lot he should say, a lot he actually found that he wanted to say, to Captain Mitchell. Maybe he secretly hoped there was a chance at some sort of friendship, or at least a ceasefire between them. At the very least, it would be nice to be able to have a decent conversation with the man who had loved both of his parents so much when they were alive.

He hoped so. As he approached Maverick, the loud speakers alerted the aviators to the final procedures that needed to be started, and he barely got to say anything. But he and Maverick agreed that there would be time to talk afterwards, something that Bradley was more than okay with. Then Maverick looked him in the eye and told him, You've got this. And honestly, Bradley believed him.

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

Your eyes were glued to one of the monitors in the communications room. You were able to watch the aviators on deck, climbing into their aircrafts. Bradley's graceful movements as he climbed into his Super Hornet made you smile a bit, even though your nerves were already completely frayed. You'd never, ever felt this shaky on any other Top Gun missions you had been part of. You watched as crew members helped the pilots and weapons systems officers get settled into their cockpits.

Suddenly your stomach lurched as you watched Maverick's jet being loaded into a catapult. You checked a different monitor and saw that Bradley's canopy was closing as he signaled to Hondo on deck. This was really happening. It was time.

"Final communications check," Cyclone called over the soft conversations around you, and everyone immediately went silent.

That was your cue, but you honestly felt sick as you opened your mouth and barely managed to say, "Yes, sir."

You started with the Tower, pressing the controls in front of you and making sure they could hear everyone else who was linked up. "Communications to Tower, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Communications. We are a Go."

Then you checked in with Dagger Spare, Dagger One, Dagger Three and Dagger Four. After hearing back with perfect clarity from Hangman, Maverick, Phoenix and Payback, you pressed the controls one last time to check in with Bradley. You had saved him for last, because apparently you felt like torturing yourself as much as possible today.

Your voice was not quite steady as you said, "Dagger Two, this is Communications. Do you copy?"

Bradley replied immediately, that slightly raspy voice making your heart pound faster. "Copy that. I hear you loud and clear, Lieutenant Y/L/N." His voice sounded like he was smiling, and a small laugh startled out of you. You turned to check the monitor that gave you a view of him in his cockpit as they moved him to the second catapult. He was in fact smiling.

His smile made your heart ache. His words echoed in your mind nonstop now. You're it for me, Baby Girl.

You were so scared, but it was even scarier to not tell him how you felt. You knew everyone was listening. Literally a hundred people were included in this broadcast. And you knew all of these conversations were being recorded for safety and security. But you didn't really care.

"Hey, Dagger Two?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Y/L/N?"

"I... I just wanted to say that, you know all that stuff that you said? Everything you told me? Before?"

Bradley paused, and you checked the monitor to see him nodding to himself before he said, "Yes. What about it, Lieutenant?"

From where they stood Warlock was giving you a weird look, and Cyclone was giving you the hand gesture for let's move things along.

You took a deep breath, your voice steadier now. "I know that you said you didn't need a guarantee, but I want to give you one. I want you to know that everything you said sounds exactly perfect to me. I want everything you want."

There was only a brief pause. "Copy that, Lieutenant. I heard you loud and clear," Bradley replied, and you saw on the screen that he had a huge smile on his face before he secured his mask over his mouth.

You barely had a moment to absorb Bradley's response before Cyclone was calling out the final commands and giving the signal to send the Daggers into the air, officially beginning their mission.

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

You finally said, something. Damn! Also, obviously there are some massive TGM spoilers here. And I hope I'm doing justice to the existing TGM plot for these chapters.

If you've been reading along this far, THANK YOU! I really appreciate you! Leave me some love, and I'll be wrapping this series up soon.... BUT, that's not all we're going to see from these two....

Check out Part 16

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun fanfiction #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #rooster fanfic #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x reader

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weirdmarioenemies · 1 year

Photo

Name: Mr. Frosty

Debut: Kirby’s Adventure

Happy Funny Walrus Friday! Here is this week’s Funny Walrus, my personal favorite of all the Funny Walruses we have covered and will ever cover here on funnywalrusesposting.tumblr.com! Mr. Frosty is an ultimate classic funny walrus, one dear to me for most of my life now, and he does it all with a complete lack of tusks. This is just a testament to his potency!

Mr. Frosty has been a mid-boss since nearly the very beginning, and of course he always brings with him frosty abilities! If a Kirby game has mid-bosses, Mr. Frosty is nearly ALWAYS there! And if Mr. Frosty is there, he WILL flaunt his buttocks.

Mr. Frosty’s big blue butt is an integral aspect of his character! He is evidently SO proud of it! In later appearances, this blue section would be depicted as a patch sewn onto his pants, but in earlier ones, it’s unclear if that was the case, or if both buttocks are always just hanging out. They sure are shiny!

He shows off his considerable rear shelf when readying an ice cube to throw, so it seems like he’s not INTENTIONALLY showing off his rear, right? Just leaning over and they happen to be there?

Well, in his first 3D appearance, Mr. Frosty outright slaps that thing any chance he get! No accident here! He’s a cheeky guy and there’s no denying it any longer!

Ok, I’m done talking about this pinniped posterior now. Sorry. There’s just so much material. Look at this hat from Battle Royale! Now Kirby can dress as the funny man himself! Shall we get another angle?

Ok NOW I’m done I swear!!!

Very sadly, we have never been able to play as Mr. Frosty... this early image from the cancelled Kirby’s Air Ride may indicate he could have been playable there, but we may never know for sure! But then...

Kirby Star Allies, the game where nearly any ability-yielding enemy can be befriended and playable, including mid-bosses, depicting Mr. Frosty as 100% friendable! Could it be...?

It can’t be. That’s not him. I love Chilly! I love him a lot! But we have been able to play as him before, and he is not Mr. Frosty. Mr. Frosty is the ONLY mid-boss in the game who is not playable, and remains unplayable to this very day. But, at least we got the next best thing...

Behold! An extremely wonderful image! In Forgotten Land, Mr. Frosty joins the Beast Pack, becoming Wild Frosty! Nothing seems to change about his personality, since he acts the same and is said to still be jolly and beloved by all is coworkers. But look at his new ice tusks! He’s So Cool. And look in the bottom left! The new Frosty Ice ability is basically a Mr. Frosty ability! A very cute knitted hat in his likeness, and the ability to create absolutely precious snowruses! The description even states that Mr. Frosty must be so proud of these snowruses, so I guess using this ability makes you like his apprentice! I love to put the snowruses in funny situations.

Name: Mr. Flosty

Debut: Kirby and the Amazing Mirror

Sadly, Amazing Mirror had a glaring lack of Frosty, but at least they made up for it with something almost as good- Mr. Flosty! Obviously, this is Mr. Frosty’s Mirror World counterpart, who is all about dental hygiene!

Name: Mr. Floaty

Debut: Super Kirby Clash

Wouldn’t you know it, Mr. Frosty is not the only funny walrus around! (not that there are unfunny walruses) Mr. Floaty is here to have some summer fun! Please direct him to the nearest pool! He is really just a water variant of Mr. Frosty, but he IS a distinct character, and I love him!

While we never get much insight into Mr. Frosty’s actual character, something always important to note with Kirby characters is the distinction of gameplay and story, mainly in regard to the roles of enemy characters. He may be a mid-boss, but I really don’t think Mr. Frosty is a Bad Guy. From the description of Wild Frosty, he in fact seems to be very friendly and nice! That’s exactly how he should be. Ideally, though, I think he should also be an ice cream vendor. That would suit him perfectly. I think he would love nothing better than scooping up smiles!

Finally, Mr. Frosty is real now! Thank goodness. And yes, yes, you don’t need to ask!

It is accounted for!

#mr frosty #mr floaty #wild frosty #kirby #kirbys adventure #kirby enemies #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

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lovesclinic · 1 year

Text

Bunny

aaron hotchner x cute neighbor!reader

summary: His sweet little neighbour, always picking jack up from school and baking with him, trying to teach him long division. so when aaron’s son was gone from home, where would he be?

📝 hi i hope you like!! i took inspo from lots of things on here so lmk if it’s too basic. let me know your thoughts. if you reblog or comment ily! (no warnings just fluff) also reader is a bit shy? sunshine x grumpy in a way if you wanted to categorise it :)

the familiar chime of your doorbell rings, and at first you do your best to just ignore it.

while living alone had its upsides, and you lived in a safe neighbourhood, opening your door on a friday night dressed in your matching button up bunny patterned pjs was not ideal. You had finally found to time to crack open that bottle of wine, and while you weren’t scantily clad by any means, your pj shorts bared your upper thighs and probably most of your behind. Besides, you were relaxing, ready to watch some trashy tv like love island, you didn’t feel like interrupting your lovely routine by opening the door and getting murdered.

the ring of your doorbell paused before a knock respunded through your home, followed by, “it’s hotchner. aaron.”

the gravely voice, husky and low, belongs to your neighbour. “m’ just a minute!”

you scrambled to the door, standing there just a moment, reconsidering every life choice that has let you to be standing in your bunny pjs in front of your super hot neighbour.

his eyes do little to conceal the little once over he gave your figure, you knew he worked at the FBI but damn he must be bad at it if you could read his micro expressions.

He appears to notice that you observed it as they drop and then proceed to climb your body once again. “Is Jack here?” he asks after giving a slight head shake, as if chastising himself. for what, you weren’t sure.

you lean your shoulder against the door, attempting to slacken your jaw as jack had taught you, essentially blanking your face of tells. “did he say that he was?”

Aaron’s eyes asses you as you ask the obvious, why would he ask if he’s here if he wasn’t. “yes.”

“well.. m’ sorry but he, isn’t..” hearing your genuine apology, he feels bad that his rebellious son had once again decided to use you, their sweet neighbour, as a scapegoat.

he only sighs in response. a tired, disappointed sigh, that made you reassess how gruelling his job must be. he’s clearly exhausted.

“i don’t have a clear schedule for work so he didn’t know what time i’d be back.” he starts a few times more before seemingly rethinking his words within his mind before expressing them with a sigh, “but — i still don’t understand why he’d lie to me.”

you stood for just a moment, turning over every possibility in your mind. jack wasn’t a bad kid, not mean at all, he was constantly over at your house. his father, not so much.

“any special dates coming up?”

a frown marra his face, and it’s clear that’s a common expression for him, you only wished to see him smile. “well — my birthday is next thursday but,”

“well there you go!” you could almost bounce on the spot from glee, you had been able to help the tired father with at least one small thing. aaron could barely conceal the hearts in his eyes let alone the blush beginning to cover the entirety of his worn face at the sight of your exitedness. and your thighs moving up and down with the rest of your body, well he was entranced.

“he’s getting you a gift aaron.”

he stalled for just a second at the sound of his name on your lips, he wanted to record it and play it every night and morning for the rest of his life.

“oh that boy, i swear i’m going to die of stress one day from all he puts me through.” the tall man in front of you runs his hand over his hair before continuing,

“he’s way to good of a liar too, he was all,” suddenly his voices switched to imitate that of his son, squeaky and slow, “ohh i just have to go to miss sunshine’s house!”

laughter sounded from your mouth with no filter, boisterous and down right happy. hotch swears that he had never met someone able to make him smile so quickly. he was just glad the team wasn’t here tk witness ths. party due to his embarrassingly flustered state, and partly because he wished to keep you for himself.

You say, "jack wants to make a surprise for you.” It prompts him to smile, which makes you feel a little weak in the knees.

he’s going to leave. it after swallowing all the anxiety being in his presence caused, you open your mouth once again. “Is it, y’know, hard? being a dad?"

“well, jack makes it a bit easier.” The truth in his statements makes you smile. "I can tell it takes work," you reply, knowing he works hard at his job, and with Jack, hearing from the boy himself nearly every day about the ling calls with his dad or the adventures he takes him on, and the stories he tells him before bed.

He grins once again. You point to the wine displayed linley with just one glass, on top of the counter behind you and say, "Well—I had just opened that before you rang the bell. "Want a drink? I can't help you unless you tell me you're a "only beer" kind of person."

after flying back on a nine hour flight and a particularly awful case, the last thing he wanted was to have to attempt to keep up with all the awkward small talk. but it was you. and jack loved you. so if it was anyone else no, but because it was you,

“i would actually really like that,” he doesn’t step in just yet, instead glancing at your attire, the slight upturn of his mouth paired with the taunting look in his eyes indicates you of his thoughts.

“— bunny.”

#aaron hotch x reader #x sunshine reader #shy reader #sunshine reader #grumpy x sunshine #oneshot #hotch fluff #behavioural analysis unit #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #neighbours #bunny girl #bunny #nicknames

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lunathebee · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Warning: none just cheesy fluff

A/n: I love lego flowers so much but its so heckin expensive in my country ugh, i changed the plot a tiny bit if u dont mind @spicydonut25

Summary: Y/n brings the perfect gift for Steven on their date.

Meeting Steven was strange, and dating him is even stranger. The British man seems to drive Y/n crazy (in the best way possible) because he doesn't fit in any male category that the internet offers.

Y/n's eyes are starting to get tired from looking at the laptop's screen, scrolling mindlessly through the lists of gifts that everyone thinks are good ideals for a man. But they're all wrong! This is not any man; this is Steven! For God's sake, he doesn't need perfume or a pair of sneakers.

Y/n cursed under her breath. She wants to get the perfect gift for Steven; the poor guy should keep a random trinket she found at his table like a lucky charm.

*ting*

The sound catches Y/n's attention. Quickly tossing the laptop aside, she reaches for the phone to see what's up.

*Hi Im just texting to make sure our date are on Friday 7pm this week yea?*

It seems to be a text from Steven himself; he always wants to double check everything and tries his best to be on time. Y/n can't help smiling while tapping the screen and typing back a reply.

*Yep, im looking forward to meet u soon <3*

Steven replied almost immediately after, but instead of making Y/n happy, it made her stomach churn with anxiety.

*Me too, got a small surprise for you*

Y/n sighed tiredly; she can't believe Steven had already gotten her a present, and here she is, on her bed, with a blank mind. Would a new jacket do the trick? or a bag? or maybe something for little Gus.

Y/n returns to scrolling on her laptop, looking at the many items that flash on the shopping website. And just when she thinks her luck has run out, she notices something.

Lego.

Not only Lego, but Lego's flowers! The store even had the flowers that Steven gifted Y/n on their first date, the type of flowers that Steven was so determined to get that he ran to five different stores to find them and almost missed the date.

Y/n smiles to herself while thinking back on the memories. This sure would be a very thoughtful gift for Steven, and plus, his desk will look better with it as a decoration (not a random trinket).

Feeling satisfied, Y/n added the lego set to her cart and completed the payment, thinking about how happy her lover would be.

===☾︎ ☾︎ ☾︎===

"You're early!" Y/n exclaimed when she arrived at the spot and already saw Steven sitting there, waiting for her. "Traffic is terrible; I should have left the house earlier."

"No, no, it's alright, you're right on time." Steven smiled and stood up to hug Y/n, sneaking in a quick kiss on her cheek too.

"Oh and here," Steven said, letting go of his lover and reaching into the pocket, pulling something out to show. "A present, as promised."

It was a beige box with silk ribbon wrapped around it, forming a bow. Y/n's face lit up when she eagerly took the box from Steven's hand, quickly unwrapping it. "A keychain! of my favorite animal!" Y/n said out loud before holding it near her eyes, seeing how the glitter sparkled under the street light.

Steven swears it's the most beautiful sight ever, seeing how excited Y/n is over his small gift. It's not very exaggerated to say he is a bar of ice cream and Y/n is the sun, the way he melted for her but still wants to admire her forever.

"Oh, I've got something for you too!" Y/n held up a paper bag and smiled shyly. "It arrived a bit late, so I don't have time to wrap it properly, sorry."

Steven mumbled a quick "it's okay" before saying thank you and taking the bag from Y/n's hand. The moment he looks inside to see what it is, his eyes widen with shock.

"A..No way! Is this for me, darling? Lego?! Oh, hang on now, let me take a better look...Lego's flower! Oh...wow.." Steven can't help his excitement upon seeing the gift; he had seen some kids bring some sort of blocky toy like this to the museum but never dared ask what it is.

"So this is... popular among kids, right?" He asked, fingers trading the display picture of the box.

"Hmm, I would say so, but this one is for adults; it contains a lot of pieces."

"Oh geez, I appreciate it, but why don't you just buy something cheaper? Like...real flowers? I love anything, as long as it's from you." Steven blushed while saying this and looked down at his lap; he has this bad habit of avoiding eye contact whenever he is nervous and can't seem to quit it.

But Y/n never mind; instead of getting mad, she put her hand on Steven's cheek, slowly guiding his head so that he looked at her.

"Real flowers will wither, but this one won't; it will stay forever, like my love for you."

#steven grant x y/n #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader #moon knight headcanon #moon knight fic #the moon boys #the moon boys x reader #mcu x reader #mcu fic #mcu headcanons #mcu imagine

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whatislovevavy · 1 year

Text

I. Piña Coladas and NATOPS

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x afab!pilot!reader

Summary: Mustang and Hangman have had sexual tension since the night they met at the Hard Deck at the start of a high-risk assignment. Each interaction further solidifies your callsign in the best ways.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings:

First part: Sexual tension, smitten and sexually frustrated Hangman, swearing, initially shy reader

Future parts: Sexual tension, swearing, smitten and sexually frustrated Hangman, swearing, and mildly insecure and shy reader, smut; p in v, oral (fem + male) receiving, dirty talk, dom!Jake, hint of sub!Jake

Author’s note: This is the first real fanfiction piece I’ve published. Frankly, I’m not even surprised it's essentially build up for Hangman porn, I’m such a whore for that man it’s not even funny. Also, I’m a proud horse girl so there are some horse things dribbled into the plot. There will be multiple parts because it got hella long as just one fic, so let me know if any of y’all would be interested in reading more parts of this. I did my best to make Mustang’s physical attributes as ambiguous as possible when it came to descriptions to make it more inclusive to the reader. I want to get better at this so please feel free to leave constructive criticism or something you thought was strong or weak with the piece. Please be kind with criticisms. I'm sensitive. I’d like to thank @call-sign-jinx and @sebsxphia for betaing (?) each part of this fic, they’re both really sweet and write some good shit on their blogs, so be sure to check them out.

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook

These characters, except for Mustang, are obviously not my own. This is an 18+ fanfic so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation.

Happy reading :)

____

Play a few rounds of pool and darts with his teammates. Throw back a few beers. Find a beautiful woman to warm his bed before his assignment started. That was his ideal night and usually what he wanted, he got.

That was his only plan tonight and he intended to savor every minute checking off each box. He already had the first two accomplished.

A sweet smile and bright eyes paired with a honey-like voice pulled you from his periphery to the center of his attention. Your dress flared around your waist like falling blossom petals and left just enough to the imagination. It was cute and flirty; it sparked something deep in him as he let his eyes unashamedly wander the fabric marked by pink, purple and blue hues. You screamed new, he would definitely have remembered you if you had stepped foot in the navy bar before; you’d be an awfully pretty notch in his bedpost, he thought to himself.

Your quiet and reserved presence made you blend in within the cacophonous Friday night of the Hard Deck. Well, except for him. It was comical watching you try to place your order, struggling to speak up above everyone else at the bar top. Evidently, more of a wallflower, settling near the pool tables and jukebox, nursing a Piña Colada. He caught you observing his pool game with earnestness. Your unique choice of drink, considering that most ordered beers, whiskey neats, and rum and cokes, drew him in. You made eye contact with him at his place at the pool table as he was lining up his winning shot, sending a smirk with a wink as he sank it in with a resounding clank. Every pore in his body seeped charisma and confidence, your eyes darted away, studying your drink as a blush dusted your cheeks.

"Better luck next time, Harvard", Jake said smirking with an extended hand, keeping his eyes on where you were leaning against the wall, now close enough to see the hydrangea flowers gracing your dress that reminded him of his mother’s garden back home in Texas. A begrudged Harvard placed a 20 in his palm, cursing to himself. He was about to request a rematch, but Jake was already swaggering his way to your spot near the jukebox.

Harvard, Halo, Payback, Fanboy, and Coyote watched on with amusement; Jake had a reputation and it was always a source of entertainment for his fellow aviators when he crashed and burned. Bets were thrown around as he made his way to you.

You looked up from your drink and met his gorgeous ever-green forest eyes, panty-dropper smile, and frame that towered over your own. The typically unflattering, standard beige uniform only added to his sex appeal. The material clung to his thick thighs, broad shoulders, and toned biceps deliciously. You resisted your thighs clenching together at the sight of him. A small part of you wanted to caress the balloon of his ego, before popping it with a needle, but a bigger part wanted to succumb to him.

You knew that he was only looking for someone to warm his bed and that this wasn't his first time trying. You didn’t know how to handle this. Sure, you had been hit on in bars and bases before, but this felt different. He was exponentially sexier. Feeling your nerves skyrocket, you would be lucky if you could get a sentence out. Besides, you weren't a hook-up kinda person and he was obviously a cum-and-go kind of man, a being omnipotent in the ways of the man-whore.

"Well, what is a gorgeous woman like yourself doing all alone?" A smooth southern drawl caressing your ears, demanding your attention to his.

You looked at him with a shy gleam in your eye and a blush dusting your cheeks, admiring his eyes, perfect hair, and sharp jawline. "Just enjoying a drink at a new place... and your pool game", you spoke softly, giving him a shy smile, feeling the material of your dress with your free hand and a blush blooming on your cheeks. Sensing more eyes weighing on you, you quickly diverted your attention to his spying teammates. All quickly focused their attention away from the two as you met Jake's eyes once again.

"Well, I’m glad I had the privilege to entertain you,” he winked, “you got quite the drink there,” playfully gesturing to the contents in your glass.

"I guess I kind of stick out like a sore thumb huh?", ending with a nervous chuckle, feeling the heat rise to your face, focusing your attention on the pale yellow, nerve-numbing elixir for what felt like the 20th time this evening.

God, why'd you have to get like this?

It only happened when interacting with people and thankfully not when you were handling a multi-million-dollar F-18 Super Hornet at 8,000 feet or handling a wild mustang in a round pen back on your family's homestead. It was just something you couldn't shake and had always struggled with.

Despite this, you were an outgoing and competitive person, but it only showed in certain cases.

His mischievous smirk widened; you were cute. He'd give you that. You’d be perfect moaning his name under him.

"Do you have a name? Something I can call you by, Darlin'?"

You took a sip, "Mustang".

He admired your alcohol-glazed lips and thought about how your lips would taste, complemented by the sweet flavors of coconut and pineapple with the infusion of spiced rum.

"Mustang", he tried out a suggestive smile adorning his face. His seductive, smooth voice tinged with his southern drawl made your heart flutter a little. “Well, that's a name you don't hear very often. Your mom work with wild horses or somethin’?``His voice tinged with humor, leaning his elbow on the jukebox as he punched in a few numbers.

The early beats of a rock song resonating in the packed bar.

“It's not- It’s my call sign. I grew up on a mustang rescue, working with them and it stuck at the Naval Academy and Top Gun."

Top Gun? He looked a bit taken aback. You didn't really fit the type given how shy you appeared. What are the chances you were on the mission with him? He kept that to himself for the time being.

“You seem surprised to hear that”, you asked with a touch of humor, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, preparing to deal with the ever-present sexism of your job.

“No offense, just not used to seeing accomplished pilots being shy and sporting beautiful sundresses. Don’t get me wrong it’s an appreciated surprise.”

A self-assured smirk graced his carefree features paired with appreciative eyes roaming your exposed collarbones and a tasteful glimpse of your cleavage.

You let out a small laugh, facing your cup and turning back up to gaze into his spring grass green eyes. It was addicting having this effect, appearing one thing but being an entirely different animal underneath. “Well, what can I say, I’m full of surprises.”

"Well, I certainly don't mind that", Jake said with his sly smile as he inched closer to your side of the jukebox. If Jake Seresin had to have a weakness, it was sundresses and women who surprised him.

You felt yourself heat up, taking a drink to calm your nerves, trying to salvage your dignity.

"What about you, have a name? Callsign? Something I can call you by, Darlin'?" You asked, comically mimicking his drawl, testing the waters, feeling the rum easing your nerves. He was broken from his thoughts and felt a smile grow on his face.

"You're funny, sweetheart. Name's Hangman but you can call me Jake for later activities… If that’s what you prefer". His tone is low and sultry, leaning his body onto his strategically placed hand by your head with the same gorgeous smile and playful eyes.

Your eyes diverted from his and skimmed his nametag and badges at eye level; Lieutenant Seresin.

If he hadn't piqued your interest and set your nerves alight, the bare innuendo would have made you balk and slap his perfect face. But he’d probably enjoy that.

Jake waited with slightly raised eyebrows and awaiting eyes for your response, enjoying your flustered state. He could smell the soft lavender shampoo from where he stood. You could smell his cologne; a distinct soothing aroma of cedar wood, ginger, cloves, and bergamot. You resisted letting his scent and close proximity make you feel warm inside.

"That's fairly bold of you to assume that there will be later activities”. A hushed voice paired with a playful gleam flashed in your eyes.

"Well, what can I say? I got my favorite song playing and I'm a hopeful man, especially with that beautiful number on", as he skimmed you up and down appreciatively, eyes landing on your soft breasts, kissable lips, and your clothed hips he wanted to squeeze as he grazed your cheek with his smooth fingertip to push some hair behind your ear. Your eyebrows rose in interest.

“Wanna know why it's my favorite song?” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, tone rich with sensuality, smirking as he felt your breath hitch.

“I’ll give you a hint, it's called Slow Ride.”

Your stomach flipped, feeling your face heat up under his dark jade gaze.

He had you right where he wanted you.

You released a shaky breath, lifting your gaze to the fine features of his face, “That sounds awfully tempting….”

“Hangman”, he added confidently, the same want swimming under the crystal lattices of his emerald eyes.

He could practically feel the bed sheets around you both, hair splayed around you like a halo as he left marks on your perfect skin.

“Hangman,” you smiled coyly, morphing into a humorous smirk, “but I’ve been in the Navy long enough to know what you’re about and I’m not interested in being your conquest tonight... plus I think my friend just arrived,” feeling a swell of pride seeing the hope of a shared bed dissipating from his eyes as well as his smug smirk, internally wincing at your humbling choice of words.

“But on a side note,” you reached the back of his neck to toy with his short hair, soft like you imagined. His stomach fluttered at the feeling of your soft fingers grazing his skin.

“Why would you let yourself get such a stupid callsign? hmm?” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him with a closed-lip smile quirking around the edges.

He felt like he just got in a car wreck with how much whiplash he just experienced, his mind struggling to keep up.

You quirked your eyebrow, awaiting his response that never came.

“Nothing to say? Hmm? I’ll see you around, Hangover”, patting his cheek lightly, smirking, and shooting him a wink as you brushed against him to get to your feet. He was shocked. He couldn’t bring himself to correct you and it didn’t help that he felt his pants grow a bit tighter. Jake heard his teammates’ snickers, and the passing of cash to the respective collector, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t be mad either; it was like watching a fierce butterfly burst from its cocoon of coy glances and small smiles. He couldn’t get enough and hoped he would see you again as he watched your hips sway as you made your way into the arms of your friend: Phoenix.

—

Hangman was pleased to see you sitting in the front of the mission debrief space with an empty, inviting leather seat on your left, scrolling through your phone on top of the light blue NATOPS copy on your lap.

A soft sigh as he set himself down pulled you from your phone to meet the Nomex-clad pilot’s coltish gaze.

You were frankly a bit surprised; you assumed the killer blow to his ego the night before would have made him never want to speak a word to you again. But like you, he was full of surprises it seemed.

“You need something Hangover?” teasing him, raising your eyebrows inquisitively.

“No, Darlin, just enjoying your company,” he smirked, “and it's Hangman.”

You placed your phone on the table and turned to fully face him. He looked just as good as he did last night, much to your annoyance. You were secretly looking forward to seeing him in an outfit that didn’t flatter him entirely, just so you could have an excuse to not like him.

“Look, I may have been Darlin’ to you last night, but here, now that we know we’re both more than qualified pilots for this mission, I’m Mustang to you, and if you think flirting with me is somehow going to make me overlook your Texas-sized ego and obvious disregard for anyone but yourself, your horribly mistaken.” Your voice stern and eyes sharp, vividly remembering his narcissistic spiel the night before.

He felt his core stir.

His eyebrows furrowed, a hint of a smile developing on his pink lips, his toothpick settling into the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes. His smile growing.

“Your callsign suits you,” he said gazing at you with a foreign look in his eyes, continuing to move the slender piece of wood around his lips, flipping it over with his tongue.

It took every ounce of resolve in your body to avoid gazing down at his soft muscle, twirling the wood expertly.

You scowled, eyebrows furrowed, expecting some form of disrespect to your challenge. But alas, his behavior made you question his mental fitness as a naval aviator.

Interrupted from your thoughts by being called to attention, rising to your feet with the man next to you, admiring his over-compensated straight posture and broad shoulders from the corner of your eye; the best and worst three weeks of your life were beginning.

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #glen powell #tgm #top gun maverick #hangman imagine #jake seresin #hangman smut #jake seresin smut

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loving-bucky-is-easier · 2 years

Text

slipped from your mouth into mine

the one where you have pneumonia

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Sick!Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 838

Warnings: 18+, language, mild angst, reader has pneumonia, brief non-sexual partial nudity, fluff

Minors–this is not for you. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please be discerning. Do not interact.

A/N: Hi, everybody! The stars have aligned to give me the first bits of simultaneous time and inspiration I've had in months (also known as me having pneumonia). I'm not sure how active I'll continue to be after posting this little illness-induced scribble, but I hope you all are well! Come say hello if you feel so inclined 💕

“Is this really necessary?”

You started to squirm in Bucky’s arms, but stilled when he pinched at the back of your thigh.

“Do you still have pneumonia?” he retorted, eyes fixed straight ahead.

You huffed, but it came out as more of a wheeze. “It’s just that I’m already sweaty, and you’re warm, and it’s just a little…”

You trailed off as he dropped his gaze to you. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Bucky–”

“Don’t Bucky me. What the hell were you thinking?” God, that glare could cut glass. A sweat broke across the back of your neck.

“Helen said I could–”

“Helen?” Bucky scoffed. “Oh yes, thank God for Helen. Straight off a mission and all I wanna do is see my girl, but I gotta get cleared by Helen first. Lovely Helen who’s so surprised to hear FRIDAY say you’re in the gym training. ‘Why’s that?’ I ask. Oh, because she’s got fucking pneumonia and she’s supposed to be taking it easy.”

You licked at your chapped lips, trying to piece together some shadow of an excuse, or at least some combination of words that would melt the chill from his gaze.

But none came, and you settled into his even gait as he carried you back to your room.

Even if it hadn’t quite been the reunion you’d been hoping for – him bursting into the gym right as you all but collapsed onto a bench mid-coughing fit had been less than ideal timing – dear God, you were glad he was home. You could feel the tightness in your chest easing ever so slightly, although if that was because you were being carried rather than walking up the stairs yourself, you’d never admit that to Bucky.

Before you’d even fully registered reentering your room, Bucky had plowed through the bathroom door, slammed it behind him, and set you gently on the edge of the tub. He immediately went to the shower and turned the handle as hot as it would go.

“What are you doing?”

Bucky didn’t look at you when he responded, just spoke up enough for his voice to carry over the pounding of the water. “Whenever Steve had pneumonia when we were kids, I use’ta boil a pot of water and make him sit and breathe in the steam. But I figure Stark isn’t too worried about a water bill.”

Ah, fuck.

“Buck,” you said softly. When he didn’t turn to face you, you spoke up a little louder. “Baby?”

Bucky finally abandoned the edge of the shower to stand in front of you, and now the anxiety was plain across his face. You’d mistaken it for anger earlier, but now that he was standing still, you could see the fidgeting in his stance, the shakiness to his breath, the cloudiness in his eyes.

“I swear to you I am fine. Nothing is–” Your breath caught, and you doubled over, wheezing. Bucky was on his knees in front of you before you could blink, grabbing at your hands. You coughed through a few more inhales before you straightened up, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Okay,” you croaked. “Poor timing. Not the most confidence-inspiring. But really.”

“Baby, I’m sorry I’m so panicked I just… It got so bad with Steve and I… I was always there. Even if I couldn’t do much I was there. And for you, I wasn’t.” He scratched at the back of his head. “And you were training? I just need you to take care of yourself.”

Your shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I… I was training to get my mind off you. I did the whole laid up in bed thing and all I could do was think. I thought if I just went for a little while, maybe it would be easier. And I wouldn’t be so worried for you.”

Bucky sighed. “This is what I get for going on missions, huh? Guess you’re not to be trusted.”

You scowled. “I was doing fine. I wouldn’t’ve trained any more anyway. It didn’t work. Still couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He grinned cheekily. “I am rather unforgettable, aren’t I?” You groaned and shoved at his shoulder.

He stood and bent back down to press a kiss to your forehead, and you leaned into his touch. His lips were soft, his breathing steady, and you inhaled deeply.

“I’m really, really glad you’re home,” you whispered.

“And I am really, really glad you’re safe.” He straightened up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “And now we’re gonna get you better.”

For the first time in days it was a relief to find yourself in your bed. Deposited gently on the soft sheets – “Are you just gonna carry me everywhere now? – and relieved of your sweaty work out clothes, you sunk into the pillows.

Bucky joined you a few moments later after tidying up the bathroom and slid next to you, pulling you into his bare chest and wrapping you in his arms.

“Sleep, baby. I’ve got you.”

I have discontinued my tag list. To be notified when I post a fic, follow @loving-bucky-library and turn on post notifications.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x sick!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic

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thewayofthemandalorian · 2 years

Text

afraid to jinx it - oneshot

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: Marcus Moreno needs to return to work, and to do so needs to hire a nanny to care for his young daughter, Missy. He never anticipated falling in love with you, or that you would feel the same.

Word count: 5,354

Notes: Marcus Moreno is 1000% a nanny guy and no one can tell me any differently. I’ve made a few changes to canon with this fic: for starters, Marcus is not a widower but is still a single father; secondly, I’ve aged down Missy to be four years old since I don’t think a 13 year old really needs a nanny and Missy seems pretty independent in the movie.

This fic is cross-posted to my AO3 account under the same name, which can be found linked in my masterlist. Follow @thewayofthemandalorian-writes and turn on notifications for fic updates.

Comments/reblogs appreciated.

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified, but reader is in her late 20′s), boss-employee relationship, mutual attraction, swearing perceived power imbalance, kissing, non-explicit sexual content (including female receiving oral), protected sex.

masterlist (main) || masterlist (marcus moreno)

“When can you come back to work?”

It’s a question that Marcus Moreno has been asked a lot, in ever-increasing volumes. Since Missy was born, he’s been on a leave of absence as leader of the Heroics, graciously allowing Miracle Guy, Steve Boyd, to take his place until Marcus returns.

Since Missy was two, he’s been working remotely in a consulting role. His mom picks up a lot of the slack when he’s busy. It’s not fair to anyone. He knows his mom has her own life, and while she never complains and is always happy to take care of her granddaughter, Marcus knows that it isn’t a permanent solution.

It’s Anita’s idea, when Marcus is half-apologizing, half-thanking her for taking care of Missy while he works on his consultation. “Why not hire a babysitter or a nanny? So you can go to work and not have to worry. It is no trouble watching her, mijo, but hiring someone would clear up both of our plates and you can go to work.” Leave it to Anita Baltra Moreno to be altruistic and no-nonsense while also reassuring her son.

So, Marcus and Anita take Missy in her stroller, and put up job listings around the major hotspots for college students or graduates in the hopes that someone will see the listing and be: a) interested and b) qualified enough. Marcus is not worried so much about qualifications or a ton of experience in childcare. Some experience would be ideal but he’s more interested in personality. If the prospective nanny would get along with his daughter. A nanny could have an extensive resume but not click at all with his daughter. He’d rather have someone who fits that balance of being a good enough caretaker and getting along with Missy.

So, he posts the advertisements, even putting some on job websites, in the hopes that someone, anyone, will apply.

He gets many applications, but there’s only one that truly meets his eye.

When you saw the listing for a nannying job, you never expected to hear Marcus Moreno of the Heroics’ voice on the phone when he calls to set up an interview after submitting your – in your opinion – meager application.

He meets you for the interview at a coffee shop, explaining to you that his daughter, Missy, is turning four soon and will be starting half-day kindergarten in the fall, attending Tuesdays, Thursdays and every other Friday in the morning, coming home at lunchtime; your duties would be to arrive at his house in time to see her off to the school bus, pick her up from the bus, give her lunch, and spend the afternoons with her until Marcus gets home, usually at five-thirty. That seems reasonable to you. Plus, Marcus thinks she’s old enough now that he can start scaling up his availability with the Heroics again. Not on a full-time basis, he would go on the days that Missy is at school and his days off would line up with her days off.

“If you don’t mind my asking, where’s her mom?” you ask.

Marcus takes a long sip of his coffee, trying to think of a diplomatic way to explain what happened with his ex-fiancée. “She hasn’t been in the picture since Missy was a year and a half.” He tells you that she left one morning when the house was still asleep, paperwork signing away her maternal rights and her engagement ring on the kitchen island next to the coffee maker. A note saying I didn’t want this life. Marcus tried to find her, but when he did, she explained that she never wanted to be a mother, but she hoped that she would grow into the role of being a mom. The pregnancy had been an accident, a happy one for Marcus, who always wanted to have kids. “We ended things a while ago, it’s just been us and my mom for the past two and a half years.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say.

Marcus likes you. You’re kind and have a gentle way about you. You don’t seem to agitate easily. A calm level-headedness is exactly what he’s looking for. “I know that you don’t have the most impressive of applications,” he starts, “but I think you would be a good fit. What are you studying?”

You tell him that you just finished your degree in accounting. “It’s very tedious, but I’m good with numbers.”

“So, why nanny for me if you’ve got a degree in accounting?” he asks.

You shrug. “I like kids and nowhere is hiring at the moment in my field. Gotta pay the bills somehow, right?” you chuckle.

Marcus smiles, remembering his own college bills. “And your application lists you as being in your late twenties.”

“That’s right. I was the oldest graduate in my program. Most people in the course were fresh out of high school. I took some time off after graduating high school. Also, my mom kept me at home for an extra year before sending me to kindergarten. So, there’s that to it as well.”

He nods. He’s glad that you’re not in your early twenties; being in your late twenties makes you more mature and level-headed than other applicants, which is good for Missy. He got an application from a nineteen year old and had to let her down gently.

“Before I can officially offer you the job, I’d like Missy to meet you, make sure she’s okay with you first,” explains Marcus. “I do think you’ll be a great fit, though.”

You offer a demure smile. “Thanks. I hope it works out well.”

- - - -

That had been six months ago. After that meeting with Marcus, you’d met Missy, who asked you two questions: if you liked drawing and if you knew how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. Your answers to both those questions was a resounding yes. Missy had just nodded solemnly at her father and went back to colouring her Little Mermaid picture.

Now you and Missy are as thick as thieves. The four year old is such a sweet little girl. She’s an easy kid, never any fuss or disagreements. At least, not to the extent that you were originally anticipating. She is only four, so she does get some ideas into her head that are a bit difficult to dissuade her from, but for the most part she is a very good listener.

Marcus likes your easy presence in the house; you’re kind and patient and you are considerate. You have a real way with Missy, an empathy to you that is not easily found in most people. You’re always doing stuff for him. Making sure that dinner is ready when he gets home, something that wasn’t in your contract. He’d told you after a week of your cooking that you didn’t have to. You’d shrugged and said that you like doing it. He can admit that you’re pretty. The attraction had been almost instant, but he’d pushed it away, thinking that he’s just noticing you because of everything that you’re doing for him and Missy. He’s noticing your kindness and how you do things for him as well as for Missy that you don’t have to, but do anyway because you want to.

It’s inappropriate, having a crush on his employee. It would be crossing a line that is there for a reason. Not to mention he’s ten years older than you. He doesn’t want to pressure you or take advantage of you. He isn’t that kind of person.

Your friend and roommate Alison is convinced that you have a crush on Marcus. Ever since he insisted on calling him Marcus instead of Mr. Moreno (claiming that “Mr. Moreno makes me sound old”) at that first meeting in the coffee shop in June. You’d noticed his good looks and his soft but commanding when it needed to be nature long before you’d officially met him and started nannying for his kid. He’s a Heroic, a public figure, who is often in the media, trending on Twitter often, especially now that he’s started to work for them again. But seeing him in a tweet or on the news is different from seeing the real him. Who can’t make scrambled eggs for shit and hates wearing contacts because they hurt his eyes and enjoys his coffee with a hint of cream and loves his daughter more than anyone. The media flattens a lot of things. Seeing him in a day-to-day setting is way different to seeing him in the public eye. For example, you would never know that he hates using his telekinetic-magnetic powers when he doesn’t have to. Outside of showing off the first time he met you, he hasn’t used that ability once in the time you’ve known him. You’d been attracted to the public persona of Marcus Moreno – who hasn’t been? – but you like the real Marcus Moreno a lot more.

Marcus wants you to know the real him. Not the put-on version of himself that he uses for Heroics appearances or appearances in the press.

All that being said, you aren’t going to let your feelings be known. He’s your boss. Hard pass. You don’t want to be fired for harassment. You’re there for Missy’s sake and Missy’s sake only. However, that doesn’t mean you can’t look. You can look, but you can’t touch.

- - - -

Marcus asks you one morning if you can stay a bit later than usual. He has a date that night. You try not to let your childish disappointment show when you say, “Sure, that’s no problem.”

If he notices your disappointment, he doesn’t say anything. Just like he doesn’t say that the blind date is so he can move on from this ridiculous attraction he has for you. He’d seen you in leggings and a nice top the other day and had to go stand in the cold shower for a lot longer than he was willing to admit.

So, he prepares himself for the date, allows you to tie his tie, which is horribly, terribly ironic, and tells Missy to behave herself for you.

The date is perfectly… cromulent. It’s fine. Amanda is a nice enough woman. Pretty, enthusiastic, passionate about what she does. But as he sits across from her at the fancy restaurant that she chose, he thinks that he’d much rather be at home, doing tex-mex or pizza with Missy and you. It’s not that Amanda is complicated, she’s not. She just… doesn’t seem the type that would go for breakfast for dinner or sloppy joes the way that you do. She doesn’t seem to be the type that would dance with his daughter in the kitchen to Taylor Swift, or take her to the zoo or colour with her. She’s missing that warmth that you have. That unassuming loveliness you have and—

Oh, hell.

Marcus clears his throat. “Amanda? Um, I’m very sorry, but I have to cut tonight short. You’re very nice and it was good to meet you, but I don’t think this is going to work out.” It wouldn’t be fair to finish this date, to stay on this date when he’s thinking about another woman. His mother raised him better than that.

When he gets home, an empty box of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets is on the counter, broken down and ready to be recycled. Two dirty plates sit next to the box, not yet put in the dishwasher but everything else is as he left it. He can hear the telltale sounds of The Sea Beast, a recent favourite of Missy’s, coming from the living room.

When he sees you and Missy curled up together, watching the movie for what seems to be the six hundredth time, his heart nearly bursts at the sight. This isn’t just a fleeting crush he has on you, a brief attraction. He has genuine feelings for you.

Missy is sleeping, curled up on one side of you like a koala bear. You’re diligently watching the movie even if Missy is asleep. Marcus clears his throat and you look up. “You’re back early.”

Marcus sits down on the couch on the other side of you, careful not to wake Missy. Her breathing changes for a minute, then evens out and deepens, dead to the world. “Yeah. She was nice, but it wasn’t going to work.” He looks around at the room. “I see your night was much more successful.”

You nod. “Yeah. We read a little bit of her early chapter book, had some dinner, and now, as you can see, we’re watching a movie. Or at least, I am.” You press pause on the remote.

“I can take her to bed if you like?” Marcus offers, looking at you intently.

“Sure. Her teeth are already brushed and I gave her a bath after dinner.”

You’re just doing your job, but Marcus loves how you take care of Missy. Marcus scoops up Missy into his arms. She wakes for just a minute, then falls back to sleep in her dad’s arms. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you to bed,” he murmurs softly to her.

A few minutes later, Marcus comes out of Missy’s bedroom, shutting the door gently behind him. You’re tidying up in the kitchen. “Don’t worry about that, cariño,” Marcus says, the term of endearment slipping out unintentionally. “I can do that.” He grabs a beer from the fridge, holds it out. “Want one?”

You’re a bit flummoxed. “Uh. I have to drive home so, no. Thank you.”

“Oh. Right. Water, then? A soda?”

“Water’s fine.”

He pours you a glass of water and makes his way into the living room. “How was tonight?” he asks.

You follow him into the living room. “Yeah, it was good. Missy’s a really good kid.” You don’t have to go home right away, so you sit down next to Marcus, switching off the tv.

“Thanks again for staying late tonight and getting her ready for bed and everything. For everything you do for m– for us.”

You smile shyly, trying very hard not to notice the way Marcus is sitting very close to you, so close that his thigh is almost touching yours. “It’s no trouble. I like hanging out with Missy. I like this job.”

Marcus grins. “I’m glad. She really likes you, too.” There’s a pause. “I have this Heroics thing coming up in a few weeks. Sort of a social event, meeting with the Heroics branch in Houston.”

You nearly choke on your water. “Houston? That’s, like, three hours away.”

“I know. I’m not really looking forward to it since it’s so far away, but Priya Granada, my boss, says that since I’m stepping up again, I have to go. It’s a few weeks out. I’ll likely stay at the hotel and come back first thing on Friday morning. Mom’s out of town that week so I can’t have Missy sleep over. So I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind staying the night that night? I know it’s not in your job description, and I’d pay you extra, and—”

“Marcus. I’d be happy to. Just tell me when and I’ll be there,” you say, patting him on the knee. Marcus’s hand itches to cover your hand. He looks at your face for a few lingering seconds, wondering how he got so lucky to find you.

You don’t stay for much longer, since you have an early start tomorrow. Bidding Marcus a goodnight, you head out to your car and wonder the entire ride home if you misread the signs he was giving you tonight.

- - - -

Before you know it, the day of the Heroics event has arrived. You show up with an overnight bag slung on your shoulder, Alison’s teasing still ringing in your ears. You officially have it bad for your boss. Since the night of his failed date, you’re sure that Marcus might have an attraction for you, too. Either that or your feelings for him are clouding your judgment on reading things. Usually you’re good at reading other people. Even Marcus. You can tell when he’s in a bad mood or frustrated about something. But since that night of his ill-fated date, he’s been giving different signals than you’re used to.

You’re not uncomfortable with these new signals. Not by any stretch. You just wish you knew what they meant. You like him. A lot. To the point that when you use your vibrator these days, it’s him that you imagine when you close your eyes.

Marcus is already dressed for the event. “I wish I didn’t have to go,” he laments as he stuffs things haphazardly into his own overnight bag.

“The joys of PR,” you say drily, knowing very little about said topic.

He’s left a list of things that need to be done, Missy’s bedtime routine and what time she usually wakes up. It’s Thursday and tomorrow she has school, so she needs to be up at a certain time to catch the bus.

“The guest bedroom is being renovated,” he rambles, as if forgetting that you’re aware that he’s in the long process of painting the guest bedroom, “and the couch isn’t really that great for sleeping, so you will have to sleep on an air mattress in Missy’s room.

“I’ll figure it out,” you say.

He kisses Missy on the forehead and tells her to be good. Then he looks at you, and is it just your imagination or do his eyes flicker to your lips for a second? “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The entire drive to Houston, Marcus thinks about you and Missy when he’s not mentally bitching about this event that he has to go to. The only good thing about it will be the free, catered food, paid for by the Heroics bosses. He supposes it would be nice to meet some of the counterparts, mingle a little bit. And it’ll be the first night in god knows how long that he has to himself. He loves Missy, more than anything or anyone. But he needs a night where he doesn’t have to worry. Doesn’t have to think about getting her ready for bed or anything like that. He wouldn’t trade that in for anything, but having a night to himself is something that he can admit to looking forward to. He only wishes that he had someone — you — to share that with.

When he arrives at the hotel, he goes up to the front desk. “May I help you, sir?” asks the front-desk girl. Annie, her name tag says.

“Marcus Moreno here for the Heroics event.”

Annie types a few keys on her computer. “Very good, Mr. Moreno. The event is being held in the ballroom. Just through that hallway over there, across from the pool and fitness room. Was there anything else, sir?”

Marcus frowns. “I thought I was also getting a room?” he asks.

Annie goes into the room bookings page, searches for the name MORENO. “Did you make a reservation?” she asks.

“My boss was supposed to.” He resists the urge to squeeze the bridge of his nose, not wanting to irritate his stupid contact lenses. “Is there anything available?”

The front-desk girl gives an apologetic look. “I’m afraid not, sir. Between the Heroics event and the hockey tournament this weekend, everything is booked up. I’m sorry.”

Marcus sighs. It isn't the girl's fault. He should have double checked when he never got a booking confirmation forwarded to him. Made his own reservation and asked Ms. Granada to reimburse him. He offers her what he hopes to be a genuine smile. “It’s fine.”

He doesn’t relish the idea of driving home at one in the morning, but what else is he supposed to do? Marcus doesn’t really want to spend time looking for hotels. He knows that he wanted a night to himself but at this point, it’s easier to drive home.

He spends the entire night thinking about you when he’s mingling. Not strictly in a, “I wonder how she’s doing and that everything’s going okay” kind of way either. Most people have brought plus-ones to the event. Marcus is one of the few that doesn’t have a date or a spouse with him. He wants that to be different. He’s stayed away from dating for the most part because of Missy’s age and needing to be there for her. Missy will always be his top priority, but he can admit that he’s lonely in other areas of his life. The only time he’s not lonely is the fleeting moments he spends with you. There’s something there with you, something that could turn into the real thing. He doesn’t know how to broach that subject with you. It’s funny. Marcus Moreno, who charges headfirst into life-threatening things with the Heroics, doesn’t know how to tell you how he feels.

- - - -

The air mattress leaks. As soon as you lie down on it to test it after Missy’s on the bus going to school, it begins to deflate. Not good. By morning time, you know the air mattress will be fully deflated. You can’t sleep on it. It will kill your back. Just like the couch will. It’s soft on the couch, but not in a supportive way. The Morenos need a new couch, something that Marcus is already aware of.

You fret the entire day. There’s only one solution besides sucking it up. Which is to sleep in Marcus’s bed. It completely crosses the line. If he ever found out, he would fire you, you know he would. But he wouldn’t have to find out. He’d only be back tomorrow in the afternoon. You could easily have the sheets washed and put back on before he even knew. He wouldn’t have to find out. Plus he sprung it on you kind of last second.

It’ll be fine.

You go through the motions of taking care of Missy, feeding her, taking her to the park, reading with her. You give her a bath and get her into her jammies before tucking her into bed. It’s early still, so you watch something on low volume on Netflix until a more reasonable time to go to sleep. Getting into your own pajamas, you get into the bed. The idea of sleeping in your boss’s bed is not something you’ve entertained (okay, that’s a bit of a lie, you have entertained that thought, but under a very different context), so it is very bizarre getting into his bed.

You think you’re going to be too wired to sleep, but the scent of his soap and the laundry detergent embedded into the sheets from countless uses and washes soothes you. It’s a great bed. Way better than sleeping directly on the floor. You’d checked the air mattress again after dinner, still in Missy’s bedroom, and it had completely deflated. There’s a leak in there somewhere. You wonder when the last time it was used had been.

When you wake, it’s still dark. The house is quiet and still, so you have no idea what woke you up. It takes you a minute to remember where you are. Whose bed you are in. There’s movement at the door. You’re still mostly asleep, your voice groggy when you say, “Missy? Is that you?”

You blink the blurriness out of your eyes and switch on the lamp. It isn’t Missy. “M–Marcus!” You’re fully awake now, panic and embarrassment coursing through you. “What are you–I’m so sorr–”

The rest of your sentence is cut off when Marcus strides across the room to the bed in two strides, rests his large hands on either side of your neck and kisses you. You gasp, not having expected this at all. It’s not an unwelcome surprise, but you’re pretty sure that you might be dreaming.

Marcus breaks the kiss, panting heavily. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that. Tell me that I’m not misreading things, that the signals are there.”

Blinking in confusion, you look at him. “You’re not misreading them. I’ve wanted to do that for a while, too, but…”

Marcus takes your confusion as rejection. “I get it. I’m your boss, it’s inappropriate.”

You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I was going to say, Marcus. I was going to say, I thought you didn’t want me the same way… the same way that I want you.”

He actually scoffs. “Are you kidding me? How could I not want you? You’re… amazing. You’re so kind and caring and warm and you’re so good with Missy. I’ve wanted this, wanted you for a very long time. Almost since I met you.” He can’t help himself, he has to kiss you again. “I stayed away because…”

You understand immediately “I know, that’s why I stayed away too.”

“I was going to broach the subject later. But then, seeing you in my bed?” Marcus can’t finish that thought; he hopes his hungry kiss is enough to tell you how he feels about that.

Still, you feel sheepish. “I should have called or texted before assuming. I’m s—”

“It’s fine, bebita. If I'd known you were waiting for me in my bed I would have come home sooner, sweetheart."

You’re still not sure if you’re dreaming or not. Your breath catches and before you can steady it, he’s kissing you again. You’re almost in his lap. You can feel that he wants you as much as you want him. After months of pent-up tension and pining, you almost snap like an elastic band.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Marcus tells you in between kisses. His mouth has moved to your jaw, working a line down to your neck. Every nerve in your body is on fire and you haven’t even done anything yet. The throbbing between Marcus’s legs that you feel pressed against you, combined with your own want for him tells you that that will change soon enough.

“I don’t want you to stop. Don’t stop,” you tell him.

Marcus kisses you as he takes off more and more of your sleeping clothes. “You always take such good care of us – of me. Let me take care of you for once.”

He takes such good care of you. First with his hands and his mouth, not stopping until he knows you’ve gotten what you need, until you are fully and completely satisfied with what his skilled fingers and his deft tongue have done to you. He doesn’t take long before he’s reaching for a condom, something he’s surprised he has in his night table and isn’t expired: it’s been a while. “If you feel uncomfortable at all, please let me know,” he says as he’s easing himself into you. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he repeats.

You don’t want him to, and you make it clear that you don’t by kissing him, wrapping your legs around him as he settles inside, pulling him as flush to you as possible as he begins to move. “Y’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs. You’ve always seen Marcus collected, sure of his words. Seeing him run his mouth, stuttering over words as your hips stutter against his is entirely new and entirely endearing to you, seeing how you have an effect on him in this way. “Take what you need, bebita,” he grunts. “Take it, it’s yours.”

You do, making sure he takes what he needs as well. He kisses you as you work through your respective highs, holding you close.

“I still got it,” he smirks.

“I’d say so,” you reply. “Holy shit. Not that I’m complaining, but that’s not how I expected to be woken up at…” you glance at the clock, “four-thirty a.m. I thought you were only staying there?”

Marcus grumbles. “Long story.”

You yawn, drowsy after the impromptu events. “What does this mean for…for us? For my job?”

He kisses your temple. “Sleep, querida. We can talk in the morning.”

- - - -

When you wake next, it’s broad daylight. You’re still naked from the events of earlier this morning. The bedsheets are rumpled beside you. You stretch, enjoying the burn in your thighs and the ache between your legs. You have to get up, get Missy to school—

Missy!

You’re about to bolt out of bed when you see the note on the bedside table, written in Marcus’s boxy script. Don’t worry about Missy, I’m driving her to school. You looked so peaceful sleeping I didn’t want to wake you. x – MM

Stiffly you make your way to the ensuite bathroom to take a shower. You don’t have your overnight bag with you, it’s still in the living room, so you take one of Marcus’s shirts, a green one that you love on him.

Under the steam of the hot shower, the night’s events play back in your mind’s eye. Had that really happened? Were it not for the burn in your thighs and the ache between your legs, you’d say that it had been a very vivid dream. It feels impossible.

You’re coming out of the bathroom, damp and dressed in Marcus’s shirt and your jammie pants. He’s carrying two to-go cups of coffee. “Hey,” he says when he sees you, handing you your coffee and following you to the couch in the living room. “Is that my shirt?”

“It’s mine now.” You both chuckle and then you turn serious. “About last night…”

Marcus stops you. “I know it’s inappropriate and unconventional, and I want you to know that it’s never been my intent to take advantage of you. So I understand if you feel at all uncomfortable.”

You have a lot to say; it comes out in a bit of a word vomit, but you can’t stop yourself from talking. “Marcus, I don’t feel like you’ve taken advantage of me at all. I know it’s unconventional but I like you. I liked last night. A lot. I like you a lot. I know there’s a bit of an age gap between us and that there is a perceived power imbalance because you’re my boss, but you’ve never made me feel that way. You’ve never exerted that power over me. If I didn’t want to be with you last night, I would have made it clear and told you. I promise.”

Though Marcus knows that already, knowing you well enough to know that that’s true, he exhales, relief evident in his features. He’s wearing his glasses again; he’d had to wear his contacts last night. He looks more like himself in his glasses. He bends his head and kisses you. “I’m relieved to hear that. I like you too. A lot. I have for a while. I just didn’t know how to tell you without making it weird. Last night just kind of… set things in motion, I guess? I don’t know. I just think that you’re wonderful and I didn’t want to not tell you.” He pauses. “Speaking of which, why were you in there last night?”

You feel warm and fuzzy at the admission before explaining the snafu with the air mattress. “I don’t know how this is going to work with Missy and my job, but if you want to hire a different nanny, that’s totally fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to come back last night. But I’m glad that you did. Very glad.”

Marcus strokes your knuckles with his thumb. “Me too. And we can figure it out. Speaking of Missy, we should let her know what’s going on. At least in a way that’s kid-friendly.” You agree with that, not wanting to confuse the little girl any more than she needs to be.

“So does that mean I can take you out on a date soon?” he asks after kissing you again. Now that he can do that, he can’t seem to get enough.

“I’d love to. But we will have to find a nanny,” you tease with a coy smile, excited at the prospect of whatever comes next with Marcus.

The End

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