#just across the parking lot with the key still in the ignition | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freedomfireflies · 7 months

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SnakeBite*

Summary: The third part to 404*

The one where Harry is good for more than a good time.

But he's still good at that, too.

Word Count: 5.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Oh, come on…please. Please, don’t do this. Not right now. Not today…please.”

With a deep breath, you stick the key back into the ignition and try again. Waiting anxiously for the sound of the engine roaring to life. A sound you desperately need to hear more than anything.

Instead, all that follows is that familiar clunking of something heavy before there’s a rather shrill buzzing you can’t quite place.

Fuck.

Exasperated and woefully defeated, you take the key back out, groan, and drop your forehead onto the steering wheel. “This is not happening.”

Truth be told, you should have seen this coming. This isn’t the first time your poor car has made this unsettling noise, and perhaps it’s your fault for ignoring it for so long. You hadn’t meant to; you just didn’t realize it was this bad. Or that your car was this old.

Now, you’re trapped in the Juno Incorporated parking lot on a Friday afternoon with no way of getting you or your car home.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

You don’t even bother to lift your head as Harry’s voice carries in through the window. “Nothing. Go away.”

You hear the sound of his boots scraping across the concrete before they stop, and you feel a large shadow fall over your side of the vehicle. “Can I assume that god awful noise came from this hunk of shit you call a car?”

Leaning back, you huff as you look over. “I’m sorry, do you want something?”

Harry smirks, arms crossing over his chest as he juts his chin toward you. “Pop the hood, let me see.”

“Yeah…no.”

“Come on,” he pushes, a few curls dancing across his forehead from a soft gust of wind. You realize he looks different outside of the lab. Normal, almost. It’s unsettling. “You wanna leave, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but knowing you, you’d probably cut my breaks.”

“If I were gonna take you out, I would have done it by now.”

“Oh. Wow. You’re really instilling me with a lot of confidence, thanks.”

He steps back and motions toward the front of your car. “Fucking relax, Tinkerbell, and just pop the goddamn hood.”

Regretfully, you do as instructed before leaning out the open window to watch him walk toward your engine. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I know enough,” he replies, using the back of his hand to push on his glasses before bending down.

“That…is not helpful.”

“Well, I’m your only shot. Everyone else is gone.”

“I can call a repair guy.”

He shakes his head once. “Won’t get here in time. It’s rush hour on a Friday. You’ll be here for hours if they even show at all. And chances are, they won’t be able to schedule you in till next week. So, unless you’re planning to sleep here, in your car, can you please shut the fuck up, and let me focus?”

You feel your expression morph into a scowl as you unclick your seatbelt and step out. “I’d rather sleep in my car than trust you to fix my engine.”

You notice his eyes roll, but he’s amused. “Well, I can’t fix it. Not here. I think it’s your spark plugs. They tend to wear out faster in older cars. You’ll probably have to get them replaced.”

Scurrying to stand beside him, you glance over your engine and the internal workings of the car with a heavy sigh.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble beneath another strained groan. “And let me guess, it’s gonna be expensive.”

“Probably,” he agrees, glancing over. “But it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

Your eyes narrow. “I know I can afford it, I just don’t like dropping thousands of dollars on something so dumb.”

“Spark plugs aren’t dumb,” he retorts while reaching for your hood to slam it shut. “You need them to fucking drive.”

“Yeah, but having to pay for a rental car, manual labor, and a tow truck is dumb,” you point out. “And this is the last thing I need right now.”

His eyebrow lifts but he doesn’t ask for elaboration. Instead, he begins to stride across the lot toward a dark, black Harley, leaving you and your crisis behind.

In turn, you reach for your cellphone to look up local tow trucks and mechanics that might be able to help you out.

To your dismay, most shops are already closed for the weekend, except for one. And after a very lengthy and frustrated discussion, you learn that they won’t be able to come by until much later tonight. Which means that all your hopes of having a nice, relaxing evening are for naught.

Once again defeated, you slump back against the side of your car and drop your head. “Well…great.”

Harry’s smirk returns as he glances over and straddles his bike. “What?”

“I’m stuck here until midnight,” you mumble, running a palm down the side of your cheek. “You were right, everyone is booked.”

“Shit,” is about all he offers while pulling his helmet over his head. “That sucks.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome.” He revs the engine, and just like that, the bike roars to life. The loud and somewhat startling sound echoing across the parking lot as you flinch.. “So, what’s the plan, Princess? You gonna call an Uber and come back later?”

“I can’t,” you shout over the noise. “I have to be here in case they come early, or they’ll leave.”

Through the open visor, you see him frown. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

He studies you for a moment more, and you feel your skin grow warm under such a scrutinous gaze. Like he’s looking for something written between the lines of your face. “Well…make sure you lock your doors.”

“No shit.”

He smiles again before flipping the visor shut and steadying the bike with his leg. You stand back, ready to watch him speed out of the lot and onto the street, but to your surprise…he simply sits there.

In fact, a good sixty seconds pass before he suddenly slips the helmet off his head, sighs, and thrusts it toward you. “Get on.”

You blink. “What?”

“Get on the fucking bike, Tink,” he repeats. “I know a bar we can hang out in till they get here.”

“I…I just told you, I can’t leave—”

“You can see the parking lot from inside,” he interrupts. “If they show, we can just run back over.”

You step closer, drawn to his proposition, although still wildly confused. “Uh…okay. Why, though? I’m fine to just wait here.”

He looks at you, the grassy green behind his glasses somehow softer in this natural lighting. “S’not safe,” he says simply, shrugging one shoulder up. “Be better to wait somewhere public, and I don’t really want your death on my conscience.”

And you aren’t exactly sure what to say. Because you think this may be the nicest thing he’s ever done for you – even if it’s still a little odd – and you don’t want to spook him by doing the wrong thing.

But as you debate a response, he shakes the helmet at you again, rather aggressively. “Tink, get on the goddamn bike, please. I’m wasting gas here.”

With a huff, you snatch it from his hand and join him on the Harley. The helmet slips on rather easily, and once you’re sure it’s snug and secure, your eyes trail down his back, unsure of how to proceed.

You don’t exactly want to…hold him. Or touch him or straddle him. At least, not outside of the way you do in secret. In broad daylight. Where people could see.

In fact, you already feel as though you’re grinding against his ass from how small this goddamn seat is. Almost too close for comfort as you catch a subtle trace of his cologne and feel the warmth from his body.

But motorcycles don’t exactly come with seatbelts, and if he were to take a sharp corner, you might end up pancaked on the cement.

“Tinkerbell,” you suddenly hear him call over his shoulder, voice raised to carry over the growl of the engine. “Just fucking grab me, it’s fine.”

You glare at his curls, despite knowing he can’t see you. “I’m good.”

He snorts again before he’s suddenly reaching back, grabbing onto your wrists, and hoisting your arms around his middle.

You’re tugged forward, your chest pressing to his spine rather forcefully as he glances back.

“Pussy,” he murmurs, releasing the clutch until the bike jolts forward and takes off through the parking lot.

With a rather shrill squeal, you tighten your hold on his broad frame, and bury yourself between his shoulder blades. The sensation is exhilarating and frightening all in the same moment. The rush of wind, adrenaline, and the way he leans around the corner before taking off down the street.

You think you feel his chest vibrate with laughter, perhaps from the way your nails are scraping down his shirt. And despite your increasing terror, you find that you feel oddly…safe with him at the handles.

Not even two minutes later, he’s pulling into another parking spot on the other side of the street, right in front of the aforementioned bar. It’s a bar you recognize, one that a few of your other coworkers often frequent from time to time.

In fact, this is the exact same bar you and Harry first hooked up in all those months ago.

The memory makes you smile.

“What?” Harry asks as swings his leg over the side and stands up. “Why are you grinning like that?”

You quickly wipe the smirk from your face while wrestling the helmet off to hand back. “Like what? I’m just smiling, calm down.”

“I don’t like when you smile. It freaks me out.”

“You’re really rude, you know that?”

“What? I’m just being honest. You have a lot of teeth. It’s weird.”

You glower at him, swatting his chest as you brush by. “Bite me, Harold.”

“With what? Your teeth?”

You feign a snubbed gasp – to which he chuckles – before striding into the bar, leaving him to follow behind.

The large room is loud and crowded with people, the smell of alcohol and bad decisions clinging to the air. You make a beeline for the counter, exhausted and overworked and already annoyed by Harry’s future comments before he can even make them.

Like—

“Really? An appletini?”

With a deep breath, you look over while the bartender turns around to begin prepping your drink. “Yes, really. I like apples. And it’s delicious. And the color is fun.”

He rests an arm on the edge of the marble bar and leans in. “How incredibly boring of you.”

Once again, your expression falls flat. “Are you gonna be this fucking annoying the whole time? Because I’d rather wait by my car and get murdered.”

“I make no promises.”

“Clearly. And let me guess, you’re gonna order something cool and manly like a scotch on the rocks.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks up before he smugly turns toward the bartender and calls, “I’ll have a SnakeBite.”

You can actually feel your eyes roll all the way into the back of your head. “God, you’re fucking pretentious.”

“Thank you,” he says with a smile, and you grit your teeth. “Will you relax? I haven’t even had a drink yet and you’re killing my buzz.”

“I’m not killing anything, I just can’t stand you.”

“No? Ouch. I thought we were friends.”

The sarcasm is evident, but you huff, nevertheless. “For the love of god, shut up.”

“What?” He nods his chin at you. “S’just a drink, don’t be so sensitive.”

“I’m sensitive because you’re annoying.”

“No, you’re sensitive because you’re wound up,” he retorts, eyeing you closely. It makes your skin crawl. “When’s the last time you got off, Tink?”

The inquiry makes you step back, almost as though trying to avoid his judgment. “None of your business.”

“So…couple weeks ago? In the closet, with me?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “That’s a long fucking time, Princess. No wonder you’re so uptight.”

Your mouth drops open, ready to scoff your resentment and perhaps a quippy remark before he suddenly steps forward and lowers his voice.

“Bet it’s achy, huh?” he coos, and the slight air condescension and sympathy makes your head spin. “Bet you hump your little pillow every night trying to get it done, yeah? But it never works, does it?”

Stunned and left without much remark, your lashes flutter.

He moves closer. “See, if we were friends…I’d offer to take you into the bathroom and help you out. But since you think you can do better…go ahead.”

He leans back while you gape at him. “I’m sorry…go ahead and do what?”

“Find someone,” he answers, glancing around the packed bar. “Take ‘em into the bathroom and let them bend you over the sink.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“Why not?” His eyebrow raises. “That’s the whole reason people come to bars. To get drunk and fuck.”

“Well…that’s not why I’m here.”

“It could be.”

“Harry…no—”

“Why? Seriously, why not? You need it.”

“I don’t…you’re so fucking rude, I don’t need to get off—”

“Coming is good for your health. And for your unfavorable attitude—”

“Oh, you are so fucking—”

“Rude? Annoying? Doesn’t make me any less right.”

You clamp your mouth shut and step closer, letting your gaze travel the expanse of his face. “Come on, Harry,” you murmur softly – salaciously – as his breath seems to catch. “Do you really think…you could watch me with some other guy?”

His expression twists, his mouth already forming around something else snappy and crude.

But it seems to get stuck on his tongue when you suddenly reach out and trail your fingers down his chest. Moving in until there’s only a single breath between you.

“Do you really think…you could watch me touch them?” you whisper, glancing down to your hand as it grazes over his pec. “Or know that they had me dripping down their cock…the way I always drip for you?”

He wants to fight you. Wants to snort and look away.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s mesmerized by the power you so easily stole from him. Undone by the sound of your voice taunting him with an idea he can’t seem to stomach.

“Wanna know I’m whimpering their name the way I always whimper yours?” you continue, smoothing your other palm up the back of his neck. Squeezing just hard enough to make him straighten up. “Wanna see the marks on my throat from where they held me—”

“Easy,” he warns lowly, reaching up to snatch your wrist. But he doesn’t move you. “Not here—”

“Why?” You push up onto your tiptoes and let your lips ghost over his. “Who’s gonna see, hm? Who’s gonna care?”

His lashes flutter, eyes traveling down to your mouth. “Are you this desperate for it, Princess? Wanna fuck me right here in the middle of the bar? Make them watch?”

You smile, head tilting until the tip of your nose dances across his cheek. “Maybe,” you nearly purr. “Bet you like to be watched. You always like watching me.”

And maybe he knows you’re merely playing a game. Teasing him just to throw him off track and test his patience.

But he plays along, eager to see where it might lead. “Can’t help it,” he replies calmly, smirking himself. “Y’just always look so pretty when you’re three fingers deep in your cunt.”

“Yeah?” Your nails scratch at the soft curls near the nape of his neck. “Funny how I can make myself squirt better than you can.”

He exhales a rather sadistic chuckle while his arm reaches to loop around your waist, pulling your chest flush with his. “I wasn’t trying to make you squirt.”

“No?”

His head shakes once. “No. Trust me, Tink. If I wanted to…I would.”

“Then maybe you should.”

His lips part just enough to tease you with a taste. “Maybe I will.”

“Yeah? Right here? In front of everybody?”

Another grin. “I could. Be so fucking easy, too. Bend you over the bar, pull your soaked little panties down…spread you open so they can see how much of a dirty little cumslut you are.”

And perhaps this started as a ruse, but just the thought and the tantalizing way he speaks breeds a new inspiration.

“Cause you are, aren’t you?” he asks quietly, large hand pressing hard against your spine. “My dirty, fucking Princess? Get all wet and weepy from just a couple words?”

You swallow a whimper trying desperately to come free.

“Should I check?” he whispers, now subtly moving you over until your back meets the counter. “Hm? See if you’re as wound up as I think you are?”

You rifle through your list of responses but find that you have none to offer as his fingers delicately begin to trace the edge of your jeans. Provoking you further.

You reckon you should probably stop him. Point out what an idiotic idea this is and remind him that he’s still very much in public, surrounded by people.

But his body blocks you from most of the crowd, and nobody else is close enough to notice. And you suppose that even if they did look over, they wouldn’t exactly be able to see or understand.

His eyes flick to yours, looking for hesitation. But when he finds none, the corner of his mouth twitches up into a pleased smile.

“Dirty Princess,” he teases, sliding his hand into your pants as subtly as he can while you quickly glance around for prying eyes. “That’s right, Tink. Look at them.”

The feel of his cold fingers against your warm skin is like ecstasy, sending a rush of adrenaline straight down to your toes.

You gasp quietly to mask a whine, vision going hazy as you watch him study you.

“Oh, sweetie,” he tsks, smoothing his touch through your folds. Spreading and stroking as you reel. “Poor fucking thing. Did’ya get yourself all wet for me?”

“No,” you manage to reply, heart hammering against your rib cage when he smirks. “I was watching TikTok’s of Andrew Garfield earlier. This is for him.”

“Ah,” he hums, but he’s wildly amused, hand still cupping you gently before he swiftly pulls out and leaves you to wilt. “Well, in that case…”

He steps away, fingers tucked between his lips as he pretends to turn around.

However, before he can get far, you manage to capture a fistful of his shirt and yank him back to you.

And you kiss him. Without reluctance or fear. You kiss him, and you sigh against his mouth, and swallow his surprised but greedy moan.

His hands are on your hips, squeezing and pulling, desperate to tug you further into his frame.

You go willingly, becoming pliable in his hands. A few people cheer from beside you, raising their glasses and whistling like drunken animals.

But it makes you both smile, suddenly unencumbered by the ideas of what people might think or who might see.

And it’s strange to feel so at peace in his arms. Unnatural almost to find relief in his lips or safety in his presence. Because this is still the same Harry that would let you drown before he jumped in after you. That would rather tell you off than tell you he likes you – even as an acquaintance.

You’re not enemies, per se. You imagine you’re both too old for such childish rivalries. But he’s cruel and rude and blunt. His ego rivals the size of the moon, and his lack of care and inhibitions is proof that he could never be who you’d need him to be.

But that’s okay, you realize. You find serenity in the sadistic, strange behavior. Because it means you don’t have to commit to giving him anything more than what he deserves.

His tongue leaves a quick lick to yours before he pulls back and studies you from behind the dark frames of his glasses. “I need to fuck you.”

And you almost laugh at the frank way he speaks. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” His palm slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing it one, twice, three times. “Meet me in the bathroom.”

“Ew, no. I’m not fucking you in a crusty ass bathroom in a sketchy bar,” you retaliate with a scrunch of your nose. “Pick somewhere else.”

“There isn’t anywhere else,” he huffs. “Unless you really do want me to fuck right here in front of everybody.”

“That’s not funny.”

“M’not trying to be funny. I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Well…try harder.”

His eyes narrow. “Fine, you wanna fuck me on my bike?”

You blink. “Okay, that’s really not funny.”

“What?” He’s grinning again, and you hate the way his dimples pop out. Hate how charming they make him look. “Come on, I ride the bike, you ride me.”

You snort as you turn around to take a sip of your drink. “I’d rather get herpes.”

“Wow. Classy. Real fucking classy—”

“Admit it, you’ve had it before—”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“Well, you can’t. Remember?”

He scoffs. “Then where the fuck do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Literally anywhere else?”

“Well, I’m not taking you back to mine.”

“No? You don’t want me to see the bridge you live under?”

“Troll jokes. Funny.”

“Thank you, I thought so. It’s very fitting.”

His expression falls flat before he sighs and steps closer again. “Meet me in the fucking bathroom,” he repeats quietly, “and let me fuck you. Let me make it better.”

You want to remind him – again – that a dirty bathroom in a crowded bar isn’t exactly the best place. You’d never get a moment of privacy, and the position would most likely be wildly uncomfortable.

But suddenly, none of your reasons seem to matter. Because it hurts to be away from him. Actually aches between your thighs, forcing you to swallow thickly.

So, instead of responding with an actual answer, you simply take his hand, and drag him through the crowd.

You catch his smug smile – and resist the urge to slap the glasses off his face – before yanking him into the hall and toward the bathroom.

You both stumble through the door, already back on each other’s lips. Kissing, and groping, and groaning as you work to get the lock flipped.

You pause for only a moment to make sure the single stall restroom is in fact empty while Harry uses this as encouragement to begin nipping down the side of your neck.

Your nails scratch down his scalp and he moans against the heat of your skin, exhaling his relief and lust all in the same breath.

His touch is firm – pointed and almost painful – as he pushes you back toward the wall. You gasp when you meet the cold, hard cement, lashes fluttering from the force and the sound of his belt coming undone.

He nods his chin at you, entertained by your fascination. “Come on, Princess. You’ve seen my cock before.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you murmur, swallowing thickly when he pulls himself out. “Before I change my mind and find somebody else."

He scoffs with a smile. “I’d like to see you try.”

He gives himself a few pumps, growing harder in his palm before he lets go and moves his attention to your jeans. He’s got them down your legs and pooled around your ankles in under thirty seconds flat, your panties soon following suit.

But he teases you for just a moment. Because of course he does, the sadistic fucker. Needing to hear you beg for him before he actually gives you what you both want.

“Harry,” you huff, glancing down as he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “We don’t have time, and the floor is dirty. Just do it.”

“Just do it? How romantic,” he snorts before obliging and straightening back up. “Thought girls liked foreplay.”

“We do, but not in gross, dirty bathrooms.”

“Fine. Next time.”

And for some reason, the casual way he refers to the future makes your head spin. You always assume the two of you will continue from time to time. But hearing him promise to take care of you again…

It’s almost…nice?

Pushing the thought aside, you begin to turn around, hands pressing into the wall to brace yourself in preparation for what comes next.

But just as you’re getting comfortable, he suddenly grabs onto your hips, and spins you forward once again.

“No,” he murmurs softly, pretty green eyes trailing down your face. “No, I wanna see you this time.”

“Oh,” you whisper, skin growing hot as he steps between your legs. “Okay…?”

He grins lightly before reaching up to trail his thumb along your bottom lip. “I like watching you get all sappy when I fuck you. The way you grin when it feels good.”

Suddenly, your pulse starts to stagger. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like your smile.”

You suck in quiet breath. “I thought it creeped you out. That I had too many teeth.”

He chuckles to himself before taking hold of his cock and bringing it closer, trailing it between your legs. “You do. But that’s what makes you so beautiful.”

You think he must be out of his mind. Lost on the idea of sex and pleasure and SnakeBite’s. Tipsy and not all there. Because the Harry you know would never say something like that to you.

But you suppose you don’t really know Harry at all.

With that final thought, he hoists your leg over his hip, and begins to push in. It’s slow at first. You’re tense from the surroundings, from the loud sounds of the bar just on the other side of the wall, and from his admission.

But he loves it, cursing through gritted teeth before surging forward to kiss you. “Tink, you gotta fucking relax. Y’know I can’t do it if you don’t let me in.”

“Try…trying,” you pant, head falling back against the wall with a thud. “Sorry. Just go.”

He frowns, eyes rolling as his glasses begin to slip down the bridge of his nose. “M’not gonna go if you’re not stretched, Princess. I’m not trying to hurt you—”

“I don’t care,” you argue with a soft whine. “Really, I don’t care. Just go. Make it hurt.”

He releases your leg to slip his fingers just below your jaw, forcing your eyes on him. “Stop. M’not gonna do that, just relax.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth. “Come on, sweetie. Know you can do it. Know you always take me so well, don’t you?”

You nod fervently. “Yes…yeah, yes—”

“Then take me,” he whispers, his free fingers finding your clit. He rubs, and presses, and pinches until he feels you begin to unwind. “There you go…there she is, that’s my girl. S’better, isn’t it? Yeah? Gonna let me in now?”

You can’t exactly speak, already lost in the pleasure and the fullness his thick cock provides as it pushes past your walls and settles nearly in your belly.

The sound you make is depraved and eager, and it makes him smile. “That good, huh? So fucking cute how cockdrunk you get.”

“Shut…up,” you huff before reaching for his hair. “Faster.”

“Faster,” he repeats to himself, hips pulling back just to snap forward. “Always want it fast, don’t you? Never want me to take my time.”

“Cause I don’t want your dick in me longer than it needs to be,” you retort, but you both know that’s not true. “Fucking hurry—”

With a sharp and sudden thrust, he changes the pace. Obeying your command for fast and hard as your bodies shake with pleasure and force.

And you imagine it should feel quite strange to be so enamored by one man – one cock. But here you are, panting, and gasping, and whimpering as he fucks you against this bathroom wall. Ignoring the pounding of the fists against the door from people wanting to be let in.

He kisses you. Kisses all of you. Your lips, your cheek, your chin, your nose, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Tugs on your skin with his teeth before flattening his tongue against the tortured flesh.

His hand dances underneath your shirt. Palm smoothing up your stomach and over the cup of your bra. Slipping just far enough inside to knead you in his grasp. Make you whimper and push closer.

And he’s so warm. All of him is warm and soft and strong. He smells like mahogany and sex, and he feels like ecstasy.

You love his hands. The veins in his arms, the bulge of his muscles. The tan of his skin and the way he holds you.

He might be infuriating, but my god is he fun to look at.

“Fucking shit,” he snaps, readjusting his angle to make sure he’s fucking into you just right. “So fucking good, Tink. You’re shaking, sweetie. You close already?”

You can’t respond with words, instead clenching around him in an effort to prove his point.

He smirks, quickly reaching up to push his glasses back into place. “Good. Want you to come all over my cock, baby. Want you to soak me. Can y’do that for me, Princess? Can you soak my cock?”

You think you know what he means, but truth be told, you aren’t sure if you can. You’ve only done it twice before – by your own hand, not his – and you wonder if you’d even be able to like this.

But the question is answered for you when he moves just enough to find that sweet, spongy spot that unravels you faster than lightning.

He hits it over and over and over – perhaps without even realizing – and when you suddenly begin to cry out his name…he understands.

He watches as it happens, aiding in your pleasure by spitting on his fingers and bringing them down to your clit.

The ministrations are ruthless and beautiful, and it almost distracts you from the gushing between your legs, and the way you soak his thighs.

“Shit,” you think you hear him groan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “So fucking good, Tink. Yeah, just like that. That’s good, baby, keep going. Give me all of it. Fucking all of it, sweetie, yeah.”

And just before you can go sliding down the wall out of pure exhaustion…he follows. Pressing his chest into yours to keep you upright as he spills inside your pussy, creating a bigger mess than before.

Everything is wet and sticky and warm. He’s breathing into your neck, holding onto your body so tight, you imagine you’ll see memories of him tomorrow.

And you stay, just for a moment. Learning how to take in air again and waiting for the feeling to return to your muscles.

“You okay?” he finally asks, exhaling the question into the sweaty skin of your throat. “Didn’t break you, did I?”

Your smile is lazy as you shake your head. “It would take a lot more than you to break me.”

And he laughs. In the kind of way that makes you clench around him again.

Which only makes him laugh harder.

“I fucking hope so.”

Next Part:

~ Jealous*

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~ Off the Shelf*

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

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Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @daphnesutton

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notjustjavierpena · 8 months

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Reunion - Part I

A/N: I have wanted to post this for a week now, expanding the dbf-universe a little more than it just being smut. It’s cliché-filled and lovely, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Summary: You're flying back to visit your parents (it’s Joel, you’re actually home for) after a month at college.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, sooooo much longing and love and fluff and teasing, Joel gets a blowjob, pet names, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, cuddles, reader’s dad is oblivious

Word count: 6.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49869355/chapters/125892244

Tonight

You feel giddy as you walk through the airport with your headphones on, your bag slung over your shoulder, and with a bounce in your step. Your feet’s movements have automatically adjusted to the beat of the song that’s playing in your ears, setting a late-summer soundtrack to your life as unimportant faces pass.

It’s sunny and warm inside the glass building, and whilst you cannot wait to get outside into the colder weather, it’s actually because of your father’s work emergency that you are excited; Joel is picking you up instead.

Joel at 11:06 a.m.: I can’t wait to see you. -JM

Your eyes roam over the screen of your phone whilst you pass through the crowd, smiling in a way that would make your parents ask why. Who knew that Joel Miller could make you feel like summer was still at its peak?

“There you are,” Joel says when you find his car in the enormous parking lot. He is leaning against the side of the vehicle, and you approach him whilst taking off your earphones to let them hang around your neck.

When you are less than twenty feet from him, you stop walking and run the rest of the way. You close the distance between you by throwing your arms around him in a tight hug, a happy squeak leaving your mouth. He lets out an ompf-sound but embraces you when the car saves him from falling backward.

“Hey,” he says into your hair, noticing the volume of your music when he can hear it play through the speakers, “You hate your ears?”

You are too busy breathing him in, head swimming from the very first inhale of his cologne, “Hm?”

“Turn that music down,” he tells you.

“God, stop sounding like my dad,” you groan and step back from him to do as you are told, “Fucking boner killer.”

“Don’t swear at me,” he warns but his tone tells you that the way he rolls his eyes at you afterward is more playful than impatient. He holds out his hand, “Bag.”

You stuff your headphones into the bag before giving it to Joel and watch him throw it into the backseat before circling the truck to hold the passenger door open for you. It feels stupid when your heart flutters at the sight of both of your bags lying side by side.

“Thank you,” you smile politely as you crawl into the car, “Even if you just hurled my possessions into the car.”

“Brat.”

You ogle him in the few moments it takes him to walk around the front of the car. He wears a green flannel shirt over one of his usual t-shirts, chest threatening to pop the buttons with how tight it is across his broad frame. A part of you hopes that he has dressed up for you, and the image of him fussing over his appearance in the mirror before leaving to pick you up is enough to make you smile goofily to yourself.

“What?” He asks when he finally sits beside you, turning the key in the ignition. The truck comes alive.

“Nothing,” you shrug, but then lean across the console center of the car. You reach up to cup his cheek and turn his head towards you, “You just look very handsome today.”

Then you kiss him softly on the mouth, seeking him out in the way that only you are allowed. He turns his body towards you, slides a hand around your back, and rests the other on the back of your neck.

“Mhm, and you’re lookin’ pretty, princess,” he hums against your mouth.

You kiss for a while, intimate and soft. When you try to move closer and escalate things by nearly crawling into his lap, he grips the hair at the back of your neck and holds you in place.

“No,” he tells you and you whine in response.

The hand you have on his cheek slips down to rest on his shoulder, but only so you can reach down on his back and scratch affectionately between his shoulder blades, “Please. It’s been forever, and— and I’m getting wet just thinking about it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens as he restrains himself. He shakes his head, eyes only going down between your legs very briefly, “Promised your old man to feed you on the way back since he ain’t at home, and your mom’s gone out with her colleagues. Plus there’s no way I’m screwin' a girl twenty years my junior in my car… in a public place. Don’t care how busy it is here.”

You slip from his grasp and sit back into the passenger seat with a huff. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him adjust himself in his washed-out jeans, “When then?”

“Tonight,” he promises as he pulls out of the parking space, “Think of how good it’ll be after bein' worked up all day.”

“If you can wait that long,” you sigh dramatically.

Joel scoffs and then starts to drive. Your clit throbs during the whole duration of the car ride.

He eventually pulls into an IHOP parking lot after you’ve begged him since seeing the billboard a few miles earlier. It is better than one of the roadside diners and more crowded too which gives you a greater sense of privacy.

You step out of the car, immediately met with the smell of sugary fried food. It makes your stomach growl, but still, and you’ll admit it, you are more excited to see what feast Joel will choose than you are about eating pancakes for lunch.

“C’mon,” he says as you lose yourself to basking in the sunlight and listening to the cars driving by on the highway.

“Lemme just get my wallet.”

Joel makes a sound of disapproval, “Food’s on me. Get your ass in there.”

The restaurant looks less rundown than you’d expected, and the sweetness in the air hits you like a brick wall as soon as you step over the threshold of the entrance. People are chatting loudly whilst eating breakfast foods, somewhere a baby cries and you have to actively search for a free table.

You walk across the tiled floor which is meant to look like wooden boards, not able to see Joel but feeling his presence a few steps behind you. When someone walks in front of you, you hear him grumble and feel his hand on the small of your back. Your head swims, your stomach swirling at the warmth of his touch.

Unsurprisingly, this means that it ends up being him who finds an unoccupied corner for you, one that doesn’t have anything sticky on the blue cushions of the booth. He offers you the booth and takes the chair on the opposite side.

You pick up the laminated paper menu from in front of you, studying it intensely. In the many years that you have known Joel, you have never actually been out with him where it’s just been the two of you because why would you? It makes butterflies fly around in your belly, fighting their way out until they are everywhere in your body. Especially between your legs when you see him scratch his beard whilst also looking for something to eat.

“This is our first date, you know,” you note and see Joel tense a little. You try to sound cool and indifferent whilst hiding behind the menu, “Are you nervous?”

“I’m usually always a lil’ nervous when I’m with a pretty girl,” he replies nonchalantly too, “But actually no. Even if she’s the prettiest girl I ever saw.”

You dare not open your mouth at that, scared that the butterflies might actually escape your body at this point and fly off into the air. You are hot in the face, resting the menu against your forehead to hide your face from him, “Shut up.”

“You started it.”

You peek over the top and are just about to say something when—

“Hi and welcome to IHOP!” A way too cheerful voice says and interrupts the tender moment. You slam the menu into the table a little too hard.

Both of you stare at the waitress, but Joel looks more like he has been offended by her bubbly attitude. She has a heavy southern twang. vibrant red lipstick and thick-framed glasses that suggest that she’s trying to go for something vintage and modern at the same time, “What can I getcha?”

Joel mumbles something about bacon and eggs along with the blackest coffee they have. The woman scribbles erratically on her notepad whilst complimenting his choice.

“And for your daughter?” She continues. Joel looks horrified, and you try to hide your giggle.

“I’ll take your cupcake pancakes, please. And a strawberry shake,” you reply, “And hash browns for me and my dad to share.”

“Alrighty!” The waitress concludes, collects the menus, and turns to Joel, “And for you, I’ll be right there with your coffee, sir.”

Joel kicks you under the table as soon as she has left. You stick out your tongue at him, but he fixes you with a stern look, “Don’t fuckin’ do that.”

“Why? It’s just a joke,” you shrug and lean back into the booth, “Not like anyone knows us here.”

It’s then that you realize that it probably has more to do with him than you; Joel probably feels like the comment was a slap in the face and a way of illustrating how fucked-up his relationship with you is. You find that you don’t actually care if the relationship is known to the whole IHOP, but with the way that Joel is looking away, you don’t dare to lean over and kiss his lips.

“Hey,” your voice is gentle as you place your hand on the table, palm facing up, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Joel curls his own hand around yours but still doesn’t say anything. His eyes are focused somewhere else as if he doesn’t dare to look back at you. You don’t think you dare see the wounded look on his face.

“This isn’t just fun ‘n games to me, you know. I mean, it may have started like that, but over the summer…” you try to fill the silence, background chatter fading from your ears as your pulse picks up, “I do mean it when I say I mi—“

“Stop,” he warns, eyes snapping back to yours and stealing your breath for a second, “We ain’t talking about that in a goddamn IHOP.”

“I feel like there’s no better place to do it,” you retort but he just shakes his head with a mix between a chuckle and a scoff.

“Tonight,” he says just like earlier.

When the food arrives, you eat in comfortable silence for the most part, and the conversation revolves around mundane things such as how you find the start of the semester and what projects he has coming up at work.

You barely give him reason to tut at you. You play nice and sweet, and make him laugh genuinely so you can admire the tiny lines around his eyes. He only makes a parental comment when you start to wolf down the plate of hash browns, and you respond by stuffing the last one into his mouth. It earns you a laugh that nearly sets your heart on fire with how rapidly it ticks.

He drives you all the way home afterward, and you dare to steal a kiss from him before exiting the car. You’ll be around later, you say, and he suggests picking you up, but you tell him you'd rather just take your bike and save him the gas money. He somewhat accepts.

When you step inside your childhood home, you lean against the door with a giggle. Your cheeks burn as you cup them, staying like that for a minute whilst you try to calm your pounding heart. You run your fingers up and through your hair while sighing, “Shit.”

You think back to the first time Joel had fucked you in your bedroom. It had been rushed, intense, and frankly terrifying, but then it’d been good. More than good. The greatest, actually. It had opened something up inside your chest, provoked something between your thighs that you didn’t know existed. In return, Joel has become more gentle with you, softened under your touch every time you are together. You wonder if…

He still yanks your hair, reprimands you, and practically makes you feel like you’re on fire when he touches your pussy like no one has ever done before, but you could swear that he kisses you like you’re more than just fun.

You distract yourself with a shower, find yourself dipping the shower head between your legs for just a moment before shaking the thought. You’ll get what you want soon enough, no need to fantasize. Instead, you do the mind-numbing task of shaving your legs.

Just before leaving for Joel’s, already sitting on your bike, you shoot your father a text.

You at 6:55 p.m.: House is empty. Going out.

Dad at 7:15 p.m.: I’ll be home in 2-3 hours. Did you eat dinner? -Dad

You at 7:17 p.m.: Yep, see u tomorrow :)

And then you start pedaling.

Joel opens his door with a smirk, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside his home after making sure that no one is watching. You didn’t even know that you could pine for someone you already have. Yet here he is looking young, beautiful, and full of life when he is sneaking around with you, and you want him to kiss you silly.

He reads your mind, closes the door quickly afterward, and doesn’t hesitate. He kisses your giggling mouth with the determination to follow up on your make-out session in the truck earlier. He has his arms around you, pushes you gently against the front door, and practically eats at your open mouth. It makes you sigh softly, your heartbeat racing and your skin prickling with electric excitement.

“I’ve missed you,” you confess when you pull away from his lips to go down his neck with the same enthusiasm as a puppy who hasn’t seen their human in forever. Usually, Joel is the one who is eager to move on with less innocent things, but you have been in his company half the day without permission to touch him like this, so you are starving for him.

“We saw each other a few hours ago,” he argues, relaxing his grip on you as your tongue goes over a certain spot that has the ability to bring him to his knees. He groans quietly over your shoulder.

“Wanna suck you off,” you whisper in his ear then descend to your knees right on his scratchy doormat. He rests his hand on your head and runs it over your hair with the gentleness of someone who has nothing to prove, shakes his head at your suggestion that’s hardly a suggestion.

“Not here, your knees gonna hurt,” he insists.

“Don’t care,” you say and mean it; you’ll take the rug burn. You don’t stop your hands from unbuckling his belt, looking up at him through your lashes with a devious smile on your face. He strains, half-hard, against the zipper, and when you pull it down he seems to give in completely.

You yank his jeans down over his hips, and he starts helping you by stepping out of them until they lay forgotten on the floor behind you. As soon as you lay eyes on the outline of his cock, you run your palm over it from tip to base. A wet patch is already threatening to form on the front of his boxers with your simple touch, his length coming to full size as he swells completely underneath your hand. You can see the head starting to poke out from underneath the waistband, so you take pity on him and yank his underwear all the way down as well. They pool around his ankles until they end up in the same pile as Joel’s jeans.

Your mouth is salivating at the sight of him fully hard after a good month without him. Joel is shaking in anticipation, his usual calm and collected facade crumbling.

You waste no time; your hand wraps around the base of Joel’s cock to guide the head to your mouth. The ache to taste him has settled between your legs, clit twitching as you let out the flat of your tongue, curling it around the underside of the head to lick along the frenulum. Your eyes nearly roll back into your skull, and Joel seems to enjoy it because you hear his head bump against the door.

He moans and shudders above you, but he doesn’t yank at your hair like most stupid college boys would already have done because they’ve seen it on the internet. He takes his time with it, instead spreads his fingers over your scalp, scratches, and lets you move freely, “Ohh, you’ve been hungry for it, haven’t ya?”

You smile up at him, nod eagerly to earn praise, and then lick along the underside of the head again. You catch a droplet of precome with the tip of your tongue as you reach the slit, tasting the slight bitterness on him with a hum before repeating the move.

“Mhmmm, that’s it, good girl,” he says breathily.

When you want to tease him a little more, you move to nose along the shaft until you can press a wet kiss by the base. He twitches a little in your fist. You start planting open-mouthed kisses all the way up to the head again, stroking him a few times after getting to the tip.

Your free hand skims up underneath his t-shirt, over the trail of hair that you sometimes bury your nose in whether it be during this sort of thing or just when you feel extra cuddly, mirroring the hand on your head and splaying across his soft stomach. Your nails scratch too, affectionately almost, and then you prepare yourself to take him into your mouth.

Joel looks down as you stop, but groans as he sees you let a good amount of spit gather in your mouth. You let it drip down over the head. His stomach jumps underneath your palm, “Fuck, you are trouble, ain’t ya? Can’t wait to see that pretty mouth around my dick.”

You hum. A few kisses to the head, and then you slide your lips down over him. It is quite the stretch to fit him as far inside as you want in this insatiable state, but you are satisfied with your work when he chokes out a noise that you only thought you were capable of making. That weak croak is worth the ache that will eventually overtake your jaw.

Joel bucks his hips as soon as you encase him in the heat of your mouth. The fat head stabs at the back of your throat, causing you to gag and clench around him but he seems too far gone to even register its doing on you. You let him do it again, blinking rapidly to stop tears from spilling down your cheeks.

Instinctively, his free hand wraps around the wrist of the hand you have on his stomach. He groans as you bob your head and make tiny noises that sometimes develop into wet gagging.

When Joel’s hips start to move, you begin to feel the doormat underneath your jean-clad knees. He isn’t being particularly rough with you, but it’s his size that makes the tears, that you’ve blinked away successfully so far, spill from the corners of your eyes. He is so big, hot, and heavy on your tongue, and filling your belly with the sweetest ache for him to wear you out tonight.

The other hand finally grips tightly, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. You whimper as he tugs, fucking you onto his cock, and he nearly loses his mind as your throat squeezes around him with the sound.

“Filthy, filthy girl,” he scorns as spit starts to dribble down your chin, continuous wet noises bouncing off the walls of the living room, “God… You’re gonna make me come down ya tight throat.”

Perhaps after he has fucked you, you think, and then barely shake your head. Joel notices though, slows down as he gets too close, dick twitching inside your mouth before he, albeit reluctantly, draws back out. His breathing is ragged, trying his hardest to calm down and stop himself from teetering around the edge.

You swallow down the remainder of spit in your mouth and pull your hand out of Joel’s grip to wipe the back of it over your soaked chin, shiny with saliva and tears. Your eyes are red, your lips puffy, and your hair a mess. Your jaw hurts from the strain on it but despite this, it hurts more between your legs by now; the throbbing sensation has started to become uncomfortable, your clit desperate for friction and your cunt feeling so empty that it clenches again and again. You need to be filled right now, think you might die if he doesn’t shove his cock in you soon.

“Need you,” you say to break the silence and start to get up on your feet again. You want to cling to him, shed him of the rest of his clothes, and crawl under his skin to live there. You almost sob, “So bad, Daddy. Please please please.”

“Shh…�� he coos, toeing off his socks and reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulls it over his head, revealing his beautiful tan skin and the faint amount of hair on his chest. You reach out to run your nails through it, but he grabs both your wrists and starts taking off your top instead.

“Let me touch you,” you whine but still let him undress you slowly, piece by piece of clothing ending up in the same spot on the floor.

“Y’just touched me,” he says simply, reaching around you to undo your bra. He slides the straps down your arms, the cool air of the room hitting your chest and making your nipples harden. He hums in approval, “So fuckin’ pretty. Been too long.”

He cups your tits, pushes them together, drags his thumbs over your taut nipples, and then lets go when you’re just about to let out a moan. He looks as starved as you and he satisfies his hunger by kissing you with bruising force, his chest against yours to feel your breasts press against himself.

You hoist yourself up and wrap your legs around his waist, his thick cock trapped between your stomachs. He groans at the friction with each step he takes towards the couch and you kiss the noise right off his tongue, sucking at the tip as a reminder of what you have done minutes earlier.

When he reaches the destination, he drops you down onto the leather. Then he leans over you, one knee beside you to reach for the curtains to close them, and you almost give in to the urge of sucking him off again because he is so close. He seems to notice.

“Sit back, panties off,” he orders whilst making sure there are no gaps that anyone can peek inside of.

You follow orders so quickly. He takes no time to tease either, sinks to his knees, yanks your ass further to the edge, and parts your legs until he can get in between them. Your hands rest on the back of your thighs, holding yourself open for him as he guides his cockhead inside of you.

The slight breach makes your breath hitch in your throat until it comes out in a wanton whine, walls already trying to pull him In further. Joel joins you with a guttural groan, staring down at your stretching cunt as he feeds it inch after inch. Usually, there’s some resistance, a pinch, but he bottoms out inside of you so quickly now that you’ve been wet since you saw him before lunch.

You throw your head back against the back of the couch and let him have his way with you, feel him repeatedly pull out almost all the way until he slams right back in and sets a desperate pace. His hand rests on your mound so his thumb can circle your swollen clit, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so fucked out in mere minutes.

Your breath catches, your pulse quickens, the first time he slides over your g-spot which he immediately notices with the way your pussy clenches in surprise pleasure. It makes him repeat the move, tilting his hips to ensure he won’t miss it with every crash of his pelvis into yours.

“Don’t stop, ah-ah! Joel!” You practically yell for him, digging your nails into the plump flesh of your thighs and triggering a growl from him. He cants his hips again so he can move forward and lean into you, still rubbing your clit with his thumb, but now also losing himself in a kiss that’s surprisingly soft compared to the crushing force of his thrusts.

When he pulls back, his body needing the air through his mouth again if he is to continue fucking you like this, he rests his forehead against yours. His breaths are damp and exchanging with your own. Your eyes meet in a fiery gaze as filth starts pouring from his mouth.

“I’mma fuckin’ wear this pussy out tonight, princess,” he tells you with a moan, speeding up the taut circles on your throbbing clit as if to make a demonstration of his next promise, “Make you come and come and - shit, that’s good - fuckin’ wring them out of you.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m gonna come right now,” your voice is frantic and your toes are starting to curl.

“Fuck yes, you are, can feel it,” he pants, “Right on Daddy’s cock, just like he wants it.”

You come undone under his intense gaze with an orgasm that knocks the wind out of your chest to the point where your voice disappears, the only evidence remaining being the furrow of your brow and the open-mouthed yet silent ah. Joel can see it, sense it.

When you come back to earth, greediness bubbles up in your chest. Despite your voice still being caught in your throat, you manage to croak out a wish, “Wanna get on top. Not finished.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans in unison with you as he pulls out of your oversensitive cunt. It doesn’t take long to switch positions, and with a steady grip on the backrest of the couch, you drag your wet heat across Joel’s painfully hard dick. It twitches against your cunt, and he whines when he holds it steady for you to sink down onto.

He fills you differently like this, goes deeper, and feels impossibly bigger. You give an experimental roll of your hips and Joel’s hands fly to your hips, his head falling backward and his body slumping into the seat.

Your initial pace is slow but you want to move faster, yet your body is held in place by Joel’s hands having slid up to hold around your waist. He sets the pace just like before, pushing a little on your back to arch it just how you like to do it yourself. The tip of his cock pokes into your front wall, and the slow sensation of getting it to slide over your g-spot has you thrashing in his lap.

“Need ya to come without me touchin’ your pretty little clit,” he begs without saying please and then slides his thumbs down to rest below your belly button, “Missed it so much, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

He presses the two digits into your flesh, adding the amount of pressure that he has found out is just right by playing with you for hours during the summer. You keen, head lolling to the side and your jaw going slack, “Just like that, Daddy. I’m gonna come if you keep going like that!”

He allows you to ride him in earnest after that, bouncing in his lap and causing the front of his thighs to slap noisily up into your ass. Your whole body trembles at the force, building the pressure that you’ve come to know so well after Joel pulled himself together to fuck you that one day.

“Fuck, you givin’ me another one already? Lucky Daddy,” he growls, still denting your belly with his thumbs. Your pulse is so incredibly fast, and your breaths are nothing but squeaks.

You let out a high-pitched sound as your orgasm rolls through your body, electricity spreading out from your cunt to make your chest blush. You clamp down rhythmically on Joel’s cock and he nearly slides down onto the floor with the way that he melts under you. The thick head continues to ram into your g-spot to keep the second high going for as long as your body will allow, but whereas your voice was gone earlier, you force out a request.

With your hips not stilling, you lock eyes with him and give him a lazy smile, “Tell me when you’re about to come, Daddy.”

“Fuck, won’t be long,” he pants.

“Tell me when,” you repeat.

“N-now, princess!”

You don’t warn him as you lift yourself up from his dick to slide down onto the floor, kneeling with a dirty smile. He catches on fast, swearing under his breath at the realization, and spreads his legs so you can settle between them.

Quickly, you guide his cock to the far back of your mouth and suck him like he is a popsicle and it’s a hot summer’s day. He sure tastes good, arguably better than normally because he is coated in your sweet slick. The dramatic part of you would say that he tastes like sin.

He hisses loudly above you, immediately yanking at your hair when you swallow him down enthusiastically. You make sure to hum so that your muscles clench around his length and the vibrations go down his shaft.

You’re delusional with post-orgasmic pleasure as you bob your head, squeaking as Joel painfully pulls at your hair to the point where you can hear a few strands of hair pop off your scalp. He is so close, twitching in your mouth with every beat of his heart.

When you hollow your cheeks, he comes on your tongue with a loud groan. His hips stutter slightly but you expertly move with him so nothing spills, and so you can push it to the back of your mouth and swallow.

You radiate pride as you pull off of his spit-slicked cock. He breathes heavily, utterly spent and relishing in it.

“See? No mess to clean,” you rest your cheek against his knees as his cock softens.

“Wow, clever girl,” he praises with the little energy he has left whilst you beam. He holds out his hand for you to take, “C’mere, baby.”

You don’t know how long the two of you lie down on the couch together, naked bodies completely entwined. Your back is pressed against Joel’s chest, and you are giggling as you talk about tedious date-like things that somehow feel like they’re the most interesting things in the world. You ask Joel about his favorite color to which he says that he doesn’t have one because he’s a grownass man. So you playfully roll your eyes and continue on to the topic of favorite songs, would-you-rathers, embarrassing habits…

Joel answers them reluctantly and shyly at first but then seems to relax into it when you answer your own questions with a laugh that has his heart beating so fast that you can feel it against your back.

And then you go again, spooning this time, and you don’t make a joke about his outstanding refractory period because you are too busy trying to make sense of how many orgasms he pulls from you by sliding his hand down your belly and between your thighs.

The pattern starts over. You talk a bit more, but the topic never lands on what you had planned during your way-too-sugary (Joel’s words) lunch together.

Instead, Joel suggests bringing you to his shower, but you reassure him that you are far from done with him for the night, so he might as well save the hot water and the money for the heating bill.

He hums in agreement but does, however, convince you to hydrate with a huge glass of water and to wipe yourself down with a damp flannel that he gets for you during a lie about having to pee. The flannel has cooled down on its journey from the bathroom but it soothes your aching clit the second you hold it over the swollen nub. You sigh contentedly whilst Joel lays down behind you once again.

“Right, where were we?” You say excitedly.

Joel sighs into your neck and tightens an arm around you, “Thought I had made ya forget about that.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to get to know you better,” you tut, patting the hand that splays on your belly, “Now tell me if you were a jock in high school.”

“You got some nerve,” his chest rumbles as he talks, “Definitely wasn’t. I spent all my teen years keepin’ my baby brother outta trouble, you think I had time to play football? Did try baseball once though.”

“I feel like there’s a joke about balls in there,” you lean back and turn slightly to look up at him, wiggling your brows.

“Shut up,” he laughs, and you don’t think you have ever witnessed the man laugh as much as he has done in the last hour.

“I’m just saying you don’t know if you haven’t tried it,” you continue. A warm feeling settles in your heart as he breaks into another grin followed by a chuckle. The hand on your stomach digs into your side, triggering a fit of gleeful giggles as you are tickled. He overpowers you so easily and you quickly find that he is relentless. It’s a fight, a struggle that turns into several kisses everywhere on your face when he is suddenly on top of you again.

That’s when you hear a knock on the door. You look at each other for a second before Joel shoots up from the couch, already pulling on his boxers and fighting to make his semi-hard cock go down. He points at you, “Stay down. They can’t see you if ya just stay down. Ain’t gonna invite anyone in.”

You make yourself as flat as possible and hear Joel’s sharp intake of breath as he looks through the spy hole.

“‘S your old man,” he says, flinching when there’s another rap on the door.

Your pulse spikes, “Well then don’t act suspicious.”

“Right, didn’t think of that,” he deadpans, quickly flattening the hair that has been yanked by you a few times tonight, “Don’t say a thing, okay?”

Joel opens the door after your dad starts calling for him on the other side. He smiles a little forced at first, “Sorry, was just tryna look presentable.”

“Family’s out, so I thought I’d see if ya wanted to catch a game,” your dad says, and you can hear the smile on his face and him holding up what you assume to be a six-pack.

“Now’s not really a good time,” Joel replies. You dare to look up through your lashes in the front door’s direction. Joel has a hand on the doorframe, barring the door in case your father tries to invite himself in.

“I won’t be here long!”

Joel’s feet shift a little, “Just ain’t a good time, buddy.”

“What does that mean? And why are ya barely dressed—“ there’s a brief pause, then, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Got someone over? Ya old dog. Damn, look at you. Still got it,” your father’s hand is visible in the doorway. It nudges Joel’s shoulder, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Because it’s your fucking daughter and it’s the best sex she’s ever had, you think to yourself and consider screaming into the cushions.

“Right,” your dad hands over the sixpack, “You need this more than me. I’m proud of ya, Miller.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Joel rushes to end the conversation, “‘Nother time. I’ll call you.”

They exchange goodbyes. You peek up at Joel when he closes the door, awaiting his next words to figure out how to react. He stays silent though, even as he walks to the couch again.

You bend your knees to let him fall into one of the seats. He runs a hand over his scruff, and you refrain from placing your feet in his lap.

“That was…” He eventually breathes without any tone to his voice, “Somethin’.”

“Good for you for getting laid,” you joke.

He clicks his tongue at you, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” you move to get up from your seat, hold your hand out for him to take, “C’mon. Let’s go shower, wash that guilt off your face.”

“Ain’t guilt, just concern,” he promises as you help him up. He makes a gesture to the both of you, “Could never feel guilty 'bout this.”

“We ain’t talking about that after we almost got busted by my dad,” you repeat his phrase from lunch, mocking his southern drawl.

“I feel like there’s no better time to do it,” he catches on with a smile.

You kiss him, and start to pull him along, “Tomorrow.”

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

Text

Dog Fight || Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

You fucked me so good I almost said, “I love you”

Prompt: You and Rooster had fling during your first time at top gun. It ended with you both swearing you never caught feelings and going zero contact. Now, when you’re both called back to Top Gun, you spend two weeks denying your feelings until they all come rushing to the surface.

Warnings: Blood (just a nosebleed, briefly mentioned), smut, unprotected sex, brief choking, soft dom rooster.

Reader’s callsign is Hyde (i.e jeckyll &)

…

“So, is no one else going to mention the burning sexual tension between Rooster and Hyde?”

You turn your head and stare through Hangman, hoping that this is enough to intimidate him into shutting his pretty-boy mouth. He grin widens the moment he realises he’s gotten under your skin.

It takes everything not to take the pen in your hand and launch it at his head.

It wouldn’t usually bother you. It’s just that it’s Rooster. Not only that, but it’s the fact that Rooster is sitting one row behind you — and he’s wearing the same goddamn cologne he wore back then, and you hate to admit that the scent of him still gets you a little bit excited.

You were talking to Coyote in the Hard Deck when you smelled it first. A soft white musk scent. You had known it was Rooster before you even turned around. Just one intake of that surprisingly soft, enthralling scent and suddenly you were back in the barracks of North Island’s base, his palm over your mouth and your knees over his shoulders.

“Leave ‘em alone, Rooster’s blushing.” Payback adds into the teasing. You turn, maybe a little too quickly, to check. Rooster’s hazel eyes meet yours and he’s blank-faced. Maybe there’s a little rose hue to his cheeks, but there always is.

“Come on, when are you two just going to admit that you want to screw each other’s brains out?” Hangman continues, his arm resting across the back of the chair next to him.

“Or that you’ve already fucked.” Bob joins in and the group goes silent. Rooster’s brows furrow. Everyone looks equally stunned for a moment and you’re so grateful that the attention is off of you because Bob just said his first swear word, maybe ever.

Once the initial shock of Bob’s first curse word wears off, Hangman’s brow quirks at the notion that the two of you may have already slept together. He honestly can’t believe he didn’t think of that himself.

“Now that is quite the thought, Bob,” Hangman turns in his seat and leans closer, “Didn’t I hear that you two kids were in Top Gun together the first time around?”

“Aviators!” Maverick’s voice carries across the hangar, interrupting the gentle bullying that has been happening. Rooster sighs in relief behind you. You turn your head just slightly, glancing at him over your shoulder.

His eyes are still on you.

“Today’s exercise is all about team work,” Maverick begins explaining before he has even reached the front of the room. Everyone’s face slowly reflects their confusion as they realise he’s not in uniform. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. “You guys suck at working as a team and today we’re gonna take a little field trip to figure that out. Meet at the beach in front of the Hard Deck at 9am sharp.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you pull up to the Hard Deck’s parking lot and see Phoenix and Bob sitting on the hood of Phoenix’s Porsche, waiting for you.

You look at what they’re wearing.

“Phoenix, tell me we aren’t working out!” You call as you pull the keys from the ignition. It’s almost eighty degrees — you had assumed it was going to be an icebreaker type of day.

Phoenix presses a hand over her mouth as she takes in the flimsy bikini top you’re wearing. You’ve got a button up over it, and black shorts on your bottom half — but the two of you both know that you’re less than appropriately dressed for the day.

“Didn’t you get Mav’s text?” Bob asks, he sounds almost like he feels bad for you.

You grab your phone from the hands free set inside of the car and check, shaking your head, “No?”

“Dogfight football, he sent a text to everyone so they would know what to bring.” Bob explains as he and Phoenix hop down from the hood of her car. You check the time, it’s 8:58. No time to change.

“Please switch with me.” You put your hands together in a prayer-like motion and step quickly toward Phoenix. She laughs and shakes her head just as quickly,

“Fuck no!”

You groan. You take a moment, eyes closed, to prepare yourself for the morning you’re about to endure. You button the shirt, letting out a breath and pretending that you’ve composed yourself.

“Alright. Fine,” You agree, “Let’s get this over with.”

You regroup on the beach, Maverick has already begun talking by the time the three of you join the back of the crowd.

Rooster is off to the left. Your eyes linger. He’s a head and shoulders taller than Harvard, standing at his side. He’s tanned, ripped and practically glowing. His hair is more sunkissed than when you last saw him, it’s curlier too.

Phoenix follows your gaze, craning her head to see, spotting Rooster. She turns her head back to you and raises her eyebrow suggestively, her lips quirking up into a smirk. All of her suspicions are confirmed at once.

You shake your head at her, rolling your eyes as if she isn’t right about it all.

The game begins. Rooster’s on the other team. You kind of wish he was on yours, you know you’d have less contact that way. You last maybe fifteen minutes before the overshirt becomes unbearable in the heat.

“C’mon, Hyde — can’t striptease to distract us just ‘cause you’re losing!” Harvard calls out as you slip the material off of your shoulders and toss it down on top of Bob’s backpack for safe keeping. You smile at him and raise your middle finger.

The bikini top is a simple unlined black piece that ties behind your neck and between you shoulder blades. The lack of support is unmatched.

You do your best to minimise the movement, but you also refuse to let your team lose because of your bad choice of clothing. The red ball lands in your hands and you take off running.

Coyote is on your left and Payback’s on your right. They’re both so tall, their legs are longer than yours and they’re gaining on you as you break into a sprint toward your team’s end zone.

Your foot makes it over the line and you throw the ball at the ground, spinning and throwing your arms into the air, jumping in celebration. Phoenix laughs as she tackles you into a hug from behind, both of you stumbling, happy as you try to catch your footing.

You feel eyes on you and your laughter stops. Rooster’s wearing sunglasses but his eyes are on you. Well, they’re on your chest. They flicker back up to your face and he realises he’s caught. He turns quickly and pretends to be immersed in the game.

You swallow, shaking your head. You’re broken from the moment, laughing as Coyote playfully jibes at your touchdown celebration, pretending to bounce around in the sand before you.

You playfully barge his shoulder and press forward with the game. You try your hardest, but you can’t ignore the way your eyes keep meeting his.

Rooster scores the next touchdown for his team — it’s like he’s been trying extra hard since your touchdown. His celebration is similar to yours, but more macho. You are stilled in place at the sight before you as he and Coyote collide mid-air.

He’s laughing, stumbling just a little as his feet hit the sand again. You watch as he dances under the burning sun, performing — much to Coyote’s delight. Rooster has the other pilot in fits of laughter with his little shimmy.

Maybe you should be laughing too. At anyone else you would be. There’s just something so familiar about watching those muscles in his stomach ripple and contract.

Your mouth goes dry at the thought.

You haven’t let yourself think about him like that in three years. You and Rooster had been in Top Gun together the first time around. He was a couple of years older than you — partially because he was held back a few years early on in his career and partially because you were particularly skilled for your age, so had gotten there early.

Top Gun is a thirteen week programme. For twelve weeks, Rooster was yours. Secretly, of course. You couldn’t let anyone know that he’d gotten you into bed so easily.

Twelve weeks in the San Diego heat. Sneaking around. Stolen kisses in storage lockers, condom wrappers in the waste baskets in Admirals’ offices, him sneaking out of your room each morning before sunrise. You walking with a slight limp on the way to training that one morning.

You hadn’t ever been anything exclusive and neither of you had brought up such nonsense for the entire programme. Until the night before graduation, when Rooster had asked you ‘what comes next?’ whilst he had been inside of you.

You still remember that fight. Both of you storming off, slamming doors and cursing at each other. You were still pissed off that he hadn’t even finished.

You’re broken from your stream of explicit memories as Yale trips into you whilst running to catch the ball. His elbow hits the bridge of your nose as he swings out his arms to catch his balance. You both hit the sand.

You don’t even really make a noise, beside the initial startled gasp. You blink, waiting for the pain to really hit you.

“Fuck, Hyde, I’m so sorry - I didn’t see you.”

You feel a wet droplet hit your chest, bringing your hand up to touch tenderly at your nose. Then the pain hits you. You wince, pulling your hand back and finding your fingers are bloodied.

“Oh, shit, she’s bleeding.” You aren’t sure who makes the announcement but Rooster’s standing before you next. You’re on your ass in the sand, blinking up at him. He watches a droplet of blood hit your chest and slide across your breast.

“Come on.” He extends a hand — the first words he’s said to you since the two of you had gotten here two weeks ago. You reach out and put your palm in his, letting him help you to your feet.

“You alright, Hyde?” Maverick pushes through the crowd that has gathered around you. He reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder, features creased with concern.

You open your mouth to answer him but are interrupted by a sudden head rush. You stumble, snapped back to reality as Rooster’s fingers curl around your biceps and steady you.

“Woah, careful — uh, Rooster, could you take her up and ask Penny to take a look at her for me?”

Rooster looks between you and Maverick. Your lips are parted and bloodied but your eyes are on him. So trusting and pretty. He shoots Maverick a look. Maverick knows who you are. He knows all about the girl who broke his nephew’s heart at North Island.

“Yeah, I got her.” Rooster agrees. Whatever happened between the two of you was three years ago, he reminds himself. Plus, it’s not like he wants anyone else to head up there with you. Maverick passes a key into Rooster’s hand.

You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, shaking your head and swallowing, the taste of copper on your tongue, “No, I’m fine, seriously.”

“Y/N, you’re not coming back until Penny gives me the all clear.” Maverick is stern with his answer.

Rooster’s thumbs stroke at your biceps, he’s still the only thing keeping you upright, “Can you walk?” You nod.

He grabs your overshirt from Bob’s backpack and nods for you to follow him. You trip just slightly as the damp sand becomes soft sand near the top of the beach — it’s nothing to do with your fall and everything to do with the fact that you aren’t watching where you’re going. Yet, Rooster’s hand slides around your waist immediately.

“I can carry you.” He offers.

“I know.” You mumble in return, pinching your nose to stop the constant stream of blood.

Rooster looks at you and smiles just slightly. He unlocks and holds open the front door to the Hard Deck for you and motions you in. You take a seat at the bar, leaning across and grabbing some napkins, holding them up against your still bleeding nose.

“Penny?” Rooster calls out. He leaves your side for a moment to search the bar for her, poking his head into the back room. He shakes his head as he realises she must be on the beach.

“Wait here.”

You shrug. Still bleeding, you weren’t planning on going anywhere anyway. He disappears into the back room for a moment, returning with a first aid kit. This bar has its fair share of incidents. Rooster pulls up a stool in front of you, nudging your knees apart so he can sit as close as possible.

You lean your head back.

“No, don’t do that,” Rooster’s fingers curl around the back of your neck as he guides your head forward, pointing your nose back toward the ground. He feels you tense up, releasing you immediately. “You’re supposed to lean forward.”

He leans across the bar and scoops some ice into a plastic bag, then wraps that in a napkin.

“Move your hand for me.” You do as he says, hissing quietly as he rests his makeshift cold compress against the bridge of your nose. You press the tissues to your nostrils, still bleeding.

“You okay?” He asks quietly. You look up at him and shrug, “Been better.”

He chuckles, nodding his head, “Yeah, you hit the ground pretty hard.”

“You saw?” You’re inexplicably embarrassed by that. Rooster has seen you in most positions, but the thought of him seeing you get knocked on your ass makes you groan and squeeze your eyes shut. Until you realise it hurts to shut your eyes like that.

“Saw you checking me out.”

Your cheeks burn. You look at him furiously. He’s smirking, “I was not.” Your tone is a smidge defensive.

Rooster chuckles and shrugs his broad, tanned, bare shoulders, “So how come you didn’t see Yale sprinting down the pitch at you, baby?” You squeeze your thighs together. It’s been so long since you heard him call you that.

“The sun was in my eyes.” You answer a little too quickly.

“The sun that was behind me, was in your eyes? — so you were looking at me.” He has you there. You give in, caught for a moment.

“Hey, I saw you looking at me too. After I scored.” You counter. Rooster smiles at you, brushing your hair back away from the injury. His sunglasses mask it well, but you catch his eyes glance down at your chest.

“Can you blame me?” It’s hot and his voice makes you want to melt faster than the ice in his compress. “It’s been a while since I saw them bounce like that.”

You kick his shin, trying to hide the fact that you’re thrilled that he has brought it up. “Pig.” You chastise playfully.

“Just brought back some memories is all.” His lips are just hinting at a smile. You brush your ankle against his, putting your foot on the footrest of his stool. You wonder if he can tell that you’re so happy that he remembers it all as clearly as you do. He can. You look like the cat that got the cream. But bloodier.

“Good memories?”

Rooster lets out an amused huff, taking the compress away from your nose and inspecting the bridge delicately. It’s tender, but both of you know it isn’t broken. He fishes his phone from the pocket of his tight shorts and turns on the flash.

Your lips part in surprise as he reaches out and grabs your chin. He leans in close. You hold your breath. He lifts the phone and shines the torch into your eye, making you flinch and pull away.

“Come on, I need to check if you have a concussion or not.” He grips your jaw and turns you back to face him. He knows exactly what he’s doing, you realise. He leans close again and you breathe him in.

He lifts the phone and shines the flashlight into each pupil, his grip on your jaw keeping your eyes on him.

“You seem fine to me,” He decides, “You feel okay?”

You pull the tissue away from your nose, pleased to find that the bleeding has stopped, and nod at him. He grabs a set of antibacterial wipes from the kit and lifts your chin once more. You’re silent, just watching him as he cleans you up.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Rooster mumbles, making you blush. You furrow your eyebrows at him,

“Like what?”

“You’re the one who walked away, Hyde.” Rooster reminds you calmly as he wipes the blood from your lips, his other hand on your chin, keeping you still for him.

“I didn’t walk away — I just said that I wasn’t sure!” You protest. Rooster rolls his eyes,

“If I remember correctly, you actually said, ‘What? You thought I was going to fall in love with you or something?’” He mocks your voice as he talks and you narrow your eyes at him. You kick his shin again, a little harder this time.

You know that what you said was kind of mean, but he had you backed into a corner by that point in the argument and you were really frustrated.

“It was just sex!” You blurt out. The same thing you had said three years ago. Rooster stills his hand, the wipe resting on your breast as his brown eyes stare into you.

He gives you a slow, curt nod and sets the wipe down on the side. You sigh as he pushes himself up from the stool, “Rooster, wait-“

He drops the key Maverick gave him onto the bar, “Lock up when you’re done, kid.” You glare at him. He knows you hate it when he says that shit to you. He’s just a couple of years older. You watch him tuck his stool in and turn to leave.

“Rooster, come on, you know I didn’t mean-“

He slams the front door behind him. You growl in frustration as you push yourself up from your stool. He always was such a drama queen.

By the time you make it outside, your shirt balled up in your hand, he’s across the parking lot and headed down the beach in the opposite direction from the group. They’re still playing and they haven’t noticed the two of you yet. You look at them, then back at him, and take off jogging down the beach.

It takes you a while to catch up, he’s already across the cove and standing on the rocks by the time you catch him.

“Fuck, could you slow down for a second?” You pant as you clamber up the rocks. He ignores you and drops down onto the other side. This beach is empty, he continues along its shore away from you. “Rooster!”

He turns finally, in time to see you wobbling as you try to drop down the same way he did. Rooster walks slowly back toward you until he’s towering over you, “If you tell me it was just sex one more fucking time, y/l/n, I’m gonna lose it.”

You smile softly, trying to deescalate, “It was just-“

Rooster grabs your face in his hands and crashes his lips to yours, your back hitting the wall of rock behind you. You hum in surprise as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

The kiss is all anger and hard breathing at first, until Rooster grips the nape of your neck and licks into your mouth. The jagged rocks behind you press harder into your skin as he pushes himself harder against you. You tug at him eagerly, dropping your shirt onto the rocks. Rocks be damned, you want him as close to you as possible.

His hands slide between your bodies and pop open the button to your shorts, dragging the zipper down. You pull away from his lips, breathing hard. You’re looking at him like he’s crazy, reaching out and grabbing his hands to still him, “Here?”

“Live a little.” He murmurs, pressing his lips forward again slipping his tongue into your mouth. You hook your thumbs into the sides of your shorts as you shimmy them down, leaving you in the bikini before him.

He’s seen you in much less, but your cheeks heat as he pulls back and skims his fingers along your waist, taking in everything that’s different and everything that’s the same all at once.

“Stop staring, you’re making me nervous.” You complain, pushing your hips forward against his. Rooster’s hands come up and grope at your breasts as he pushes his body against you, “God, I missed you.” He admits, capturing your lips in a kiss.

You gasp as he tugs at the string behind your back, pushing his hands under the material of the flimsy black bikini. You whine softly against his lips. His hips press you back against the rocks whilst his thumbs brush delicately over your nipples. He stifles a groan as he feels them harden against his fingers.

Rooster pulls back for just a moment, to rip that stupid thing off of you and then duck his head down to suck your nipple into his mouth. You close your eyes, catching your breath as he nips and sucks at your breasts.

You’re so focused on that, you don’t even notice his right hand trailing your side until it’s already between your legs and nudging the bikini bottoms to the side. You gasp as he sinks a finger into you, the pad of his thumb pressing to your clit like he hadn’t ever been away. He knows your body like he knows how to fly.

“Shut the fuck up.” Rooster breathes, straightening up and looking down at you through those gold sunglasses. You tremble, nodding at him and taking your lip between your teeth. “Don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”

You whimper as he sinks to his knees before you, nipping at your ribs, grazing his teeth across your hip bones. Rooster smiles just slightly as you take the sunglasses off his face and trail your fingertips across his cheek. You’re always so gentle.

He pulls the bottoms even more to the side, lifting one leg over his shoulder and burying his face between your legs. You take a sharp breath at the sudden contact, sliding your fingers into his curls. The sun hits his eyes as he looks up at you, they look especially brown in the midday sun, amber and shining.

He feels you clench around his fingers as he adds a second, groaning quietly against your core. You lean your head back against the rocks behind you, closing your eyes and just letting him touch you. His fingers work you open while his mouth focuses on your clit.

“Rooster, please just fuck me.” You whisper, tugging delicately at his roots. Rooster plunges his fingers into you, twisting them expertly and making you gasp.

He looks at you expectantly.

“Please.” Your voice cracks slightly, desperation never more evident. Rooster straightens up and pulls you against him, his cock strains against your navel through his denim shorts as his lips move against yours.

You know that the two of you have a limited time out here in the open like this. Your last time was unfinished and you had been walking around frustrated by that for three years. There had been instances in between with other people, but no one who could finish what Rooster had started.

Your fingers work at the button on his shorts, you’re trembling and it takes some willpower to have your hands comply. You manage to pop the button open, dragging the zipper down and pushing at the waistband of his boxers and shorts together.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” Rooster murmurs against your throat, his breath hitting you ear and making you shiver against you. He grabs your undershirt from the rock and drops it onto the sand, wrapping one arm around your waist.

You hum as he presses your back into the sand, then you gasp as he turns you onto your stomach. That’s what the shirt was for, your cheek rests against it - protected from the sand - as he lifts your hips.

You feel him pushing his shorts down behind you, pushing your hips back and feeling his exposed cock brush your core. Rooster revels in the desperate sound you make as he drags his cock between your folds, his lip between his teeth as he watches the tip sink into you.

“Fuck,” Rooster breathes out, fingers curling around your hip as he watches his dick disappear into you. You watch him over your shoulder. He’s so focused, brows furrowed and his lips parted just slightly. “Missed seeing you like this, baby.”

You push back against him eagerly, gasping as he pulls almost all the way out and drives back in, almost knocking you off of your knees and onto your stomach. You cry out, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt under you.

You feel him laugh breathily as he kisses your spine, “Gotta shut that pretty mouth, Hyde.” Easy enough for him to say. He’s relentless, dragging against your walls as he bottoms out again and again. You’re doing your best to keep quiet for him.

He pulls you tighter against him and presses his chest to your back, dragging his lips across your shoulder.

“Rooster, holy-“ A strangled noise escapes your throat as your knees buckle under you, the only thing keeping you from hitting the sand being his grip on your waist. “Shit.”

The breath is knocked from you as he pounds into you, you’re a whimpering mess, face pressed into the crook of your arm and his hand on the back of your neck keeping you there.

Rooster grunts, leaning forward and pressing filthy, open-mouthed kisses along the length of your back. You push back against him desperately.

He pulls out suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact. He turns you and plants your ass onto the shirt, tugging at your hips until your head falls back against the sand.

“Want to see that pretty face when you cum.” He murmurs, guiding his cock between your legs again. Your heart flutters as his palm slides up to rest at the base of your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, he just leaves it there, making sure you’re going to be still for him.

You arch your back, pushing your chest up against his as he fills you up. You push against his hand on your throat, grinning as he presses you back down against the sand.

“You like that?” He whispers. Your lips part as he drives himself impossibly deeper into you, squeezing his fingertips just slightly around the column of your throat. Both of you know that you do, he can feel you clenching around his cock.

You feel indecent under his unwavering gaze. No one has ever made you feel as wanted as Rooster. There’s always such desire in is eyes each time he looks at you. Everyone’s noticed it by now.

Rooster remembers suddenly why it was so fucking hard to let you go the first time around. Your pretty lips flushed and kiss-swollen, parted ever so slightly. Those gorgeous, trusting, eyes that twinkle with mischief each time your eyes are on him. Your pussy.

He grunts, his hips stuttering, “I can feel how fucking close you are, honey.” His thumb strokes at your throat as he leans down and slips his tongue into your mouth. You moan against his lips, breathing hard as he moves back to observe you again.

You had missed him. Had missed the way his curls hung over his forehead when he’s on top of you, the way he fills you up, his golden skin and the feel of his stupidly big hands on your body.

Maybe it’s the sun in your eyes, maybe it’s the intensity of it, but you’re seeing stars when he makes you cum. You don’t even realise you’re moaning his name until he moves his hand from your throat and covers your mouth.

“God, I love that sound.” He whispers, shaking his head slightly as you let out a muffled whimper against his palm. “But you gotta be quiet for me.” You nod, dazed as he takes his palm away and plants it in the sand behind your head.

“Fuck, Rooster,” You whimper, lifting your head and pressing a delicate kiss to his throat. “I-I…” You stop as you catch yourself in what you’re about to say. Your eyes widen at the realisation of what he almost just coaxed you into admitting.

Rooster doesn’t seem to notice, he rests his forehead against your shoulder, looking down between your bodies as he drives himself into you.

“D’you want me to pull out?” He kisses your collarbone in a surprisingly delicate motion, gripping your hips so tightly it feels like he might crush them.

“No.” You pant, maybe a little too quickly. You catch the smug look on his face as he glances up at you, you couldn’t care less — he should be smug, he’s the only person you’d ever let fuck you on a public beach during a work exercise.

He slides his hand around to cradle the base of your skull as he pulls you closer to him, picking up the pace. You whimper against his shoulder, sensitivity making you grip his bicep.

He groans softly against your throat as he comes undone, pulling impossibly close against him and driving himself as deep as he can go. He stays there for just a moment, leaving lazy kisses against the curve of your neck.

You whine as he slowly pulls out of you and tucks himself back into his shorts, zipping and buttoning the denim as he rises to his feet. You wobble as you push yourself up after him.

Rooster’s brows furrow as he watches you cover you chest with you hands whilst you grab your bikini top, “Are you serious?”

“I…”

Rooster walks to you and ties the bikini behind your back silently, then presses a kiss to your cheek, “You’re gonna have to start trusting me one of these days.”

“I do trust you.” You admitted, so quickly that it surprised even you. Your already warm cheeks burned. “I just…”

Rooster grabbed you shirt from the ground and shook the sand off of it, “I’m not asking you to tell me you love me, Hyde. Just… wouldn’t kill you to let me in.”

“I think I just did.” You muttered as you stepped into your shorts and buttoned them. Rooster’s palm hit your ass, his lips pressing gently against your shoulder as he handed you your shirt.

“Don’t get smart with me, L/N.” He grabbed his sunglasses and put them on once more, stepping up onto the rocks and offering you his hand. You take it and let him guide you back over the rocks until you’re on the sand, crossing the beach toward the hard deck.

You let him walk a little in front of you, both of you just walking at the speed your legs naturally carry you. His legs happen to carry him a little faster. You wonder what the hell that was back there. The urge to tell him you loved him.

It was confusing and even more terrifying. You shook your head and determined the cause to be some weird primal urge. Not the fact that you’d been thinking about him and your time together for the past three years.

“Do you think they’re all inside?” Rooster asks, noticing the crew are now gone from the beach. You cross in front of him, shrugging your shoulders and lifting your hand to shield your eyes from the sun as you try to spot someone through the windows.

Rooster sweeps sand from your back.

“Yeah, I see Payback.” You confirm, stopping to let him rid you of the evidence before the two of you head inside.

“Hyde, you okay? — where’d you go?” Maverick is the first to spot you, he’s just as concerned as he was before.

“Just needed some fresh air so we went for a walk.” You explain, pushing your hands into the pockets of your shorts. Rooster nods along in silent agreement.

You watch Bob elbow Phoenix, pulling her attention away from her conversation with Fanboy. Bob uses his beer to motion toward you and Rooster, but not towards your faces. You follow his gaze and look down at the matching imprints of sand on both of your knees.

You aren’t the best at reading lips, but it’s clear as day when Bob looks right at you and tells Phoenix, “You owe me twenty bucks.”

…

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@vensidia

@wwwpxper

@imhereimqueerandicannotdrinkbeer

@sparrows-corner

@worldsoldestpizzaslice

@needf0rspeed

@saltyturtlejudgeflap

@auggie-16

@666abby6666

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@a-sweet-little-fangirl

@filteroppsidonthveone

@nqberries

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@rororo06

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@serendiipty

@1-800-imagines

@amandarebell

@earth-to-lottie

@darkdaysandfakesmiles

@n3ssm0nique

@littlewhiterose

@lovemesomevesey

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #miles teller #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut

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lovrily · 10 months

Note

hey there!! could i request another shy!reader with steve where they are just friends and he likes her but steve gets hurt and the reader takes care of him and he's surprised by it? not even related to the upside down necessarily it could just be something normal hahah. thank you!!

yes ofc!!! thank you for requesting!! fem!shy!reader | 1.5k words | cw: minor burns

"you have to put the car in drive to drive it, steve."

robin's voice pinged in his ears. damnit. he yanked on the gear shift, one foot on the brake, and was met with resistance again.

"i'm aware of that, i assure you."

"are you gonna put it in drive then?"

"it's stuck, robin. seriously?"

his head snapped to her in the passenger's seat, an incredulous look painted all over his face. robin blanched, but her resolve remained; she glared at the gear shift, and then up at you in the rearview mirror.

"he didn't say that, did he," she retorted.

all you could do was smile.

steve felt you watching as he and robin bickered about what to do with the car. you were stagnant in the parking lot of the movie theater, little round lights bordering the film posters reflecting off the hood of the BMW. he took robin and yourself to see labryinth, which he had not been excited for and was not impressed by. but the two of you had been eager to get tickets, and you seemed to like it.

tense as you were in the backseat with all the arguing going on, he could see that one expression glaze over your eyes. sometimes, you got this look on your face, steve noticed- when something had just happened or you had just seen something that excited you. you replayed it in your head, in your own little world. you must have really liked the movie, then.

your eyes met his in the rearview mirror and he tore his gaze away. it wasn't like him to be nervous around girls, of course (kind of), and it's not that you were entirely different- girls didn't have to be different for him to like them, but you were you, and it was impossible for him not to treat you differently.

steve didn't just like you. this was something else entirely. but the only times you ever looked him in the eye for more than a moment were by accident, and you rarely spoke more than a few sentences to him without suddenly realizing he could hear you, and going quiet.

he let robin finish her tangent about how the car would still work if he 'stopped ramming it into park when it was still rolling forward', and then it was silent. steve watched the corner of your face from the side mirrors and was relieved to see your expression calmed once the two of them stopped yelling.

he hadn't expected you to suddenly start looking at him or talking to him in one night, but, fuck, he did want you to enjoy yourself. he just wanted you to have fun and not get all nervous when you had no reason to, and he couldn't even pull that off. shouldn't it have been simple? he knew you well enough to know what set you off.

"alright," he rambled off, popping open his door. "i need to look at the radiator cap. i'll be back."

the key beeped in the ignition until he dropped it into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. it hit him like a brick, instantly, and he dragged his hands over his eyes. idiot, why'd you slam the door?

it was too late to do anything about it. steve rounded the front of the BMW and opened the hood, a wave of heat rippling across his face. it was the dead of summer, the back of his neck already clammy, and he was so nervous about getting you and robin home without having to flag down the box office lady that he thought he might suddenly understand how you seemed to feel all the time. it was exhausting.

the sound of a door closing was distant to him as he reached into the guts of the car and unscrewed the squeaky radiator cap.

scalding hot liquid shot out of the valve instantly. it grazed over his palm like a bullet, leaving a raw streak in its wake. steve cursed, clamping the cap back onto the spout and screwing it shut until the flow of coolant stopped; escaped droplets leaving tiny, round wells of flesh all over his fingers.

he heard you inhale and knew it was you. jesus. his nerves flared hot as the coolant, and he squeezed his jaw shut to prevent from shouting in your direction. his first instinct was to curl his hand into a fist and ball it up tight against his chest, which was a massive mistake-

"no!" you blurted, darting over. steve was already cursing by the time you peeled his fist away from him, the burns appearing like ribbed stretches of plastic. "oh, god, don't do that."

"sorry," he breathed. "fuck."

your eyes flickered up to his, wide and confused. "why would you be- is this the only big one? the one in the middle?"

you pointed at the wide burn across his palm, still holding his hand in yours like a snow globe or a porcelain mug. something heavy and fragile. he gawked at you, a little stunned, skin still searing.

"yeah," he breathed. get it together. "yeah, yeah, it's fine. that's it. the other ones are..." he gulped, "small."

he swallowed in between the words, surprised at how badly the tiny burns on his knuckles could hurt; surprised by how close you were and how intense your expression was as you studied his hand. your skin was soft. he was almost positive he'd never been this close to you before, and you were so focused.

"do they hurt?" you stiffened. "of course they do."

"no," he blurted. "no, i mean...they're alright. not that bad."

they were bad. they hurt, so bad.

you glanced up at steve and he grinned.

"i can't even feel 'em. seriously." he spread his fingers apart. "look how thick my skin is."

"that's ridiculous," you mumbled.

you took his other hand and placed the burnt one gently in his grasp before letting go and poking into the backseat of the car. he glanced around, like he'd suddenly lost his balance, floored at your eagerness to help. when you returned with a napkin and a water bottle, he stood straight up, swaying casually on his feet.

"playing doctor?" he murmured, watching you as you took his hand from him and splayed it open in your own.

the way you looked up at him, eyes wide, would have been enough to knock him over had he not braced himself for some sort of reaction as soon as he said it. it was too brash, too overt for you; of course your cheeks and ears went as hot as the radiator.

"sorry," he shook his head. but that was essentially an admittance that he was flirting, and he couldn't have that, so instead he said, "you're a good doctor."

you inhaled and gave a stern look at his hand, but he heard your breath shake.

"i am a good doctor."

you poured water over the small burns on his fingers, turning his hand over slowly and softly rolling his knuckles over and forward to make room for the liquid. when you wet the napkin and placed it over the widest burn on his palm, he exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes up at the sky. your eyes flew open.

"i'm sorry. you have to cool it off to help it."

"ouch."

"i'm sorry," you repeated, a little more urgent. your gaze was frantic when he glanced back down, and guilt spilled into him as if a dam had been broken. his lips quirked into a bemused but sad expression.

"you don't have to be sorry. you're healing me."

you snickered, and he followed the sound; tilting his head when you glanced away.

"that's a bit much."

"this is better than anything i would have done. or robin. she would have told me to peel the burns off, probably."

you actually laughed at that, his hand bobbing up and down in your own. "actually, if they were..."

you stopped. there it was- as if you suddenly realized he could really hear you when you spoke.

steve didn't follow the sound this time. he just watched you, unsure of what to do yet, unaware of the adoration written all over his face. and you were shy; not stupid. you saw it. so you kept going, encouraged.

"if they were worse, it might have been better to peel some of them off. but i'm glad we don't have to. they aren't too bad. i'm sorry the water was painful."

it wasn't an overly romantic or important line to close with, but it was the sentence that you started, and steve was just pleased that you finished it instead of going quiet. he watched you, like an image passing by.

"you're nice," steve said. "too nice."

his breath separated the hair at the top of your head, your nose close to his chest; his hand still in yours.

a honk sounded from the car like shattering glass. you tore your hand away; the moment over but not forgotten. the glare steve shot robin was faster and more scathing than any coolant or bullet.

steve opened the door for you and slipped into the driver's seat, sighing.

"i got it!" robin burst. "i just had to pull on it a couple times. it's fine, i think. for now."

he regarded her with a locked jaw and flared nostrils. she merely snapped what? in return, sinking into her seat.

steve didn't see her wiggling her eyebrows at the two of you in the rear view, but you did. his grip on the steering wheel relaxed when he heard you laughing softly from behind him.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader

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dfortrafalgar · 27 days

Text

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 10

[Prev] [Next]

Law might have run a red light on his drive back to your apartment. Could you blame him? There was no one on the road anyway, not at 2:00 in the morning. He hoped you hadn’t stayed up for him, but at the same time he wanted nothing more than to enter his home, see you in the living room, and scoop you into his arms. He had been so busy at the hospital that he couldn’t remember seeing you stand up since you left the emergency room, so the fact that you, not Shachi or Penguin, but you, called him earlier made his weary heart swell with hope and adoration.

He yanked the parking brake of his car upward and swiftly switched off the ignition, pulling his keys out, grabbing his bag, and practically sprinting across the dark parking lot to your building’s entrance. He input his apartment code so fast his hands were shaking, bursting through the door and climbing the stairs skipping every other step as he ascended. His heart was racing. If he was in any worse shape, he might need a triple bypass. His hands continued trembling as he stuck his house key into the lock, twisting it and pushing the heavy door open to finally enter your apartment.

His golden eyes lit up.

You were still awake, sitting on the couch with Bepo who was rolled over with his belly exposed. You were munching on a chocolate chip cookie while you watched a rerun of an old science show on the television. The force of Law entering the apartment with an anxious gusto made you jump in surprise, but you quickly smiled upon seeing your husband.

“Did you run up the stairs?” you asked, taking in his heaving chest and parted lips as he tried desperately to intake as much oxygen as he could.

Law simply dropped his bag, shed his coat, and rapidly paced towards you, pulling you off the couch by your hands and wrapping his arms around you. He buried his head in your neck, squeezing his eyes closed, afraid that if he opened them he’d see you back in bed, refusing to look at him. You kept your mouth shut at his actions, choosing instead to loop your own arms around his shoulders, squeezing him as tight as you could as you breathed in the sterile hospital odor from his clothes.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant,” you mumbled, your words muffled in the cotton of his clothing.

He immediately shook his head, his wispy black strands tickling the skin of your neck. “Never apologize. Never.”

You yelped as Law’s body lurched, his arms swooping down to scoop you into his arms, just like he did when you were his bride, to carry you back to the couch and flop down, placing you in his lap. The force startled Bepo, who grunted before falling back into a content pseudo-slumber. You kept your hands looped around Law’s neck as you leaned into his chest.

“I’m really happy you’re up…” he whispered.

You simply hummed. “Me too.”

The two of you sat in silence for what easily could have been an eternity, the sounds from the television turning into monotonous background garble as your breaths synced up to his. Law adored moments like this. No responsibilities, no expectations, no distractions. Just him and his wife. You and your husband.

However, he still felt like he had to speak. “So, about Friday…”

You visibly tensed in his lap. “About Friday…”

“I have the day off, so I can go with you.”

You picked your head up, your eyes shining. “Really?!”

Law nodded. “Yup.” He heavily debated bringing to light the conversation he had had with Robin in the emergency room but decided against informing you, assuming that this aforementioned ‘diagnostic consultation’ would address exactly that. “I’ll be there with you through the entire… thing.” He almost said the word ‘ordeal,’ but realized that single word probably let on more than he intended.

You didn’t seem to notice, or simply didn’t care, content with the mere fact that Law would be able to join you. “Thank goodness… I’m so happy…” You dropped your head back onto his shoulder. “I’ve been so nervous since she called me this morning.”

“Did she tell you anything over the phone?” he asked, rubbing your back, leaving warm trails of pleasant shocks in the wake of his hand.

“No, she simply said she was hoping to see me as soon as possible. She wanted to discuss everything face-to-face, which I understand,” you muttered back. “Still makes me really nervous though. I’m afraid she’s going to tell me that I’m completely infertile, or something.”

Law sucked in a shaky breath. “Hopefully not.” He wished more than anything that he had the emotional capacity to say anything else, anything more reassuring or comforting, but despite the years he dated you, and even after marrying you, he still had his frequent bouts of complete emotional constipation. How you continued to put up with him, he feared he would never completely comprehend.

“Anyway,” you lifted your head. “Shachi and Penguin were here when she called. Penguin got so nervous that he started baking.” You gestured with your thumb to the kitchen counter.

Law’s eyes darted in the direction you pointed. Five large plastic food storage containers sat stacked one on top of the other, each filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies. The entire stack was easily almost three feet tall. The Leaning Tower of Tupperware. Law groaned. “What in the world…”

You laughed, the sound seeming so foreign recently. “We’re completely out of flour and baking soda now, but we should also have enough cookies to last us a lifetime.”

Law’s lips quirked into a small smirk. “I swear, you can’t take Penguin anywhere.” He held you closer as you giggled into his chest.

“Well, I personally figured you could bring one or two of them with you to the hospital. Leave them in the break room with a little note for the rest of the staff to pick at when they’re on break. Don’t you think that would be sweet?” You grinned.

Leave it to you to think of the most generous solution to the mountain of cookies left in your kitchen. Law smiled, his hand trailing over the back of your head. “That sounds like a great idea.”

—

The Friday of your appointment had sprung up on the two of you. You sat in the passenger seat of Law’s car, your heart hammering in your ribcage and your fingers anxiously picking at your cuticles as your mind raced with worry over what would be discussed at your appointment. The repetitive alternative rock music playing through the radio’s speakers was interrupted with an hourly traffic report, and Law took that moment to slide his free hand over to your thigh, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Neither of you spoke a single word, the only noise being the rumbling of his engine and the monotonous tone of the traffic report.

When you exited the car in the parking lot of the clinic, you immediately paced to Law’s side, grabbing his pinky finger with your own.

“Something to ground me,” you stated plainly.

At your words, Law grabbed your whole hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “Don’t float away from me, now.”

Time went by in a blur as you checked in with the receptionist, sat impatiently in the waiting room, and blindly followed the nurse into the patient hallway with Law close on your heels. You followed her into the examination room where she assessed your blood pressure like a typical appointment, before writing a few notes on her clipboard and leaving you and Law to wait for Robin.

You were sitting on the small, elevated bed with your legs dangling off the end, your perspiring hands quickly causing small wet blotches to form on the sterile paper that covered the cold vinyl. The silence was suffocating. You felt like you were back in your bathroom sitting on the closed toilet lid anxiously waiting for that negative pregnancy result. Law was sitting in a plastic chair across the small room for you, and he slouched lower in the seat to extend his leg out and bat the bottom of your shoe with the toe of his own. The action caused you to yank your eyes upward to face him, and he graced you with that warm smile you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“You see anxious patients like this all the time,” you mumbled. “Have you ever learned any ways to make them feel better?”

Law rested one of his elbows on the narrow arm rest of his chair, dropping his cheek to rest on his tattooed fingers. “Sure I have, but I can’t say I’m too good at it. But… you’re not my patient, you’re my wife.”

A very nervous chuckle blubbered from your lungs. “I guess that would make a difference, huh?”

Law’s lips formed a very faint grin. “It makes a hell of a difference. I can’t play footsies with my patients.” He punctuated his sentence with another knock into your foot.

You couldn’t resist laughing. Law was often so serious and stoic, intimidating strangers with his deadpan gaze and unwavering, permanent scowl, but he became a completely different person with you. In the years you had been together, he had morphed into a chronically exhausted undergraduate student who could barely force a dry grin in your direction into a compassionate, tender, loving husband. You couldn’t argue that he was still a bit lacking in the empathy department, but his mere presence in any room brought you a sense of ease and comfort that you had never experienced in your life. And goodness, you loved him for that.

The sound of the door to the exam room opening snapped you out of your dreamy thoughts. Your heart regained its anxious palpitations as Robin entered with her usual calm demeanor. Something in her eyes seemed… off, however.

“‘Morning, you two, how has the week been treating you?” she asked as she sat down on her stool, placing her laptop and small stack of stapled paperwork on the room’s counter.

Law tossed a look at you. You tossed a look back at him.

“Could be better,” you uttered for the both of you.

Robin simply hummed. It wasn’t rocket science to figure it out. She was there when it happened, after all.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush here, I would like to jump right into things.” She pulled up a few images on her laptop before grabbing the device and rolling in her stool to be seated in front of you, turning the computer and placing it in her lap. The screen displayed your ultrasound images from almost a month ago. “I would like to bring your attention to these labeled areas.”

Robin’s finger indicated each area she wanted you to address. Law had already seen the images, and simply kept his focus trained on every slight change of your facial expression. The doctor explained to you what she had already explained to him, and watching the worry grow in your eyes made his chest sink.

“We would need to perform a minimally invasive procedure to make sure, but I believe you might have endometriosis just based on your ultrasound scans. Can I ask you a few questions about your menstruation history?” She listened patiently and jotted down notes on her lap as you spoke about when you got your first period, how long on average they would last, how much bleeding, the average level of pain, or any other potential hormonal symptoms.

Law was in awe at Robin’s laser-focused demeanor with the patient. Just as he was always in tune with matters of the cardiothoracic variety, Robin absorbed all of your history like a dry sponge. She successfully empathized with your issues, her eyes giving away the even mix of intrigue, concern, and understanding as you described your ailments to her.

After you finished your explanation, Robin returned her laptop to the counter and swiveled to face both you and Law. She crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands above her knee. “Mrs. Trafalgar, I’d like to discuss the benefits of performing a laparoscopy to rule out or confirm endometriosis, based on both your ultrasounds and your description just now.”

Your eyes darted between her stern blue ones and your husband’s pointed gold ones. “I’m listening,” was all you could blurt out.

“The procedure would be incredibly quick. You’d be under general anesthesia, so you won’t feel a thing. We would make a very small incision in your abdomen, a little below your belly button. A thin camera would then be inserted to examine the inside of your abdomen, and would allow us to see any potential endometrial tissue that has grown outside of your uterus.” She paused to let you absorb the information.

“What would happen if you found tissue?” you nervously questioned.

“Depending on the severity, we would most likely advise a similar surgery to actually remove the visible tissue with a couple extra incisions, but again, nothing major. The healing time would be incredibly quick in comparison to more invasive procedures,” she explained. “I personally think this would be the best option for you, considering you and your husband are still interested in having children. I want to try my best to give you the best chance of success in doing so, but that also involves ruling out potential reasons that you suffered a miscarriage.”

You bit your lip, but you absolutely appreciated her openness and honesty. “If I do have this… would I still be able to get pregnant?”

Robin nodded swiftly. “Absolutely. Many women with endometriosis are able to have successful pregnancies, especially after treatment. However, I would be remiss to inform you that, since you have had one miscarriage, your chances of having another have slightly increased. I know this is very hard to hear, but I want you to understand that.”

Your eyes glanced back toward Law who was already gazing at your face, almost as if he was trying to read your mind. You nodded your own head and turned your attention back to Robin. “If that’s what you think is best, then I would like to go for it.”

Your doctor grinned, a friendly smile that warmed your spirit as your anxiety-ridden mind whirled with every possible circumstance. Her comforting, understanding instinct was exactly what you needed to help you through this process.

“I’d be more than happy to set up your initial appointment now, if that is something that interests you,” she added. “I can directly send a referral to the surgical outpatient clinic which is right down the road from here.”

You gave another affirmative nod. “Yes, that would be wonderful.”

Robin quickly got to work opening your patient portal on her laptop. While she typed, she began speaking once more. “Full transparency, but I also have endometriosis. My husband and I decided against having kids, but that was for completely different reasons.”

You smiled. “Who is your husband?”

“I doubt you’d have met him, he works at the fertility clinic nearby!” She laughed at the mere image of her own husband. “He’s a pretty strange man, I will admit.”

Law blanked. “Wait… is your husband–”

“Doctor Franky?” she finished his question for him. “Yup, that’s him!” She immediately turned her attention back to you, informing you of the date and time of your laparoscopic referral, leaving Law to sit back in his seat and ponder over the fact that your gynecologist's husband was the man who got a glimpse of Law’s sperm.

#fem reader #reader insert #x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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softstarlite · 6 months

Text

The Casualty of Love

CHAPTER 1

Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.

Warnings: Age gap (Javier is 40 and reader is 27), mentions of death.

Rating: +18 (Not explicit)

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

A/N: sorry guys that this one is kind of short, I promise that it is because is the first chapter that I write after almost 4 years without writing anything at all and because I have a terrible big cold bullying me. But I promise that future chapters will be much longer, I hope this one gets you hook up (please remember that English is not my first language) :-))

Divider by @saradika

Javier didn't though he would be waking up in his old bed in his parents house ever again, for him there were only two options, dying on the field in Colombia or working on the DEA until he would be too old and they would force him to retire from the field and he would just live the rest of his days in Miami to be close with the only people he would have then, Steve and Connie.

After everything that happened with the Cali Cartel, Los Pepes and the government of Colombia, the DEA “invited” him into retirement, for a bit he thought about moving to Miami but he couldn't bear thinking about turning his back to his pops again, even more now that he was alone in that big ranch.

“Fuck…” he rises up from the old bed, his back protesting. He makes his way into the kitchen, where his dad is already dressed up and drinking a cup of coffee.

“I made a pot, mijo” Chucho says, signaling with his head towards the coffee maker and sipping.

“Gracias, pa” after two weeks of the same routine, waking up, drinking at least one cup of coffee, getting dressed and spending the day keeping himself busy around the ranch so he wouldn't have to even think, Javi was getting tired of what his life looked like now. He loved his pops with all his heart but between the absence of his mom that was their string of unity and the many years that they've had spend away from each other, he felt like there was always a tension when they were together.

“Mijo, would you mind going into town today to pick a few things up for me?” his dad says while getting up from the kitchen table and putting the empty mug in the sink.

“Sure, pops. Just make me a list and i'll go after feeding the cattle”

Taking the keys out of the ignition and making your way across the parking lot to the little store, your head, more specifically your forehead, collapses with a hard thing.

“ Ouch” you rub your forehead while looking at where your purse has landed.

“Uh, fuck” you hear a masculine but almost familiar voice say from above you. Your gaze comes up to be met with a pair of chocolate brown eyes that you have for sure seen before.

“Ja-Javi?” you say with wide eyes and mouth agape. He mumbles your name like a question, like he can't believe what he's seeing, was it truly you? you looked so… so different, so grown up…

“So it's true, you really are back, eh?” you can feel the corners of your mouth rise a little while you say it.

“Been for two weeks…” his eyes can't help but to roam your body “you… look different…” he says more to himself than you.

“Well, that's what more than a decade does to someone” you chuckle.

“It really has been that long? Mierda…” he runs a hand through his hair.

You suddenly realize that your purse it's still on the floor, so you pick it up. For a few seconds an awkward silence floats between you too, in which you both just stare at each other.

You then realize something, “espera, you´ve been back for two weeks and you haven't been to my mama´s house? She's going to kill you when she finds out, you know it right?” you nervously rub your hands together in front of you.

“Shit, you´re right…” he closes his eyes tightly, “with helping my pops getting the ranch in a better shape and all, i forgot about going to Maria´s…”

“Hey, I'm sure if you explain it to her, she'll understand it. You´ve always been her favorite anyways” you give him a reassuring smile that he reciprocates with another, but somehow it looks like it almost pains him to do so, like he has not given a real one for way too long.

Javier chuckles, “well, after so many years away and only picking up like three of her phone calls a year, i wouldn't bet on been her favorite anymore”

“Yeah… I don't think that could ever be possible. And if the amount of times she talks about his Javiercito are indicating of it, you definitely are on top of the list still” you don't take your eyes off of his, you had almost forgotten how warm they can be and now it was almost impossible to pull yourself away from that warmth.

He changes the subject, still feeling guilty about how much he felt he had abandoned his parents in one of their hardest times in life and also the woman he felt that was like a second mother to him.

María, your mom, was his mom's best friend, they had been since high school. His parents became parents at a very early age, most people in Laredo gave them side eyes and their back for a long time, but your mom never did, she was there even when Alma Peña discovered that she was indeed pregnant and not just sick.

She was even the third person to ever hold him, after his own parents.

Your parents didn't have you until they were 30, so Javier was just like a first born child for your mom for 13 years until she had you.

Alma and Chucho did try to have more children but life had a weird sense of humor and after giving them a son they weren't looking for at such a young age, it decided to not give them anymore children. So when Maria had you, Alma Peña held you in her arms even before your father did and she loved you like her little girl until her last breath.

“How old are you now? You were only like 12 when I left” he shifts from one leg to the other.

“I was actually 15,” you chuckle “don't worry, didn't expect you to remember, you were too busy all the time to even notice me” you say a little fast, trying to hide that the fact hurted you every time you thought about it. “I'm 27 now” you give him a tight smile.

“Almost the age I was when I left. Wow, time really has passed, eh?” he says with an air of sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah, that happens” you feel an awkward tension growing between you so you change the subject fast “so… you're just working on the ranch now?”

“Yeah… pops needs the help anyway, he's getting old. I would rather not see him deal with the ranch chores by himself anymore” he looks at the ground of the parking lot for a brief moment then his gaze rises up again towards you “what are you doing now that you´re not in high school anymore?” he asks you with a tiny smirk.

“I changed one school for another,” you giggle “I went to college to get a teaching degree and after working in Boston for a few years, when my dad got sick, i moved back home to help ma with him before he died, then i just stayed for her and your dad to be honest. I'm working at the elementary school now” when you mention your dad, your face can't help but make a tight lip expression, you didn't have a good relationship with him, and you couldn´´t understand why your mom didn't leave his ass for so many years. But your relationship with your mom was pretty good considering the circumstances.

“Sorry about him by the way, even if you guys had a rocky relationship” he gives you a worried look, like he wanted to ask a million questions about how you felt back then and feel now about it, but they never leave his mind. “Your mom told me about it in one of her calls…”

“Yeah, thank you. She was devastated when it happened and I think she felt like she couldn't confide in me because of my situation with him, so she only talked about it with Chucho” you re adjust the purse in your shoulder “well i need to buy a few things and then get back home to ma, I'll tell her that you´ll be visiting soon?” you ask, putting your gaze back into his warm eyes.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Tell her I'll be there on Friday, after finishing my chore on the ranch” he says, almost nervously putting his hands inside of the pockets in his tight jeans.

“Okay, I'll let her know Javi. She'll start making food today, I'm sure” you chuckle and take a step away “see you on Friday, bye!” you wave to him and make your way across the parking lot to enter the little store.

“Bye…” Javier mumbles more to himself than to you, since you were far already. His eyes can't help to roam the back side of your body in your sundress while you walk away from him, when he catches himself, he shakes the thoughts roaming his mind away and walks to his truck to go back to the ranch.

Next chapter

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manawari · 7 months

Text

Hometown Girl

Byung-gyu loaded his last bag into the back of his truck and made his way to open the backseat door. He turned around to whistle at his dog. "Coco! Time to go!"

Coco, who was waiting at the porch of the house shared by the band, bounced up to his feet and went to the open door. His bushy tail swayed in the air as he mounted up before Byung-gyu closed the door and left the window open, knowing how his dog liked poking his tongue out at the wind.

"Have a nice trip, hyung!" Yoon-ho called from the doorframe, along with the rest of the guys. "Tell your grandmother we said hi!"

Byung-gyu chuckled. "Absolutely!"

"Don't forget to be careful with the people around. Remember, you're no longer the guy who makes acoustic covers." Jong-in said. "You're a guy who's widely known across the country."

"People, specifically your fans, will swarm you around until you lose the energy to go outside." Tae-gyu added.

Jin-woo huffed. "Byung-gyu knows what to do, guys. Don't make him nervous."

"Jin-woo's right," said Byung-gyu. "I know my neighborhood anyway. Sure, they might flock around me, but not in a way just like that those 'fangirls'." He shivered. "Anyways, I should get going, guys! Have fun while I'm gone!"

A chorus of different responses were heard. Byung-gyu walked to the other side and got onto the driver's seat. He pressed the keys into the ignition and the engines rumbled, he placed his foot on one of the pedals to pull out of the garage.

It was his first time going back to Gyeongsang since he began his debut as an idol. Byung-gyu called his grandmother whenever he was not busy, her laugh and tender voice always lifted his spirits, knowing that she was doing well even if he was not by her side. The thought of reuniting with the only family member he had left increased Byung-gyu's excitement.

He was coming home.

And a lot had changed since he chose to go to the idol path instead of becoming a history teacher — did he regret? Not really. And besides, Byung-gyu was able to send a portion of his money to his grandmother so she would have money to buy her needs. His love for his grandmother worth more than the finest of gems. She was the courage he could grab onto when he was nervous of going to the stage.

She'd be cheering for him.

She'd be giving him thumbs up and the brightest smile ever.

Besides his mom, his grandmother was the most important woman in his life.

Time passed, Byung-gyu had finally arrived in Gyeongsang. Coco started barking behind him, yet he had to calm him down by saying that they weren't in the exact town. But Byung-gyu knew he'd be as jubilant as his dog if he was not completely aware of his surroundings.

The journey to his hometown took another ten minutes and at last, Byung-gyu felt a whiplash of nostalgia even while he was still in the vehicle. The lush green trees blessing his vision, the distant sound of waves from the open windows, the open road which had not once experienced traffic, and the houses that stood since he was young.

So far, nobody had noticed him. But that was because he hadn't stepped out yet. Byung-gyu took a turn to the path that led to where his house was, driving a bit slower this time due to the road and the proximity to the other houses.

"Guys! It's Coco!"

"What? No way that's— it is Coco!"

"Hyung-nim is here!!"

. . . And his cover was blown.

Fortunately, it was the kids. Byung-gyu would have to deal with them later once he got settled down. He parked the vehicle on the open lot near the tree and pushed the door open to hop off. And just as he was about to open the door for his dog, a couple of bodies clashed with his body.

"Hyung-nim!"

"You're back, teacher!"

"I've watched your concerts on YouTube! You are AWESOME!"

"How does it feel to be famous, hyung-nim?"

Byung-gyu laughed and ruffled each of the children's hairs. "I'll hang out with you guys later. I have to see halmeoni first."

They nodded.

The moment Byung-gyu opened the gate, Coco sprinted inside and went to the porch to scratch the door. Sang-ah, Byung-gyu's seventy-nine year old grandmother, opened it and was greeted by the golden retriever, who was as lively as her grandson when it came to her.

Sang-ah had light grey hair, almost white, that was tied in a bun and wore a casual air of pants, a sweater that she made for herself, and a dark blue vest. She had been around since Byung-gyu's birth and took care of him whenever his parents were away for work, so there was no doubt that Byung-gyu was more attached to her than anyone else.

"Halmeoni!"

Sang-ah looked up and saw her grandson. "Byung— oh!"

Byung-gyu threw his arms around her before she could even finish her sentence. Sang-ah laughed. She knew when Byung-gyu hugged someone, it would be tight and full of warmth depending on how much he yearned to feel someone close to him.

"I missed you!"

"I missed you too, dear," smiled Sang-ah. "Look how far you've come! Back then, I only listened to you sing in your room, and now, you're singing in front of hundreds of people!"

Byung-gyu chuckled. He wiped a stray tear when he pulled away and stared at his grandmother's beautiful green eyes. "So much has happened, halmeoni. The guys told me to tell you they said hi."

"Aw, they're so sweet. You should bring them along next time. In that way, I can make them the crab stew you always liked."

"I'll try, but you know people can get toward famous people," shrugged Byung-gyu. "I wonder how our neighbors will react to me now."

The old lady huffed. "Don't fret about it! I have you know that I always show you off to my friends. Do you know what they say? They want to set you up with their granddaughters!"

He paled. "Wh— what?!"

"Just joking!" Sang-ah smacked her grandson's arm. She turned around to make her way to the kitchen. "Do you think your old lady will simply sell you off? Absolutely not!"

Byung-gyu shook his head playfully.

While Byung-gyu was bringing all of his clothes out to place them on his wardrobe, which had been kept spotless by his grandmother, along with the rest of his room. Sang-ah was in the kitchen preparing Byung-gyu's favorite crab stew with seaweed. And of course, Byung-gyu didn't come back empty handed — he bought gifts for Sang-ah.

Knowing that Sang-ah preferred things that were not too expensive, Byung-gyu got her a new flower vase, a couple of his photos that also included his friends since Sang-ah would like to display them in the house, and a headdress for whenever she wished to go out.

Lunch was spent wonderfully. Byung-gyu spilled all details of the new memories he had created to his grandmother, who laughed and mused at certain situations that involved with the ARISE members and the band's manager. Sang-ah always thought that her grandson had found himself in a group of professional and matured people, but after hearing those stories, Byung-gyu reckoned her views would change once he shared more.

Afterward, Byung-gyu helped his grandmother with the dishes before feeding his dog by the porch. He watched Coco wagged his tail as he devoured his own lunch, then he caught his grandmother stepping down with the vase he had gifted her. Sang-ah walked to her garden where she crouched down and picked a flower from a clay pot with her gloved hands, transferring it to the ceramic vase. Byung-gyu noticed that the flower was pink and had a couple of dark green leaves clinging on the stem. . . He hadn't seen that flower before, or perhaps Sang-ah must've bought it.

"This has been given by a nice family near our house," said Sang-ah after noticing her grandson's curious gaze. "Isn't it beautiful? And with the vase you got me, this flower has a new home!"

Byung-gyu smiled. Then, he caught a couple of eyes glancing through the gate.

"Halmeoni? Is hyung-nim around?"

Sang-ah turned to him. "Seems like they are looking for you, my dear."

Byung-gyu chuckled and stood up. "Watch Coco for a bit for me, halmeoni."

"Take all your time! I'm sure they missed you a lot."

Very. Byung-gyu opened the gate and he was greeted by a group of young kids whom he always saw running around the neighborhood. One of them was holding a ball, which insinuated that they were about to play something and they wished him to be included in their activity.

The children beamed and started to scramble out of the gate, passing the ball to one another as their laughter increased in the air. Byung-gyu followed shortly behind them until he noticed that the kids were about to pass by a certain house where he knew someone would yell at the youngsters for being too loud.

"Hey! Be careful!" He shouted. "We don't want to have the old couple yell at us since we're in front of their house, do we?"

"But they're no longer here, hyung-nim."

Byung-gyu blinked. "They passed away?"

"Idiot!" The kid hit the back of his friend's head. He turned to Byung-gyu. "They left when their children came to pick them up. A new family had now moved into that house two weeks ago."

"Oh?" Byung-gyu raised a brow. "I see."

Part of him wondered if that was the same family who had given his grandmother that flower. . .

Byung-gyu had always liked spending time with the kids in his neighborhood. He considered them as his friends too. Whenever he brought his guitar around, they would gather around him and listen to the sounds he made; he'd watch or play with them and help them with their homework. The kids even cried when they learned that he was leaving due to a new work.

But now that he was here, Byung-gyu would make sure to create new memories with them as well as with his grandmother.

The children played in a vacant lot near a gazebo. They were passing the ball with their feet and Byung-gyu stood somewhere to kick the ball when it headed toward him. His laughter mixed with theirs. While half of the children were competitive, he didn't choose to get involved with him, rather he focused on the joy of being back to his neighborhood.

. . . But that was until he had put too much strength on the ball that it struck across the place and went past the kids. Then, there was a young woman, who was walking by and not aware of the incoming ball to her direction. Unfortunately, it was too late. . . The ball had already hit her shoulder.

Oh shit! Byung-gyu winced. Meanwhile, the children ran toward the woman.

"Noona! Are you okay?"

"We are so sorry!"

"We are just playing and—"

To Byung-gyu's surprise, the woman let out a chuckle.

"It's fine! You kids don't have to apologize. Just try to be careful next time, okay?" She said. Her voice sounded sweet as cinnamon and honey.

Byung-gyu sprinted toward her. "Hey! Uh— it's technically my fault. I was with these kids and—"

His sentence came into an end when the woman met his gaze. Her eyes were blue like sapphires. She had long ginger hair that had a fringe right over her eyebrows. She was short, only reaching his chin, and looked quite younger than him. She wore a plain white shirt and a pair of jeans; a brown sling bag clung to her shoulder.

"You don't have to apologize, sir. It is merely an accident." She smiled.

"Aw! Noona is so kind!"

"Hey, Unnie! Did you know that he's—"

Byung-gyu quickly covered the kid's mouth and left the rest of her sentence muffled behind his palm. The woman hadn't recognized him, so he must maintain it that way. "Okay, that's enough, Rin-ah. Aren't you supposed to win this game?"

Rin-ah's face changed. She shook her head and Byung-gyu removed his hand from her mouth to let her speak. "Right! Let's get back to the game and win!" She exclaimed and punched her fists in the air.

Byung-gyu laughed. When he turned to the woman, she had already walked away. Part of him wondered who could she be, considering how close were the kids toward her. And part of him reckoned that he hadn't seen her around the neighborhood before too.

"That's Lee Ju-hee, hyung-nim!" Another kid, Gwi-nam, said. "She's new here in the neighborhood. We were so happy that the old couple was gone and we decided to befriend her!"

"I can tell," chuckled Byung-gyu.

Later that day, Byung-gyu said farewell to the group of children, who were reluctant to see him leave, to go further in the town. He was going to meet a certain someone at the café. Eun-seok, who was a long-time friend of his besides Yoon-ho and also the person who had been editing the lyric videos of his original songs; he was a digital editor and had used Byung-gyu's videos to practice his skills.

Byung-gyu had already messaged Eun-seok that he was back in town and wished to meet him at the café they used to frequently hang out in. His friend's response had been a bunch of keyboard spamming that Byung-gyu chose not to read as he was walking. He had pulled his hood over his head in attempt of a disguise — and so far, nobody had recognized him, which was good. Back in Seoul, he barely stepped into the daylight due to his popularity, and when he had gone to the convenience store with Jin-woo once, a bunch of people had surrounded them.

They had to be fully covered since then. No matter what was the temperature.

Sure, he had his own fans when he was that singer online. But that was different in his new and current career.

When he entered the coffee shop, Byung-gyu looked around until he spotted his friend across the place. Eun-seok was facing his laptop with a pair of glasses in his eyes as he fiddled on his keyboard, his light brown hair had reached past the shell of his ears and his hazel eyes were fixated on the screen in utter concentration.

Byung-gyu pulled his hood back and made his way toward his friend. "Eun-seok!"

Eun-seok looked up from his laptop and a wide smile broke through his face. He got up and welcomed Byung-gyu into his arms. The two squeezed each other tight before Eun-seok patted Byung-gyu's back to pull away.

"I'm so glad to see you again, my man!" Eun-seok said. "You don't know how my days had become weird when you aren't sending something for me to edit."

Byung-gyu laughed. "Well, the company has their own set of editors to do the job. But hey! Maybe some time later if I'm in the mood to compose an original song, I'll hit you up."

"Great! But first things first— tell me about your career! Is it amazing? Are the fans different than your old viewers? Oh! Have you met any celebrities?" Eun-seok bomboarded him with questions as he sat down.

Byung-gyu answered them after Eun-seok called for a waiter to order some coffee, which Byung-gyu had to pull his hood back up to prevent an unwanted attention. Eun-seok flashed him an odd look and was about to ask until realization kicked in his eyes and nodded.

"Damn, what a struggle, huh?"

Byung-gyu sighed. "It's an absolute pain."

"Min Byung-gyu?"

Urgh! Not now!

Byung-gyu tugged his hood lower and he suddenly felt a strong sense that someone was heading toward him. His heart raced at the sight of three shadows touching the edge of the table. He wanted to run away. But no, Eun-seok was here, and it would be such a disrespect if he left out of the blue and those girls might interrogate his poor friend.

"Excuse me? Sir?"

"Oh my God! You can't just refer an idol 'sir'!"

"I'm just making sure! What if he's not really Min Byung-gyu?"

Leave me alone, please!

"Isn't ARISE in a vacation right now?"

"Right! Woo Jin-chul had posted on his page about it."

A finger tapped his shoulder. "Hello?"

"Cough!" Byung-gyu began to force himself cough loudly and tried to speak in a different voice. "Cough! Cough! I'm so sick! I cannot breathe!"

As if finally getting grasp of the situation, Eun-seok got up and reached up to his best friend. "My— my sweet brother! Do you need medicine?? Should I call the hospital?" He turned to the girls. "Uh, can you leave us alone, ladies? My brother gets. . . An attack when he's surrounded with people he does not know."

The girls instantly left as Byung-gyu continued coughing while Eun-seok was rubbing his shoulder. He waited until the girls were completely out and let out a sigh, leaning back to his seat.

"Remember when I joked about you becoming famous and surrounded by fans? Yeah, I regret it now." He said.

Byung-gyu groaned. "I should've listened to Jong-in and Tae-gyu!"

All Eun-seok could do was pat him on the head.

Once the two men were finished with their coffee, Byung-gyu felt refreshed. Nobody else had approached him ever since the girls had left the place, so that meant he was confident that he could walk around without anyone recognizing him as one of the members of the leading band of the country. . .

. . . And he was wrong.

The three girls who had attempted to approach him earlier turned out to be waiting for him outside, so the moment Byung-gyu got out of the cafe, they squealed and pulled him into taking selfies with them. Byung-gyu was forced to smile throughout six photos until Eun-seok dragged him away. Since then, more people began to notice him, flocking him, asking him to sign autographs, asking him to take a selfie with them. . . Byung-gyu was in a disaster.

All he asked was a simple hang out with Eun-seok!

Sadly, he hadn't gotten to catch up with his friend since Eun-seok had to return to his work, much to Byung-gyu's dismay.

Later that evening, Byung-gyu was walking in his neighborhood, on his way to return to his house when his phone started ringing. It was a group call from his friends. He answered it and four faces appeared in the screen. Their backgrounds appeared different, which meant they had visited their family, except Jong-in — who remained in the hotel instead of seeing his father — and Yoon-ho — who hadn't left their shared house.

"What's up, hyung?"

"Hey!"

"How was your reunion with your grandma?

"You look like you're outside. I hope everything is going well for you, eh?"

Byung-gyu chuckled. "Hey, guys! Missing me already? Yeah. . . I should've been more careful."

"Ha! I was right!" Tae-gyu exclaimed. "So what did they do to you? Asked you for photos? Took selfies with you while you smile in pain?"

"You know the risks, Min. And judging what you're wearing right now? Yes, you'd be easily recognized." Jong-in said as matter-of-factly. "And I won't be surprised if pictures of you in Gyeongsang is in the internet."

"Idiot, stop scolding Byung-gyu. He's trying to live his best life!"

"I'm just reminding him to be careful, you big fat—"

"How's your grandma, Byung-gyu?" Jin-woo cut in. "Any something exciting happen?"

"Halmeoni's doing great! She quickly made me my favorite stew." Byung-gyu smiled. "The kids are happy to see me too as much as I am with theirs. And a new family had moved in the house that was previously owned by an old grumpy couple, so I guess that's good."

"Seems like you don't like that couple a lot."

"They always yell at the kids. Halmeoni probably hated them too. But nonetheless, the new neighbors seem nice." Byung-gyu said. Surely, if that lovely woman whom he had encountered turned out to be kind-hearted, then the rest of her family must've been the same.

"Ohhh~ who are they? Did they find out that a certain ARISE member lives in the neighborhood?" Tae-gyu smirked.

Byung-gyu shook his head. "Not exactly. Otherwise, they would've approached me by now."

Tae-gyu huffed. "Don't get too comfortable, my dear friend, because once you—"

Words faded when Byung-gyu saw something across him. It was a young woman who looked exactly like the one he had seen earlier. Orange hair, petite frame, and a white shirt — that was definitely Lee Ju-hee, whom the neighborhood kids had befriended when he was in Seoul.

His feet halted.

Byung-gyu spotted her place her hand through the bars to fiddle on the gate. And that was when their gazes met. Byung-gyu tugged the corner of his mouth into a smile, but Ju-hee turned away and opened the gate and made her way inside.

His smile fell into a frown.

"Byung-gyu? Earth to Byung-gyu!"

"I think the signal is breaking."

Realizing that he was in a middle of conversation, Byung-gyu shook his head and glanced to his screen. "Gotta call you guys back. I think I need some rest."

His band members bid incoherent farewells and the video call ended. Byung-gyu shoved his phone into his pocket and proceeded his walk to his house. Coco was already waiting in the porch, so the second he saw his owner, his tail wagged and greeted Byung-gyu by standing on his back feet to reach him up. Byung-gyu rubbed the back of his dog's ears in return and ushered him to get inside.

"Oh, you're back, sweetheart!" Sang-ah called from the living room, watching a show in the television. "How's your day went? Good? Did you meet your fans?"

Byung-gyu chuckled. "Something like that, halmeoni. It feels weird to be seen by a lot of people."

"That's what you get for being very talented, my grandson. After all, you went from having small to big just like those stars I see on the television."

"I guess you're right," said Byung-gyu. He was about to turn to his bedroom when he stopped in front of the door. "Uh, halmeoni? Do our new neighbors know that you have a famous grandson?"

"Hmm. . . I have not told them yet. Why?"

"Oh, nothing." With that, Byung-gyu opened the door and Coco made his way inside first before he did.

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The next day, Byung-gyu decided to bring his dog along to see the kids since they were already done with their morning walk. If the children were not running around in the neighborhood, then they were likely at the wooden gazebo. Back in Seoul, he barely had time to take long walks in the morning with his dog, most especially when he was busy with rehearsing and had to hide his identity from the public.

Being back to his hometown had never felt so nice. . .

Until he caught a scene with the children.

They were huddled around something and as Byung-gyu got near, he realized that someone was crying. It turned out to be Beru, a six-year-old boy who came from another country and had moved in the neighborhood three years ago. He had a scraped knee and was sobbing.

"What happened? Is he okay?" Byung-gyu asked in worry.

"He tripped over when we were playing tag, hyung-nim."

He nodded. "Okay. Now, listen, Beru—"

"Guys! Noona is here!" Gwi-nam shouted and joined his friends. Byung-gyu turned up and saw Ju-hee, who was rushing toward them.

"Is your friend alright? How hurt is he?" Ju-hee asked. The kids stepped aside to give way, so she crouched down in front of the injured Beru. She reached her hand up to wipe his tears. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm here now."

"Is— is it going to be painful, Ms. Lee?" Beru sniffled.

She smiled. "A little. But you can stay strong for me, right?"

Beru nodded.

Byung-gyu watched another scene unfold. Ju-hee took something from her sling bag and it was a couple of medical supplies, she began by cleaning the corners of the wound, causing Beru to wince. Byung-gyu placed his hand on the kid's shoulder to comfort him. Beru slowly stopped crying when Ju-hee plastered a band-aid over it, pressing it gently to keep it intact with the skin.

Beru still sniffled and drew his arm across his eyes to wipe away the remnants of his tears. Ju-hee reached down to her bag again and this time, she brought out a piece of candy to hand it to Beru.

The kid's eyes widened. Ju-hee gave him an encouraging nod. Meanwhile, Byung-gyu gave him a smile. "So? What do you say?"

Beru turned to the candy again and reluctantly took it. "Th— thank you, Ms. Lee."

"Your welcome," Ju-hee smiled. "Now go and play. Just be more careful, Beru."

"Yep! I promise!"

�� Huh, Beru had never promised someone that he won't get hurt.

Nonetheless, while the children went back to playing, Byung-gyu had unleashed Coco to let him join the kids. Then, he realized that it was just him and Ju-hee who were left on the spot. Ju-hee watched the children play with her eyes glistening tenderly just like the soft sunlight coming through the leaves of the tree above her, also bringing copper glow from her ginger hair, then a soft smile was curved on her thin lips.

She's pretty. A thought came to Byung-gyu.

He understood what made the children fond of her. When Beru got injured, one of the kids had gone to fetch Ju-hee because they knew she would rush to their aid as possible; she treated him nicely and gave him a reward in return. Ju-hee was kind-hearted.

"Is there something you want, mister?"

"Oh! Sorry, I just—" Byung-gyu raised an eyebrow. "Did you just call me mister?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You know me, right? Don't tell me you do not." Byung-gyu said. "I mean, the whole country knows who I am because I'm part of ARISE — one of the two lead vocalists! So there's always going to be someone who notices me if I'm not being to careful—"

Ju-hee laughed. "Did I hurt your feelings just because I didn't treat you like your fans?"

"No, I just—" Byung-gyu looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. The fact that you called me mister bugged me, I guess?"

"I see. Now that must've been the reason why you rambled about your image." Ju-hee said. "And yes, I do know you, Min Byung-gyu. But it's not like I'm gonna treat you like some God if that is what you're thinking."

Byung-gyu huffed. "Then I should be grateful."

"Oh? So you don't like being surrounded and praised just like other famous people?"

"Not exactly. I didn't accept the offer just so I could get a lot of attention, but rather, I joined because of my passion." Byung-gyu shrugged. "And to be fair, it feels new to be treated this way. You're not screaming or squealing at me, Ms. Lee."

"I just thought I should treat you like an average person when I learned that you've become a hit star." The corner of Ju-hee's lips twitched. "I used to watch your acoustic covers, you know? When I was still studying for exams, I used your videos to help me focus and relax."

She used to listen to my old covers?! Byung-gyu was surprised. To think he'd actually meet someone who had been listening to him sing before he rose to fame. . . It felt quite flattering. Truly.

"Well. . . What about now? Did your opinions change now that I'm—" he shrugged his shoulders to insinuate the last unspoken word.

Ju-hee hummed. "You amused me. To think I'd witness you dance at the same time, it made me wonder if I am looking at the same person." She chuckled. "Nonetheless, you deserve to be seen by hundreds. ARISE sure is lucky to have you."

Byung-gyu laughed airily. "What a flatter, Ms. Lee."

"Call me Ju-hee," the ginger let out a grin. "You don't use honorifics around your fans, you know?"

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His fingers strung the strings of the guitar. A smooth rhythm wafted in the air, twirling and waltzing to the ears of the small audience that had gathered in the gazebo. Byung-gyu had his foot pressed on a chair to perch his instrument above his leg, he opened his mouth to begin singing in front of the kids who had occupied all the sitting areas in the wooden shelter. They stared at him in utter awe, absorbing the gentleness of his voice amid the stringing of his guitar.

The song was the acoustic version of one of ARISE's newest releases before their vacation. Byung-gyu was yet to release the version, but he decided to share it with the kids first.

As soon as the song came to an end, Byung-gyu proceeded to play his guitar to repeat the chorus. He knew how the youngsters liked the stringing sounds so much. A grin crept across his mouth at the enamored faces of the children until he reached the last note of the song.

His audience clapped and erupted into cheers.

"You're so amazing, hyung-nim!"

"You are the best singer I've ever known!"

"I want to go to your concerts one day!"

"Another song! Another song!"

Byung-gyu laughed. "You guys enjoyed it so much, huh? Who wants to hear another one?"

"Me!" They exclaimed simultaneously.

"Alright! Let's—" Byung-gyu paused when he caught something from the corner of his eye. It was Ju-hee, who carried a plastic bag in her hands. "Ju-hee!" He called.

Ju-hee's twin pools of blue met his dark ones. At first, she blinked. "Oh, hey?"

"Wanna join us?" He said. "I could use one more audience."

"Uhm. . . " Ju-hee turned to the children, who looked at her with pleading eyes. Her lips softly curled into a smile. "Okay."

Yes! Byung-gyu succeeded in his plan. So once Ju-hee sat on the corner, he moved his capo to a different spot in the neck and began stringing his guitar. His gaze landed on Ju-hee, whose eyes stretched at the first few notes. The song was one of his most viewed covers in his account. So obviously, Ju-hee might've listened to it.

Judging her reaction, he was correct.

The song was originally pop, but Byung-gyu made it smoother. He added more emotion to the lyrics since singing with his whole heart felt much better. He briefly glanced at Ju-hee, who had a smile on her face. Just seeing her reminded him of sunshine.

"How long are you going to be here?" Ju-hee asked. She and Byung-gyu were walking together after they decided to leave the children alone to play, thus having a moment for themselves as grown-ups.

"Two months. That's the longest vacation ARISE could get." Byung-gyu replied.

"Really? That feels quite short. You guys probably worked hard a lot to deliver those performances on stage." Ju-hee remarked. "How are you handling it?"

His mouth twitched into a grin. "Sometimes it's exhausting, but sometimes we just find the fun in our rehearsals. Namely, speeding our song twice and whoever falls loses. Jong-in is the one who never wins because of his body not handling too much steps — Yoon-ho dragged him to the gym once, Tae-gyu almost called the hospital."

"Wow! You guys are wild." Ju-hee chuckled. "What about you? What's your role?"

"I only cause trouble once or twice. I don't usually join them to the gym, but if I do, I just make a run in the treadmill." Byung-gyu shrugged. "Yoon-ho is the biggest gym junkie, Tae-gyu and Jin-woo come close."

"Tae-gyu used to be a tennis player, right? And I heard that Jin-woo used to be an athlete too."

"He was, but Jin-woo only tried it when he was a kid because he needed to get good grades. Tae-gyu still plays tennis, only as a hobby now though, and he wants to try archery for a change."

"I see," Ju-hee nodded. "Do you write the band's songs all the time?"

"Yeah, but occasionally, I had the guys help me with the verses. Jin-woo had even wrote his own song for his first single — which made me so proud." Byung-gyu wiped a nonexistent tear on the corner of his eye. He snickered at the eye roll Ju-hee had given him. "What? Is it wrong to be proud of my fellow members?"

"No. I just find it cute that you guys see each other as siblings." She said.

"Well, we are one happy family after all. And that includes the band's mother hen."

"Who's the mother hen?"

"You're up for a story then, Ms. Lee!"

Byung-gyu had grown more comfortable with Lee Ju-hee. He even couldn't believe that he was revealing a lot of things to her that no one else in the media knew. But Ju-hee did not give him the impression that she would tell other people, she listened and chattered along like she wasn't walking alongside a celebrity.

It felt like she was talking to a friend.

Byung-gyu liked that.

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"When are you gonna make a new song or a cover? My hands are itching to create a video out of it!"

Byung-gyu chuckled and held the both of his hands up. "Sorry, hyung. I challenged myself not to write songs during the whole vacation."

"Well, that just sucks," scoffed Eun-seok. Coco went to him with a stick between his teeth, so he took it and threw the stick to the distance. "But hey! Do you know that being friends with a celebrity is hard too? Yeah, my co-workers talked to me all of a sudden and a girl asked me out on a date."

"Congrats!"

"No, it's not! She clearly asked me out because I'm friends with you." Eun-seok said. "And then she'll just use me as a bridge to get close to you until you leave me in the shadows after—"

Byung-gyu smacked the back of his friend's head. "Quit overthinking. Do you think I will abandon you? Not in a million years. And besides, why would I date a girl who uses others? If I hadn't become a celebrity, I doubt I will get a date."

"What kind of girl who won't fall for a talented guy like you who plays guitar, sings, and loves his grandmother?"

"Call me high standards." Byung-gyu shrugged.

"High standards my ass!" Eun-seok rolled his eyes. He looked over and noticed that the dog hadn't returned yet. "Where's Coco? I'm sure I didn't throw the stick too far."

"Let's just look for him." Byung-gyu walked past Eun-seok and followed the trail his dog had gone to. Coco wasn't the one to get lost, but if he did, it might be because he got distracted by something.

And Byung-gyu had a bad feeling about it.

He wasn't sure how short Coco's attention span had been after living in the city for too long. Given how his bandmates had been spoiling his dog behind his back, Byung-gyu had grown concerned over the idea of Coco getting lost.

Eventually, he and Eun-seok found the golden retriever.

Coco did get distracted. . . Particularly because Ju-hee was with him.

Coco wagged his tail as he leaned further on Ju-hee's touch. She scratched his fur and giggled when Coco licked her hand in return. The stick, on the other hand, was left unnoticed. Coco whined lovingly at her and laid on the ground with his belly exposed for her to rub.

"Dude, I think someone has stolen your dog."

"He's not stolen, you dummy," said Byung-gyu. "He saw a friend."

Eun-seok flashed him an odd look. "Eh?"

"Coco!" Byung-gyu called his dog as he approached the two. "There you are. I was wondering where you went!"

Ju-hee looked up to him with her blue eyes, shining just like her smile. "Byung-gyu! I was just coming back from the clinic when I found Coco. Though, it was more like he found me."

"You're working at the clinic?" Byung-gyu asked.

"Yeah. I just thought that I should start with something small before moving to an actual hospital."

"Well, that's great! I hope you'll be able to work in the hospital one day." Byung-gyu smiled. "Hmm. . . Dr. Lee? Or Dr. Ju-hee? Which sounds better?"

"Either," Ju-hee chuckled.

"Ahem!"

Byung-gyu turned around and realized Eun-seok was still there. "Oh! Eun-seok, this is Ju-hee." He turned to the ginger. "Ju-hee, that is Eun-seok. He's the one who edited my old videos."

Eun-seok waved at her.

Ju-hee nodded at the brunet and turned to the wagging golden retriever. "Your dad's here now. Go to him."

Coco whined and leaned up to flick his tongue at Ju-hee's chin before going to Byung-gyu.

"Your dog likes her a lot."

"Coco likes people in general, Eun-seok."

Eun-seok snickered.

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"Put it on the left! Yes, there we go!"

"Be careful! The contents might be fragile."

"No, no! Don't put that box on the crates. They have chemicals!"

"How about here?"

"That's fine."

"I can't believe we have an idol helping us around!"

Byung-gyu chuckled as he hauled another box from the truck. "Just because I'm famous doesn't mean I will have to stop helping you, Ms. Jung. Remember when you used to give me candies in return?"

The middle-aged woman laughed. "Of course! How can I forget that young boy who joins the delivery men after he gets home from school?" She said. "So, now what? Do you want candies after this?"

"Maybe later," Byung-gyu grinned.

When he placed the box on top of the others, he shook his arms on his sides to ease his muscles from carrying heavy objects. Byung-gyu preferred carrying boxes more than lifting weights in the gym. And at this, his bandmates believed that he didn't have as much muscles — which was partially true, but Byung-gyu still had a bit of muscular biceps that were always hidden under his hoodies.

Currently, Byung-gyu had taken off his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his shoulders. Sweat glistened from his forehead down to his neck, also leaving small drenched marks on his light brown top. He brought his arm to his forehead to not only wipe the sweat, but also push his hair back, and released a quick loud sigh.

"Are you sure you can still do it, dear?"

"Hm? Of course, I can!" Byung-gyu grinned broadly. "The temperature happened to be so hot, you know?"

"My! If my daughter is here, she would be watching you the whole day." Ms. Jung chuckled. "She has a big crush on you, you know? If anything, would you be willing to date someone who's a fan of yours?"

Byung-gyu hummed. "That depends. But usually, I will have to refuse."

"Oh, so your type is a celebrity like you?"

"Not that either," he shrugged. He walked back to the truck to pick up the last box. "I prefer someone who's. . . Ordinary. Whether she's a fan or not, if I feel like she's the right person, then might as well go for the chance."

She smiled. "You have a great mindset, Byung-gyu."

Afterward, Byung-gyu sat on the bench outside the store, downing on the ice cold water Ms. Jung's husband had given him as gratitude for the help. The lady had also given him candies as promised. The store was located near his neighborhood, so he had no worries of people recognizing him or even snapping photos of him since his face was completely bare to the public.

Then, he caught a taxi pulling over several feet away from his spot. A woman got out of the front seat and pulled the door from the back, hauling out two heavy plastic bags with one hand and another two with the other. She placed them on the ground and took out some cents from her pocket to hand them to the driver.

Byung-gyu drank the last of his water and threw it at the trashcan. He grabbed his jacket from the edge of the bench and tied the sleeves around his waist as he took off toward the lady, who seemed to be struggling a little with the weight on her hands.

"Let me carry these for you," he said to her as he crouched down. The woman looked quite familiar and he presumed she must be living somewhere in the neighborhood.

"Oh, you don't have to—" she paused. "Min Byung-gyu?"

He shrugged. "As always."

"Heavens! I never thought I would encounter you in personal." She chuckled. "And— why are you all sweaty?"

"I just helped carry the boxes that belonged to that store," he jerked his head to the direction of the small convenience store. "Sorry for the messy appearance, ma'am."

"Oh, you don't have to apologize. I almost didn't recognize you."

"Thanks for the compliment!"

The woman laughed and playfully smacked his arm with her free hand. "Now that you're here, I might as well lead you to my house and make you something nice as a treat."

Byung-gyu followed the lady, who was now carrying only one plastic bag since he had already taken the other three which he believed would be too heavy to carry on her own. He got into a nice conversation with her. Unlike Mrs. Jung, the woman didn't mention a daughter of hers being a fan of him and attempt to set him up, rather she talked about nice topics that reminded Byung-gyu of his mom and grandmother.

Speaking of his mom. . . It made him miss her.

It had been almost a decade since he lost her, as well as his dad.

A few moments later, Byung-gyu noticed he was walking in a familiar pathway, like he was just heading home. He speculated that the woman lived somewhere close. Then, he realized that she turned out to live in the same house where the old couple had formally resided.

Wait. . . Could it be—

"Mom?" It was Ju-hee's voice.

Byung-gyu found himself facing Ju-hee, who was standing in the middle of the doorway. Her eyes were stretched in surprise.

"Look who's with me, Ju-hee!" The lady— no, Ju-hee's mother, said. "You two have already talked, right?"

"Y— yes. . . "

"She's a shy young lady," the woman whispered to him. "But she is incredibly sweet once you get to know her more."

Byung-gyu let out a chuckle. "I can already tell, ma'am."

"And sometimes, my daughter is also—"

"That's enough!" Ju-hee glared at the two. She left the doorway and walked to Byung-gyu, her face flushing as she held on the bag's handle. "Thank you so much for helping my mom, Byung-gyu!"

"It was nothing. I didn't even know that she's your mom in the first place." The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Byung-gyu! I'm gonna make you some iced tea, so you better come inside of this house!"

Ju-hee blinked. "What's going on?"

"Your mom invited me over when I went to help her," Byung-gyu shrugged.

" . . . "

Ju-hee's parents were both welcoming individuals. It even made Byung-gyu quite overwhelmed when the couple ushered him to take a seat. Meanwhile, Ju-hee was nowhere to be found, and Byung-gyu was too occupied to ask where she was. It made him wonder if they were naturally friendly to everyone. But he would be lying if he said that he didn't have a good time — Ju-hee's mother had given him iced tea and some cookies.

"Do you always come home here in every vacation?"

"Only if the vacation is one month or more, sir," replied Byung-gyu to Mr. Lee. "And sometimes, we take vacation somewhere else as a band."

"Well, that's a good thing that you folks are finding enjoyment that doesn't involve performing to the audience," the man nodded. "Look at you! You're way too handsome to be so stressed. When I was in your age, ladies still keep fawning over me."

Byung-gyu chuckled. "Uh. . . Thank you."

"You're sweating a little, son. Are you nervous?"

"What? No, sir. It's just that—"

"Got it!"

Byung-gyu turned his head and saw Ju-hee, who had a clean white cloth in her hand. He was about to open his mouth when he suddenly felt something soft on his forehead.

"It's bad if you leave your sweat on your skin for too long," said Ju-hee.

Byung-gyu felt his breath pausing. The proximity between them was short. He could see her sky blue eyes fixed in concentration. He considered pulling the collar of his shirt up to smell his odor, yet his hands had gone inert on the table.

And when he caught the towel moving to his neck, that was when he decided to act.

"I— uhm. . . " He stuttered. "I— I can do it. Thank you, Ju-hee."

When Ju-hee realized what she was doing, she flinched and the towel fell on his lap. "Oh my God! Sorry!"

Her father laughed on the other side of the table. "Ju-hee likes to look after people. It's her instinct. Although, I'm surprised that you called her by her first name, Byung-gyu."

"They have already met before, dear!" Ju-hee's mom shouted from the kitchen. "Why didn't you tell us that you're friends with Byung-gyu, Ju-hee?"

"It wasn't that completely important, mom."

"Are you saying that I'm not important?" Byung-gyu widened his eyes and leaned away in faux hurt. "I cannot believe you hurt me this way, Ms. Lee."

Ju-hee glowered down at him. "Shut it."

He laughed.

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It had been a few weeks since he was staying in Gyeongsang.

Byung-gyu created new memories with his grandmother, spent more time with Eun-seok and the kids, let his dog run around freely as much as he wanted, and most of all, hung out with Ju-hee too.

Since their houses were not far from each other, it was easy for Byung-gyu to see her around and invite her to hang out with him if she was not busy. He had gotten along well with her parents too, which was something Ju-hee would prevent from happening. And while she had already known Sang-ah, Ju-hee was still quite timid when entering the old woman's house, and luckily, Coco was there to drag her in by himself.

Ju-hee was as welcomed by Sang-ah as Byung-gyu was by her parents.

Byung-gyu began to show her the songs he had written and sang them to her with his guitar. He knew that Ju-hee would not share it with others, unlike a particular member in the band who had could not keep his hands to himself. Ju-hee's reactions were heartwarming. She'd tell her compliments once the song was over and was hoping that he would do a solo cover soon.

It was felt as though he was interacting with a fan. Except that Byung-gyu wasn't uncomfortable and he liked her company a lot. Besides Eun-seok, he never thought he would gain another friend who was just an average person.

Other times, he'd hang out with Ju-hee until sundown. And even when she was at his house, Byung-gyu would still take her home, only then to be greeted by her parents who were grinning at the other side of the gate. He laughed at Ju-hee's reaction.

She made him happy.

"Ju-hee's the sweetest, isn't she?" Sang-ah spoke when she was sitting on the couch and Byung-gyu was on the floor, playing with Coco. "She came here a month before you did. I even told her that I have a grandson whose heart is big just like hers." She let out a chuckle. "And the funny thing is, I can't help but feel I am witnessing your parents' love story again."

Byung-gyu looked up with an arched brow. "How so?"

Sure, he already knew how his parents met, but to have his grandmother include Ju-hee, it made him curious.

"When your dad was the first one to fall in love, he could not stay quiet around your grandfather and I after he realized his feelings," Sang-ah told him with a gentle smile. "The most amazing part is that they met and fell in love in the same neighborhood."

"I don't get it. . . " Byung-gyu said. "How does that have something to do between me and Ju-hee?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, my boy. And I trust my instincts." Then, Sang-ah let out a grin. "Do you think you can fool this old lady, huh? I have taken care of you since you were a baby!"

Byung-gyu just playfully shook his head.

He believed that his grandmother must be pestering him to get a girlfriend and used Ju-hee to emphasize it. He knew how old people could get when it came to love lives. And besides, he was still young despite in his early twenties — he didn't have to hurry about dating, especially when he had a career to look after.

But little did he know, he should've had listened to his grandmother.

Byung-gyu was walking around the neighborhood, hoping to see the kids to spend time with them, but to his surprise, Ju-hee was there.

He raised his hand and was about to shout until he got the gist of the situation. Two girls were with her while the boys were running around and playing tag. Several flowers were scattered on the mat next to the girls' feet, who were fawning over the flower crowns they had created.

"You look so pretty, unnie!"

"Unnie! Try this one!"

Ju-hee bent down to let a little girl put a wreath on top of her head. She was clad in a pair of black leggings underneath her floral skirt and a yellow shoulderless blouse with puffy sleeves; with the white wreath on, her beauty radiated into something more.

. . . And Byung-gyu was probably blinded by it.

Afterward, the two girls, who had their own wreaths, took each of Ju-hee's hands and connected their hands together to form a circle. Laughter blossomed in the air as the little girls bounced on their feet while Ju-hee just watched them with the widest smile on her face.

Oh no. Came his first thought.

Perhaps his grandmother's intuition was right. Byung-gyu turned around and was to walk away when he heard someone call him.

"Hyung-nim!" Rin-ah beamed. "Come and take a look at unnie!"

Byung-gyu obliged and came face-to-face with Ju-hee. Her long orange hair swayed gracefully behind her waist. And with the flower crown on her head, it made him feel as though he was facing a spring goddess.

"Hey." Ju-hee smiled.

If it wasn't for his jacket, she would've seen the blush on his neck. Byung-gyu had to swallow to make sure he wouldn't lose his voice. "Uh. . . Hi?"

Awkward silence. . .

Knowing that he must do something, Byung-gyu spoke again. "You— you look like a goddess, Ju-hee! I have to go!"

He took off after that and didn't look back.

Eun-seok was the first person he went to. Unable to hold back his words, Byung-gyu rambled in front of Eun-seok without allowing him say a single word about him barging into his house in the middle of the day. Eun-seok ended up listening until he was done.

"I barely understand anything, but all I get is that Ju-hee is the reason why you're like this, correct?"

"Yes!"

" . . . " Eun-seok sighed. "Damn, I thought something bad happened. Anyways— why are you so freaked out about that?"

"Should I not be freaked out?" Byung-gyu said. "I mean, I've only known Ju-hee in less than two months and I got—" he counted his fingers. "Two weeks and four days left until my vacation is over!"

"Two weeks and four days left?!"

"I told you I won't stay here for a long time." Byung-gyu rolled his eyes. "But that's not the main point! I'm not sure if Ju-hee feels the same way, or if I will be able to admit to her, but do you think things will be rushed if I take the risk?"

"You're not even sure if you'll be coming to Seoul with a broken heart or a happy heart." Eun-seok deadpanned.

Byung-gyu sighed. "Okay, maybe I won't tell her yet. I can just cope with it since I'll be busy once ARISE is back on stage."

"Or you can deal with your feelings in a creative way. That'll keep you sane." Eun-seok shrugged. Then, he grinned. "So. . . Someone finally stole your heart, huh? Of all the girls going crazy over you, your heart chooses a sweet girl like Ju-hee."

Byung-gyu huffed. "Well, at least I don't simply jump into a relationship." There was another moment of silence until he spoke again, only to send a warning gaze at Eun-seok. "You better not tell anyone about this."

Eun-seok snickered. "Well, this should be—"

"I'm firing you as my editor."

"Okay, fine! I won't tell anyone."

Two weeks and four days had finally come to an end. Sang-ah had become emotional while she watched her grandson pack his things into his bag. Byung-gyu had to pause and comfort her, rubbing her back, then told her that he would return on his next vacation. He too was emotional, yet held his tears back.

The kids had come to see him for one last time. Some didn't want to see him leave while the others were excited to see him again. Byung-gyu ruffled each of their heads before he loaded his bags into the back of his truck. Coco was already in the inside, poking his head through the open window. Eun-seok, who had spent the night in his house, stood next to Sang-ah, comforting the old woman.

"We'll be waiting for your next spotlight, Byung-gyu!" Eun-seok said.

"Thanks, man!" Byung-gyu smiled.

As everyone waited for him to mount on the driver's seat, Byung-gyu found himself standing still next to the door. It seemed that someone was missing. The kids, his grandmother, and Eun-seok were there, but not her. Byung-gyu wondered if she was on her shift and that was why she couldn't meet him in his departure.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

It took a brief moment for Byung-gyu to respond. "Well. . . "

"Byung-gyu!"

And there she was.

Ju-hee ran toward him, panting. Her hair had grown quite messy as if she had rushed from the clinic to the neighborhood. Byung-gyu stared at her wide-eyed as she straightened her posture and shook her head.

"I, uh. . . I can't risk seeing you leave without saying goodbye." She said.

Eun-seok snorted, but Sang-ah smacked him in the head. Byung-gyu's lips curled into a smile, his heart fluttering. He couldn't believe that Ju-hee had ran all the way to see him. . .

"Thank you. I'll— see you next time, Ju-hee." He told her.

"Good luck with your upcoming songs, Byung-gyu. The whole band, I mean." She smiled. "And don't worry, I will check on your grandmother while you're gone."

Part of him wanted to hug her. But then, Sang-ah and Eun-seok might get the wrong idea, so Byung-gyu resisted the urge and smiled at her before he opened the door and got into the driver's seat.

They bid farewell to him, though Byung-gyu found himself paying more attention to Ju-hee through the sideview mirror. He turned on the keys on the ignition and pulled out of the driveway. Vacation was over, it was back to spending his time at the recording studio.

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"Welcome back, hyung!" Tae-gyu greeted him when Byung-gyu had stepped inside of their shared house. Coco quickly dashed toward Yoon-ho, who happily greeted the dog and began to rub his furry belly. "Judging by your face, it seems like you had a great time."

"The greatest." He chuckled.

"Now that everyone here is complete," Jin-chul began. "You guys know what this means, right? The vacation is over, ARISE releases new songs. However, feel free to do whatever you want while Byung-gyu is writing songs or doing the final revisions."

"Uhm, actually—" Byung-gyu brought his backpack down and pulled out his notebook to flip it open. He turned over a couple of pages before he handed it to Jin-chul. "I have already written one when I was back in Gyeongsang."

Curious, Jin-chul took the notebook and began to read the lyrics. Byung-gyu waited in anticipation while the rest stared at their manager. Then, Jin-chul's eyes widened. "Wow. . . "

"What is it, Mr. Woo?"

"Do the lyrics finally contain swear words?"

"Are we gonna low-key insult people in the song?"

"Tell us already!"

"Seems like you guys will be singing something different," Jin-chul let out a grin. "After having a break for two months, ARISE will surprise the viewers with their very first love song!"

"WHAT?!"

Byung-gyu rubbed the back of his neck. He knew that everyone would be shocked. "Yeah. . . "

He might get questioned after the meeting, but he was prepared for his answers anyway, whether it would end up with him lying or not. Byung-gyu chose to keep the real truth a secret. And to think, he had actually written a song for somebody — a romance song to be precise, but if he kept these feelings buried in his heart, it might push his sanity on the edge.

It was better to release his feelings through words while not mentioning the name.

Sooner or later, he would be singing to hundreds of people. But little did they know, he was actually singing to one person. And little did that one person know, she was hearing all of the emotions she had made him feel within those two months.

Ju-hee had managed to linger in his mind like the most beautiful song he had ever heard. Her kind soul alone had made his heart race. Byung-gyu had many words to describe her smiles and laughs in a sheet of paper until he came up with a song.

She became his new favorite inspiration.

Byung-gyu might be singing to the whole country, but to him, he was just singing to the girl from his hometown.

#jinhae next! (which will be the last fic for this au at this moment before i move to another fic)#solo leveling #solo leveling boyband au: arise #min byung gyu #lee ju hee #minlee #sl fics by rei

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

Unsolicited 2

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, more dark elements to come.

Wouldn't mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

On your way out, you stop and grab a few groceries to justify your trip to the mall. You still have a lot to do when you get home and your mind’s already three steps ahead; tidy up, put everything away, wrap the gift, and the most tedious task of getting yourself done up. The reservation you made a week ago fills you with dread.

You pop the trunk and drop in the bags, tucking the watch safely between them. As you close the trunk, a hand slaps down on the metal, startling you. It’s him, that man.

“Excuse me,” he steps closer and you back away, “try not to dirty my car.”

You frown as he gets nearer and side steps you. You look around at the Lexus parked just behind your beat up Neesan. Fuck, really?

You huff and shake your head as you skirt around to the driver’s side, “you take that watch back for grocery money or–” You ignore him as you unlock the car door, “I got some spare change in my glove compartment if you really need the gas money.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap as you swing your door open.

“I might even take my wallet out if you take the coat off. Heave up the tits and–”

You growl and drop into the seat. Before you can slam the door, it’s caught and you look up at the man as his hand holds it back. Panic thumps in your chest and you pull on the handle frantically.

“What the fuck– get–” You hit the horn with your other hand, “help–”

“Oh, shut up,” he snarls and lets the door go. It snaps closed and you jolt in the seat.

He bends down and taps on the window with his knuckles. You ignore him as you hit the lock switch and fumble with your keys. Why won’t he leave you alone? You twist the ignition and the engine chuffs to life.

He steps in front of your car as he reaches under his jacket. He slips out his leather wallet and plucks out a bill. He waves it in the air.

“How about a backseat handie, babe?” You hit your horn again and he winces, covering his ears, “fuck! It’s the best offer you’ll get.”

You hit the gas, lurching forward so he staggers away. He drops the bill and stomps his foot as he stops.

“Woah, woah, baby, I’m tryna apologise here.”

“Get the fuck out of my way,” you holler through the windshield, “now!”

You let off the break again and he stumbles out of your path. You roll on and he kicks the side of your car. You squeeze the wheel as your adrenaline pumps through your veins. As you steer between the rows of vehicles, your tears spill out at last.

You idle at the end of the column and take out your phone. You check your rearview. There’s no one behind you. Still, it’s good to be prepared. Just in case.

You breathe out and leave your phone unlocked in the passenger’s seat. You put your hands back on the wheel and continue through the lot, finding the nearest exit as you keep checking your side and rear mirrors.

As you turn onto the street, you see a flash of dark blue, the same shade as the Lexus. You putter at the red light and look over your shoulder then check your mirror again. It’s not there. You’re paranoid.

You wipe your face and sniff up your fear. You just want to get home and get everything sorted out. It was just one very strange, upsetting encounter. You aren’t going to let it ruin Colin’s surprise.

💎

"Babe, did I tell you how hot you look?" Colin purrs as he pulls out your chair.

You blush, touching your warm cheeks as you sit. You thank him as he sits across from you, the hostess handing out menus and reciting the specials. She leaves you to peruse as you hold your purse anxiously in your lap.

"Getting ready to go so soon?" Colin kids as he watches you wring the strap.

"N-no, no," you say, still uneasy.

You just want to give him his gift. It's what today's all been about yet that shadow follows you, the man from the jewelry shop calling out your extra rolls like you don't already know. At least your husband's kind enough to act like they don't exist.

"This place is nice," he says, "new job hasn't started yet."

"I know, it's my treat," you teeter on the edge of your seat "I've been saving and I just want you to know that I love you."

"Of course I know that–"

"No, no, I wanna show you and I wanna be better. I'm gonna be more active and keep up with things better," you chew your lip and unzip your purse, the fabric chafing your hips as you're reminded of the too small dress pinching your skin, "and I picked up some extra shifts."

You dig your hand in your bag and take out the wrapped box. The shiny green paper catching the chandelier above your table. You put it in front of him and sit back.

"I'm proud of you. Your new job, how you take care of me…"

"What…"

"Just open it," you insist, "please."

He chuckles and looks around, "I hope you didn't spend too much. It's been tight."

"It's not from our account, I've been saving, just don't worry about that."

"Alright, alright," he traces along a fold and jams his thumb underneath. He tears through and your anticipation has you vibrating.

As he pulls away the paper he turns the box over. He sees the jeweler's logo and gives pause, sending a look in your direction. His cheek twitches and he pops open the lid on its hinges.

"Gotta be spiffy for the new job," you say, "do you like it?"

He stares and for a moment, you're scared.

"I love it, but it must've been so expensive."

"No, no, I got a good deal and even added on the insurance so you can get it cleaned–"

"You need a new car and you're buying me a watch," he sighs.

"Colin, I–"

"I know, I know, it's amazing, babe, you're amazing but…" he looks up and his throat bobs, "what did I do to deserve you?"

"Me? What about you? You're–"

Your name interrupts your sentence. You freeze, the timbre throwing you off. You furrow your brow as Colin gives an equally confused look. You slowly look over as a man steps up beside you. It's that man. How does he know who you are?

"Hi, can I help you?" Colin interjects.

"Can I help you, bozo?" The stranger replies, "who the fuck are you?"

"I– I'm her husband, who the fuck are you?" Colin shifts in his seat.

"Husband? Baby, you didn't mention a husband. Oh, look at that, you put your ring back on," the man continues.

"What? No, huh?" You sputter, "would you just go–"

"Babe, who is this?" Colin asks.

"I don't know, he–"

"Don't worry about paying me back, baby, the old man looks like he needs something snappy," he winks at Colin, "jeez, wish you'd said something, I'd have been more subtle–"

"You fucking this dude?" Colin exclaims as he stands, "is that where you got the money?" He throws the watch down and injects himself between the table and the stranger, "you're fucking my goddamn wife?"

"Someone's gotta," the man taunts.

"No, no– I don't know him. He--" you grab Colin's arm and he rips away from you, "please, listen to me, he's just some jerk from the store–"

"And how does he know your name?"

"I don't know. I don't even know who he is, please. I–"

"She calls me daddy," the guy snickers and Colin turns to shove him, nearly sending him into the next table. Half the restaurant stares in your direction.

"Give him the fucking watch!" Colin growls at you, "fucking slut."

He grabs his jacket and storms out. You blink dumbly and turn to snatch your purse. The man moves into your path before you can follow your husband.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" You rasp.

"Like I said, you can call me daddy," he flicks your chin, "Lloyd works too."

You sneer and elbow past him, flinching as his hand bounces off your ass. You don't look back as you hurry away, desperate to catch up to Colin before he's gone. You don't understand what just happened.

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble series #au #the grey man #the gray man

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ofstoriesandstardust · 1 year

Text

west coast, best coast (b.r.b.)

a/n: i cooked this up a few weeks ago and as usual @gretagerwigsmuse encourages me to write literally every thought that pops into my brain.

summary: Bradley shows Sunshine why the West Coast is the best coast.

or: the sunrise fic

flight risk masterlist

warnings: future Bradley and Sunshine, west coast best coast always, kylie wrote fluff who is she, unedited

word count: 1k

Something nudges you, drawing you from your sleep, but you figure Bradley must be moving so you shift, tucking your head into the pillow.

He nudges you again, followed by a whispered, “Sunshine?”

You groan, lifting your head and blearily blinking your eyes open. “What Bradley?”

“C’mon, I wanna go for a drive.”

After pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes in an attempt to ground yourself and wake up, you blink once more, realizing it’s still dark outside. “Wha- Bradley, the sun isn’t even up yet.”

“Exactly.”

You chance a look at him. He’s clad in black sweats, a UVA crewneck thrown on. “’M going back to bed.” You mutter, rolling over on the bed.

“Sunshine, no, nope, c’mon.” He says, reaching out from your arm and rolling you back to face him. “C’mon, get up. Humor me just this once.”

“Our entire relationship is me humoring you.”

He huffs in an attempt to be annoyed but the grin on his face is giving him away. “Let me do something nice for you. ‘Specially after your bad week.”

You huff, finally sitting up in bed. “And your idea of doing something nice for me is getting me up at the ass crack of dawn?”

“It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, standing up. “It better be Bradshaw.”

“Why are we at the beach?” You ask, squinting. Bradley puts the car into park, the volume of his playlist titled beach drives lowering. “And why’d we have to stop to get burritos?”

“It’s not a beach trip without a breakfast burrito from San Diego’s finest hole-in-the-wall taco shop.” He responds, turning the key in the ignition off. “This is why I told you to grab a sweatshirt. C’mon.”

You sigh, pulling the passenger door open, grabbing the burritos as you do. Bradley throws open the trunk, grabbing some blankets. He shifts the blankets into one arm, interlocking his fingers with yours as the two of you walk down towards the beach.

The parking lot at Mission Beach is just outside of Belmont Park and while it would normally be a nightmare to find a spot, the beach a crowded and littered mess, it’s currently deserted save for a few of the surfers. Bradley leads you mid-way down towards the beach before he stops, tugging his hand away to lay down the blankets.

Once he deems the blankets perfect, the two of you sit. The sand is cool against your toes as you wiggle your shoes off before bringing your legs in to be sat criss-cross. Bradley hands a burrito to you as the both of you shift, the sun barely peeking out of the horizon.

The rise of the sun is slow but peaceful. The yellow hues slowly turn red and pink at the edge of the water, color streaking through the sky.

You pause, mid-chew. Bradley’s got his head in your lap, having inhaled his own burrito as he keeps his eyes on the water. Your left hand is curled up into his hair, other hand on your burrito.

“Did you bring me out here to watch the sunrise?” You mutter lowly and Bradley turns, a grin spreading across his face.

“Finally caught on to my master plan, did you?”

You give a half-shrug, taking another bite of your burrito. “’S pretty.”

“It is isn’t?” He says, eyes never leaving you, even as yours turn back to the crashing waves. “Kind of like you.”

You duck your head, feeling your cheeks blush. “Stop.” You mutter. He chuckles, shaking his head as he also turns his gaze back to the sunrise.

“I used to come out here a lot in high school.” He says after a minute, causing you to glance back down. them. “To surf, you know? Early morning is some of the best times to catch waves. It was a way to get away, to not have to deal with Mom’s diagnosis. But then I stopped coming out here to surf and would drive here every morning just to see the sunrise, even though it made me late for my first period. There was just something so... so grounding about watching the sun rise. Like it was a new day and a new chance to get things right. Out here, it’s calm, just you and the sand and the waves and the sunrise. One of the things I’ve missed most since I moved away.”

You wrap what’s left of the burrito in the foil, tucking it into the plastic bag to keep it safe from the seagulls. “Kind of how I’ve felt about sunsets? The end of the day meaning there’s always a chance to try again tomorrow.” You nudge Bradley and he shifts, sitting up just long enough to allow you to lay down on the blanket and cuddle into him. “But I think I understand why you love the West Coast so much.”

“West Coast is the best coast.”

You snort, nudging his shoulder. “Shut up surfer boy.”

“Hey, you’d think I was so hot in my wet suit.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Is anybody hot in those things?”

“I make it work.”

There’s a beat before you both break into giggles and Bradley grabs you, rolling over so he’s over you, forearms resting next to your head. He’s got a soft smile on his face, eyes moving over you like he’s committing this all to memory.

“What? Gotta a little guac on my face?” You joke, try not to squirm under his gaze. You had never quite got used to the way Bradley openly looked at you with so much love, like you were his whole world. It still made you breathless and dizzy.

If anything his smile only grows.

“I love you Sunshine. So fucking much.” He leans down, pressing a featherlight kiss to the side of your mouth. “Thanks for choosing to do life with me.”

“No where else I’d rather be.” You whisper.

“You’re the love of my life, you know that? Never thought I’d find this.”

One of your hands finds his, intertwining your fingers with his before you press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I love you Bradley Bradshaw.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #flight risk

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greazyfloz · 1 year

Note

Heyy can i request a Luke Hughes smut with 4 and 18 please? 🫶🏼 maybe he’s just come back from a roadie and he DOESNT HAVE A MULLET LIKE THE OTHER BOYS. And the readers like oh thank goodness

Smut: 4. “Uh… I’m going to need you to take care of something” & 18.“I need to feel you” “Right here?” w/ Luke Hughes

Urgency

Luke had just gotten home from being away for the weekend so I was waiting in the parking lot at Yost. I was more anxious than usual waiting for Luke to get in because of the recent Instagram post of about ten guys with mullets. I couldn’t tell through snapchats if Luke had gotten a mullet or not because he wears a beanie everywhere.

Luke gets in the car and smiles over at me and I drive him to his house. We caught up about the weekend, I didn’t ask about the mullet because I kinda wanted to see if he would show me himself or talk about the other boys mullets, but it didn’t come up.As soon as I turn the key to the ignition, I quickly rip the beanie off his head to uncover his full head of hair.

“Thank goodness, you are still beautiful” I say leaning over the dash to press my lips to his and he pulls away confused,

“Thanks? You too?”

“I meant your hair!” I say continuing to make out with him. I knew Luke was confused but he didn’t want to pull away. So he brought me in closer, deepening the kiss. “I missed you” I say into the kiss.

“Mhm” he says, still not wanting to break apart. I finally break from the kiss and climb over the dash to cradle his hips accidentally grinding against him, I hear him groan out. I sit facing him on the passenger seat, I slowly start unzipping the hoodie I am wearing to reveal my bare chest. I shimmy my shoulders to make them bounce and Luke stares in awe.

“Uh… I’m going to need you to take care of something” he says. I already felt him growing up against my pussy and his reaction as me becoming wetter and wetter. He opens the door and closes it while carrying me, then walks around to the front of the car slamming me against the hood, I reach down and feel him through his sweatpants and he shivers at my sudden touch. He picks me back up and carries me in the house, slamming the front door behind him then carrying me to the recliner.

He begins to strip right here in the living room then saying: “I need to feel you”. I look around the room and back at him.

“Right here?” I say

“Yes, Right. Here.” he says before roughly pulling my pants off me throwing them across the room. “We will hear them pull in” he says before pressing his lips to mine, “I won’t last very long” he says then makes out with me again “You make me so fucking horny” he says climbing on top and ramming himself inside hard and fast.

“Fuck!” I scream out as he pumps into me hard. He grabs one of my boobs with one hand and keeps us steady with the other on the recliner before he gets frustrated with the rocking on the recliner and picks me up pinning me against the wall so hard a frame falls beside us. He fixes himself so he can enter me again. He begins thrusting into me and I wrap my legs around his waist. “Fuck Luke!” I scream out as he continues hard and fast. “So good!” I yell out again and he presses his lips against my neck, definitely leaving hickies all over.

“On the floor” he says pulling out of me. He roughly pushes me around in the position he wanted which happened to be doggy. He slapped my ass hard before immediately thrusting hard inside me once again. My moans just become loader and loader with the intensity Luke is thrusting inside of me. “I’m going to cum” he says before he bends down and lifts my upper body so I am resting my back on his chest and he thrusts into me hard and slow and grabbing onto my boobs hard and rough. He plunges deep inside on me one last time, and the hardest yet making me moan loud enough you can’t hear him groan. I feel him fill me up and he turn me around so he can insert two fingers into my curling them once getting as much of his cum on his fingers as possible before putting them in my mouth.

I bring myself so I am sucking his two fingers back and forth as if it were his dick. “Fuck Y/n, you are so fucking sexy” he says plunging his fingers back inside of me curling them to get more of his cum inside of me and plunging them back in my mouth. I grab his hands with my hands this time and bobble my head back and forth of his fingers.

All of a sudden the door opens and all 4 boys walk in, I jump up immediately and hide behind Luke. “You are joking” we hear Dylan yell, “couldn’t even make it to the bedroom” Dylan says slamming the door as all 4 boys quickly went back outside.

“Should we continue in my room then? I’m definitely going to be able to do round two after this” Luke says, lifting my red faced ass up and taking me to his room for round 2.

#luke hughes #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich hockey smut #umich hockey imagine #umich blurbs

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oftenwantedafton · 29 days

Text

Kismet - Dave Miller/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 4

Word Count - 3k

Rating - Explicit

CW - sexual content

Also available on AO3

Dave Miller is waiting for you in the campus parking lot outside of the building you’ve just had your anatomy exam inside.

You can see him leaning against the driver’s side door, his hands shoved into his pockets. Still dressed in his security guard uniform. It’s hot out. You squint against the glare of the sun as you exit, maneuvering your way down the handicapped ramp using the crutches he’d lent you earlier. They’re awkward, a little tricky to get used to, but they do help. Your ankle was actually a lot better today, but you’d also been resting it for awhile now, so you don’t want to push it and ruin the recovery process.

“How did it go?” He greets you when you reach his car.

You draw in a deep breath, then exhale. “I think I did okay. I hope. That was worth a quarter of my grade.”

”I’m sure you did well.” He opens the rear passenger door and you slide the crutches inside across the back seat, followed by your backpack. The vintage luxury sedan had a spacious interior, hailing from an era where things were built bigger, with the intention of showing off, ignoring things like fuel efficiency and compact sizing. Not what you would have envisioned him driving; it just didn’t suit his aesthetic. So at odds with the bike gear, with the sport motorcycle itself.

“So where do you want to go?” You’ve both settled inside the car. The vinyl seats are warm, clinging to the bare skin on the backs of your thighs. You’d worn denim shorts and a tank top today. You don’t know how the older man can stand being so covered up. Maybe something to do with those strange marks he has on him. You want to ask about them, the query nearly forcing its way past your lips on more than one occassion, but you’re still hesitant, uncertain if it was the right time to ask yet.

“You must be tired.” The smudges beneath his eyes still persist. You wonder when the last time he actually got some decent rest was.

“I took a cat nap while you were taking your test. I’m good for now.”

“Let’s go to your house.” You try to make it sound casual, surprising yourself when the words slip out. A little forward, inviting yourself over.

“My house?” A mixture of his own surprise laced with some amusement as well. “On a day like this I thought you’d want to be outdoors.”

“It’s too hot.”

“It’s summer in Utah. It’s always too hot,” he counters.

“Touché.”

“Seriously, though. Where do you want to go?”

You pretend to reconsider, biting your bottom lip, eyes fixing upward. “Mmmm…your house.”

“Okay. If that’s what you really want.” He turns the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life. “Seatbelt on, please.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You drag the nylon strap across your chest, shoving the buckle into place. The material digs into your bare shoulder, pressing between your breasts.

“You’re back to work on Friday, right?” He pulls out of the parking lot, heading north out of the city proper. The opposite direction from where you reside.

“Yes.”

“You think you’re going to be okay getting there?”

“I should be good.”

“Ill give you my number just in case. You should have it anyway.”

“Yeah, I should.” He glances over at you, smirking.

You fuss with the radio for a bit, rummaging with the cassette tapes stashed into the console. A lot of music from the eighties. Something else you don’t recognize shoved way in the back. A large plastic cartridge with a faded peeling label that’s water damaged, the paper wrinkled. “What’s this?”

“Eight track. A largely inferior way to listen to music.”

“So why do you keep it?”

“I had no idea that was there, to be honest.” The car rolls to a stop at the next intersection, the traffic light turning red. “Is this what you’re going to do at my house? Snoop through my things?”

“You said to get to know you. So, this is getting to know you.”

“Hmmm.” He doesn’t sound upset, exactly. Mulling the situation over, perhaps. Deciding what he was willing to reveal.

You toss the item back where you found it. “I know what you did.”

Dave’s eyes snap to your face. “What?”

“They got an anonymous donation of an AC unit at the shelter. That was you, wasn’t it?”

Something like relief washes over the guard’s features, the tense shoulders relaxing. “Oh. That. Yes, that was me. Couldn’t have the bun and the others suffering.”

“What did you think I meant?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. I don’t know.”

Another mystery for you to solve. You tentatively lift each leg off the seat. Sticking already. There was no air conditioning in his car. The windows were rolled down, but with the automobile at a standstill there was no air exchange.

“The downside to vinyl,” he murmurs, seeing your struggles. “There really isn’t an upside. In the winter it’s like sitting on ice.”

“You need a new car.”

“It serves its purpose.”

The light turns green and he shifts his foot from the brake to the gas pedal. At least it was an automatic. You didn’t even know how to drive a standard.

His right hand departs the steering wheel and finds its way to your knee once you’ve left the city behind.

Just a casual reach and drop, that long extremity having no trouble stretching until his fingers close over the bare joint, thumb tracing small circles.

Your body is already reacting. You squirm in your seat, shifting down a little, his hand easing further up with the movement. Now half on bare skin, half on the jean covering. Thumb now worrying at the frayed edges of the hole at the front. Tucking inside. Fingers pressing firmly along your inner thigh. You suck in a deep breath.

You can see the profile of a smile on his features. His eyes never leave the road as his hand meanders further along, stopping just shy of your crotch. Your heart is pounding. Waiting for him to touch the seam there, grind it against you clothed sex.

Instead his hand abandons you, reclaiming its position on the steering wheel and you look at him, mouth open in disbelief.

He shoots you a hurried glance. “What?”

“You know what.”

“There are a lot of turns coming up. I’ll need both hands. We’re almost there,” he adds.

You fold your arms. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Don’t pout.”

“Or what? What are you going to do about it?” Whatever retort he’s readied dies off when you reach over to exact revenge, digging your nails into his thigh. Raking along the inside. You have to lean, you don’t have the length that he does.

“You are…”

“I’m what? What am I?”

He brakes at a stop sign and thumbs the arm of the turn signal even though there are no other cars in sight. The neighborhood looks quiet, a good distance between the houses. Large yards. Lots of trees. Shade. Privacy.

“Unexpected.” He surprises you with how fast he moves, cupping the side of your face and kissing you. Your stomach somersaults, your core throbbing in response. “Addictive,” he adds, kissing you again before he returns his attention to driving.

***

Miller’s house is a three bedroom Garrison with an attached two car garage.

You’re in that garage now, gaining entry once he’d pushed the button on the remote slotted on the sun visor overhead. You see his bike parked inside and a lot of the typical clutter you’d expect. Workbenches. Tools. You’re trying to picture the guard working on a housing project, doing something mundane like mowing the lawn, an expansive front one that rests on an incline, the house set uphill and far back from the road. Finding it impossible to reconcile the image.

There are a few steps into the house. Dave unlocks the door and doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up in his arms again. You laugh, murmuring a little protest that you can manage the task but he persists. You’re carried into a living room and gently deposited onto the nearby couch. It’s dark inside the house. Cooler. A lot of trees surround the property. It’s a relief after the heat outdoors.

“Want something to drink?”

“Yes, that’d be great.” You adjust the pillow beside you, looking around the room while you wait. It’s very modern. Gray and black and white. No pops of color. No personality to reveal what the owner liked. Coffee table devoid of magazines. Bookshelves lacking literature or decor. No pictures on the walls. No plants. It looked like an artist’s unfinished sketch. Waiting to be filled in.

Dave returns with two glasses full of ice submerged in amber liquid. Tea, you realize, taking a sip. “Good,” you say, nodding. He sets a couple of beverage napkins down on the table. There’s already a copious amount of condensation on the side of the glass.

He sits down beside you with a sigh, toeing off his shoes. “You can take yours off if you want. I’m not fussed about where you leave them. And I’m sure you want a break from that bandage.”

You nod, setting your drink down to unlace your shoes, then removing the metal clasps that kept the elastic wrap in place, unwinding the clinging fabric. A little bit of an impression where it had been hugging your skin, but the joint was mostly free of the swelling and redness from before.

You lean back against the cushions, picking up your glass again as you settle back. “Your house is nice. I mean, judging from what I’ve seen of it so far. Empty, though.”

“It’s easier to maintain that way. I don’t need the clutter.” He takes a swallow of his drink. “I’ll give you a more extensive tour when you’ve fully recovered. Unless you want to be carried around,” he adds with a smirk.

“I’m not that crippled. I can limp around pretty well now,” you reply defensively. “What do you do when you’re not working? There’s a lot of stuff in the garage.”

He nods. “Yes. That. I like…building things. I was an engineer once.”

“Really?” You’re surprised. Something else you couldn’t picture him doing. “What do you construct?”

“Oh, this and that. I haven’t completed anything in awhile. I’ve been…occupied.”

“With what?” The cool liquid slips down your throat.

“Some pretty young college girl that came into my path one day.”

You blush at the compliment.

The dark haired man’s drink is already finished. He tucks his thumb and index finger inside of it, tipping it slightly to retrieve one of the melting ice cubes, popping it between his lips.

You can hear him rolling it around on his tongue. The soft click when it collides with his teeth. You can’t stop staring, hypnotized. He sets the glass on the table and rests an elbow on the back of the couch, the fist he makes supporting his head. Watching you. Waiting.

Your half finished drink is back on the table. Your mouth back on his. A little humming noise from him. Satisfaction. Your tongue spears his lips. Chilled from the ice. He offers the remainder to you. Pushing it inside your mouth. That wedge of networked muscles chasing back after it. Relinquishing it. Trading back and forth. You have possession of it now, letting it rest in the curve you create as you offer it back to him. His lips close over your tongue and suck, dragging it back into his own maw.

You’re both breathing heavily. That satisfied smirk is back on his lips again. He’s swallowed whatever remained of the ice, his Adam’s apple shifting with the movement. His eyes are solid black, the rings of gray completely obliterated by the overwhelming dilation of his pupils. There’s a pulse in your sex, beating to match your heart. Every time you’re with him, you find yourself forgetting more and more of the misgivings you’d had earlier. Smothered beneath this layer of desire.

“Ask me something.” His head is propped up on his fist again, back to the casual waiting that you know is a front.

“What’s under this?” You run your fingers over his shirt sleeve. You’re going to ask him now. “The marks. What are they?”

“You want to see them?”

“Yes.”

A pause as he considers. Then that lean form lifts from the couch. Fingers working on the buttons sealing the sleeve cuffs and loosening the knot of his tie. Buckle of pants unfastened, making room at the waist to drag the shirt hem from where it’s tucked inside. The row of buttons down the center now released, pulling each arm out of the sleeves, letting the garment fall to the floor.

You stare at this display of undressing, watching raptly. Your eyes lock onto the scars on his forearms. A pair of rings almost like bracelets encircling his wrists. Circles dotted along each scarred bangle. Jagged lines streaking towards the elbows. Another bracelet ring. More streaks. The rest covered by the undershirt.

“What happened?” You lean forward for a better look, running your fingers lightly down his forearms.

“An accident at work years ago.”

“Yeah, but doing what?”

“A failure in one of the…construction projects.”

He’s still being evasive. “What kind of project?”

“A mechanical suit, of sorts.”

“Are there more scars?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“A lot of them?”

“Yes. Do they bother you?”

You shake your head.

He sits back down and you take another sip of your drink. Dave lifts the glass from your fingers, draining the rest of it. Retrieving another ice cube. Outlining you bottom lip with it as if it was a tube of lipstick. The cold water leaks down your chin, your throat. He licks along that line, pushing you deeper into the cushions at the back of the couch. The fingers holding the ice disappear beneath the neckline of your top, letting it slide down your spine.

“Dave, fuck, that’s cold!” You try to reach the offending object, lifting the bottom of your shirt.

“You’re not, though,” he murmurs, one hand snaking behind to assist you. You can feel the ice drop onto the couch. He doesn’t remove his hand, instead pinching at the hook and eye closures of your brassiere to unfasten it. “You’re so, so hot.” Back at your front now. The ice cube somehow pinched between his fingers again. Slid along your abdomen, making you gasp. He shoves the front of your tank top up, moving the bra with it, exposing your breasts. Now circling your areola, your nipples instantly peaking.

“Dave…” It’s the only coherent word you can form. Your brain is short circuiting, the blood flow shunted elsewhere. There’s water from the melted ice cube all over your torso. Sliding down your ribs and pooling in your umbilicus. You absently try to reach him, any part near his groin you can locate, but he halts you, lapping at your ear before he whispers into it.

“Mmm-mmm. Ladies first.” The waist of your shorts is suddenly looser as he unfastens the button fly and pulls down the zipper. You’re trying to recall what underwear you’re wearing, hoping it’s something cute. You hadn’t really planned on this happening. Not this fast, anyway.

“One of the benefits of riding the bike,” he begins, leaning to retrieve another ice cube, “is that your fingers get a good work out using the brakes, clutch, throttle. A lot of strength built up. Power.” He’s beneath your panties now, his fingers dragging the dissolving frozen object over your clit.

Your spine jerks, your hips lifting up. Bringing him further down the length of your sex. You don’t even recognize the sounds escaping your lips. A calloused thumb circling your clit, middle and ring finger shoving at your entrance, the ice cube tucked firmly between the bridge of his palm. Another spasm. Your wrap your fingers around his forearm, nails digging into the skin. His digits reach so much further than your own. Stretching even more. He massages your g spot with the pads of his fingers. Planting little kisses on your jaw. Watching you with those dark, dark eyes as you writhe and grind against him. The last of the ice gone. The strong pair of fingers inserted into your canal working in earnest, your pussy making obscene noises as it greedily sucks him deeper.

“Is it good?” He knows the answer, of course. He can’t possibly not, with the way your body is responding, the sounds that you’re making, the frantic touches of your hands, your mouth.

“Yes,” you manage to gasp.

“You like my fingers inside this hot cunt of yours?”

“Dave…fuck, yes.”

“Are you going to cum for me like a good girl?”

A whimper. It’s all you can muster. You feel his smile against your neck as his thrusting fingers increase their pace, your unhooded bud flicked mercilessly. Your free hand digs into the pillow now resting against your thigh. It’s so overwhelmingly hot. You’re on fire. Sweating. Spots in front of your eyes, like when you’ve been out in the sun and go indoors, your vision trying to adjust. But it’s all from the man touching you. Burning you. A final searing kiss and touch and you’re there, moaning into his mouth.

His hand remains buried in your sex, resting now, cupping the natural curve, fingers motionless, feeling your walls contract around him, the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm still coursing through you. Softer kisses. Letting you drag air into your lungs in between them. Eventually removing his hand from your panties and you struggle to sit upright.

“That was…um…Jesus, Dave.” He’s got the fingers that invaded you in his mouth now, slowly sucking them clean.

“Delicious.” He grins at you. “Good?”

“Yeah, good. More than good.” You’re still coming down off your high, trying to collect your thoughts. You can still feel the nerves firing in your pussy, in your thighs.

“You want another drink?”

“Definitely.”

“I don’t know how much ice is left. I’ll have to refill the tray.” He winks at you and you shove at his arm. Your touch gentling, stroking down the length. Sated and yet you still want more of him. “I like having you here,” he says quietly, sensing the shift in mood.

“I like being here.” You kiss him.

He moves as if to stand but you tighten your grip on his arm. “The drinks…”

“Can wait.”

A soft smile before he’s back at your mouth again.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #dave miller x you #dave miller x reader #william afton smut #dividers credit @ saradika graphics

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permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 · 9 days

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Freefall * Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw/OC (part 1)

Summary: Casey had always been a free spirit, living in the moment, never staying still for long. More than once, her loved ones told her she could stand to think more with her head, and less with her heart. But old habits die hard, and the choices Casey makes in the heat of the moment are about to change her life forever, whether she's ready for it or not.

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, allusion to smut, original character, angst, sex outside of wedlock, friends to lovers, did I mention angst?

Other: please let me know if you'd like to be on a tag list for future updates!

Sitting in an idling car under the heat of the California sun, Casey Mitchell tries with everything she has to avoid giving into the desire to turn tail and run. To avoid succumbing to the instinct that all but demands that she realize, sooner rather than later, that this is an absolutely abysmal idea. Her life, in the last few weeks, has turned far more chaotic than even she might have been able to predict, her penchant for flying fast and loose notwithstanding. And now?

Now, the consequences of her actions have become a thing she can no longer outrun.

She should have seen it coming, of course. Maybe not this exact scenario, but something not all that far off the mark. Countless times, her family has warned her against making rash decisions. Letting emotion dictate her choices, rather than logical fact. But somehow, in spite of all of that, she's never managed to succeed, proving time and time again that she is far too much like her father for her own good.

In response to the realization circulating through her thoughts for what has to be the hundredth time since reality had come swooping in to derail her, Casey allows her head to drop back against the headrest. She exhales in an exasperated rush, while her fingers flex on the steering wheel until the skin of her knuckles whitens from the effort.

She's being foolish. What can possibly be so hard about getting out of the damn car, walking across the gravel of the parking lot, and stepping through the propped open doorway of the damned bar?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except for the glaring fact of how, if she does commit to this, everything about her life could change forever.

More so than it already has…

Shaking her head, Casey allows her eyes to slip closed for a moment, the warmth of the interior of her car sinking into her skin, though it does little to calm the racing of her heart. Again, she wrestles with the desire to place the key in the ignition. To drive back the way she came, until she's back at the apartment she'd known for a little over a year on the east coast.

The idea is entirely too tempting, and before long, Casey catches herself dragging the fingers of one hand through wind-tousled hair. The other hand knocks her sunglasses down to rest upon the bridge of her nose.

She clambers out of the driver's seat, stumbling just a bit as a result of the haste behind the movement, but refuses to allow herself to take that as a sign she should stop, knowing that if she gives her apprehension even a moment longer of her time, she will definitely lose her nerve.

The slam of the car door behind her all but settles that score, or at least so she hopes, the sound doing more to steel her nerves than anything else has been capable of doing thus far. Her heeled boots seem quite capable of carrying her forward without stumbling in the gravel beneath her feet. Whether rightly or wrongly, she seizes on that reality, trying to twist it into a sign that everything will be okay. That her entire life is not about to fly apart at the seams.

Casey can feel her fingernails digging into the skin of her palms as she walks, the pressure almost enough to draw blood. And although it takes a significant amount of effort to do so, she forces herself to at least try to relax before she walks through the open door of a bar her mom has owned and operated since moving back to North Island years ago.

The bar that has been more of a home to her than practically any other place she has ever known.

Music wafting over the speakers reaches her in record time almost as soon as she steps inside, the familiarity of the tune provoking a ghost of a smile. And as she weaves her way through the crowd already gathering around the bar, Casey does the best she can to ensure that the expression will stick around.

If she wants to have any chance at her return appearing even the slightest bit normal, she has absolutely no other choice but to act that way, no matter the cost.

A task that is honestly likely to become far more difficult than Casey cares to admit.

Forcing her mind from the thought, however, she chooses to focus instead on sidling up to the bar. On securing a stool to sit on, between two pilots she does not recognize. She takes note of how her mother's eyes seem to widen as she turns to offer another newcomer a drink, and pauses in the act not long after, her expression adopting an unmistakable tone of surprise.

Casey hadn't considered calling or sending a text to warn of her impending arrival, half-convinced that doing so would only make the return more daunting than it already is. A fact that her mother only confirms as soon as she recovers from her surprise for long enough to change course entirely.

"Casey?"

"Hey, Mom."

"I didn't think you were coming back for another visit until your birthday," Penny Benjamin states, only the smile that pulls up at both corners of her mouth removing the likelihood that her words might inadvertently be misunderstood, "What changed?"

"A girl needs a reason to come visit her mom, now?"

"When her mom knows her as well as I happen to know you? I'd say so."

"You make it sound like I hardly visit at all!" Casey laughs, aware of the slight arch of her mother's eyebrow that comes about almost as soon as the protest leaves her lips, "What? I—I visit!"

"Not nearly often enough."

"Is that your way of saying that you miss me?"

"What do you think?"

Unable to resist the tenuous grin that pulls at her lips, Casey relaxes just a little in her seat, the apprehension she'd been nearly overwhelmed by upon her first arrival seeming to fade, albeit by only a small degree. Regardless of the true reason behind her return, she would be a fool to pretend she had not also been seeking some manner of familiarity because of it. As though a part of her needs to be back among family and friends, no matter what each of them may think of the truth when she can no longer keep it at bay.

The idea of coming clean still terrifies her, of course, but beneath the weight of her mother's curious gaze, Casey is forced to put such thoughts to the back of her mind, if for no other reason than to ensure that the truth does not reveal itself until she is ready.

If she ever truly can be, at all.

"I think you missed me."

"You seem fairly confident," Penny teases, her own laughter far more warm and welcoming than Casey truly believes she deserves, "Perhaps that confidence needs a drink?"

"Are we promoting alcoholism now?"

"Or maybe I just know my daughter well enough to know all of her habits."

"Well this time, I think I'll pass," Casey says, the renewed surprise in her mother's expression causing a curious twisting sensation to take root in her gut, something that is not all that far away from guilt, "Maybe just a Shirley Temple?"

"Feeling nostalgic, are we?"

"Something—something like that, yeah."

Whatever doubts her mother clearly seems to harbor over the request, and the motivations behind it, Penny seems content enough to let them go for now, a reality for which Casey is abundantly grateful, whether or not she will ever be able to put such a feeling into words. And even if she is well aware she is hardly off the hook, or free from any and all forms of scrutiny, Casey takes the drink her mother hands her with a far more encouraging smile than she initially believed herself capable of summoning…

And although she has good reason to opt for refusing the alcohol her mother had initially offered, Casey cannot help but wish for something a bit stronger as soon as a voice calls out above the music, alerting her to a new arrival she is hardly prepared for at all.

"Bradshaw! Is that you?"

No matter her hopes for obtaining at least one night at home without being forced to face the consequences of her own actions, such as they are, it would appear that she is not about to be so fortunate.

A reality that is only confirmed as soon as she glances towards the new arrival, and finds herself absolutely incapable of looking away.

…

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imdoingmybest0 · 10 months

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Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader 18+; Minors DNI Just a fun little idea I had about Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Any thing for the team Prt.2

Jake and I step out into the cool night air. As we weave between the rows of cars, I feel his hand meet the small of my back, guiding me toward the driver's side of the cream and white pickup.

I reach for the door handle before I can, but Jake is shooing my hand away, "No Lady of mine will open her door while I'm around."

I step back and watch him open the door with ease before holding a hand palm up to help me in. I take his hand and lift myself into the truck with far more grace than I had earlier in the evening. Jake slides into the driver's seat behind me, his arm makes its way across the back of the seat. He's turned enough to give me his crooked grin and I bite my lip. I scoot a little closer to him and lean forward. Jake automatically understands and leans in to kiss me once again. This kiss was sweeter than the one we had shared in the hallway, but it was just as welcomed.

A moment later Jake pulls away and swallows, "Darlin', I could do that all night if you'd like but I'd love to take you home." His breathing is a little heavy and I grin at his response to a simple kiss.

"Well then," I say, "better get us home then." I grin at him and his eyes widen a little, then he's fumbling a little to get his keys into his ignition.

The truck rumbles to life underneath me, a steady purr, and Jake shifts into gear. This time when his hand leaves the gear-shift his hand comes to rest halfway up my thigh. The motion wasn't invasive, but the intention was clear as day. I feel my face heat up and I take one last look at the HardDeck as we roll out of the parking lot.

After a moment I gently pluck the cowboy hat off the dashboard and pull it into my lap. Jakes had tightened slightly on my thigh. It's so small I could almost believe I imagined it.

"So, you've already told me about your 'baby' this have story too?" I nod down to the hat in my lap.

Jake smiles a little, "Kinda, my buddy back home got into leather working and then that turned into him running an entire custom boot and hat shop. Real creative guy." Jake glances over at me and smiles, "That's one of the first hats he made. Fit it specifically for me 'cause he knew if he fucked it up, I'd still wear it," Jake laughs to himself. I rub my hand over where he rests on my thigh and pick it up by the top.

"May I?" I ask. Now he definitely squeezes my leg and pulls his eyes from the road to look at me for a moment. He jerks his chin up and I place the hat on my head.

I turn a quarter towards him and smile, "Well, how do I look Seresin?"

He smiles, "Perfect," he says but his jaw tightens and he presses a little harder on the gas pedal. We ride in comfortable silence for a moment before Jake chuckles.

"Now you gotta make good on your promise," Jake says and my mind goes blank. What had a promised him? That doesn't sound like me, making promises I forget to follow through on.

"Jake wha-" I start to ask but we are pulling towards the gate and have to pull our ID cards out to hand to the SF officer to scan. She waves us through wishing us goodnight and we drive through the pseudo-town towards the barracks.

"No one ever told ya doll?" he questions. I shake my head no resulting in a wicked grin from Jake. "Well then, let me be the first to tell you," he smoothly guides the truck into a parking space and turns toward me, "If you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy doll."

He leans in to kiss me again, "and that is a view I'd love to have."

He opens the door of the truck and lands squarely on his feet before extending his hand to me once again.

"Common doll, let me take you inside." he smiles, and I place my hand in his, this time I'm prepared for the pull. As I swing my legs to the edge of the seat Jake wedges himself between my thighs. He places his hands solidly on my his and grins, leaning in for a heated kiss. I kiss him back, careful not to knock the hat off my head. I feel his hand wandering down my ass before he picks me up, forcing me to wrap my arms around his neck to keep from falling. I yelp.

"Jake, don't drop me," I saw harshly.

"Oh, babydoll, I would never," he says softly.

..............................................................................................................................

Being a part of the Dagger Squadron has its perk, one of which is private apartments. We had decided to go to Jake's apartment instead of mine, his being on the second floor and mine being on the fourth. I find myself excited to see what Hangman's personal life is like. Does he fold all of the clothes into neat squares before placing them in their drawers? What books does he read, and what videogames does he play? Hell, I even was to know what kind of toothpaste he uses. My heart races, do I like Jake Seresin more than I thought I did? Do I want to know about his personal life out of curiosity or do I want to be a part of it?

Before my mind wanders to much farther Jake has stopped at a door and is sliding a key into the lock, jiggling the key and doing a few practiced turns before it finally clicks open. He pushes the door wide and holds it for me, as promised. I step inside with a comical tip of my, well, his hat. I glance around the apartment, it's a mirror of mine upstairs. There are a few dishes in the sink as well as an abandoned mug and book on the coffee table. I see vintage car posters hung on the wall as well as a few photos of Hangman with a gaggle of five women. One of the women appeared to be older than him but the rest looked to be younger. I hear the lock click into place behind me and I turn and watch Jaek toe off his boot and leave them by the front door. I kick mine off as well and leave them next to his.

He winds his arms around my waist and smiles, "You know we don't have to do anything you don't want right darlin'."

I giggle and place my arms over his shoulders, "Seresin, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."

His smile turns wicked, "Last chance Babydoll." I nod. Then our lips meet again and he gently presses me backward toward his bedroom. He pants against my mouth, and his tongue pulls soft moans from me. I feel him groan against my mouth and stop us before my legs connect with the edge of his bed. He pulls away for a moment and removes his at from my head, opting to hang it on one of the bed posts. When he looks back at me his hands make trails up and down my sides before they clamp down and he tosses me squarely into the middle of his bed.

I gasp when I land, sitting up just enough in time to see him crawl over me like a cat stalking its prey.

There is no stopping the onslaught of his lips and tongue making his way up my neck and to my lips. His hands glide under the hem of my shirt where he finds the lace edges of my bralette. I arch my chest into his touch and a whine forms in the back of my throat. His thumbs find my nipples as he settles one knee between my thighs. I gasp at the tantalizing heat and pressure on my pussy.

Jake chuckles into my mouth and pulls away slightly, "How about we get some of these outta the way?" he asks. I sit up slightly, thinking he means m shirt before he grabs the hem of his button-down and all but rips it from his body, and tosses it onto the floor. I take a moment to admire the view, His jeans are tented in the front, obvious he is as excited as I am. His pants wrap around his hips and he looks sinful. He takes my hand and pulls me up enough to slide my shirt from my body. He makes slow work of it, hands maintaining contact with my skin as he pushes the offensive fabric out of the way and over my head. Instead of joining his shirt on the floor, he hangs it on the bedpost opposite from his hat.

When he turns back to me he runs a hand over his face, "Perfect," he mumbles to himself "Made just for me."

I blush and pull him back down for another kiss, his lips trail from mine down my neck and to the lace edge of my remaining covering. The thin material shows him exactly where my pebbled nipples are and he takes one with care between his teeth over the fabric. His other hand massages its twin. Carefully he pulls the cup down to expose my breast taking his time.

"Jake, please," I cry, "you've teased me all night, I need you." My voice is cracked and desperate. I feel his lips form a smile and then he sucks a round bruise onto my breast. I yelp as my nerves light up, but he pulls away, "Teasing?" he questions, "This is just warm-ups sweetheart."

He leans back down, continuing to leave small bruises, and kisses down to the button of my pants.

He unhooks the button with ease and loops his fingers around the edge. He gently pats my hip twice and I lift my legs to let him pull them the rest of the way off. My panties snag on my pants and get pulled halfway down my thighs, I instinctively bring my knees closer.

"Oh, come on now doll, how am I supposed to do my job if you hide like that," Jake says teasingly down to me. My mouth hangs open for a moment and then I move my knees apart. He hooks a finger around my panties and I watch as he tucks them into his back pocket.

"Hey!" I protest, "You can't steal my underwear."

"You stole my hat," He smiles.

"You told me to wear it Seresin," I say matter of factly.

" Well," he chuckles darkly, "now I'm telling myself to take a little prize for later." Before I can say more he's sliding down onto his stomach and his hands are gripping the backs of my thighs. His thumbs massage the crease where my ass and thighs meet, the act causes my pussy to spread the slightest amount, making me feel exposed most satisfyingly. He watches my reactions and glances down at my pussy. Then he places an open-mouthed kiss on both of my thighs and finally one directly to my clit. I involuntarily move my hips to meet his mouth with a gasp and I feel him smile. He runs his flat tongue over my clit and I cry out, but he switches back to kissing. I don't know how long he switches between kissing and licking, occasionally wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves to gently suck. My moans become more frequent and my hips more uncontrollable. He moves two fingers slowly through my lips, spreading me and giving himself better access to my clit. His fingers massaged and added pressure to the rest of my pussy before slowly sliding them into me. I gasp at the feeling and mutter his name repeatedly.

He curls his fingers slightly into me, slowly wiggling and searching for the spot to take me over the edge. I feel him make contact inside me and yelp, "There. Jake, Oh god."

Then he switches from long slow licks and kisses to my clit to wrapping his lips around me and sucking gently, he curls his fingers in giving me even more pressure. He rocks his hand back and forth, fingers never fully leaving my sex and repeatedly pressing into the same spot. My legs fall wider apart and I can see him grinding his hips into the mattress as he eats me out. Any knowledge of his movements ends as I feel my muscles contract and my legs lock up around Jake's head. His hand and mouth don't stop moving until my body goes limp and I feel like I'm floating.

His insistent movements slow back to his long slow strokes over my clit until I whimper out his name.

Jake sits up on his knees and smiles down at me, his hands slowly running over my legs, "Not bad for my first time, right?".

I bold up, shocked, "Jake, what-"

He laughs and leans down to kiss me, the salty taste of myself on his lips, "No baby, I'm teasing. Just wanted to see your face if you thought you'd fallen apart like that for a rookie." I push his chest slightly, annoyed. He lays on his side next to me, smiling with one hand supporting his head. I assume the same position and he runs a hand along the smooth skin of my hip and thigh. Our lips connect softly and he drags me a little closer to press himself against me.

His hand makes its way around to my back and he drags me closer. He shifts us so that I have one leg on either side of my hips. I realize he only has his black boxers remaining, when did he have time to do that? His hands lazily move my hips back and forth to grind my tender clit along his clothed cock.

He smiles up at me, "How 'bout you grab that hat there baby doll," he slides a hand behind his head and lifts his hips to press harder against me. I unsaddle myself from him and turn to grab his hat, when I turn back he is rolled over towards the nightstand digging through one of the drawers. He rolls onto his back once more before saying, "I'm clean but we can use condoms if you'd like." I blushed at the reality of what I was about to do with Hangman nonetheless.

"I'm on birth control," I tell him, "makes life easier."

He smiles and eagerly tosses the condom to the floor without a second thought. I laugh at his excitement and run my fingers along the edge of his boxers before sliding them down, exposing his cock.

He looks painfully hard, the head is pink and leaking. I lick my lips and that makes his chest rumble, "Another time baby. If I wait one more moment to see you riding me I think I might not be able to hold back."

I blink in shock and then place his hat squarely on my head and smile at him, "Yes sir."

I slide back onto his lap and our contact feels right. I meet his eyes as he casually leans back and he looks desperate with anticipation and my heart flutters.

I stroke him gently from base to tip and back down before I lift myself over him. He bites his lip and his hand makes its way to my hip and squeezes reassuringly. I slowly let his head slide over my clit and then down to my pussy. I lower myself so that he sinks into me.

"Take your time darlin'," Jake huffs and groans at the squeeze, "if you go too fast I won't last."

I gasp with pleasure and my pace stutters causing me to sink lower quickly, Jake hisses and his grip tightens. I restart my descent. I finally flush to hips after some minor adjusting my hips. I lift myself as high as I can off him and lower myself again and Jake whines from deep in his throat. I repeat the motion, gasping and placing my hands on his chest to stabilize myself. I start to move, experimenting moving my hips back and forth as I glide up and down his cock. I heard Jake grunt and I look away from where our bodies met to look him in the face.

He is shining in a light sheen of sweat in the moonlight and I can still smell his cologne. His body is hot against my hands and his breath is short. His lips tilt upwards, "I could watch you like this forever, babydoll," he huffs out.

I lower myself all the way back down on him and lean down to kiss him softly. He meets my lips tenderly and lifts his hips and moves both hands to hold my hips.

"Doll, please, I," He inhales sharply as he slides slowly out a few inches, "I need this." I look surprised at him, the one and only Hangman were begging, for me. I looked closer at him, his eyes were fixed on the point where our bodies met. His mouth was slightly agape and his short came with a soft moan at the end.

"Jake," his eyes shot to mine, "anything for you."

His eyes practically rolled back into his head as he pulled me into his chest, I squeezed my knees into his sides to hold myself still as Jake let loose. He wraps his arms around my back and I hold onto him, in a tight embrace.

My face is buried in the crook of his neck as his hips work desperately against mine, aiming for the same small spot inside of me. He's grinding into me more than anything, driving me closer and closer to the edge.

One of his arms leaves my back and wraps around my waist roughly. His other hand tears the hat off my head and tosses it on the bed next to us.

In one easy movement, he flips me onto my back. I gasp at the new depth and pressure of his cock.

"Touch yourself, baby, I wanna know what you feel like when you cum. Cause one day I'm gonna count them for ya'," He grins and leans down to bite my neck low enough it wouldn't show in my uniform. I run a hand between us to my clit, Jake leans back enough to give me room to work, but then I saw the real reason.

He was watching me play with myself as he rocked into me. He grunted as I clenched around him, surprising myself at how close I already was.

"Jake, I'm close. Please, please, don't stop, you can't," I sob into his ear.

"Just a," he grunts and his hips stutter a little and I well with tears at the change, "Second baby, I'm almost," a moaning breath," there."

He keeps moving steadily as he launches me into the stratosphere, I feel his strokes get longer and harder. I can't stop the cries coming out of my throat, and then Jake presses in close to my ear.

In a rough whisper, he says, "Common doll, let go."

I almost see stars, my ears ring for a second and every muscle in my body feels close to cramping. My whole body spasms rhythmically around him and it only seems to encourage him.

He moves faster and harder, moaning into my ear before he almost fully stops, his hips are flush against my ass. He pushes into me like he's trying to fuse our bodies. He exhales harshly in my ear and I realized he'd been holding his breath. He seems to go limp as he pressed himself into me. We lay there for a moment, coming down from the stars. Jake shifts before I do, kissing my neck and shoulder gently. His hands make their way up and down my body slowly and firmly, bringing me back to my body. I smile at him and he returns it.

"How was that?" he asks, his smile suddenly turning cocky.

I laugh loudly at him, he joins in and goes back to holding me close and going back to kissing my exposed skin. He finally shifts and pulls out of me. I feel something else slide out after he's gone and I feel my face turn red. Jake groans and I look up at him.

"If nothing else that's, enough to get a man ready for a second round," his eyes are trained on my pussy and I move my knees together. Jake laughs and leans down to kiss my knees. He slides off the bed and comes up to the side to kiss me.

"But it's late doll. Let's get you cleaned up and I'll let you sleep." I smile and return his kiss and then settle a little further into his bed. Jake chuckles and makes his way, naked, towards the bathroom. He disappears for half a second before popping his head around the corner. "But I make no promises to let you sleep tomorrow." with that he winks and disappears to the bathroom.

He comes back and hands me a warm damp washcloth, I clean myself up as Jake pulls another set of sheets from the bottom drawer of his dresser. He opens the second drawer and pulls out a neatly folded blue shirt, with NAVY printed across the front. He smiles sheepishly and hands me the shirt, it's soft in the way only well-loved shirts can be.

He nods his head to the side towards the bathroom, "Go get changed darlin', I'll make the bed." I smile at him and slide out of bed and stop to kiss him on my way to the bathroom. I shut the door, use the toilet, and change into Jake's shirt. It hangs loosely on me and I smile into the mirror at myself. I could get used to this. I open the door and find Jake already in bed, hat re-hung on the bed post, and my clothes are folded on top of the dresser. My clothes, minus my panties. I crawl into bed next to Jake who holds me as I lay tucked into his side.

He kisses my hair and I sigh softly.

"Goodnight, Seresin," I whisper to him.

"Goodnight darlin'," he responds

..............................................................................................................................

AN; Hey look! I finished it :D let me know whatcha think

-okay, bye, thanks for reading, luv u <3

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bizaar · 1 year

Text

Cruel Summer - Part 8

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 12k

warnings: swearing, mentions of Chrissy's death, fluff, just really saccharine fluff, sappy love, if you know you know

A.N.: Babysitter!reader part eight, newly formatted to make jumping between chapters easier! Mean!Girl Steve is in full force, and I kind of love it, Dustin finally learns the truth.

When you finally get back to Benny’s, the parking lot is full, indicating that with the passing of mid-morning into afternoon, the masses have finally descended.

The diner is swamped with regulars and newcomers, a whole host of the same onlookers you’d seen standing around gawping back at the trailer park. They’d been staring at you then, trying to get a good look while you were being forcibly removed from the Munson trailer and unceremoniously interrogated, and they’re staring at you now, whispering amongst themselves as you push through the doors and stalk across the diner floor.

Your coworker is running back and forth like a freshly decapitated chicken, berating you for leaving her to fend for herself, but you don’t stand around long enough to listen to her dig into you for abandoning your post.

You’ve wasted enough time as it is.

You’d been detained by the Hawkins’ boys in blue for the better part of an hour, and the walk back had been unceremoniously long. With the weight of Wayne’s money sitting heavy in your pocket and his words even heavier on your shoulders, you’d walked, repeating them to yourself like they were the lyrics to a song you were trying to memorize, a desperate attempt to ward off the paralyzing fear they stirred in you.

You said them over and over again until that fear subsided and gave way to something more grounded, over and over until it was all you could think: Find Eddie, get out of town, don’t come back.

You’re muttering the words to yourself as you slip into the hallway between the kitchen and the dining room, where a short row of beat-up lockers stand beside the punch clock.

There you find Earl, looming in the doorway behind you with his thick arms crossed over his barrel-chested form, staring tiny holes into your back as you snatch your things from the locker you’d stashed them in that morning – jean jacket, bag, car keys, find Eddie, get out of town, don’t come back.

“– Are you even listening to me?” Earl snaps.

You twist at the waist to blink at him, stupidly you imagine because you had not heard a word he’d just said, so caught in the mire of your thoughts as you were.

“No,” You answer honestly, followed directly by, “I’m leaving.”

The tone of Earl’s flesh deepens until he’s turned nearly purple and is all but frothing at the mouth as you skip back through the diner. He follows, as any self-respecting employer would, you imagine, hurling threats at your back.

You’ve already made it to the door by the time he manages to get out from behind the counter, making one last-ditch effort to stop you.

“You step out that door and you’re done here, Missy!” He shouts.

The proposed loss of your income does nothing to deter you.

You don’t miss a step as you shove the door open with a familiar chiming bell that you imagine you will be hearing for the last time.

Fine — Good riddance.

Your triumphant exit is, however, not punctuated by the cheers and swelling music you’d always imagined it would be. It is, in fact, wholly uninspired as you leap down off the curb with Earl still shouting at you how you best not come crawling back, blah blah blah, and make your way across the lot to your little Toyota, left all but abandoned.

It is only after you slide into the driver's seat and jam the keys into the ignition that you discover, much to your chagrin, at some point over the last couple of hours your car’s battery has died.

Just fucking typical.

You don’t have time to run around trying to find someone to jump it for you, so you shoulder your bag and bid a silent farewell to your trusty little car before starting up the road towards town at a swift jog.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know it is going to be a problem when eventually you find Eddie and have to figure out how you’re going to get him out of Hawkins without the use of a car, but you’ll just have to cross that bridge when you come to it.

You’ll get this done if it kills you, one Sisyphean hurdle at a time.

Of course, you have no earthly idea where you are even meant to start looking for Eddie, and it is only by sheer dumb luck that you somehow miraculously find yourself headed past Adam’s house.

Miraculous, considering you’d only cut into the neighborhood in a panicked attempt to avoid the cop car you’d seen nestled in its speed trap on the shoulder of the road, but all the more so because, like a stroke of divine intervention, you’ve somehow found yourself stumbling across an honest to God, Corroded Coffin jam session.

What are the odds?

Like nothing has changed and somehow the encroaching cloud of doom has not yet reached this part of town, Jeff, Adam, and Gareth are all there, standing huddled together in the open garage like they were waiting for you.

The coincidence of it all drives you a little crazy, especially considering Eddie is not with them. You can’t help the pang of bitter disappointment you feel as you have to remind yourself it was never going to be that easy – nothing with Eddie ever is.

The band, sans its frontman, stands staring at you wide-eyed and gawping like they’re seeing a ghost as you bolt up the driveway, shouting their names and waving your arms for their attention as you come screeching to a halt.

Your body is surging with enough adrenaline to almost make you forget how your lungs are burning. You’ve done more running today than you have all year, and your body is not happy about it – funny how quickly you get out of shape once things like regularly mandated physical education become thing of the past.

“Whoa, holy shit, Dude!” Jeff squeaks out, stumbling over your name and the chord of his electric guitar as he moves towards you, “H-hey! It’s been a minute,”

You don’t let him finish, you don’t have time for a game of catch-up.

“Where’s Eddie?” you demand, well aware of how you are starting to sound like a broken record even if only to yourself. “Have you seen him?”

The question seems to shock them. Adam and Gareth exchange nervous glances, meanwhile Jeff makes a harsh sound in the back of his throat that is a little closer to disgust than you like and recoils like you’d threatened to slap him.

The reaction might have confused you if not for the fact that you are well aware of the way he’s always had a big crush on you and the tension it has created between him and Eddie as a result.

You are not in the least bit surprised to see that it has not changed, but you have neither the time nor the patience to be nice to him about it.

You don’t care about Jeff’s feelings, you only care about finding Eddie.

Gareth has to elbow him in the ribs to stop him from saying something snide as he answers you.

“Not since Hellfire last night–” He begins, lamely fumbling for the excuse he doesn’t get the chance to trot out before Jeff cuts him off with a scoff.

“I saw him.” He says matter of factly, garnering horrified reactions from his friends.

Gareth’s eyes widen as his head whips around so fast you half expect to see it spin all the way around.

He and Adam are staring daggers, silently willing him to shut up, and suddenly you get a strange, sinking sense of betrayal like they are grappling with something big and unwieldy that is not for your eyes.

You swallow it, you can process it later if your feelings are still hurt.

“You did?” You gasp.

Jeff nods.

“Dude— don’t.” Adam hisses.

He narrows his eyes and shoots Adam an unimpressed look.

“What? It’s not like she isn’t gonna find out.” He says, sounding almost like a mocking reference to a conversation they’ve had before. Adam glares at him but says nothing, and Jeff looks almost smug as he turns back to regard you, “I saw Eddie,”

Your heart is in your throat and you can’t quite decide if it’s for excitement or nerves. You’re practically vibrating for it and you have to ball your hands into fists to stop yourself from grabbing Jeff by the front of his shirt and shaking him.

“Where?”

He shrugs.

“In the school parking lot after the game. He was headed out with…”

Jeff trails off under the chorus of Adam and Gareth swatting at him and telling him to shut him up. It sets the band to bickering aggressively and your skin to crawl.

You can’t stop yourself from bouncing up and down in a near panic as you try to reign their attention back in.

“You guys, come on, please focus! I have to find Eddie, it’s an emergency!”

It is enough to silence them.

“Jeff — you saw Eddie in the parking lot after the game…” You prompt him.

After a moment's hesitation, Jeff averts his gaze and clears his throat. It causes your stomach to churn with dread. Despite how fairly certain you are you already know what he’s going to say, you suddenly aren’t sure you want to hear him say it.

He nods in a way that is almost halfway sheepish, like he’s only just realized what it is he’s about to say and who he is about to say it to.

“... I saw him getting into the van with Chrissy Cunningham… you know, that cheerleader?”

Bingo.

Stupidly, it hits you like a fist to the gut, winding you ever so slightly.

You suppose you already knew that Eddie and Chrissy had been together last night in some capacity — how else would she have ended up dead on his living room floor — but in the midst of the morning’s panic, you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider the reasons why they were together, and now your insides are burning as your mind races with the suggestion of hideous possibility.

You swallow hard and clench your teeth – it’s stupid to be jealous of a dead girl, you know this, and yet…?

Gareth pipes up then, grabbing your attention before you can go down the tantalizing road of bitter self-destruction by imagining Eddie and Chrissy together in any kind of intimate capacity.

“What’s going on?” He asks tentatively, “Why do you need to find Eddie so bad?”

You open your mouth to speak before you’ve decided what you should or should not tell them about what you know. Do you tell them the truth or do you make up a sanitized version of things to try and save face, to protect Eddie?

You’re suddenly so conflicted that you feel as if your throat has filled with cotton, rendering you speechless.

It takes you half a minute to finally force something out, settling on, “He’s in trouble.”

Which, in the grand scheme of things is a relatively banal statement. Eddie is always in some kind of trouble, but you hope your presence is enough to clue the band in on the gravity of the situation as you swallow hard against the tightness of your throat and the black pit of jealousy forming in your stomach.

Gareth’s brows come together over his eyes.

“What kind of trouble?”

The worst kind.

You shake your head, partially because you don’t know where to begin but mostly to try and banish the image of Chrissy’s gaunt, screaming face from where it has shouldered its way to the front of your mind.

You set your jaw and breathe out a slow, shaky breath, but you don’t get the chance to gather your thoughts before they’re scattered to the wind again.

“Oh, shit…” Adam mumbles, “Is it that bad?”

You don’t answer, though only because you don’t expressly know how to answer. It is that bad, and it’s worse.

After a long moment of silence, he blows out a harsh breath and shrugs.

“You know, you’re not the only person looking for Eddie,” Adam says, sending a pang of white-hot fear lancing through your midsection for what that could possibly suggest, until, “Dustin Henderson called about twenty minutes back asking basically the same thing.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as a cool wave of relief washes over you. In spite of yourself, you feel a bright and dangerous hope welling in your chest, banishing the black pit swirling there.

Dustin! Of course, wonderful, sweet, amazing Dustin would know where to look!

The bright feeling lasts only the briefest of moments before it is dashed to oblivion because Gareth is giving you a very tense look, like he’s busy putting the pieces of a puzzle to paint a terrible picture of the truth.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with that girl who got killed… does it?” He asks.

It’s shocking, like the clanging of a bell ringing in your ears and deafening you.

You feel your heart seize in your chest and are aware of how your jaw falls open ever so slightly, betraying any discretion you might have hoped to keep regarding the situation at hand.

Trust Gareth to always see straight through to the greater underlying truth.

Adam and Jeff exchange nervous glances as you fail to answer. You feel suddenly very small under their collective gaze as words fail you, and all you can do is stare back at them.

Unfortunately, your silence speaks for itself, and you watch Gareth’s jaw flex as the gravity of the situation finally starts to sink in.

You suspect they must have imagined it was just the typical Eddie trouble and no real emergency. What are you if not their friend’s ex-girlfriend, banging down the door and demanding to know where he is after he goes off with some cheerleader for God knows what – you think you can probably make a pretty good guess for what — don’t go there, don’t do that to yourself…

It makes sense that they would close rank around their friend, “bro-code” being what it is – it’s bullshit, but in the fucked up logic of the masculine brain, you suppose it’s bullshit that makes sense.

It doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“…It’s Chrissy…isn’t it?” Gareth asks then, his voice trembling and so soft you would not have heard him had he not been standing so close, “The dead girl?”

The silence that falls over the garage is deafening.

Your stomach bottoms out and you are struck with a wave of cold nausea. You wire your jaw shut, suddenly reluctant to answer on the off chance that despite being Eddie’s friends, somehow their collective consciences lead them to the same terrible conclusion you are certain everyone else in this backwater town is going to jump to.

You would protect him from that if you could, in spite of everything, be his shield, but your body betrays you, and you’re nodding before you can stop yourself.

They react with varying degrees of horror, faces blanche, swears are uttered, Adam covers his face in his hands and you can hear him muttering “Jesus Christ” to himself over and over. It leaves you wondering if he’s swearing or praying.

Gareth takes you by the arm, then, and leads you away from the cloud of hysteria you have created among them, back towards the drum set crouching in the shadows of the garage.

He doesn’t immediately speak to you, he can hardly even look at you, which is not expressly fair considering you’re only the messenger. The color has drained from his face, and for half a second you think maybe he’s about to keel over or throw up, or something.

After a very long moment, he finally makes himself breathe out a harsh, shaky sigh. His hands are shaking as he cards them through his hair – he glances back at his friends, at his feet, and then at you, like he’s trying to decide what to say.

You can’t blame him. What does someone say to something like that?

You imagine if you hadn’t been so single-minded in finding him you would be reeling too – you’d seen Chrissy’s body, afterall.

“He-he didn’t…? Fuck– did Eddie—”

“Stop.” the word wrenches itself from somewhere deep within you in a breathless gasp. You can’t bear to hear him say it, “Don’t you dare ask me that…”

Gareth sets his jaw and levels you with a strange, hard look before finally giving a short nod. You’re not sure what it means, but you don’t like the jagged edge of the way he’s looking at you.

You do your best to steady yourself, but your voice is trembling as you speak.

“Look, I know this seems really bad, I get it, but… but Christ, G, this is Eddie we’re talking about, okay? It’s Eddie. We know he’s not like that, he would never do something like this… I mean, come on … he won’t even kill a spider.”

Gareth is shaking his head, but somehow you don’t think he disagrees with you.

It is, after all, a point of favored teasing among the group – Gareth in particular. Big tough Eddie Munson is scared shitless of spiders … and all flying bugs, you might add, but now is neither the time nor the place to offer that little tidbit of information.

Still, your brain offers you the rather unhelpful mental image of Eddie last January, leaping up out of bed and literally sprinting to the safety of the trailer’s front porch, where he’d stood shivering in his boxers as you quickly relocated a particularly large wolf spider from the nest it had made in a dark corner of his bedroom.

You wish you were back there now, arguing with Eddie as he refused to be coaxed back into the trailer, despite the subzero temperatures, instead of standing here in this terrible moment, wondering where in the hell he could possibly be.

“What happened?” Gareth sniffs, squeezing his eyes shut like he hates to ask but he has to know.

You cross your arms over your chest and cast your gaze down to your grease-stained keds.

“I don’t know,” You mumble, “But it’s only gonna get a lot worse if I don’t find Eddie right now.”

A sticky silence blooms between you, but it barely has a moment to settle before it is whisked away.

“Uh oh,” Adam calls from the front of the garage. “Jerk alert,”

“Jesus, what are they doing here?”

A cursory glance toward the front of the garage reveals Jeff and Adam staring at something out on the street.

You follow their gaze to see the butched-out Jeep Cherokee that has pulled up to the curb and your heart seizes in your chest as you come to recognize it and the great many basketball players that begin to spill out of it – the Hawkins Tigers, with Jason Carver at the lead. This is bad, this is very bad.

Since graduating, you don’t keep up with the interconnected gossip of the Hawkins social elite, like who is dating who, but it occurs to you all too late that you are, in fact, very well aware that Chrissy Cunningham had been Jason Carver’s girlfriend.

At least until last night.

Adrenaline spikes through your limbs and you’re struck with the same nagging urge to run that you’d woken up with that morning.

If Jason is here, then it can only mean that news of her death has reached him, though more importantly, it means Jason knows who Chrissy was with when she died.

You have to find Eddie, now.

Before you can even think to move, Gareth grabs you by the sleeve of your jacket and drags you deeper into the garage, leading you to the wall where a dozen boxes are stacked up against a disused side door.

He begins pulling at them, doing his best to dislodge the cardboard barrier standing between you and your escape. He speaks with a hushed urgency as he works, looking back over his shoulder at the scene unfolding at the mouth of the garage.

“Go.” He says, wrenching the door open as far as it will budge, “Find Dustin, if anyone’s gonna have a line on Eddie, it’ll be him. We’ll try to buy you some time.”

It’s a tight squeeze, but you hold your breath and manage to push through with the meager sacrifice of two buttons from the front of your dress and only the slightest amount of scraping.

Before you can slip out the other side, Gareth catches you by the wrist and says your name.

His brows are pulled tight over his eyes as you glance back at him.

“He didn’t mean it.” He says thickly – you don’t have to ask to know who he means, “Whatever he did with… with Chrissy?”

Gareth trails off then, shaking his head like he isn’t sure he ought to even say her name, let alone try and make excuses for whatever did or did not happen.

You dismiss the notion with a quick shake of your head. The jocks are getting closer, and you’re running out of time to escape.

“It doesn’t matter–”

He cuts you off.

“No, it does. Just… just let me say it, in case he’s too chicken shit to do it himself.” He huffs, “Eddie’s been fucked up over you all year, okay? Trust me, whatever he did, whatever happened between you? He’s killing himself over it… he still loves you, Man, he’s just too stupid to do anything about it.”

You swallow hard to try and stop any kind of reaction from spilling out of you.

You don’t have time to fall apart, but the coincidence that he would use those exact words? He still loves you? What could possibly have possessed Gareth to tell you that, why now?

How much had Eddie told them about what he’d said to you that night last August?

Before you have time to consider the notion, to muster any kind of proper feeling about it, Gareth pushes you through the door and shuts it behind you.

You stagger gracelessly into the grass on the other side of the wall, only just managing to stay on your feet as you hear the telltale scrape and thump of Gareth putting the boxes back in place.

You’re off and running again as the first of the jock’s voices reach you, body surging with adrenaline despite the way your legs are trembling as you go.

Find Dustin, you tell yourself, You’ve got to find Dustin.

+++

This is the fourth time Dustin has tried you at home over the last hour, and yet again the phone rings and rings and endlessly rings with no sign of picking up.

Behind him, Max and Robin pace back and forth, dialing every number they can get their hands on, attempting to oh so casually inquire after Eddie to any of the citizens of Hawkins who might happen to have some inkling of where he could be.

So far no dice.

Not even getting Adam on the phone had drummed up any kind of result, except for Dustin having to make a very rushed, very lame excuse about why he couldn’t stay on the phone and reminisce about the previous night’s awesome session.

It had been awesome, and under normal circumstances, he would have loved the opportunity to relive the glory of Vecna’s defeat, but Dustin has to find Eddie as soon as humanly possible, and before he can do that, he has to get a hold of you.

Both of those things are seeming more and more improbable an outcome as the minutes tick past.

The phone continues to ring, and Dustin watches Steve with a misplaced vehemence as he skirts around the floor, assisting and suggesting and being an overall excellent Family Video employee like he was going for goddamn employee of the month or something.

He is very obviously doing everything he possibly can to avoid assisting in the search for Eddie, and it is very un-Steve of him.

In Dustin’s opinion, he is being very uncool about this whole thing, about looking for Eddie but also about getting you on the phone.

“You’re wasting your time,” he’d said the second time Dustin had tried your number, in that same cryptic way he always referred to you when the subject of Eddie came up.

Dustin had no patience for it today.

“Steve, quit being such a douche,” He’d said, hurrying to finish his thought before Steve could get pissed about it, “I’m telling you — she’s good at this stuff, finding lost things? You don’t have to be her friend, just try to be nice to her for once, okay? She’s our ace in the hole.”

To his credit, Steve just huffed out an annoyed breath and rolled his eyes, which was a win considering he was within his rights to bite Dustin’s head off over the insult.

“Not if the lost thing is something she doesn’t want to find.” He'd muttered.

“What does that even mean?”

But by then a slender brunette had walked in through the door and Steve had completely lost interest in the conversation.

The phone is still ringing, and Dustin has to remind himself for the hundredth time that it does not automatically indicate that you’ve been arrested, as Max suggested.

You’re probably at work, even though your mean coworker had already informed him that you’d gone running out the front door without a word, like a bat out of hell — headed for the trailer park, if I had to guess, she’d said.

It makes Dustin’s stomach curl to imagine it – you, mixed up in whatever weirdness was going on down there, with Eddie – his two missing friends.

It makes no goddamn sense.

On the ride to Family Video, Dustin and Max had unanimously agreed that said weirdness very likely had something to do with the Upsidedown, which stresses Dustin out to no end, considering the fact that half of their party is presently all the way in California and unable to help if another gate has cropped up; not to mention how tirelessly he has worked to keep you safely removed from all that, and yet there they were, and here you were not.

The phone is still ringing.

With a dejected sigh, Dustin resigns himself to the fact that you’re still not home. Just as his fingers have come down to rest on the switch hook, ready to end the connection, there is suddenly the telltale click of the receiver picking up.

Dustin’s heart leaps to his throat as he snatches his hand away from the phone and finally — finally, your voice comes through the line. You answer, loud and breathless, like you’ve just finished running for your life as you all but shout into the mouthpiece.

“Eddie!?” You gasp at the same moment that Dustin bleats your name with a similar fervor.

It confuses him, though not nearly as much as the rush of relief that floods your voice as you course correct and immediately begin speaking a mile a minute.

“Dustin!” You shout, “Oh, thank God – Did you find him? Have you heard from Eddie?”

It leaves him more than just a little bit stunned.

“No, not since last night…” he hears you heave an overloud sigh of frustration and is quick to continue in a juvenile hope of pleasing you, “B-but we’re calling around and asking everybody we can think of…” and then a thought worms its way to the front of Dustin’s mind, “Hold on a second, how do you know Eddie—”

You don’t let him finish. Over the phone, Dustin can hear a cacophony of crashing and banging, the rustle of clothing and you swearing harshly under your breath, like you’re busy ransacking your apartment.

“Where are you right now? Are you home?”

“No, I’m at Family Video, Max and I—”

“Don’t move. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

And then there is the hard clang of the receiver being slammed into place followed by the monotonous droning of the dial tone, and just like that you’re gone.

Dustin drops the phone from his ear and stares at the receiver as he tries to understand what the hell just happened.

You’re very clearly not sitting in a jail cell, that much is clear, but somehow you’re already out there looking for Eddie?

He can’t decide if it’s fortuitous or just plain bizarre.

It’s fortuitous because it means he doesn’t have to waste any time trying to convince you to help, but it’s wholly bizarre because up until this point Dustin had been under the impression that you don’t even know Eddie.

How did you know he was in trouble? And why do you sound so stressed about it?

Dustin supposes it doesn’t really matter if the means add up to his intended end, but it’s just one more thing in a long list of things stacking up to make today unbearably weird.

His confusion does not go unnoticed.

“Hey, what happened?” Robin asks softly, craning her neck towards Dustin and holding the phone just far enough away from her ear so as not to mix conversations.

He blinks at her as he tries and fails to untangle it himself, then shrugs and puts his phone back on the hook.

He explains as much as he knows: you’re on your way over, you’ll be here in five minutes.

It’s closer to ten by the time he finally spies you through the front windows, darting across the street and only just avoiding the passing traffic as you cross.

You’re flushed and jumpy as you push through the door with a loud clanging of the bell.

The sound of your arrival brings Steve whipping around a shelf from the romance section, eyes bright with possibility and diving into his bullshit spiel before he sees who has come in through the door.

“Hey there, welcome to Family — oh, it’s just you.” His face visibly falls as he turns on his heel and heads back towards the counter with a sigh, “Dustin, your babysitter’s here.”

He says it’s like a dirty word, gesturing to you with a flippant jerk of his thumb that makes Dustin’s skin feel hot and prickly with indignation – he’d told him to be nice.

Dustin knows very well that you and Steve don’t like each other, and he doesn’t precisely know why, except that it has something to do with something that happened back in High School, before Steve came around and joined the team.

He has tried and failed on many occasions to plead his case, to convince you that Steve is not all that bad, but you would not relent in your opinion of him.

You’re speaking before Dustin can make any sort of effort to defend you.

“Eat shit, Steve,” you huff, taking the words right out of his mouth and looking very agitated as you follow him across the carpet to the desk.

You greet Robin with an absent wave when she gives you a big, friendly smile.

She either can’t or won’t speak for the tension between you and Steve, but she likes you just fine and as far as Dustin can tell, you have no issue with her.

Of course, this isn’t about your mysterious feud with Steve, this is about finding Eddie, so he does his best to ignore the way you’re staring daggers at each other.

“Where’ve you been?” Dustin demands once you reach the counter.

He can’t help but notice the way you’re gripping the edge of the linoleum so tightly your knuckles have turned white.

“I’ve been calling you all morning! Max said—”

You shake your head.

“It doesn’t matter,” You say, which Dustin finds to be particularly outrageous because of course it matters when Max is out here spreading rumors that she’d seen you getting arrested.

You’re talking again before he can voice any of those concerns.

“Where’s Eddie? What do we know?”

Not much, unfortunately, and he hates to admit it.

Dustin’s cheeks puff out with a heavy breath as he turns his attention back to the long list of crossed-out names and phone numbers they have been meticulously calling for what feels like hours now.

All this time and all those people and still they are no closer to Eddie.

“Only what Max saw.” He says simply.

Your eyes widen and your head snaps around to the redhead, pacing back and forth behind the counter as she talks on the phone. She casts a sidelong glance your way and scrunches her nose as if to say ‘quit staring at me’.

It takes a very long moment before you finally turn back to Dustin.

“What did she see?” You demand.

He doesn’t know why, but having your undivided attention like this makes his stomach tighten with anxiety – you’re just a little more intense than he is comfortable with right now, and strangely he’s nervous about telling you the truth.

“Eddie and Chrissy together at his place.” He explains slowly, bracing himself for your reaction.

You clench your jaw and something indiscernible flashes across your eyes, but you prompt him to continue with a short nod.

Dustin takes a breath.

“Then a little while later the lights go wonky and she hears him screaming like he’s being killed, next thing she sees is Eddie hauling ass to get out of there.”

He feels oddly proud, in the grand scheme of things, saying it all out loud helped to make it seem like they knew a lot more than he'd previously thought, but disappointingly you heave a dejected sigh and your shoulders fall.

“So, she didn’t see anything,”

It leaves Dustin feeling strangely indignant.

“She saw Chrissy.” He posits, deflating a little when the information fails to impress you.

“Yeah,” you say bluntly, “So did I.”

Dustin doesn’t know what that means, but he can’t shake the feeling that there is some terrible reality behind that.

You’ve got this far-away look in your eyes, and you bodily shudder. He can’t imagine what must have happened to Chrissy to send Eddie running for the hills, big tough Eddie who everyone was so afraid of, who wasn’t really all that big or tough at all once you got to know him.

A sharp pang of protectiveness lances through his midsection and Dustin finds himself eyeing you warily as he sees how your brows have come together, an angry scowl etched into your features.

He suddenly can’t stop thinking about the conversation you’d had with Eddie on the campus phone, how quickly it had turned before you’d inexplicably hung up on him – it leaves Dustin wondering just how you know Eddie, why you’d never mentioned him before, and suddenly he is very worried about your opinion regarding his guilt.

You want to find him, that’s for sure, for whatever reason that may be, but wanting to find him doesn’t expressly mean you want to help him, particularly if your opinion of Eddie is any shade of similar to your opinion of Steve.

Dustin hates to be suspicious of you, normally he would swear you don't have a mean bone in your body, but it's been a long time since you've been normal...

“You know he didn’t do it.” Dustin says firmly, “...right?”

He watches you carefully as your head snaps up and you regard him with a strange look.

“Eddie.” He clarifies, “He’s innocent.”

Then your brows come together over your narrowing eyes, pulling a face that is somewhere within the realm of the same familiar look you always get when he says something you think is stupid or outrageous.

It’s oddly comforting, despite the way it makes his stomach clench with instant regret.

“Of course, he didn’t do it,” you snap. “Dustin–”

He puts his hands up in surrender before you can admonish him for whatever it is that has offended you.

“Okay! I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page here–”

“Well, hold on,” Steve interjects, rocking up to lean beside you on the counter. You shift away from him, “We can’t just say Munson’s innocent and call it a day just because Princess Daphne here has got a major hard-on for him.”

He jerks his head towards you and you recoil like he’d reached out and slapped you.

“Excuse me?” You snap.

And Dustin can’t say he feels any different, he can’t believe what he is hearing.

“Steve, what the hell?” He yelps, trying his damnedest to be outraged and not to think of you dressed as Princess Daphne, which is easier said than done now that the image is in Dustin's head.

Even Robin is unimpressed, glaring at him from behind the counter.

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” she huffs.

Steve, in turn, immediately goes on the defensive, throwing his arms wide and raising his voice like he can’t believe no one is agreeing with him.

“Oh, come on, people, he fled the scene! That’s pretty much an admission of guilt right there”

You level him with a hateful look.

“He didn’t do it.”

Steve stares at you a moment before shrugging and giving you a halfway apologetic look, almost like he hates to say it, but in a very condescending way.

“Well, of course, you’d say that,” he says matter-of-factly. “You’re biased,”

Dustin watches warily as you bristle.

“Biased.” You mimic, curling your hands into fists.

“Completely,”

For half a moment, he thinks you might swing at Steve, and you wouldn’t be wrong for doing so, he’s being a complete and total douche.

To your credit, you take a deep, steadying breath before you come back with your rebuttal.

“You don’t think maybe I’d say that because I have just a little bit more insight on the matter than you do?”

Steve scoffs, and just like that, all sense of diplomacy has gone out the window.

“Oh, okay, insight? Is that what we’re calling it?” He prods, crossing his arms and staring down at you, “Insight?”

Once a mean girl, always a mean girl.

“Fuck you.” you snap, and Dustin takes it as his sign to intervene.

He does his best to separate you, but unfortunately, he’s on the wrong side of the counter to do much more than reach out and grab the both of you by your sleeve.

“Okay guys, take a breath.” he urges, rather helplessly considering how you and Steve have gotten into each other’s faces now.

He’s halfway to panicking because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if you start to fight, like, really physically fight.

Dustin doesn’t think Steve would sink so low to hit a girl, he’s got principles even when he’s being an unhinged half-reformed mean girl, but he can also hear you berating him for being a sexist at the notion – “Girls can get in fights too, Dustin, don’t be such a –”

“I think I’ve got a lead.” Max says suddenly, slamming her phone down into the cradle and mercifully cutting the tension enough to draw everyone’s attention. “Some guy called Reefer Rick? Apparently, he’s Eddie’s dealer and I guess he crashes at his place sometimes,”

For half a moment no one reacts, and then Robin snorts with laughter.

It is almost loud enough to cover the harsh sound of indignation you make.

“Reefer Rick? Is that his legal name? Like, do you think it says that on his driver’s license?”

Max just rolls her eyes.

“Did you get a last name?” Steve asks then, leaning over the desk on his elbow.

“What, suddenly you care?” Dustin scoffs, “Two seconds ago you were ready to call the cops.”

“Listen, I’m just trying to be realistic, you little creep — any way you’re biased too, you’re obsessed with the guy,”

The comment goes largely ignored, as Robin slides into the computer chair and immediately begins typing.

“Maybe if we can find this Rick guy, he can point us in the right … direction…?”

Robin trails off when she notices how you’ve spun on your heel and started across the lobby.

“Where the hell is she going?” Steve asks, reaching across the counter to shove Dustin for his attention when he doesn’t answer right away.

“How should I know?”

Steve narrows his eyes in a way that would have left Dustin half inclined to slug him were he the type of person with those types of inclinations.

He’s really in rare form today, and Dustin is almost certain at this rate someone is going to punch Steve by the end of the day.

“She’s your babysitter.” He drawls.

Again, he says it like a dirty word, and Dustin bristles.

“What, so like I can read her mind or something?” He snaps, scrambling out from under the desk and nearly tripping over his feet in an attempt to go after you.

You’re out the door in an instant, the chiming of that stupid bell signifying your escape.

Dustin staggers out after you, blinking against the sun and shouting your name. He has to say it three times before you slow enough for him to catch you.

“Where are you going?” Dustin gasps, winded from having to dash after you so quick.

You’re practically vibrating, eyes bright as you stare back at him.

“I know where he is!” You say.

“Who?" He demands, then feels his brain melt a little, "Reefer Rick?”

Your brows come together and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please,” You scoff, turning to leave again.

Dustin grabs you by the sleeve of your jacket and holds you there, stopping you from dashing off to the odd corner of the world.

He doesn’t notice the strip of paper that falls from your pocket, too busy fixating on you.

“Stop!” He pleads.

You pull against his grip and glare at him, the slightest twinge of annoyance coloring your face as you jerk your arm out of his grasp.

“Dustin!” You start, swinging hard into your serious babysitter voice, “I have to go!”

He knows this, despite how annoying it is, but he’s desperate to make you stay, anyway he can.

“Just – wait a second, will you? You don't understand how goddam stressful this whole day has been, first with Eddie, then you–"

Your eyes go wide as you gesture to yourself incredulously.

"Me?"

It sets Dustin's teeth on edge.

"Yes, you! I've been trying to reach you all day. Max said you were in jail and when I couldn't get a hold of you..." He trails off as he realizes just how whiney he sounds and feels his cheeks burn for it.

All that talk about how he was too old for a babysitter and here he is wailing and moaning like a little kid.

You stand a moment, searching his face before your features grow soft in the strangest way. Dustin’s heart leaps up into his throat as you surge forward and embrace him.

"It's gonna be okay, Dusty, I know where he is now." You say against his ear.

Only at that moment, Dustin could not have guessed who you were talking about or what they'd all been doing only moments before if his life depended on it. Eddie? Eddie who? All he can think about is you and how good you smell.

It’s a quick hug, much to his chagrin, and it leaves him standing struck dumb enough that he doesn’t notice you skipping away until it’s too late.

You’re halfway up the street by the time he comes back around.

“Where are you going!” Dustin shouts,

You twist around and offer him a big bright smile, one he hasn’t seen in what feels like years.

“To find Eddie!” You call, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world,

The sound is lost to the afternoon traffic, and as quickly as you’d arrived, you’re gone again.

Off to whatever corner of Hawkins Eddie is hiding in, he supposes. Dustin doesn’t know how he feels about it.

For some reason, his insides feel cold and squirmy, like they’re about to jump up into his throat. It feels like jealousy, but he can’t rationalize why he would be jealous.

You don’t know Eddie, except apparently you do, well enough to come running at the first sign of trouble. He can’t wrap his head around it.

He’s not worried you won’t find him, he’s only worried that after you do, he won’t be able to find you, like somehow you’re on the cusp of slipping through his fingers and he’s never going to see you again.

With a dejected sigh, he turns on his heel and starts back toward the video store, then he spies the long strip of paper lying on the pavement where you’d just been standing.

Dustin stoops to retrieve it, guessing you must have dropped it in your rush to leave. He turns it over in his hands and his heart seizes.

It’s a photo strip, one from the many kiosks they’d had at the Starcourt Mall before the Mindflayer took care of it.

The pictures are all more or less the same: it’s you and Eddie.

Eddie giving you bunny ears and you sticking your tongue out, followed by Eddie pretending to bite your face while you laughed, followed by Eddie kissing you, and you kissing Eddie, and… and and and …oh God.

Dustin feels like he’s going to be sick.

So that’s how you know each other… that’s why you’d been down at the trailer park this morning, why you are so desperate to find Eddie.

Finally, here is the missing piece of the puzzle, landing perfectly in place with an earth-shattering crash, threatening to knock Dustin off his feet.

Your stupid boyfriend, the one who had plagued Dustin’s life for years, skulking around the periphery of his brain, slowly pulling you away from him, the one who had so callously broken your heart and left you sobbing pathetically on his couch last summer, who Dustin had sworn to avenge you against… is Eddie.

Of course it is, it makes perfect sense now that he really thinks about it, and Dustin hates every second of just how much it makes sense.

Who drove around in a shitty panel van blaring over loud rock music? Your stupid boyfriend — Eddie. Whose silver ring with the dark stone had you been wearing up until last summer? Your stupid boyfriend’s — also Eddie, as Dustin had noticed during his first session at Hellfire and done an incredible feat of mental gymnastics to convince himself that it wasn’t the same ring.

Who had he seen picking you up outside his house that night he’d torn down his curtains in a jealous rage? Who had he seen lean over the center console to kiss you? Your stupid boyfriend — Eddie Eddie Eddie. All signs point to Eddie, and Dustin’s mind is reeling for it.

Now he knows why you’d never once mentioned Eddie or Hellfire in all your hours of doomsday prepping, and why Eddie had been so periodically weird and sulky and withdrawn. Dustin had long suspected it was a breakup that was ailing Eddie, especially considering Mike had acted the exact same way in the weeks following Will and Eleven’s departure for California.

Behind him, the door to the video store chimes as it whips open, and Steve calls out to him.

“Hey! Come in man, we’ve got a lead here!”

Dustin crumples the photo strip without thinking and stuffs it into his pocket, hoping somehow he might forget he ever saw it, forget he knows what he now knows.

He whirls around and does his best to stuff down all the big unwieldy feelings threatening to burst out of him, making his way back toward Family Video.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Keep your wig on.” Dustin mumbles, swallowing hard to keep his voice from trembling as he goes.

+++

Eddie doesn’t know what happened to Chrissy, but he knows somehow it is his fault.

At least that’s what everyone is going to say.

He was there, he had his hands on her, trying to snap her out of whatever terrifying fugue state had suddenly gripped her, sure, but fingerprints are fingerprints, and his are all over her.

She was there, and then suddenly she wasn’t; now she is dead.

It all happened so fast, and yet it won’t stop playing in his head in a constant loop, like a slow-motion instant replay scorched into the backs of his eyelids that he’s destined to relive every time he closes his eyes until the end of his days.

He’s never seen anything like that, never heard anything like it – he didn’t know a person’s body could bend like that, that bones could make that sound.

When he was thirteen, his father purposely slammed his arm shut in a car door in the weeks leading up to his final arrest. Why he did it didn’t matter – that was just the old man for you – what mattered was how Eddie had heard the bones in his forearm break and sat staring in the blissful ignorance of shock at the bend in his arm that didn’t belong before he ever felt any pain.

That was nothing like the noises that had rung out when Chrissy’s arms and legs snapped up out of place or the unnatural way she’d hung there, limbs bent out of shape.

He hopes Chrissy wasn’t present enough in those final moments to feel any pain.

He can still see it when he closes his eyes like the image is forever burnt into the back of his eyelids. He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to stop hearing that sound.

And now he’s hiding out in Rick Lipton’s boat house, which is probably the most incriminating place he could have chosen to hole up considering the circumstances, but it’s not like Eddie had a lot of options.

It’s dark, dingy, and full of all kinds of nasty dust and debris that hurts his lungs to breathe, and all of that would be positively fine if it weren’t for the spiders. So many goddamn spiders in this shitty crumbling boat house.

Normally he would have bolted straight for the safety of the house at the first sight of them, but things are anything but normal right now, and Rick is supposed to be in jail.

In spite of being currently half out of his mind, Eddie knows well enough that it would do him no good to draw someone’s attention with signs of life in the house, so there he sits, miserable and terrified and itching with the sensation of phantom legs crawling up and down his body.

He would say that things could not possibly get any worse, but he’s worried he’ll jinx it.

And then, like it was just waiting for its cue, a sudden commotion startles Eddie into leaping up to his feet.

A crashing bang of metal and glass out in the yard causes him to damn near leap out of his skin. Trash cans, he rationalizes, but what knocked them over?

Eddie balls his hands into fists and tries to convince himself it’s just raccoons, he's heard them skulking around outside the trailer for years, causing a ruckus, but he could have sworn he heard someone swearing under their breath.

Last time he checked raccoons don’t go around muttering “Goddamn— son of a bitch,”

He crosses his arms tightly over his chest and hugs his biceps protectively. He holds his breath, listening hard for any kind of sound.

It’s faint, but it’s there.

The telltale crunch of gravel, moving from one end of the building to the other, footsteps, drawing closer with each passing second.

Fuck.

There’s someone outside.

Oh fuck.

They’ve found him.

Fuck fuck fuck shit oh fuck.

Eddie’s head is on a swivel, looking for somewhere, anywhere to hide – there are dozens of places, plenty of dark corners and tarps he could tuck himself into, but the threat of spiders keeps him frozen to the spot.

Move or die, Man! his inner voice screams, now is not the time for irrational phobias, but his legs have turned to jelly frozen in concrete. If he moves they’ll shatter and he’ll fall.

The footsteps are getting closer.

Eddie’s mind races with every terrible possibility, his subconscious whispers hideous things to him and urges him to run, but he still can’t move.

He knows he needs to get as far away from here as he can as fast as humanly possible, but the tiniest, nagging thought has him paralyzed — where is he going to go?

Who’s going to help him?

Wayne’s bound to be tied up in police tape by now, Rick’s in jail and so is his father, not that he would ever dream of going to the old man for help, his mother is dead, and his friends all think he’s an asshole, so who is there in the world left to help him?

Chrissy was the only one left around who was even halfway nice to him and he saw what happened to her. She’s the reason he’s in this mess.

Who would even believe him if he tried to explain it?

He’s tired — so goddamn tired he can’t think straight, and he doesn’t want to run anymore.

He’s been running all night, hasn’t closed his eyes to so much as blink for fear of seeing Chrissy’s face again, and he’s dead on his feet… so incredibly fucking tired that he tries to tell himself he doesn’t care what happens to him now despite how untrue that is.

He ought to just give himself up.

The footsteps are closer now, nearly to the door.

So what if someone is out there? So what if he’s found? He knows he didn’t do anything, but how far is his word going to take him in this town?

How much is he willing to bet the court system will take one look at his name and decide his guilt without so much as a thought for things like motive and evidence?

What’s the worst that can happen? Prison. Just like his father.

His heart sinks at the thought, despite how he tries not to care.

Of course, like always, the problem is that Eddie cares too much— how unfair it is that he’s spent his whole life doing everything he can to get off that train, be good (as good as he can, considering it all) stay out of trouble, and keep his head down, only to end up in this mess.

Worse than getting picked up for carjacking or possession or just because the cops in this town just plain don’t like him, if Eddie goes to prison for Chrissy’s murder, he knows he’ll never get out again.

Not alive, in any case.

If he runs he’s going to spend his whole life running, if he stays he’s going to die. What kind of options are those? He suddenly feels like an animal in a trap, presented with the prospect of chewing off his own leg to survive.

Does he have the fortitude to do something like that? He doesn’t know.

The footsteps have stopped, and Eddie realizes with a burst of hot stinging adrenaline that whoever is out there skulking around is right outside the doors and he doesn’t know what to do.

You would have known what to do… wouldn’t you? Probably not, but it would have made him feel a whole lot better not to be doing this on his own. Not to have to do any of it on his own.

Instinctively, Eddie jumps forward and grips the door handle, the cool metal bites into the flesh of his palm and sends a shiver up his spine. He tells himself it’s to stop anyone from entering if they try the door, but apathy is clawing at him, urging him to twist the handle, open the door himself.

Better to get it over with, he thinks, and in a moment of despair he makes his decision.

He doesn’t want to run anymore…

He takes a deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth, and another, and then one more for good measure as he tries to gather his courage.

He grits his teeth, and whips the door open.

In an instant, all the air has left his lungs in the form of the loud, terrified shout that he is powerless to stop as it tears itself from somewhere in his chest cavity.

You scream too, leaping damn near out of your skin and covering your ears like you always do when you get scared like that.

It’s you — holy shit, it’s you — clutching your chest like you’re attempting to recover from the mini heart attack he’d just given you.

The feeling is mutual.

Eddie suddenly thinks he might pass out as he feels his heart seize erratically in his chest before dropping into his stomach. His vision goes spotty for the briefest of moments and his legs tremble under his weight.

“Jesus—”

“—Christ!” You gasp, like you’re finishing his curse for him. “God, Eddie!”

You stomp your foot when you say it, like he’d jumped out and scared you on purpose, and the way you say his name makes Eddie’s heart thump painfully in his chest.

“You scared the hell out of me.” You breathe, shaking your head and fisting your hands in the front of your shirt — his shirt, he realizes with a start.

It’s inside out, funny enough, but he doesn’t miss the faded Metallica logo, backwards and staring up at him from between your fingers.

It’s painfully endearing, and his heart is beating so fast it makes his chest hurt looking at it, at you, two of his favorite things, long since written off as lost, mourned and now miraculously found again.

All this time and you still had it.

He tries to breathe but it catches in his throat.

Holy shit holy shit.

Out of everything and anything he could have imagined he would find on the other side of that door – police, national guard, an army of angry hicks, the re-animated corpse of Chrissy come to feast on his flesh – Eddie never once never imagined someone would be coming to help him.

He never imagined it would be you standing there.

Somehow his mind is simultaneously going ninety miles an hour and moving at a snail’s pace. He can’t think, and yet he can’t stop the tide of thoughts and feelings and everything he suddenly needs to say to you fighting for real estate at the front of his brain.

For half a moment, it’s all either of you can do but just stand there staring at each other.

Finally, you gesture awkwardly into the room.

“Can I…?”

It takes him a moment too long to realize you’re asking to come in, and Eddie all but leaps out of your way, staggering to the side to make room as you jump up over the threshold and shut the door behind you.

You make a wide circle around him, surveying the room, and he watches you carefully as you do, still not entirely convinced he hasn’t just been breathing toxic chemicals all day and is now hallucinating you.

You cast a sidelong glance in his direction and he thinks he sees the corners of your mouth quirk humorously.

"Take a picture, Eds, it'll last longer." you hum.

"...Sorry." he mumbles.

He knows he’s staring at you, but he can’t stop.

He can’t believe what he’s seeing. After all those months he’d spent dreaming about you, imagining he was hearing your voice or seeing you turn a corner, always there but just out of sight? He doesn’t trust it — he can’t.

You try again to make idle conversation.

“Rick’s boat house, huh?” You say, glancing at him over your shoulder in a way that is enough to make his knees tremble.

His throat closes before he can even think to answer you, and it forces Eddie to settle on a meager response, nodding stupidly.

He doesn’t know what else to say about it and it’s driving him crazy.

Eight months of memorizing all the things Eddie thought he would say to you if he ever saw you again and suddenly here you are and he can’t remember a goddamn word of it.

He tries to speak, but words fail him. Still, he tries, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to force the words out, gawping stupidly at you like a fish out of water.

He wants to ask what you’re doing here, how you found him, but he realizes in an instant that he doesn’t care how you found him, he only cares that you’re here.

Your eyebrows come together in stark concern and you finally take a step toward him.

He’s this close to panicking about it.

This was not how he’d imagined reuniting with you would go. His palms have become sweaty and he resists the boyish urge to wipe them down the front of his jeans.

Eddie makes himself swallow hard to try and wet his throat where it has suddenly bloomed with cobwebs.

He can’t keep staring at you like this. He’s got to say something — anything. He blurts the first thing that comes to mind.

“That’s my shirt,” he chokes, for lack of anything better to say.

His voice cracks and his mouth slams shut. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

You blink at him, like you have absolutely no idea how to respond.

“You left it in my room.” You say petulantly.

It’s almost enough to break the tension hanging heave between you … almost.

He left a lot of things in your room, most of which you’d given back to him, but he won’t say that, for fear of sounding like he isn’t happy to see you, it’s just with the way you’re staring at him, he can’t make any kind of coherent thought come through the fog of his mind.

“What are— h-how did you—?”

You shake your head and heave and airy sigh, giving him this strangely pained look, smiling with your nose scrunched and your eyebrows turned up.

“...Heard you were in trouble.” You say, your words punctuated by a wet sniffle, and then you shrug and roll your eyes, like you always do when you’re halfway embarrassed by what you’re about to say, “Came running.”

Jesus–

You might as well have stabbed him for how his lungs flatten in his chest.

Eddie rocks back a step, without really meaning to, shaking his head in awe of the specter of you, miraculously standing there in the dingy light of a place you by all rights have no business being, staring at him in too close a shadow of the way you’d looked standing at the bottom of his front steps last summer.

Eddie finally makes himself breathe, sucking greedily on a sharp intake of breath before he realizes the distance he’s put between you, that he’s still putting between you, and something in him snaps.

He needed you and you came running.

“—Oh, my God.”

Eddie surges forward and seizes you, crushing you against his body.

He curls his arms around you and hugs you so tight you’re bent nearly backward. You make a faint sound as his embrace forces the air out of your lungs, almost like a whimper and Eddie buries his face in your hair as he presses his cheek to the crown of your head.

The movement kicks up the familiar hint of your shampoo and conditioner, cutting through the murky, mildewy tang of the boathouse like a breath of fresh air.

He breathes deep — your perfume is different, something soft and faintly floral, but it is not enough to mask the subtle sweetness of your flesh.

Christ, he’d nearly forgotten your smell, and now he’s forgotten everything but you.

His mind is caught in a flurry of spinning thoughts and feelings that are quickly overwhelmed by a strange calm, seeming to radiate outward from your point of contact and bleeding down into his limbs to react with the adrenaline still surging there. It brings with it a sensation Eddie has only felt very few times in his life;

Walking home from the diner hand in hand with his mother while the setting sun guides them home, climbing the steps of Wayne’s trailer the last time it was ever just that and the first time it was home, laying in your bed at three o’clock in the morning with your head on his chest, watching your lashes flutter and listening to the slow pace of your breathing, a deep breath in followed by a slow breath out.

Little moments that live like glittering jewels tucked safely away in the spot behind his lungs lead him to one, gentle, all-encompassing feeling: he’s safe.

Somewhere, very far back in his mind, Eddie knows he isn’t, that there are people looking for him who think he’s done something terrible.

There is still the faintest alarm trilling danger, danger, Will Robinson! in his deep psyche, but how can he make himself think about anything else with you in his arms? How is he supposed to care about anything besides the fact that, somehow, in spite of everything he’d said, everything he’d done to hurt you, you’ve come back to him?

Eddie breathes out a shaky sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he feels your arms snake up around his body — for a brief, terrible moment he’d worried you wouldn’t reciprocate, that he was really well and truly kidding himself that you were here for him, but those fears dissipate the moment he feels the press of your skin beneath his jacket and vest.

The warmth of you burns him even through the thin fabric of his shirt, and it is such a relief to be under your touch again. You hold him so tight that he thinks at any moment you could slip beneath his skin and live there, and he’d let you do it because now that he’s got you again, he’s never going to let you go.

Then suddenly you’re carding your fingers through his hair, stroking his face, looking up at him with your big pretty eyes, and speaking softly to him.

“Hey—” you’re saying, “It’s okay, Eddie... hey, look at me — you’re okay, I’ve got you.”

He sniffles and dips his head to wipe his cheek on the soft denim covering his shoulder because there’s no way in hell he’s letting you go for something as trivial as wiping his face.

He almost whimpers when you take your hand away from where it’s been resting on his side, and when you reach up to brush the pad of your thumb across his cheekbone, he realizes with a start that his face is wet, he’s trembling under your touch, body heaving – he’s crying.

He doesn’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about it, he’s too busy looking you over, trying to commit your face to memory in case this is just a terrible hallucination and he’s never going to see you again.

He takes your face in his hands and reverently compares what he sees now to what had lived in his mind before, trying to decide what, if anything, is different.

Your hair maybe? Your clothes? He doesn’t know, he suddenly can’t remember anything before this moment.

"You’re here, you’re really here…" He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but running on nothing but adrenaline has his brain all but malfunctioning.

Your face scrunches up in the most heartbreaking look, much too similar to the way you’d been looking at him when you pounded on his door last summer as your hands come up to shadow his on either side of your face.

“Oh, Eds…”

It makes him feel sick — his skin is suddenly hot and prickly with it.

He never wants to see that look on your face again.

“What are you doing here?” He finally manages to choke out, “You — you shouldn’t be here,”

Eddie regrets saying it as soon as it tumbles past his lips. Particularly with the way your face ever so briefly contorts with the shadow of the same look you’d given him when he’d told you he didn’t love you, when he'd lied to hurt you — even with you here he feels his heart break all over again just at the thought of it.

He’d meant you shouldn’t be here in the sense that it wasn’t safe for you as much as it didn’t make any sense, because hadn’t you moved away? Left Hawkins behind? Left him behind?

You shift backward, like you mean to step away from him and Eddie feels himself grow panicky about it.

“Do you want me to–” You start, but he doesn’t let you finish that terrible thought.

“No!” He cries, surging forward to catch you, “No, please don’t go, just… just…”

Eddie grips you tightly by your shoulders like he needs to hold you there so you won’t disappear, but it’s not enough.

His hands move, scrabbling higher and higher even still until they come up to grace the curves of your throat. He’s desperate for more of you, desperate to kiss you, but he doesn’t dare.

He can’t shake the sense that your being here is balancing on the edge of a knife, and any wrong move will send you running for the hills.

In spite of that thinking, you lean into his touch and his heart thumps painfully in his chest.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Eddie asks.

Your face softens as you take his hands in yours.

“I always know where to find you, Dummy.”

He doesn’t know why that’s the thing to set him off, but it does.

Eddie chokes on the steadying breath he’d been trying to take as the dam breaks, wrenching it out of him in a hiccuping sob.

He tries to cover his face with his hands but you don’t let him hide, you take his wrists and pull them away to wrap around you instead, and you hold him.

He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve this chance with you, doesn’t know how he got so lucky to even have it, but he’ll take every moment he can get while it lasts.

Eddie clings to you, weeping pathetically into your hair and babbling incoherently, apologizing for anything— everything— an endless tide of all the things he’s wanted to say to you all year, since the moment he’d stood there and watched you leave that terrible night in August.

He should have fought harder for you, he should never have let you go.

Eddie tells himself he’s got to stop crying, to stop talking, to try and pull himself together, but it is just another thing he has no power over.

His brain had all but switched off after what had happened to Chrissy, and his body has been operating on primal instinct in a desperate attempt just to try and get somewhere safe — he’s held it together up until this point, but he’s never been so scared in his goddamn life.

“God, I’m sorry,” he whimpers, “I’m so sorry, Baby, I don’t know why I said any of that stuff, I’m a fucking idiot, I didn’t mean it— I swear on my life I didn’t mean a goddamn word of it. I love you. I love you so fucking much it hurts, Jesus Christ, I’m just so fucking sorry—”

As much as he’s talking, you’re nodding, pushing his hair back, stroking his face, and all the other lovely little gestures you’d always done before when things were still fine, when you were still his.

“I know,” you tell him, pressing your cheek against his temple and carding your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. “I know, Baby. We’re gonna figure this out, okay? Me ‘n you, whatever it takes. We'll fix it.”

He can’t help the startled, watery laugh that bursts out of him to hear you say that.

It fills him with a bright and dangerous hope that maybe this is real, maybe you can pick up the pieces where you left them, maybe you still love him.

“Yeah?” Eddie sniffs, brushing your hair back out of your face. “You promise?”

You catch his hand on your cheek and bring it down to draw an x over the left side of your chest, smiling sweetly and sincerely at him as you do.

"Hope to die."

Without the use of his higher functions, all Eddie knows how to do is love you, deeply, to his very core, and to hold you is not enough.

He knows he has no right, but he cannot help himself.

Eddie presses forward and kisses you, a wet, forceful thing that you can barely move against as he frantically crushes his mouth against yours.

He kisses you with a desperation he’s never felt before, and he blesses you for how you lean into it, fisting your hands into the front of his shirt and doing your best to pull him that much closer to you.

It’s all scraping teeth, ragged breath, and reverent groping hands, only breaking apart in the briefest of intervals when the need to breathe and tell you how sorry he is outweighs the need to make up for all the time Eddie has spent not kissing you over the past eight months.

He tells you he loves you, again and again, breathing the words into your mouth, whispering them against your lips.

He chases it hungrily, starved and greedy for your love, and wonders how he could have ever forgotten how much he needed it? How did he ever survive without it? Without you?

He would remind himself that he hadn’t been doing a very good job at it, but his mind is blown wide and bleached of all thoughts but you.

Had he been able to really think, Eddie might have been afraid he would hurt you like he’d somehow hurt Chrissy, but the only thing he can muster is relief, because you’re here and that means something. Maybe there is at least the slightest chance you still love him.

Thank you thank you thank you–

Even when you finally part, he does not release you, only holds you that much tighter. He presses his forehead to yours and he loves, loves, loves, bursting with the feeling like your touch has miraculously restored him after having been so wretched for so long.

For the longest time, all either of you can do is lean against one another, swaying ever so slightly like you’re drunk on the euphoria of being together again.

After a while, he lets you coax him into the house, and you collapse against one another on the sofa as exhaustion creeps into Eddie’s bones.

He can barely keep his eyes open, laying back with you spread over him, your face tucked into the crook of his neck where every now and then you’ll leave a gentle little kiss. He hums in response to each press of your lips, and he would thank you for each and everyone one, but his limbs are quickly turning to cement.

He’s so goddamn tired, but he fights against it, afraid that if he falls asleep he’ll wake up and find that he’s dreamt this whole thing. He's worried if he submits himself to Morpheus's embrace, you'll be gone when he wakes up, despite the way you’re tracing lazy patterns across his chest, how he can feel your steady heartbeat thumping in time with his own, the gentle rise and fall of your body with every breath in and out, in and out, in…

A burst of soft, lilting laughter bubbles up from inside you, and Eddie startled awake, feeling himself light up for his favorite sound in the world, his favorite feeling as you smile against him.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, thick and groggy.

He pushes up a little higher on the couch in the hopes it might stave off the need for sleep a little longer and pulls you with him.

You shift to accommodate this higher position, sitting on your knees and pressed into his side.

You shake your head and laugh against the way your eyes are suddenly brimming.

“I just can’t believe you’re here,” you sniffle, tilting back ever so slightly so you can look at him. “I was so scared I wouldn’t find you,”

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he pulls you into his lap and hugs you tight.

He’s still having trouble wrapping his head around the concept that you’d been out there looking for him in the first place, that you’re here now, after all the time he’d spent wishing for this, how he would have given his right arm just to hold you again.

He doesn’t know how you knew he needed you, what kind of unearthly force intervened to send you to him, but he’s so goddamn thankful you came running.

“But I did it,” you continue, sounding so endearingly proud of yourself, “I found you.”

Your hands come up to stroke his face and brush at the dried tacky lines of salt left struck down his face. And then you say again, quieter this time like you’re in awe of it.

“I found you…” Your eyes are bright and sparkling with admiration and tears and relief and a hundred different happy emotions that spill out of you and into Eddie.

He can’t help but laugh, a thick, watery sound dripping with relief and half muffled by your lips as he dips forward to kiss you. Once, twice, three times for the sentiment, precious little thank yous because he can finally breathe again. He’d spent the last eight months drowning and you finally pulled him up to break the surface.

You saved him, just like you always do.

“Yeah, Sweetheart, you did,” he sighs, letting his eyes slide shut as he holds you tight and breathes a deep, contented sigh, “You found me.”

Taglist: @harrys-tittie @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @itsrainingbisexualfrogs @thicksexxualtensionaltension @ganseysgff @scoopsr0binn @peanutbutter-y-jams @audhd-dragonautagonaut @clilxlxx @alexandriaemily200 @averagestudent03 @but-vanessa @cosmictime45 @timelordfreya @forever-war @munsonzzgf @chervbs

@irisabrams

#cruel summer #cruel summer fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #crikey this took everything i had #i really hope it was everything you guys hoped for in a reunion because i made myself feel all warm and fuzzy writing it #now i just gotta figure out what happens next lmao #if you find typos no you didn't I'll edit this in the morning

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