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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 5 months

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 48

Part 1 Part 47

The nostalgia of the morning cannot be overstated for Steve. Sure, the fight over the bathroom is more cramped than it used to be, and Eddie’s much grumpier in the mornings than Tommy’s ever been. And yeah, Eddie doesn’t have enough spare toothbrushes, so Steve has to fake disgust when Carol snatches his out of his hand and starts brushing her own teeth with nary a rinse-off.

Carol digs through Eddie’s drawers until she finds a shirt ripped up enough that tucking it into yesterday’s jeans looks like a purposeful statement instead of a walk-of-shame look, ignoring Eddie’s squawking. Steve does the same, and by the time they stumble into the morning dressed and ready, Eddie looks like he’s adopted a couple preps he’s converted to his demonic metal ways. It’s Carol’s hair – too perky by halves.

And yeah, Uncle Wayne is sitting at the table, eyebrows raised like he’s trying to figure out the minutiae of the three of them coming out of his nephew’s room bright and early on a random Tuesday morning. Sleepovers at Steve or Tommy’s never involved any sort of parental oversight, and one’s at Carol’s involved everyone sneaking out of the window to avoid the breakfast table all together.

“Didn’t make enough toast,” Uncle Wayne mutters tiredly, even as his eyes vertifiably twinkle over his mug as he looks between the three of them before settling onto his nephew.

Eddie, never a morning person even on the best of days, slumps down in his customary chair, thumping his forehead down on the table with a groan.

Carol scoffs, scooping up a piece of toast and eggs onto one of the two empty plates laid out, glaring at Eddie as she takes a ferocious bite. Then, seemingly remembering her manners, she smiles over at Uncle Wayne like butter wouldn’t melt and sweetly says, “thank you, Uncle Wayne.”

Steve goes to the counter, shoving two more pieces of bread in the toaster and waiting impatiently for them to pop back up.

Behind him, Eddie’s near-snoring into his eggs, snuffling. Steve turns around, smiling as Uncle Wayne elbows him in the ribs. “Introduce me to your friend, boy.”

“Not my friend,” Eddie mutters. Steve turns back force the half-baked toas up and out of the toaster impatiently just as Eddie hurriedly continues, “but this is Carol Perkins! Steve’s–”

“Best friend,” Carol says. Steve slides back over to them, leaning against the fridge to watch the show, unwilling to slink off into the living room when there’s a show to be had. He eats both pieces dry, choking it down with a glass of orange juice he pours from the fridge.

He downs the cup, wiping his juice-mustache, before meeting Uncle Wayne’s judgemental eyes. “Don’t have room for another stow-away.”

Carol chokes on her eggs as Steve laughs. “This one will be leaving,” he says.

Everyone ignores Eddie grumbling quietly under his breath. “Aww, Stevie,” she says, pouting up at him and lowering one of her eyelids mockingly. “You trying to get rid of little old me?”

Steve rolls his eyes, turning his back to rinse out his juice cup before putting it carefully on the rack to dry. “Whatever,” he mutters, walking past the table to go snag their backpacks from Eddie’s room, stomping out of the trailer with a called, “bye, Uncle Wayne!” to wait for the other two by the van.

Eddie comes stumbling out, clearly being pushed along by an unmerciful Carol. He slides into the driver’s seat just as Steve’s buckling his seatbelt. Instead of settling down in the back, Carol sits between them on the floor, bickering with Eddie over what cassette they should play.

When they park, Carol barely waits for the van to come to a complete stop before jumping out and skipping off, blowing a kiss over her shoulder just before she melds into the mob that is the student body at large.

Steve and Eddie sit in silence for a moment, reveling in the silence, like the echoing quiet after a bomb has gone off. Or when the cops come, and someone cuts the music at a party.

“What a freak,” Eddie says. He sounds like he can’t decide between being impressed or disgusted by her, unsure where he’s going to land.

Steve laughs, sliding out of the car himself, following in Carol’s wake. The day passes, Steve rides the wave of it, a buoy on the waves that never quiet settles into one spot.

It’s not Carol who sits at their table at lunch, but a Nancy-less Jonathan. Steve smiles absently at him as he squeezes between Steve and Eddie, eyes shifting over to his old table. Carol’s already there, whispering heatedly into Tommy’s ear. He looks sullen, eyebrows pinched and mouth sneering the way it always does when someone tells him something he doesn’t want to hear. Carol smack him with the back of her hand, hard in the arm until he leans away, full-on scowling as she continues to scold him.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess the topic of their conversation, especially after Tommy’s eyes lock with Steve’s across the busy lunchroom. Their gazes hold. Tommy looks serious, sad in a way he rarely is, even more rarely lets show in public. Steve’s heart shudders, the long-buried desire for the past rearing its head.

But then Jonathan leans into him, whispers, “I think we should tell someone,” and Steve glances his way.

When he looks back, Tommy’s turned away entirely, slamming the contents of his tray into the trash as he stalks out of the cafeteria entirely. Steve looks back to Carol, who meets his eyes with a snarl on her face, shrugging, like she’s indifferent to Tommy’s reaction. Steve sighs, looking away.

“Tell someone what?” Steve asks quietly.

Jonathan leans closer, lowering his voice even further. “About your weird powers,” Jonathan replies, the “duh” silent but heavily implied by his tone.

Steve scrunches his nose up, looking over Jonathan’s head at Eddie, who looks just as baffled as he is. “…who?” Eddie asks, just as Steve says, “why?”

Jonathan looks back and forth between them, his eyes just as intense as usual. “The lab people contacted Mom,” he says, mouth barely moving. “They wanted to check up on Will, see how he’s doing.”

Steve looks at Eddie over Jonathan’s hunched shoulders. For once, he can’t tell what Eddie’s thinking. Can’t even tell what he’s thinking himself besides a visceral reaction of wrong wrong wrong that makes him want to curl up in a ball somewhere dark and small.

“Uh, they experimented on a kid, dude,” Eddie says, scoffing. “No way in hell should we trust them with any further weirdness.”

“They what?” Steve demands.

Eddie waves his hand placatingly. “Later, Stevie,” he says, not taking his eyes away from Jonathan. “If Mama Byers wants to trust shady government goons, you shouldn’t tell her either.”

Jonathan looks down at the table. Steve notices he hadn’t even bothered to grab lunch before sitting down. He scoots his own food closer to Jonathan, feels relieved when he immediately steals a couple fries.

“But what if she makes him go?” Jonathan whispers around the fry in his mouth. “What if there’s something actually wrong with Will?” Left unsaid, is that if something’s wrong with Will, there’s something wrong with all three of them.

The tight ball of Steve’s emotions curls up tighter, constricting his throat until it’s hard to choke out, “we’ll go with him.”

Eddie squawks, “what?” incredulously, leaning over Jonathan like he wants to shake Steve where he sits. Their friends quiet around the table, staring over at them, attention caught from Eddie’s shocked outburst. Eddie smiles nervously around the table before murmuring from the side of his mouth, “fucking fine!”

Steve slumps, relieved. Disappointed. Stressed enough that his organs are eating themselves inside him.

He eats a fry, like a normal boy on a normal Tuesday lunchtime would do. “Let us know what she decides to do,” he demands.

Jonathan nods. He spends the rest of lunch taking up space between them. A Byers is a Byers is a Byers, but Steve can’t help spending the rest of lunch tugging at the tie between him and Will, hoping the kid is okay.

Part 49

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic

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landoslover · 2 months

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HAPPY INTERRUPTIONS. || LN4

a/n: this is my first post!! please excuse any grammatical errors english is not my first language! i’m also trying to figure out how to do the formatting on here so forgive if it changes around!

tw. none? i don’t think, please let me know if you believe there is

Two people experiencing happy love together.

or in which coincidentally Lando’s viewers go crazy seeing Y/n and Lando be so smitten with each other.

The smell of the rain came through the window as she sat in the living room watching the sunset in her and Lando’s shared apartment in Monaco; she had heard Lando in the other room most likely on stream with Max knowing how those two were when they were together in person or online they were complete chaos but she loved the entertainment they brought. On the coffee table sat her now cold tea and copy of Pride and Prejudice having grown bored of not having Lando as entertainment. Muttering to herself she gets up and quietly tidied the living room, seeing as how it had been slightly messy from when the boys had come over; cleaning any of the dishes Lando may have left as well, humming a quiet song finding things to occupy herself with.

Debating silently with herself she picked her phone up off the counter as well as grabbing Lando’s hoodie she had taken not wanting to be showing off the small pajama set she had. Quietly she made her way to the spare bedroom they had converted for all of Lando’s things biting her lip softly slightly worried she’d be interrupting she knocked waiting patiently to hear if Lando heard her, after not hearing anything moments later she opened the door slowly leaning against the door frame watching her boyfriend intently forgetting at the moment his door was complete because of the camera, she just watched him quietly a smile evident on his face as he played whatever game him and Max had chosen. It’s as if he could feel her behind him. He turned his head towards the door, his smile broadening, noticing it was Y/n. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked in a soft voice, never really raising his voice at the girl. “Not long ago I got bored doing nothing and just wanted to check up on you, that's all.” Letting out a small laugh he motions her over putting one hand out for her to take while he scooted his chair ignoring Max’s playful shouts in his headphones.

She took his hand with a shy smile walking carefully towards him before sitting down on his lap; he had now removed the headphones, setting them down on the desk in front of him giving Y/n his attention for a moment. Making herself comfortable in his lap she rested her head on his chest while her arms wrapped around his neck hugging the boy. Pulling her phone out of his hoodie she quickly opened it wanting to show Lando something she had seen on Twitter that had made her laugh. A small conversation passed after that moment, Y/n giving Lando soft kisses on the cheek while he reciprocated the action before going back to whatever she was doing on her phone letting Lando go back to his game. Putting the headphones back on he’s immediately met with Max’s Laughter “you two are quite popular in the chat” Lando looked over the chat his eyes scanning each comment as they flooded through his ears becoming hot and his cheeks going red he sees all the lovely comments as well as the ones calling him a “simp” “you guys are horrible”

Lando’s comment now got her attention as she looked up from her phone her eyes going to the chat as well a laugh coming quickly after finding it cute how all the fans were commenting sweet things or calling them their parents. “he’s a shy one you all these comments are making lan blush” laughing even more at his grin she leaned upwards kissing his jaw and caressing the back of his neck while he groaned even more the red on his cheeks very clear, he drops his head into her neck, arms tightening around her waist while he mutters on about how this clip of them is going to be everywhere her amusement grows knowing the boy doesn’t actually mind just likes to be dramatic, lifting his head from her neck she rubs his cheeks subtly laughing at how warm his cheeks had become, shaking her head she kissed him softly feeling him lean into her touch she smiled “you are too funny babe” hearing Max’s dramatic gag in the headphones she removed her hands from Lando’s face going back to her original position.

“Max keep gagging and you’re going to get banned you muppet” she said sarcastically knowing well he’d understand. It was now Lando’s turn to laugh not realizing she had heard that, Shaking his head he scooted back in trying to not read every comment he saw knowing he’d never be able to focus; getting immersed back into the game she’d glanced up at him every once in awhile knowing she’d never take advantage of these happy interruptions.

tags! @whitcferrari @lacyslcver @cedarbcws @miguelasdr <3

#f1 imagine #lando norris #mclaren #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula one #formula one oneshot

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thaliagracesgf · 3 months

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i hail a cab with a goat, and make some questionable decisions at a party

author’s note: i want to make it, like, really, really, clear that this is not a fic glorifying sa or being a victim. what the reader goes through here is a horrible experience, one that’s happened to me and countless other women (and other people!!). this fic is for anyone who, in the words of rachel sennot in bottoms, has been “gray-area-d,” and felt completely lost afterwards, not knowing how to feel or what to think. this is one example of how you deserved to have been treated, and i’m sorry if this or something similar wasn’t your experience.

content warnings: sexual assault (not graphic and not by luke! r is sort of tied down and has their shorts undone), violence (luke is not happy about this situation), alcohol (r is drunk), talking about it afterwards?, talking about monsters (on a regular pjo level), swearing.

word count: 6.6k. i had a lot to say. so sorry.

this is the first fic i have written in a while, i hope you enjoy it!

⭑

seven a.m. in the camp half-blood dining pavilion saw the same faces every morning. you, silena beauregard, clarisse larue, and annabeth chase. your little group of friends spanned six years, at seventeen, fourteen, thirteen, and eleven, and your best friend, who had been off at college all year, made it eight.

you didn’t remember becoming friends with silena and clarisse, although you figured hannah, your best friend and silena’s older half-sister, must have introduced you, and clarisse came along with her.

you had met annabeth and hannah when you were just thirteen, when you had followed a friend to connecticut in the middle of pre-algebra.

“do you understand any of this?” you whispered to grover. he gave you a look as if he had never seen a fraction before last week, and you sighed. your teacher, a kind old woman named ms. lucy, gave you a look. when she gave the class a new problem to work through, she came and knelt by your desk, looking over your shoulder at what you had managed so far. which was a whole lot of nothing, unless you included a sketch of grover that would make picasso proud. you shrunk sheepishly in your chair.

you looked to your right, as if trying to see how bad it really was compared to your model, but he was gone. you turned back to ms. lucy.

“did you see grover leave?”

“hmm?”

“grover. did he go to the bathroom?”

“i assume so, dear. if you convert the decimal—" but grover’s things were gone. you felt terrible. you knew you were a terrible student, and ms. lucy was so kind to you anyways, but it wasn’t like grover to walk out of class like that. he was terrified of authority.

“i have to go,” you mumbled to ms. lucy, throwing your things in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “stomachache.”

she looked genuinely concerned. “would you like me to let the nurses know you’re coming?”

“no… no. that’s okay.” and you ran out the door.

it wasn’t too hard to find grover. he was sitting in an empty classroom just a few doors down, but what was weirder was that he was watching a video on the projector. weirder still, he was talking to it. you knew it was rude to eavesdrop. it didn’t stop you from doing it.

“chiron, i can’t just leave. she’s here, and she’s in danger. she needs a protector. anything could come for her at any moment—" was he talking about you?

a deep voice over the projector, whose face you could hardly make out through the low-quality image, answered: “i will inform her mother and she will go home. she will stay there until we can send gleeson to collect her and—"

“why can’t you send gleeson for these kids?”

“he’s too far, it would take him a day at least to reach them. i already told you, this was a request from hermes himself. he wants his son and his friends collected as soon as possible, and—"

who the hell was gleeson? and hermes… who names their kid after a greek god? at least choose one with a better name than hermes. it sounded like a disease. your mother had named your brother after some greek hero, but he didn’t go by it. and at least it was, like, a human name.

“he’s the god of travelers.” you were starting to worry that grover might be on drugs. what on earth had they put in those enchiladas at lunch? “can’t he get him, like, a car? a day could be too long for—"

“grover.” the voice boomed. that shut him up. “you will go. you will escort the son of hermes, the daughter of athena, and the daughter of zeus to camp, and then you may return to the city. this is not up for discussion.” you were really starting to think that the booming voice might have been two booming voices, but the door was closed and the audio was already crackly, so you decided it didn’t really matter.

you heard grover’s voice say, “alright,” defeated and almost mournful, and then the message cut off. your eyes widened as you realized that grover would probably step outside any second, and you would have no excuse as to what you were doing with your ear to the wall. you turned slowly, and winced as your shoe squeaked on the linoleum floor. you started speedwalking. no sense in trying to hide anymore, you were just interested in getting as far away as possible before-

“oh, gods.” grover’s voice echoed between cinder block walls and metal lockers. “how much did you hear?”

you turned, your fingers nervously twisting the straps of your backpack. “i mean. not everything. just. you know.”

“almost everything?”

“yeah.”

“this is not good. this is really not good.” grover wasn’t talking to you anymore. he was pacing the short ways of the corridor, head in his hands, muttering to himself. “my first mission and i’ve already messed it up completely.”

“how could you have messed it up completely? you haven’t even met these kids yet.”

“oh, gods,” grover groaned.

“woah, dude. are you like, hindu or something?”

“what?”

“you said gods. plural. i read this book—"

“okay,” grover interrupted. “you need to go home.”

“okay. that was rude. also, it’s like the middle of the day. my mom’s at work and my stepdad will kill me if i come home early.”

“your stepfather. perfect. just climb in the back window of your room, and when your mom gets home, tell her that chiron says you need to go to camp immediately.”

“what? what the hell are you talking about? who— is that who you were talking to on the phone?”

“what?”

“the phone call. the one you were mad at me for overhearing…”

“okay. first of all, that was not overhearing, that was eavesdropping. second of all, i’m not mad. this just complicates things slightly. third of all—"

“dude, you need to—" grover glared at me, and i shut up.

“third of all,” he repeated, “that wasn’t a phone call. it was an iris message.”

“a what?”

“nevermind. not important. ask about it at camp.”

“why do you keep talking about a camp? i haven’t been to camp since music camp in second grade, and they don’t want me back. i was really, really, bad at the recorder.”

“you played the recorder?” grover looked suddenly very interested. “nevermind. you need to go home.”

“dude. i’m telling you, i. can’t.”

“you have to—"

“take me to connecticut,” you suggested.

“what?”

“isn’t that where you’re running off to?”

“you can’t come to connecticut with me—"

“why not? you seemed pretty adamant on the phone—"

“iris message”

“that you needed to be with ‘her’. based on how insanely you have freaked out, i’m guessing that was me. so take me with you.”

“i know you have no idea what is going on right now—"

“thank you for finally acknowledging that important part of this conversation.”

“- but taking you to connecticut would be an astronomically bad idea. like i-would-get-fired kind of bad idea.”

“you’re twelve. how on earth would you get fired? child labor laws are—"

“i’m nineteen.”

you laughed at that one. “yeah, sure.”

grover rolled his eyes. “look, i really, really, wish i could explain more, but i need to go. and i really, really need you to go home.”

“ok.”

“like really, really need you to listen—" he paused. “okay? great!”

“if it means that much to you, i’ll go home.” grover sighed with relief.

he was eating his words. and a tin can he had picked up off the street. you had followed him out of the building, watched him call a cab, and then, at the last second, jumped in after him, slammed the door, and told the driver to drive before grover could figure out what was going on.

after your initial panic, when you realized you were hurtling up fifth avenue at three-hundred miles per hour with three old ladies behind the wheel, you had straightened yourself out, and made grover explain everything. he had, reluctantly, when he came to terms with the fact that you were in too deep to back out now.

he explained camp, the greek (not hindu) gods, and the ladies in the front (who had one eye between them) were very helpful about filling in the details. so, so many details. he explained that he didn’t know who your parent was, just that you were powerful, and that he was planning on asking your mom before everything went up in flames.

he explained that he was going to connecticut to escort three (now four) demigods to camp half-blood, and that they would likely be tailed by monsters the entire way back. four demigods as powerful as you, and one forbidden child — a child of zeus, poseidon, or hades, as he had mentioned — would attract a lot of attention.

and you did. it took you a month to get to camp after you found thalia, luke, and annabeth, constantly being thrown off course by monsters, over which you got to know them better than any friends you’d had in your life (with the exception of maybe grover and your little brother). your mother was worried sick, but you iris-messaged her (grover finally got through on that one) every so often, letting her know you were okay. she was surprisingly understanding about camp. she apologized that she hadn’t been the one to take you herself, and that she had been forced to hide the truth from you for so long. the calls always ended though, when she tried to tell you who your father was. the water would shut off suddenly, the rainbow disappearing along with your mother, so you learned to avoid the topic if you wanted to continue talking.

when thalia died, you were in shock. you sat at the edge of long island sound at camp for three days, staring into the ocean. you didn’t speak, even when you were claimed, as you sat, by your father, poseidon, and shuffled your things from the hermes cabin into cabin three. it was just another loss — you could no longer sleep in the bed next to luke’s. there were no familiar faces in cabin three — no faces at all. you were completely alone.

eventually, an older aphrodite girl came by the cabin. she introduced herself as hannah, and she showed you around camp, forced you to sit with her and her siblings at dinner, dealing with chiron and mr. d’s disgruntlement herself, and at the campfire. she dragged you to the center of the amphitheater, dancing slowly at first, and then faster, until you were laughing and finding luke and annabeth in the crowd and dragging them to dance as well.

you missed hannah so much. she wasn’t that far, a first year at barnard this fall, where you would hopefully be in a couple of years. you weren’t ready for college yet, you thought, so you would take a gap year (though you hadn’t been in school for years) and stay at camp, while chiron would help you convince the admissions committee (using the mist) that you had a perfect gpa, excellent extracurricular activities, and a stellar recommendation letter from a highly admired ancient greek scholar by the name of professor c. brunner.

sitting at breakfast with you was probably miserable, you could admit. you were counting down the days until hannah came back, and your friends were definitely tired of it. but for some reason, this morning silena was practically jumping up and down with something.

“will you stop?” you asked. “you’re shaking the entire table.”

“i can’t, i’m sorry.” she seemed sincere in her apology. “i just— oh, you’ll see.”

you didn’t see, in fact, as someone jumped out from behind you and wrapped their arms around your head, their sweatshirt covering your eyes. “who—" you started, before you got a whiff of lavender-vanilla perfume and jumped up from the table.

hannah. you shrieked, probably waking up half the camp. you spun around and tackled her to the ground, hugging her so tightly you would probably cut off her circulation.

she pushed you off, laughing, and got to her feet. “it’s good to see you too, babe. what’s up with all of you? you never call, i feel like i’ve been completely cut off.” (you had iris-messaged her last week for five hours).

“your sister is still absolutely obsessed with beckendorf,” you said, sitting down.

“hey!” silena protested.

“but of course he has no idea that he likes her.” silena turned pink. “no one here is good enough for annabeth, obviously—"

“i never said that, clarisse doesn’t let any boys near me.” you stick your tongue out at her.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” clarisse said, feigning obliviousness. “you hang out with luke all the time.”

“he’s always hanging out with that new kid.” she grumbled. “or—"

“speaking of, clarisse definitely thinks this hermes boy is so cute— you haven’t met him, he got here a few months ago, but his name is chris, and i think they would be so cute together. she’s out of everyone’s league, obviously, but if anyone would be good for her—"

“gods, you would think you’re the aphrodite kid, listening to you.” hannah smiled. she stole a bite of your french toast.

“i’m just excited to see you,” you said, laying your head on her shoulder. silena and clarisse smirked.

“she’s leaving somebody out here,” silena said, smiling.

“i know, it’s weird, she never shuts up about him otherwise,” clarisse added, narrowing her eyes at you teasingly.

“oh, who could you possibly be talking about?” hannah twirled a piece of hair. she hasn’t even been here, but one doesn’t forget their best friend’s crush of four years in a few months.

“i do not,” you protested meekly.

“you knew who we were talking about, though”

“i spend a lot of time with him, that’s all. there would be a gaping hole if i told you about my day and didn’t bring him up.”

“would you stop pretending as if you aren’t in love with each other, please?” annabeth interrupted. “you’re worse than them, at least they can admit it.” she gestured at clarisse and silena.

“i am not in love with him, annabeth.”

“you’re always starting at him.”

“i’m in conversation.”

“with your eyes. that is literally textbook romance.”

“i could so admit if i was into him,” you say, cutting her off. “i admit things like that all the time. i told you i thought jack was cute. you know that kid from demeter?”

“we all know you made that up,” annabeth said, crossing her arms over her chest. silena gave her a light push.

“don’t be so quick to accuse, annie.” only you and silena ever called her that. “i don’t think she made it up. i just don’t think she’s as into him as she is into him.”

“would you drop it, about luke, please?”

“hey, you said his name, not me,” silena smiled. “but sure. i don’t believe that you’re not into him, but i’ll drop it if you can prove that he isn’t into you.”

your heart sank. you weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought. hannah’s hand rested on your knee, as if she could sense it.

“how am i supposed to do that? i can’t read minds.”

“hook up with jack at the campfire.”

“what?”

“flirt with him! you were just talking the other day about how you’re eighteen and you haven’t even had sex yet.” hannah covered annabeth’s ears, to which she shoved her off and glared. “jack’s, like, really hot. i saw you staring the other day.”

“when luke wasn’t around,” annabeth added, one eyebrow raised.

“you want me to have sex with jack?”

“i’m not saying that. just flirt with him. see what happens. we’ll— she gestured between herself, clarisse, annabeth and hannah— see how luke is doing.”

“okay, he isn’t going to be doing anything,” you said. “i don’t see what this accomplishes.” but even as you were saying it, your mind betrayed you. you thought for a second and conjured an image of strong arms holding you, soft lips kissing yours with the bonfire light in the background. maybe you were near the beach.

“we’ll see,” silena smiled.

you didn’t want to go all the way, or anything. you knew that. but… jack was really hot. and sweet. he was always catching little kids falling off of obstacle courses with soft bushes, and growing them flower crowns. it couldn’t hurt to talk to him, see what happened. maybe he’d ask you out, or something. bring you flowers on a date. and you guessed you wouldn’t mind making out with him.

the campfire roared in the middle of the amphitheater. the only people there were the older campers, and some counselors trickling back in from tucking kids into bed. you had helped luke with the hermes cabin, because he had so many kids to take care of, and you had none.

you pulled the covers over katie, a girl a little younger than annabeth, who had gotten to camp a few months ago. she was still unclaimed, but with the way she spent all day in the strawberry fields, and the plants tended to shoot up around her, you were fairly sure where she belonged.

you kissed the top of her head, and stood up, looking around the dark cabin for luke, seeing him kneeling beside a little boy, probably about the same age as katie. the boy sounded like he was crying.

“hey, connor,” luke whispered, rubbing circles on the kid’s back. “it’s okay. it’s okay. i get them too.” you realized that the boy must have been afraid to fall asleep. “travis is right above you, he’ll protect you, okay? nothing bad can happen to you here.”

he looked over at you, before turning back to connor. “and we can play poker tomorrow, you’re getting pretty good.”

“are you leaving?” the boy whispered, choking a bit on his tears.

“just for a little bit, kid. i’ll be back soon, i promise. i’ll be here when you wake up. i’m not going to leave you anytime soon.”

“okay,” the boy mumbled. luke pulled the covers over his shoulders, and ruffled his hair before turning to you.

“let’s go,” he mouthed, gesturing at the door. the two of you crept outside, luke much more stealthily than you, closing the door silently. “god of thieves,” he shrugged, but he didn’t grin as he usually did when he bragged. you didn’t have to ask why, but you played along.

“yeah, yeah, i know,” you said, rolling your eyes. “can we go now?”

“yeah, ‘course,” he said. he slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him as you walked, and you couldn’t help but think of silena’s words as you rested your head on his chest.

arriving back at the campfire, you pulled yourself away from luke, walking over to hannah. she smirked at you, pulling you in for a hug.

“you don’t have to do this, you know,” she said.

“i know,” you replied. “i want to. he’s cute.”

and he was, you thought, as he led you away from the campfire. you’d sat for an hour, letting the flames dance over your skin as you talked with him. he made you laugh, even blush when he grew a flower out of the stone to tuck behind your ear. when he grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet, you felt dizzy, though that might have been the alcohol.

as you walked further away from the amphitheater, you spun around in the grass, laughing, and he laughed with you. or at you? you couldn’t really tell, and you didn’t really care. you just wanted to kiss him. you didn’t notice that you weren’t heading near the cabins until he stopped in a little cove at the edge of the forest.

“why are we here?” you asked, a little dazed.

“come on,” he said. “you know why.”

and then he was kissing you. it was messy, and made you kind of uncomfortable, but you told yourself to get over it. you couldn’t expect it to live up to the time luke had kissed you, on a dare, when you were thirteen. nothing would ever live up to that, because you couldn’t have him. he hadn’t even cared when you had left him at the party, talking up some girl you couldn’t really see on the other side of the fire.

you blinked, pulling away from jack. you hadn’t realized as you were thinking it, but you had admitted to yourself for the first time that yes: you did want luke. really, really, wanted him. you pushed back on jack lightly.

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i can do this right now,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth on the sleeve of your hoodie — luke’s hoodie, that he had given you that night after he kissed you, when you were shivering outside, staring into space because you couldn’t understand what you were feeling.

“come on, it’s fine,” jack replied, pulling you back into his arms. they weren’t like the arms you were picturing earlier. no, you could admit to yourself new that those had been luke’s. your mind was reeling— you knew that you couldn’t have him, that he would never like you like you liked him, but kissing jack felt wrong. not that you had really been kissing him back.

“i want to go home,” you said, and you weren’t sure where you meant. back to the campfire, to luke and hannah, back to your cabin? maybe even back to your mom on the upper east side, who you missed every day but couldn’t live with during the year for the sake of your little brother, who was too young to know that he, too, was a son of poseidon.

“really? you were flirting with me all night,” jack mumbled into your lips. “stay a little longer.” it was true, you had been flirting with him. you figured you could at least make out with him for a bit. you resigned, letting him lower you onto the grass, and reluctantly letting him run his hands along the hem of your shirt.

hannah was getting worried, and luke could tell. he had forced himself off when you were clearly interested in that demeter guy, who luke knew and was friends with but suddenly hated with all his guts. he had forced himself to be interested in getting the details on silena and beckendorf, which he didn’t really realize he was getting to share with you later, resigning to glancing too often through the flames of the fire at your face, and the way the flames made you look like a goddess. no, he thought. you always looked like a goddess.

but hannah, who had just arrived back at camp for the summer that morning, was biting her lip, and looking around with a bothered expression on her face, and luke had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, that he needed to know you were safe immediately.

he walked over to hannah, probably too quickly, and didn’t waste time asking how she was, or how college had been. “where is she?” he demanded, too forcefully. he would have to apologize to hannah later, but he only had one thing on his mind.“what’s wrong?”

“oh. hey, luke,” she said, still in a sort of trance. he snapped his finger away from her face, shaking his head.

“hannah? where is she?”

she shook her head and widened her eyes. it was clear to luke that you had picked up that habit of staring out at nothing when you were deep in thought, usually not about pleasant things. “she’s with jack,” she said. “they left a little while ago. i just… i don’t know. i should go check that she’s back at her cabin by now.”

“yeah, yeah we should,” luke grumbled, and started taking the steps out of the theater two at a time in an effort to get out. hannah followed— you had told him that his stress could be contagious.

you weren’t in your cabin. you weren’t in the demeter cabin either, and the pair of them woke up a bunch of kids as you barged in, which he was sure mr. d would have a lot to say about in the morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

he ran across the basketball court, hannah close behind.

“i have an idea of where they might be,” hannah said, pointing in the direction of the woods.

“how do you know?”

“because i showed jack that spot when we were fourteen,” she said, grumbling. luke clearly wasn’t the only one who cared about you.

“i thought you were gay?” luke questioned, not slowing down.

“yeah. like i said, fourteen. people explore things, figure themselves out.” gods, she thought, men could be so incredibly stupid.

they ran faster than ever to the edge of the woods, where sure enough, they found you, lying on a mossy stone with jack hovering over you. luke wanted to run to you immediately, but hannah held him back — no easy feat, but she managed.

“hold on, romeo,” she strained. “you can’t just barge in there and—” then she heard it— the unmistakable sound of your voice, and the word stop.

“jack…” you mumbled. you were so drunk. you weren’t sure where you were anymore, and you didn’t really remember walking over here, though you knew you had. “jack, we can do this later, i’m tired—”

“you’re fine, it’s fine,” he said quietly, starting to undo the zipper of your shorts. you reached down to stop him, but he pushed your hand away, and as it hit the stone, moss started growing over it, holding it there.

“jack, stop it,” you said, more forcefully this time. you realized that he didn’t even know what he was doing, and for some reason that scared you more. he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but he wanted it— he wanted you held down, and he didn’t care that you didn’t.

he shushed you, but looked up at a rustling in the trees, and a familiar grunt.

luke broke out of hannah’s arms, but it didn’t really matter, because she had been letting him go anyways. he stormed across the clearing, and while you were still dazed and confused, you couldn’t miss the entirety of jack’s weight being ripped from on top of you, and you thought you saw a fist collide with his face.

hannah, however, rushed to your side. she didn’t particularly want to see luke end up bloody and beaten in the infirmary, but she had bigger fish to fry right now: namely, you. she tore up the moss, no longer strong as jack’s focus was elsewhere, and redid your shorts for you. there were tears on your face as she pulled you to your feet.

there was so much noise. jack was shouting at luke, but you couldn’t make out the words. you could hear the music and the gleeful sounds of counselors from the amphitheater, but it seemed worlds away from you.

as hannah led you out of the woods, much faster than you could really manage, your head began to pound behind your eyes. a splitting pain hit your forehead, and your vision went black and spotty. you stumbled forward, relying entirely on hannah to keep you upright, but one stray tree root took you down. you swam between consciousness and a dark, dark sleep. there was screaming, it was hannah, and then the familiar deep voice of clarisse, barking orders. you thought you heard annabeth’s name, and then two strong sets of arms lifting you up, and carrying you away.

you woke up at the bottom of the sea. no. that wasn’t right. the bottom of the sea was soft, covered in mud and sand. you tried to stretch your body, hitting plastic walls. as your eyes focused, you could make out cartoon fish swimming entirely too close to your face, and you sat up with a start, splashing water all over a corner of the infirmary.

a kiddie pool. they had filled a kiddie pool with salt water, and left you in it overnight to soak, like one of those colorful dinosaur toys that grew in water. and the worst part was that it seemed to have worked. you felt brand new, like you had slept for a hundred years, and at the same time followed a very strict workout regimen, taken a juice cleanse and eaten like a king. you groaned, and slipped back under the water.

you stared at the ceiling, watching wooden beams ripple with the surface of your personal ocean. you wondered if your father ever felt like this is in the pacific, if he could be that big if he wanted to. your camp necklace floated up before your face, crossing a familiar face lurking over you.

you sat up. cara fletcher, hannah’s friend, held out some nectar. you shook your head.

“i’m okay.”

she raised an eyebrow.

“fine,” you sighed, taking the flask and drinking. it did help. you felt like you could take on the minotaur.

“your friends were here all night,” she said. i kicked them out around ten because they were falling asleep on each other, and i didn’t need any more cracked skulls when they fell off the stools.

“more?” you asked. she sighed, looking over her shoulder.

“your boyfriend beat that kid up pretty bad last night,” she said. you didn’t see jack lying on any of the cots, but a head of dark curls lay a few beds down, and the body attached to it did not look to be in great shape.

“he’s not my boyfriend.” you answered quickly, not taking your eyes off of luke. “is he okay?”

cara seemed to make out which he’s you were referring to. “i wasn’t talking about him,” she said. “hannah told me what happened. if you ask me, luke didn’t do nearly enough damage.”

“don’t tell him that,” you said. “and he’s also not my boyfriend,” you added as you processed her words fully.

“not yet, he’s not.” hannah said, strolling in with three bagels in hand.

“i thought i told you to go to bed,” cara scolded, taking her bagel. “you’re going to drop dead one of these days.” hannah smiled, ignoring her as he sat down next to her and put her arm around her shoulders.

you glance between them, ideas churning in your mind, but they were quickly interrupted by the bagel being shoved in your face. you had always thought that the harpies must have spent some time in the city— they made a dam good bagel.

“so.” hannah started. “you are going to tell us everything you’re thinking right now, because i see you looking over at him every two seconds, and don’t think you’re getting out of any of it.”

“i’m eating,” you grumbled. hannah reached to snatch the bagel away, but cara swatted her hand back.

“she’s recovering.” you stuck your tongue out at hannah.

“i don’t care,” hannah said. “spill.”

“look, i don’t even know what happened last night—”

“because you were really, really, drunk,” she interrupted.

“do you want me to speak or not?” you demanded.

“okay. fine. but just so you’re aware, he swooped in and defended you, and beat the shit out of that little asshole, who, just between us, mr. d is fucking fuming with.” trust hannah to get distracted two seconds in. demigod adhd was no joke. “he dragged him to the big house this morning himself, severe concussion and all, and according to lee, chewed him out for about an hour. something about the sanctity of drunkenness and how it is not to be weaponized… even chiron was surprised.” she paused for breath.

“anyways, the point stands— he,” she nodded her head at luke, “was quite literally your knight in shining armor, and if you still don’t think he is absolutely enamored with you—” and you were pretty sure you heard a cot creak— “then i swear on my mother i will call her down and force her to do something about this because i cannot take it any longer.”

“he was just being a good person, hannah,” you muttered. “he’s just like that.”

hannah looked as though she were about to scream, but cara rubbed her hand along her thigh, calming her before she spoke herself.

“there’s something more than that, isn’t there?” she asked softly, and you thought she was staring directly into your soul. “there’s a reason you don’t think he likes you.”

you hesitated, splashing the water around in your pool and making eye contact with a cartoon fish as you worked up the courage to say what it was you knew you had to get off your chest.

“before last night,” you started, your voice cracking as you spoke, “it was just me thinking i wasn’t pretty enough, or good enough for him. that he wouldn’t look at me because there are so many other girls at this camp who are obsessed with him. and i don't think i realized that i liked him either. but now…” a sob came from the back of your throat, and you looked up at hannah, tears streaking your red face.

“why would he want me now?” you sobbed.

“hey. stop that,” hannah started. “what jack did to you wasn’t your fault, and everyone knows that.” she was trying to make you feel better, but the news that your pathetic love life was the talk of camp wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“it was, though,” you said quietly. “i led him on. i never told him no that strongly, and i was flirting with him all night. what reason did he have not to think… not to…” you were hyperventilating now, your words coming out in broken syllables.

“i’m a fucking slut, and now everyone knows it,” you managed. you sank back into the water to slow your breathing, but tears still streamed down your face.

“that’s bullshit,” came a voice from elsewhere in the infirmary. you could have thrown up then and there. you pulled yourself up by the walls of the kiddie pool, looking down the aisle as luke castellan limped towards you. his scarred eye was bruised and bloodshot, and he had a massive scrape running up his left arm, and that was just what you could see. the tears began to fall faster.

“luke…”

you were thirteen years old again, at the top of half-blood hill, holding grover upright. you were watching desperately as he stumbled upward, through the pouring rain, carrying a screaming little girl who was trying with all her might to run back and help her friend. all four of you were sobbing, exhausted and beaten. seeing them all like that was ten times more painful than the gash in your side.

“that’s bullshit,” luke repeated. you got up from the pool and held his face in your hand, inspecting the bruise. you took the rest of the nectar cara had given you, holding it to his lips, but he pushed it away. “you’re not a slut,” he said. suddenly everything about your conversation came rushing back to you, and it hit you that you had just admitted to him that you were in love with him.

you turned your head. hannah and cara were gone, slipped out the back door. you turned back to face luke, face red and tears pouring over your skin.

“that wasn’t your fault. you didn’t owe him anything. he‘s disgusting, and deserves to have his fucking dick cut off.” you laugh, despite everything.

“i think mr. d may have actually taken care of that,” you whispered.

“good.” you looked at him for a while. his eyes were so beautiful, a deep, deep, brown that reminds you of the otters that hung mysteriously around your upper east side apartment when you lived in the city.

“why did you have to fight him?” you asked, reaching up to his face again.

“you were in trouble,” he said.

“luke.” the tears were threatening to fall again. “you could have seriously hurt yourself. i just… why? why not just pull him off of me?” you needed an answer. you needed to know why, why on earth he had put so much of himself in front of you, in front of jack’s fists.

he looked down at you, a pained expression on his face. “you know why,” he whispered.

he looked down at your lips, and you shook your head softly. you looked down at your feet. you were so afraid, afraid that he wouldn’t be interested now that you didn’t want… that. from him. yet— that you considered looking up and letting him kiss you.

he shocked you when he wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him, holding the back of your head into the space between his chest and his shoulder.

“okay,” he whispered. “that’s okay.” then, softer. “i love you.”

you couldn’t say it back. not yet, not now. but you held him tighter, holding on to him like he was the only thing stopping you from falling into tartarus.

“i’ll be here forever,” he spoke into your hair. and you believed him.

the hermes cabin hosted a movie night that night. you were watching the incredibles two, at a request from connor stoll, who was currently involved in an intense argument with annabeth over which installment was better.

“i think i’m going to start calling you that,” luke whispered in your ear. “jack-jack.” you glared at him. “‘cause, you know, your last name’s jackson-”

“yeah, dude, i got the joke,” you said. you rolled your eyes, nuzzling your head into his chest. you could stay like this for a while, you thought, and as you closed your eyes, you felt him press a kiss to your head — something you had told him was okay. you couldn’t wait to bring him home for a weekend. maybe annabeth, too. you couldn’t help but think she would get along great with your brother.

⭑

a/n: hello loves! i hope you enjoyed this, please please leave any feedback or anything, and let me know if you would like me to continue this story/write more of luke and the reader's past. i hope people enjoyed the little hints at percy! so excited for this reader and to explore all her relationships.

#pjo x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #charlie bushnell #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst #luke pjo #percy series

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stardewremixed · 10 months

Text

First Kiss with Shane

@hellhoundmaggie requested a first kiss scene with Shane. He was the first guy I romanced in SDV, mostly because it was easy to in the beginning and I wanted that first-year flower dance so badly. 😂 🌸

🎈 In case you missed it - First Kiss with Harvey. 🎈

While Harvey holds a special place in my heart and is generally my go-to husbando, I didn’t want to leave my “first SDV squeeze” in the lurch. I’m trying to expand my experience with writing romance in general. Hope you enjoy. It’s a freakin’ novella. Haha. I don’t do short, and I wanted to show how he fell in love with the Farmer, and she with him.

This is female farmer x Shane = first kiss. This one might be a little more PG.

😉❤️‍🔥🔥

Sweaty palms. Greasy hair. Chubby cheeks and legs. Is this what she sees in me?

Shane stared bleakly at his own reflection in the refrigerator door. It was quiet. Nearly noiseless in the back aisle of the stark JojaMart. A lull in the daily traffic around 4pm on the dot. When his shift ended.

Shane pressed his forehead against the glass, grumbling to himself about his infinite lack of progress on losing weight. Ever since he started going to therapy and quit drinking, he felt confident that his life would turn around. Like magic.

However, life outside the rehabilitation center was much harder than he remembered. He was still stuck in the same dead-end job. He was still bumming a room off his aunt with his piddly rent And he was still rather plump around his abdomen.

Every time Morris ordered him around, in that pompous high London accent, Shane wanted to give up. To give in. To snatch a beer outta the cooler and gulp away his frustrations.

Instead, he settled for cussing under his breath, and resolving to keep his head down. At least until he could find another job. No one seemed to be hiring in this dying town. The recession was still hitting hard. And he knew he was lucky to get his old job back after nine months in detox and rehab.

It was worth it. It would be worth it. He convinced himself as he puffed a lazy strand of hair out of his eye and continued stocking cartons of overprocessed milk, nothing like his aunt’s fresh bottles or the farmer’s delicious cheeses.

While he was still grossly underpaid, Shane worked out the math. In six more checks, he could repay her. The Jolly Rancher. Just thinking about his silly little nickname for the farmer lady to the north gave him a warm feeling. The kind that alcohol used to give him, only better, more real. Her smile was sweet.

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When she first arrived in town, Shane genuinely disliked her. All her bubbly, bouncy, jolly persona encroaching on his flat, boring, grumpy existence. He had cultivated a philosophy of "me myself and I" and was perfectly content being alone, sulking into a pitcher of beer at the end of the night. But not really…

Her jovialty grew on him, especially when he would see her around town, helping people out. At first, he figured she was just another city do-gooder come to convert the backwater people to a more modern lifestyle. But her joy and kindness was genuine. Even when he yelled at her to go away, she still murmured a heartfelt apology for disturbing him and then brought him freshly grown peppers or tomatoes the next day like nothing had ever happened.

The Farmer purchased cows from Marnie so she could make her own specialty dairy products. He was seriously impressed. Because what city girl just ups and buys cattle?

Sometimes when he was restlessly tossing and turning in bed (and if was honest, lonely), Shane would wander around in the wee pre-dawn hours. He always seemed to make his way to her ranch. Most of the time, she was out in the barn milking the cows and talking to them like they were her babies, with just a lantern illuminating her soft face. She was so beautiful.

Raising cattle was no simple task. He knew this from watching his aunt. And Marnie had horses, pigs, goats, rabbits and chickens to think of too. He wasn't sure if the new rancher in town, with little to no experience (save her degree in veterinary medicine), was stupid or brave. Over time, he determined she was the latter.

Out searching for a lost cow in a thunderstorm. Not thinking about her own welfare. Only wanting to reunite a terrified animal with its herd.

Fixing fences after wolves knocked down the back posts time and time again. Her fingers bleeding and scarred because of her lack of self-awareness sometimes. And chasing of “’dem there wolves” with sheer willpower... and... a big stick.

Rebuilding the barn from scratch when a wildfire spread down from the mountains. She saved every single one of those animals. And needing treatment for smoke inhalation because she went back in for the tiniest frightened newborn.

He remembered the time she got kicked in the head by one of the cows. Shane was so worried about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it when he carried her to the Clinic. Thankfully, it was only a minor concussion. (And it was an excuse for him to deliver Marnie's special basket of goodies to her twice daily so she didn't have to worry about feeding herself during her recovery).

The rancher struggled for a whole year, after arriving in the Valley. But even when things went wrong, she was up and back at it the next morning with a lightness in her heart and step. It. Was. Admirable.

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Shane resolved to do better. To be better. She made him think about how things could be different if he wasn't a self-sabotaging jerkwad. The number of times she dragged his sorry ass home after getting plastered at the Saloon was too high to count, even if it was out of her way, even if she said she didn't mind. She wanted him to be okay. To be safe. She said so.

And she half pushed, half dragged him to the Clinic the night things got really dark. When he faced the edge of the cliff and thought "No more!" When he thought death would be a welcome reprieve from his pathetic life.

She never judged him. She didn't enable him like his aunt. She didn't fall apart into a puddle of tears like Jas. She didn't lecture him on the evils of his ways while twirling his moustache like Harvey. Okay. Shane chuckled to himself. Maybe that last part was an exaggeration and unfair to the good doctor.

She. Simply. Cared.

Through her actions.

In the beginning, it was little things. A happy hello. A robust handwave. Then she started pulling up a barstool next to him in the Stardrop. She would ask him about his day and he would always answer the same way. But "go away" somehow morphed into a sarcastic "just peachy" and then eventually a half-hearted "fine, you can sit there." Once she jokingly called him Peaches.

He didn't want to be bothered with her questions and idle chatter. He didn't want to listen to her ranching successes and woes, retold in a much-too-chipper voice. He didn't want to know about Bluebell and Daffodil and Daisy, how Mister Munster was nursing a hoof injury and how Mrs. Butters was expecting her second calf. Why did she think he cared about such details?

But it grew on him. Those rosy, ruddy cheeks, enjoying a hard-earned glass of whatever Gus had on tap. The way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she talked about her animal friends. The way her pale pink lips pouted when she lost a game of Journey of the Prairie King in the saloon arcade. Again.

Shane found himself drawn to her energy. And he found himself missing her on the nights she didn't stop into the Saloon. Which was a rarity, but did happen.

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Shane knew she was someone special when he would watch the entrance door, breath caught, hoping she would breeze through, and then she didn't. Two days in a row. He started to feel disappointed, but brushed it off. Three days. He started to get concerned. On the fourth night, he went looking for her. And that's when he learned she was sick.

He practically broke down her door when she didn’t answer.

“Aww you were worried,” she laughed weakly, and coughed.

She looked rather pitiful, bundled under the blankets, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes droopy and dark. She thought Marnie would have told him. His aunt had sent a few of her ranch hands to help their neighbor out while she was under the weather. so her cattle weren’t forgotten

No, Marnie never did. He suspected it was because she didn't know it would matter to him. But it did matter. She. Did. Matter.

Without a word, Shane went to the kitchen and returned with a cool towel. He didn't even think. He laid the back of his large hand against her delicate forehead. He could've sworn the little Miss Jolly Rancher blushed. Or maybe it was the slight fever she was running. She audibly sighed as he placed the wet cloth against her burning cheek, closing her eyes and mumbling her thanks.

He wanted to know the last time she ate. She grunted and said something about some cereal earlier that morning. She didn't know for sure. She had slept most of the day. He promised he would be right back.

She told him not to bother, as she struggled to lift her body off the bed, propping up by a shaky elbow. He insisted she lie back down. She was a stubborn one. Her protestations didn't last long as her head was too foggy to think straight. He microwaved a bowl of soup. She tried to sit up again, and he fluffed her pillows so she could prop up.

Her grip on the spoon wasn't firm, her trembling hands an indication of just how weak she was. So he caught the escaping silverware and lifted the soup to her lips. She turned red as a hot pepper, but he eased her with a surprisingly tender words, "Please. Let me take care of you for once, Miss Jolly." His own face and ears were probably red too. But she accepted.

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Since then, he began the habit of calling her "Miss Jolly." She flushed every time, but he enjoyed flustering her. It was nice… to care… about… someone.

She returned the “favor” and called him Peaches. At first, jokingly, just to annoy him. But over time, even the ridiculous fruity nickname grew on him. She was invading his thoughts and heart and he couldn’t stop her.

He knew he had to change. He had to get better. Alcoholism was a disease that had ravaged his life and he was ready for something better. He couldn’t live like he had been any longer. She had changed everything for him. And he wanted to change in return.

Disappointment smacked cold. He had researched so many places. But the one place that seemed to fit his needs and desired treatment plan was out of reach. Prohibitively expensive. He sold his dad’s watch. His car. He worked longer hours. Maybe in a few years he could make up the difference.

She knew how much he wanted this... and how badly he needed this. Every glance at his savings account wanted to drive him to the bottle, the hopelessness of a solution just out of reach because of his crappy medical insurance. They wouldn’t cover it. Even though he was pretty sure Joja was the reason he drank so heavily.

No, that wasn’t true. It was his own insurmountable guilt. Of surviving the accident. When they didn’t. Of leaving Jas without a respectable father figure. Or a mother. He didn’t even fight when the courts wanted to give him jail time.

His aunt got a lawyer and gave him a place to stay when he got out. She helped him put together a resume and practically shoved the application for overnight backroom clerk in his hands. He had to face the music. He wasn’t cut out for any other job. And it was basically a glorified “stock boy.”

Approaching middle-age, recently released from prison, and overwhelmed with a crushing lack of self worth, Shane interviewed and got the job. He should be grateful. But the hours were grueling and monotonous. Customers were rude. Employees were ruder. Except that Sam kid. He was a ball of sunshine. And his boss was sucking the life outta him.

So he drank. He drank to forget. Because he couldn’t forgive himself. And every time he looked at Jas’ little pained expression, he drank more because he felt... so... damn... worthless.

The Rancher changed things for him. He felt more positive. He got up earlier. He brushed his teeth. He combed his hair. He put on his uniform for the world’s lousiest low-paying job and went to work hoping things would be better.

Faced with the inability to actually “get better” was... frankly... terrifying. What if he went back to being that same old pathetic blob of a human again? After ten agonizing days, he finally confided in the one person he knew he could trust. His “Miss Jolly.”

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He couldn’t believe he had been moved to tears. She surprised him... again. With her thoughtful generosity and selflessness. She promised to pay for the difference. Whatever he couldn’t afford. She told him it wasn’t a big deal. It was a VERY BIG deal! She still had some of the inheritance money from her grandfather. What she hadn’t spent on fixing up the farm.

“So I don’t get those gingham curtains I’ve had my eyes on for the past month,” she quipped.

It was serious. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. It was too much. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted. He was stubborn. He could refuse.

But she was more stubborn. She insisted it would be a loan, not a gift. He could pay it off over time. Without interest. Or he could work it off - sweat equity - on her ranch. Maybe with those chickens he liked so much.

In the end, he caved. He packed up what little he could take with him. And she walked him to the bus stop. Kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. And said the words that simultaneously made him laugh and warmed his heart.

“Go get ‘em, Peaches.”

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That was a year ago now. When he came home, she threw a big surprise party for him. A few people from town, his aunt, Jas. And she never looked more beautiful. She even found chicken shaped balloons. Because... what guy doesn’t want balloon animals from the girl he’s crushing on?

Crushing on? He smirked. I sound like a middle schooler.

He split his time between the market and her ranch. Gradually spending more and more time on her farm. Gathering eggs before his shift. Feeding chickens on the way home from work. Sipping peach iced tea in the shade of her porch and thinking this life wasn’t half-bad. But he wanted more.

She started bringing by lunches on his longer shift days. Homemade sandwiches and fresh-pressed juices and handpicked peppers. The kind that burst with sweetness or that spicy kick he needed to get through the rest of his day.

She learned to roll her own dough. Once a week, on hot summer evenings, she would make him pizza with her own special spicy red sauce. Wearing that cute little red and white checkered apron around her jean shorts and just below the edge of her tank top. Too hot to be standing around the stovetop making pizza sauce or the oven to bake the dough. But she did it for him. Shane looked forward to it after a long and grueling Saturday shift.

He still stopped at the Saloon most nights, but now it was just to drink soda and share a pepper poppers appetizer. Gus started bottling root beer, made from bark and flowers and herbs from around the Valley. It wasn’t alcoholic. And it was an acquired taste. Getting better with time.

She would breeze in and offer suggestions and feedback. Shane enjoyed watching the two “play” squabble over the choice of leaves. The kindly saloon owner and the girl he liked collaborating to make him a refreshing drink became a welcome nicety.

Most nights, they didn’t stay long. Heading out for long walks around town. Shoes scuffling along cobblestones. Kicking up dirt on wooded paths. Kicking off on the beach to feel the mushy sand. Talking about nothing important, but always special. Any time with her was special.

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like her. To have a woman of her rare caliber show him any attention at all. She got past his defenses and he welcomed it. And deep in his heart, Shane knew - this was love.

With today’s paycheck, he could finally take her on a proper date. Somewhere out of the Valley. Someplace where they could have fun together. He felt the excitement and nervous anticipation rising in his chest. Somehow he fumbled through an “ask” on her front porch this morning, managing to invite her to join him... if she wanted... at the bus stop... around 5pm. He had tickets to see the Tunnelers play.

Shane finished his shelf, glancing at his watch. Ten past four. Just enough time to get home, showered, and changed. He disposed of the empty boxes in the dumpster and delivered the cart to the back room. Opening his locker, he hung his apron on the hook. Instantly, he felt lighter. Like that thing was a noose around his neck. A ball and chain. He really needed a new job. And in fifty, no, forty-six minutes, he could see her...

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"SHANE!"

The shrill obnoxious tone pierced his moment of peace. The voice could only belong to one person - a holllow husk of a corporate shill, even more unlikeable than him, if that was even possible. Shane frowned, his eyes clamping on the store manager barreling toward him at full speed.

“A whole second shipment came in just now,” the man grunted. “Like I need this when I’m short-staffed, as always,” he offered an exasperated sigh.

I can’t imagine why... Shane thought to himself, bemused. The boss was insufferable. Always barking orders. Never praising his team. Paying peanuts. Polishing his baby - a silver Rolls Royce in mint condition - parked in the only covered spot in the entire Joja lot - every night - instead of doing paperwork like he should. How was he still employed? No one at corporate cared.

“Not my problem, Morris,” Shane replied.

“No, no, no,” Morris fluttered his short arms. “It is your problem. I need you to stay late and help Sam empty the truck.”

The man continued to ramble something about “this is why I pay you” and “you think you can do better somewhere else?” He badgered Shane about his “work ethic,” even if Shane had been a near model employee since returning from rehab. Even if his former colleagues actually welcomed him back, much to his shock. Shy little Claire even commented on how he was “different” than before.

Shane had been nominated for employee of the month, no doubt, angering Morris. The man had it out for him. Sticking him on graveyard shifts. Making him mop baby puke in the aisles. Forcing him to attend a “hospitality” seminar so he could learn to be nicer to, in Morris’ words, “bored housewives who somehow like your prickly personality.”

Morris, a man who prided himself in appearance, with his neat little bow tie and perfectly ironed jacket, couldn’t believe how the ladies bought more after a rough encounter with Shane. It was good for business, of course, and Morris would take all the credit. That hospitality seminar wasn’t cheap, he constantly reminded Shane. Like rehab hadn’t made him a better person already. Or his relationship with little Miss Jolly.

“They just fawn over your monotone delivery of the daily sales,” Morris droned on. “Yoba only knows why. You haven’t been educated at the finest university this side of the Pond with an impeccable taste in... well, everything.” Morris puffed his chest.

“I just don’t understand why they giggle at the register about the ‘handsome’ stock boy when they could have me recite the daily sales in Shakespearean English for heavens sake. Well, no matter. I can use what I’ve got. You.”

The man thinks I’m a frickin’ pack of meat.

“Now in order to have sales, we must have stocked shelves. And in order to have stocked shelves, I need to have you stay longer. Because shelves don’t stock themselves... and what are you staring at?”

Shane rubbed his jaw, catching his reflection in Morris’ little glasses. Could I really be that handsome? Morris wasn’t wrong. The market had been a little busier than usual in the mornings and around lunchtime. Shane came back from breaks early sometimes because customers “requested” him. He could reach the “tall” shelves.

But he wasn’t that tall. And most times, he needed a ladder. Unlike Sam. But even Sam told him he had been relegated to “cute” because the female patrons wanted to check out the new guy (on the ladder) because Shane possessed a look of danger and mystery, and had that "hot dad bod."

Like that’s really a thing I wanted! Shane rolled his eyes. It's all a little disgusting. Being oogled. Because what? Dangerous? Dad bod? I’m just me. There was only one gal he wanted checking him out. And he needed to get going if he was going to meet her.

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“No can do, Boss,” Shane removed his Joja cap and hooked it alongside his apron. “Got plans tonight.”

“No, no, no,” Morris’ voice grew tight, his eyes becoming tinier. “That won’t do. You must cancel your plans.”

“Do I get overtime?” Shane asked, half-distracted by the photo occupying the inside of his locker.

It was the only thing he had ever decorated with at work. A photo of him and Miss Jolly at the Moonlight Jellies festival about a month ago. It was the one time he actually thought he was photogenic. How could he not be happy? With a gorgeous gal by his side, smiling and laughing as the photo was taken, a woman who believed in him, rooted for him, and cared for him. Shane’s expression softened as he thought about how much she had impacted his life.

“You know what?” Shane ripped the photo from his locker wall with gusto. “I quit.”

“Are you even listening?” Morris was saying. “And no, I’m not going to approve overtime. You left early by one minute the other night. One minute!"

"And one time last week, you were late by three minutes. I will not approve overtime for someone who nearly runs over a flock of geese with his bicycle and is late to work."

"If you’re going to keep up with this lazy attitude of yours...” he huffed and straightened his jacket. “I may have to reconsider my decision to rehire you... even if you bring in the ladies... I mean... sales...”

“What?” Morris’ eyes grew wide as saucers beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and then his expression darkened, as if Shane poured bitter coffee all over the plates. “You cannot quit. Are you joking?”

“Well I do, and I’m not,” Shane shoved the old rusty lock that never latched properly into the other man’s hand, a smile crossing his face. “With pleasure.”

Shane waltzed out of the soul-sucking store, leaving a dumbfounded former boss as the double doors whooshed behind him. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp of sea-salt air and sighed. He felt free.

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When she met him at the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat. She looked radiant in the setting sun. Her eyes sparkling like stars. And her sexy little denim skirt was a nice touch too. The way her hips swayed ever so slightly on approach. He forced his gaze upward.

"Hiiii... Miss Jolly. I'm glad you decided to come," he greeted, his tone a bit stilted and formal.

What am I doing? He rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course, Peaches. I'm excited," she grinned. "This will be my first game."

"You'll love it!" he replied, wrinkling his nose at her childish nickname for him. And I will too with you by my side.

"Is that cologne?" she asked when she reached his side.

Her fingers curled around his hoodie strings as she closed her eyes and took a whiff. "I like it." She grinned and winked at him. "A bit spicy."

"Yeah yeah," he murmured and ushered her onto the bus, but he hopped up the step behind her, feeling a little lighter on his feet.

"You're in a good mood," she remarked as they wandered toward the back of the bus.

The atmosphere was charged. Rowdy. Everyone seemed excited for the Tunnelers game. He nodded to a few familiar faces before settling in next to her seat. The back was better than the front. Cool kids sat in the back. What am I? In the sixth grade?

Still he was relaxed. Smiling even. She repeated her statement as if he didn’t hear her the first time. Damn straight I’m in a good mood. Because I get to spend time with you… maybe even tell you how I feel tonight… He decided the overcrowded bus wasn't the best place for that confession. The vehicle lurched forward and so did the conversation.

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"I quit my job."

Her eyes widened and a slow smile played at her lips, drawing his attention to them. I bet they're juicy. He had fantasized about kissing her, ever since she planted one on him at this very bus stop twelve months ago when he shipped off to rehab. Out of respect for their “business arrangement” and friendship, he held off on the liplocking, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t wonder what it would be like if he had just turned his head to meet her mouth that night.

“Good for you,” she laid a hand on his shoulder.

Her gentle touch bringing him back to reality and away from his lustful la-la land.

“I knew that place was killing the light in you. I just wish I could've seen Morris' smug face when you finally told him."

"Light in me?" he repeated, ignoring the statement about his ex-manager.

"Yes," she slowly slid her hand up to his cheek, blushing a little while she moved. "You look better. Brighter."

"That's just the shower talkin'," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's you, Shane," she replied, dropping her hand far too soon for his liking.

He wanted to beg her to keep it there, against his cheek. But present company dissuaded him, and he remained silent, nodding his thanks. The way she said his name... he bounced his leg a bit in nervousness as the bus bumped along the road... it made his knees weak and his head clouded.

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"Did I miss anything?"

Shane descended the last step, returning to their seats in the stadium, snacks in hand. The game was tied up, the teams neck and neck in their scoring with each other. It was one of the most thrilling games he had ever seen in person. Even more exciting because she was there. With her incessant questions about the rules. Her exuberance at the Tunnelers' first goal. Even the little wrinkle around her eyes when she didn’t understand what was happening. He loved every minute of it.

And he loved explaining things. Even if he worried about boring her to death with his encyclopedic knowledge of gridball, he couldn’t stop talking. This was something he loved and he was sharing it with the woman he loved... even if she didn’t know it yet.

"Only the announcer making bad jokes," she smirked. “And that guy...” she pointed to one of the pros. “...doing a silly little dance for the fans.”

“Yeah, he’s known for that,” Shane laughed awkwardly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy that another man had caught her eye.

“Not that he’s any good at it,” she laughed too. “Not like our little grooves in the Saloon.”

“Oh?” he quirked a brow. “By the way, I got us some nachos. I asked the vendor to add some hot peppers… just like we like it."

"Like we both like it," she said in unison. "Thanks,” she snagged a chip and did a deep dip into the sauce. “You should've let me pay for snacks since you paid for tickets and the bus fare."

"Naw, we're on a date," he shrugged. "The guy pays. Plus, I wanted to."

Shane averted his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I tell you how much… I l…love…. Gridball?"

She stopped and looked at him as if surprised by his old-fashioned thought. I shouldn't have been so careless, he grimaced. Then he immediately wished his face wasn't so readable.

It was a date. A real date. But somehow they slid from acquaintances to friends to best friends and then... somehow something more, without ever defining the relationship.

Did she want parameters? Did he need a label? Were they... ever going to be what he hoped to be if he ever got his head out of his ass and asked her for real?

"Yes, only the thousand or so times on the bus," she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I knew you played in high school.”

Just like that, she slipped back to a more neutral topic. And he mentally flogged himself for the missed opportunity.

“Yeah, blowing out my knee pretty much killed my chances at playing pro,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the games though.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” she inquired. “Going back. Maybe the minors or even just a pick-up team. I bet you looked great in a uniform,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “And I wouldn’t mind the view of you in those white pants.”

Red flooded his cheeks. Is she messing with me? How does she do it? Go back and forth between friendzone topics and flirtation? She made it look effortless. She was toying with him. She had to be. Dancing around the subject. Hoping he would ask. Or was he imagining things?

Her hand hovered dangerously close to his side. Brushing the hem of her skirt. Nearly touching his shorts. He gulped, feeling flattered, but strangely unprepared for her seductive little smirks. He handed her the soda he fetched, and she thanked him, gulping back the liquid as if it were a small instead of a large. Saying something about all the cheering making her thirsty.

He was the thirsty one. Eyeing her up and down and wanting to close the distance between them. Taking it from flirty friends to... faithful lovers. He never wanted a woman more than he did right now. To devote all his love and passion and energy and goodwill into being there for her just like she had for him.

For the whole second half of the game, he nursed his cola. Distracted by her every move. The way she would raise her heels in anticipation of a score and lower them back to the ground when they didn’t quite make it. The way she spoke with that happy voice of hers, the kind that could lull him to sleep or rally him to make his best efforts. The way she repeated back facts she was learning about the sport, that he had literally just taught to her that night. He was completely mesmerized... so much so... he forgot to actually watch the game. For once, he liked the distraction.

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When the Tunnelers scored again, she nearly flew off the ground, wildly cheering for their unexpected interception. He caught her hand as she was jumping back down. She squeezed it and continued whooping and shaking her fist victoriously in the air, never taking her eyes off the game. It was now or never.

"Hey," he said loudly to be heard over the stadium noise. "I've been meaning to tell you… thank you.”

“For what, Peaches?” she said, teasingly. “Did you see that? How many yards was it? Seventy-five? Eighty?”

“I mean it, really,” Shane cleared his throat, leaning closer to her ear. “ For sticking with me through everything."

She turned to face him, her expression growing more serious.

"My… anxiety… depression… you know," he continued, fumbling over his words. "The alcoholism… I mean, I wasn't exactly the funnest person to be around back then."

Did I just use the word funnest? He rubbed the back of his head, hoping to read her expression, but for once, he couldn't.

“You do that... when you’re nervous,” she remarked. “That head rub thing...” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s... cute.”

“Uh...” Shane trailed off. She was not making this easy. But he needed to say the words aloud now or he never would.

"You… uh… still helped me. You've been a really… good… friend to me," he shared, and then immediately regretted his word choice.

"Oh," she said, quietly.

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?

He hurried his words. "Anyway this is your first gridball game, huh? Well? What do you think?"

Smooth, Shane. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Changing the subject again, you frickin’ chicken.

"Oh…" she said, glancing back to the field, sounding a little confused. "Fun. I guess, Pelican Town seems pretty boring in comparison. Unless you count Sam's punk rock blaring at 11pm, breaking noise ordinances." She forced a chuckle.

Is she…? Am I imagining things?

"I'm surprised," he replied. "Didn't you move to the Valley to escape the noise of the city?"

She's looking at me again with those beautiful heart-melting eyes. He rushed through his words.

"I mean… don't get me wrong. I totally understand. My life in Pelican Town is pretty bland, you know. And now that I don't have a job, I gotta find something meaningful to do with my time again. A guy's gotta eat, right? Heh?"

"I was thinking about that," she replied, without looking at him. "I think it would be nice to have you around full-time."

"What?" he blinked.

"I've got one ranch hand now to help in the back pasture and one that helps out with the milking and all, but if I'm looking to expand, and if they ever take a sick day, I could use some extra hands," she continued. "Maybe your hands?"

I couldn't. Possibly. Was she blushing?

"You've already… done so much for me," he hated the hesitancy in his tone. "I… uh…"

She ignored his last comment. "This would be a business thing. We could do it temporarily to see if you like it. And if it's a good fit for both of us. I can be a bit of a…" she narrowed her eyes, mischievously. "Hard taskmaster."

"Oh? Yeah I've heard that from your current employees," he smirked. "But you are still a jolly one."

"Yeah…" she smiled, almost shyly, tucking a hair over her ear. “Your Miss Jolly.”

The noise level in the stadium increased near ten-fold. All he could think about was how she said the words. She was begging him, wasn’t she? Walking right up to the brink and leaving him there? He reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the farmer to the field.

"Gah!" he screamed, his volume matching the crowd. "The Tunnelers are on the attack."

"Yes! Yes!" she shrieked. "Oh my Yoba! Final seconds. They're gonna…" she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "They're gonna break the tie."

"GOAL!" they yelled in unison.

He never felt so happy. He was going on six months sober. He quit his horrible job. The farmer was offering him another one so he could see her every day. And he got to watch his favorite team in the world in the closest game in history with his favorite person in the world. Sharing this moment together meant everything.

"Thank you Shane!" she said, trying to catch her breath. "This was the best evening ever with you!"

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed. "Probably one of the best moments of my life."

Before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. Surprise flickered in her eyes. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart. She was flushed. The warmth of her lips. The taste of root beer. The delight overwhelming the alarm bells. He took a step or two back, stumbling as he came to his senses.

"Oh?" he gasped for air. "Uh… um… sorry. I guess I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many... sodas. All that sugar. Ha!"

Shane reached up to rub his head like he always did when he was nervous, just like she had noticed. Except this time, she strutted toward him, confidence in her eyes as she grabbed that hand and tugged him down. As they kissed for the second time, he felt her melt into his arms as she offered a faint “finally,” barely audible amidst the roar of the crowd.

Encouraged, Shane grinned, hoisting her off the ground. She giggled and kissed him more fervently. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he only needed actions to show her how he felt.

And she was reciprocating. A dream come true. Their eyes remained locked in a loving gaze as he pulled back from her lips. When he finally set her down, he breathed heavily.

"You really do love the Tunnelers?" she teased, disentangling her hands from his hair.

"No," he shook his head, determined not to let this moment go by. "I really do love you."

"Come on, we'll miss our bus outta here," she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the exiting crowds.

“Wait,” Shane pulled her back for one more greedy kiss.

She happily accepted, but he felt a fleeting ping of sadness even as they kissed in the stairwell, people pushing around them. He wondered if she even heard his confession. Maybe it's too soon? We just had our first kiss. She probably didn't hear me.

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When they reached the parking lot, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in, they were too late. The bus huffed away with a puff of smog. They had just missed their ride back to the Valley. And there wouldn’t be another one until morning. If he hadn’t been so carried away and enamored by his date, maybe they would’ve left the stadium sooner.

“Guess we should call a taxi,” she broke the silence first. “Or... actually... find a hotel.”

“A hotel?” he repeated, his ears perking at the thought of sharing space with her.

"Yes," she replied, without skipping a beat. "I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together in Zuzu overnight, we should get a hotel. A taxi ride would be really expensive and I don't think we have enough time to get across town to catch the train."

"Oh right," he said softly. "Uh… I can't let you pay for a hotel too."

"It's no trouble," she pulled out her cell phone and started scouring the internet for places. "And a hot shower sounds nice after all the sweat and grime of us in there,” she nodded back toward the stadium. “...jammed in like sardines."

"Uhm…" he blinked rapidly. You're a grown man. Get it together.

"This place looks nice," she showed him a picture after a minute or two, while he awkwardly plopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "And it's got a 4-star rating." She sat next to him, dropping her hand on top of his. “Oh look it’s got an in-suite jacuzzi.”

"Uh… sure," he shrugged, uncertain about what to do with his hands that so desperately wanted to kiss her again. "Well, that definitely was a good game."

"Yes, and it's going to be an even better night, because it doesn't have to end here," she smiled sweetly. “Since we’re getting a hotel,” she winked.

“Oh yeah... and we won too,” he stammered. “The Tunnelers, ya know?”

“No... no, I didn’t. Really? They did?" she smiled sarcastically, and leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What?” he gasped, feeling shocked as her blase attitude toward his favorite team.

“I mean, it was great... and all... and their win was pretty spectacular,” she acknowledged. “But I feel like I won the lottery with you here.” She interlocked arms with him. “Did you mean it? Shane? When you said you loved me?”

So she did hear me! And the way his name fell from his lips caused his heart to soar and he found his confidence.

“Yes, I meant it. I love you,” Shane replied. “But I wanted it to be special. Better than this... stranded in a parking lot with trash all over the place.”

“It is special,” she replied.

“But it wasn’t perfect,” he grimaced. “I was planning on telling you when we got back... when I walked you back to your place tonight.”

His head felt hazy with love and desire as she kissed him again. This time, she draped a leg over his, pressing against his chest. He audibly moaned, leaning into the kiss. His hand naturally slid down her back to help her balance, and he squeezed softly, like he had wanted to for a long time. She matched his intensity with a clutch of her own, and he groaned again, reluctantly breaking their touch.

“I don’t need perfect, Shane. I just need you."

His heart leaped from his chest as she continued.

"I love you too. I want you.”

“Ahhhh... then let’s get to that hotel,” he said, the heat of her breasts against his chest creating a near uncontrollable fire within him.

“Fine,” she playfully pouted. “I’ll behave... Hot Stuff," she fanned herself. “...for now... since we’re in public.”

“Believe me,” he replied with a heavy sigh, feeling a healthy growth between his legs. “I want you all to myself.”

She giggled and tapped her phone. "Done. Got us booked.”

“That fast?”

“Yes, It’s only a two and a half block walk. Now… shall we?" She jumped to her feet and darted away briskly.

“Someone’s impatient!” he smirked. “What if I had said no?”

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh really?” he liked teasing her as she brought out his confidence. He started into a jog away, passing her on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Shane!” she laughed and chased after him.

Of course, he let her catch him. She playfully punched his arm, but then lingered. She was beaming. And he was too. Shane took her hand, looking down at the woman he loved, and smiled, brighter than he ever had in his entire life. She loved him and wanted him… just as he loved and wanted her.

“Shane?”

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Tonight, he was going to make her fully his, and he would be fully hers.

"Yes, my Miss Jolly.”

475 notes · View notes

queen-of-the-avengers · 7 months

Text

Knight in Shining Motorcycle: Part Two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: feeling rejected and heartbroken, going on yet another bad date, belittling wait staff (by the date), fluff at the end

Summary: It's been a month since the incident with Jackson. It's been a month since you felt Bucky's arms around you. It's been a month and he hasn't said one word about it, and seems like he's gone back to his usual ways. It's time for you to move but why can't you?

read part one here: Knight in Shining Motorcycle

Squares Filled: seeking comfort in best friend (2020) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

It’s been a month since you and Bucky shared a bed. It’s been a month since he saved you from that disastrous date with Jackson. It’s been a month since you felt his arms around you, and you haven’t felt them since. It’s like after that night, Bucky went back to his normal ways of fucking a new girl every week. He refuses to think about that night, talk about that night, and acknowledge that it even happened.

Sometimes, he’d bring two girls back to the apartment for a very long night of you wanting to kill yourself from the noises you’d hear. You don’t get it. You thought you two had something. Were you just a means to an end? Another girl to get into his bed even though you never did anything other than sleep? Another notch in his belt?

The only person you can find comfort in is your best friend and Bucky’s sister, Mia. She’s the only one who will hear you complain about him because everyone does it. All of her friends who have gotten involved with Bucky have complained to her about how he didn’t treat them right or they caught feelings but he tossed them aside like they meant nothing.

However, this time it’s different. It’s the way you talk about Bucky or the way she sees him with other girls that makes her think there is something more to this than meets the eye.

“He hasn’t said anything to you?” you ask and fiddle with your cappuccino.

“No, sorry, hun.”

“I should move out. I don’t know where I’d go.”

“I wish I could say you can stay with me. Ty and I just converted the spare bedroom into our home office.”

“I know. I appreciate the offer. I have a little money saved but I have to tough it out until I get enough to afford something small.”

“Ty’s sister is a real estate agent. I can give her your number and she can try and help you out.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’m still trying to figure things out.”

“Hey, can Ty and I borrow your car this weekend? Ours is in the shop and we planned a romantic weekend up north.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll drop it off the night before.”

“Thanks!”

You take a sip from your coffee and hear a motorcycle in the distance. You’d recognize that bike anywhere. Bucky pulls up near the cafe where you and Mia are and parks on the side of the road. He has a girl on the back of his bike that he no doubt met that day. Right in front of him is some fancy clothing store she wanted to go to. She gets off the bike, removes her helmet, and leaves him on the bike to go inside the store alone.

Bucky looks in your general direction but with his helmet on, it’s hard to determine exactly what he is looking at. Still, that doesn’t stop the glare you’re giving him.

“Just ignore him,” Mia says and pops a doughnut hole into her mouth.

“Easier said than done,” you mutter and look away from him. “That next morning, he acted like nothing happened. I figured he didn’t want to talk about it. Then a couple of days passed and he still didn’t mention it. Weeks went by and now I know he’s doing this to me on purpose. He’s being an ass.”

Bucky gets off his bike and takes off his helmet to get some fresh air, and he leans against the side of it effortlessly. If you were to do that, you’d surely knock the bike over. He waits for his fuck buddy to come out of the store, and she bounces over to him with a bag in hand. She wraps her arms around his neck and he pulls her in for a kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss that is meant for the bedroom but also the kind of kiss you want to show off to someone. You can’t be here anymore.

“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

You get up and toss some bills onto the table for your drink and leave in the opposite direction of Bucky and his new toy.

Bucky pulls away from the girl and looks over to where you and Mia are. When he doesn’t see you, he looks around for you only to see your retreating figure. He feels like shit for doing that. He absentmindedly rubs the knuckles that hold small scars from when he beat Jackson up for what he did to you.

You take the entire day to walk around town and be by yourself, so when you get home it’s already dark. Bucky is in the kitchen cooking something when you put your keys in the bowl by the front door. You round the corner and see him cooking something with only a towel wrapped around his waist as if he just got out of the shower. However, there isn’t any water on his body.

“Grab it while it’s hot,” he says.

“Really? You’re cooking in a towel? You couldn’t have gotten dressed first?”

He opens his mouth to reply but someone speaks from his bedroom that interrupts him.

“Bucky, where are you? I’m getting lonely.”

Bucky doesn’t feel guilty that he has a girl over. He feels guilty that you caught him. He sees the heartbroken look in your eyes that makes him want to shoot himself.

“Thanks for the offer but I’m not hungry. I’m sleeping over at Mia’s tonight.”

He lets you walk away.

The weekend comes quicker than you’d like. Without a car, you’re stuck in the apartment, and you’re not about to ask Bucky for a ride on his motorcycle. You’re stuck in your room on your phone when you get a message from Mia.

Hey, I know you didn’t ask for this but I hooked you up with someone Ty knows. He’s super nice!

like a blind date?

Yeah. I can tell him you’re not interested. I figured this is your chance to get over my brother.

yeah, i can try. where is the date?

At the new bar that just opened next to the cafe. His name is Travis. I told him 7 tonight.

okay. thank you. i’ll let you know how it goes.

Seven is three hours away, so you better get ready now. After taking a shower, you look in your closet for something to wear and come across the dress you wore for your date with Jackson. You haven’t worn it since because of the memories attached to it. Not memories of Jackson, memories of Bucky. Next to that dress is Bucky’s leather jacket he told you to keep. Like the dress, you haven’t worn it since and you’re sure as hell not going to wear it now.

There is a floral print dress that goes down to your ankles. It’s off the shoulders with long sleeves down to your wrists that bunches so the sleeves look flowy instead of compressed. The entire dress is flowy and light, perfect for a blind date. The match, you have chunky white wedges that give you a few extra inches. You keep your makeup light, hair down in soft waves, and jewelry that compliments the dress.

You leave your room and look at Bucky’s closed door. He’s been spending a lot of time in his room this past week with girls he picks up from anywhere. The only reason you’re telling him where you’re going is because you live with him. If you don’t, he’ll send an army to go look for you. There are noises and giggling coming from inside the room but when you knock, they cease.

One minute later, the door opens a crack and Bucky stands there with messy hair and sweats on.

“I’m going out. Don’t wait up for me.”

Bucky takes a moment to look at the outfit you’ve chosen and his demeanour changes immediately.

“Where are you going?”

“I have a date.”

“You don’t have a car.”

“I’ll Uber. Have fun with your girlfriend.”

You leave before he has a chance to say anything else. It takes the Uber ten minutes to get to you and another thirty minutes to get to the restaurant. Mia sent you a picture of what the man looks like but it was grainy and unclear. You step out with your phone in hand while looking around for Travis.

“Y/N?”

You turn to see an attractive man wearing a nice suit. You look at the picture once more to confirm it’s Travis, which it is.

“You must be Travis,” you chuckle nervously.

“Yeah. Wow, Mia sent me your picture but nothing compares to real life. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you blush.

“I made us a reservation. Shall we go inside?”

“After you.”

You two walk inside, get your table, order, and start chatting about your lives. Travis is a bit boring when it comes to having adventures. Unlike you. You can write a book about the adventures you’ve been on because you have Bucky as a roommate. When he’s not fucking some random girl, he’s actually pretty cool to hang out with. You two have been everywhere in town doing all sorts of things.

“So, what do you do for work?” Travis asks and sips his drink.

“Uh, I am an IT specialist who works from home. I get calls daily on how to fix computers and other tech-related stuff. It pays well and I get to stay home, so that’s a bonus.”

“That’s awesome. I’m terrible when it comes to computers.”

“What do you do?”

“I am a financial manager. Like you, it pays well but I’m stuck in meetings and in the office all the time.”

“Have you always wanted to work in the financial world?”

The waitress comes by with your food and sets the plates in front of you and Travis. You think she’s going to walk away and you can continue your conversation with Travis, but that’s not what happens.

“Am I supposed to be impressed with this?” he asks angrily.

“Excuse me?” the waitress stutters.

“I don’t even have to touch this to know it’s cold. Do I have to go back there and tell you how to do your damn job?”

Your mouth opens in embarrassment and shock.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll take this back right now and have it fixed.”

The waitress grabs the plate without looking at you and leaves immediately. Poor thing looks like she is going to cry. Travis shakes his head and turns back to you as if this never happened.

“So, anyway, I went to business school and all that, but it’s nice to get out of the office every once in a while, you know?”

You have no idea what to say. Mistreating waitstaff is an immediate turn off. Everything attractive about this man suddenly turns sour. You’re lucky you saw this early on instead of at the end of the date.

“I’m sorry, I have to use the ladies room. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, sure.”

You take everything you own with you because you’re not coming back to this table. You make it seem like you’re going to the bathroom in case he’s watching but once your table is out of sight, you find the first waitress you see which so happens to be yours.

“Hey, I am so sorry about the way he spoke to you like that. I don’t even know him. My best friend set me up. Listen, I gotta get out of here but the table we’re at is by the door. Is there a back entrance I can use?”

“Yeah, I got you. He gave me the ick as soon as I saw him,” she shutters. “Follow me.” She takes you through the kitchen and the back door that they use when they go on breaks. “Good luck.”

“Oh, and don’t be afraid to spit in his food.”

“Trust me, the cook’s all over it.”

You walk through the small alley next to the bar to the main street. You take out your phone to call an Uber, but luck has it so that you don’t have any service. You try moving the phone around, even walking down to the street light, but nothing comes up.

“Damn it,” you mutter.

You can’t call Mia. You can’t use your car because she has it. The only person you know is Bucky. Should you call him? He’s probably frolicking with that woman still. Even if you were to call him, he’d probably hate you for ruining his date. The only other option is to walk home even though it took thirty minutes to get here by car.

The road stretches through the mountain briefly which you don’t want to walk through but what else are you gonna do? If you can’t get service in a busy restaurant area, there is no way you’re gonna get service in the mountains. The walk gives you time to think about your life. You have a good job that pays well but you can’t keep living with Bucky if it means seeing him with all these women. You have a major thing for him and it kills you to know you’re not the one he’s going home with.

Ten minutes go by until you hear the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle. It races past you without a second thought, screeches to a stop, turns around, and slowly creeps up behind you. You don’t have to see who it is to know who it is. Bucky pulls up next to you and walks the bike to keep up with your pace.

“Get on the bike.”

“No, I’ll walk. Thanks.”

“Don’t be difficult, Y/N. Get on the bike.”

“How the hell did you even find me?”

“I asked Mia. She told me the guy you were on a date with. I looked him up, and he posted to his Facebook about how his date ditched him, and all women are beneath him. He’s a fucking loser. I mean, he still uses Facebook,” he chuckles. “I figured you were out here somewhere.”

“Stop stalking me,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll meet you at home.”

“Get on the damn bike.”

“No!” Bucky revs his engine and surges forward, parking right in front of you to prevent you from going further. You try to go around him but he moves his bike in your path. “Why the hell do you care about me? You’ve proven I mean nothing to you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asks and gets off his bike.

“You fucking know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, then you’re not worth my time.” You try pushing past him to continue your walk but he grabs your arm to prevent you from doing so. You quickly turn and slap his face. The shock is enough for him to let go of you. “Don’t fucking touch me. The last time you touched me, you left and never spoke of it again. Just go, please. You have a girl waiting for you at home. Just go to her.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?!”

“Because she’s not you!” he yells loudly.

“Do better,” you scoff.

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself. “I love you!” You pause to take in the information. “I can’t get you out of my fucking head. I’ve been trying all month to get you out of my head. None of the girls I’ve brought home have ever stuck because they’re not you. Being with you that one night has been better than anything I’ve done all fucking month.”

“Then why did you let me walk away?” you ask in a heartbreaking tone.

“Because I’m an idiot. Because you’re the realest thing I’ve ever had, and I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

Silence befalls the two of you, and you look around the desolate road.

“So, what are you gonna do about it?”

More silence. Bucky takes three big steps to get to you, grabs your waist with one hand, slides his other into your hair, and kisses you like he was supposed to a month ago. His lips fit so perfectly against your own like they belong there. You’ve pictured this moment in so many different ways, but this is not on your list.

“Are we really doing this?” you ask when he pulls away.

“Do you want to?” You nod with a smile. “You’re my girl now.”

“No more other women.”

“I’ve got the one I want.”

He leans down and kisses you again, this time, making your head soar to new places.

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reverie-verse · 4 months

Text

Anakin Skywalker x Reader: Crabbiness Equals Love

Prompt: You’re from Earth, He’s from a Galaxy from far away. You’re sort of a normal person, and he’s a Jedi, that’s tasked with bringing you back to the council. You’ve known him for a few months and you’ve both had a rocky relationship, you’re friendly one minute and arguing the next. But what happens when the two of you are finally forced to work together? Things tend to come to light in odd ways…

Enemies + Friends =Love 🫶🏽🥹😊

Fluff this is definitely fluff😊

Yes I gave you knowledge in fighting because let’s face it, ain’t nobody safe out here in these streets. 😩😬

You have some knowledge in technology of the ship, given that you’re an engineer. 🤷🏽‍♀️ It’s how I developed the story😩

————————————————

“ Master, we've been stranded out here for two days! Go talk to her.” Ahsoka points out to you, Anakin had his arms crossed, staring off into the distance. Rex tried his best not to laugh, taking it as his cue to visit and speak with Obi Wan.

“ No” Anakin doesn’t budge, instead he sighs a deep sigh.

“Master, can’t you see how hard she’s working over there, tinkering away on the ship. Even R2 is going over there to help her out”Ahsoka tried a different approach, sounds of metal and sparks could be heard, R2 makes his little way across the dirt to get to you.

“ She's fine. She doesn’t need my help.” He continues his long distance staring, his stubbornness at an all time high. Ahsoka groans, throwing her hands up in the air. She turns away from Anakin making her way towards the ship. She could hear you cursing as you were banging on the pieces of the ship. She shook her head figuring she’d have to try to persuade you to speak with him.

“ Y/N?!” She calls out to you.

“ What?!” You replied as you twisted a piece of electrical together.

“What’s going on between the both of you?” Ahsoka lifts her eyebrow up at you, as she peeks into the little hole of which you worked out of.

“ Nothing” You replied, taking to wires and conjoining them, testing out to see if they’d work.

“ Really? Why do I get the feeling it’s not true” Ahsoka says sneakily, trying to get you to explain the situation. Or maybe reveal a detail about the relationship between the two of you.

“ No-Well-No-you know what, I need a power converter. I can’t do this without it, and that means I need to go into the city” You changed the subject avoiding Ahsoka’s statement.

“ Great!-“ Ahsoka smiles “-Anakin will go with you- ANAKIN! You have to go with Y/N to the city!” Ahsoka turns on her heel, making her way out the ship and to her Master. Anakin had moved to stand next to Obi Wan and Rex.

“ No, you go with her” He shakes his head, he refuses to be with you right now.

Obi Wan only smirks before speaking out “ I agree with your padawan, I think you should go with Y/N”

“ I don’t care what my padawan thinks, I’m in charge” He retorts.

“ Yes, while that is true, but I out rank all of you, so you will go with Y/N to the city,” Obi Wan replied as he rested a hand under his chin. You were standing at the end of the ramp. You grit your teeth, clenching your fists. Ahsoka smiles from ear to ear, Rex had to turn away from the scene.

You and Anakin both glared at each other. The word “Fine” left both of your lips roughly, as the irritation builds between the two of you.

“ Get your cloak” Anakin orders.

“ I am getting my cloak-here’s yours asshole” You threw his cloak at his face while you tugged yours on.

Anakin glared at you, catching it with ease shrugging it on. “ What did you just call me?”

“ I called you a-“

“ -Be safe you two! We’ll watch the ship while you’re gone!” Ahsoka interrupted you as she ushered the two of you along. From the looks of it, the two of you walked with a large amount of space between you, neither one of you wanting to be near one another. It was quite amusing to be honest.

Rex shook his head, a smile on his face “ Are you sure you want to send just the two of them? They might end up killing each other.”

“ Captain Rex, the hope is that they won’t kill each other. Maybe by the end of this the two will get along. “ Obi Wan sighs, shaking his head.

————

The two of you neared the city limits, as the two of you were about to enter, Anakin pulled his hood upon his head shielding his face, causing you to do the same. Both of you instinctively inch closer together, as your eyes surveyed the crowd. “ Stick close and don’t touch anything” Anakin whispers to you.

“ Oh come on, what are you, my gatekeeper? It’s not like I planned to touch everything while in the process of running away.” You replied sarcastically, your eyes landed on a building that looked as if it sold parts. That was the first shop you intended to visit, you began to move in that direction, Anakin hot on your heels, his eyes never drifting from the crowd.

“ No but you aren’t a jedi either, so someone has to watch you” He retorts, as he quickly wraps a hand around your bicep, pulling you back into him, to keep the creature walking past you, from crashing into you. His grip on you wasn’t as hard as you’d expect. He held you firmly but not enough to cause bruising. Interesting. You were less timid from the time you were first introduced to this life. By now you were becoming accustomed to it, the creatures, and the planets. The life of the galaxy.

“ Yeah well, I don’t need a babysitter. And who's to say I won’t become one just to spite you.” You yank your arm out of his grasp opening the door, your eyes looking for the section of materials you need.

“ Y/N that’s not how that works-What is your problem?” Anakin asks as he surveys the shop.

“ My problem? I should be asking you that, you're the one who’s got a stick shoved up his ass twenty-four seven.” You had finally found the piece you were looking for, you grabbed it turning to Anakin to show him the piece that you found. He of course had to make sure it was in good shape and condition before purchasing the item.

“ What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks you in confusion.

“ It means that you’re crabby all the time, at least with me. You're not that way with Ahsoka, Obi Wan or even Rex. Or that Senator woman” You take the item off the counter carrying it in your arms, Anakin takes his leftover credits, placing them in his pocket.

“ That ‘senator woman’ has a name, there’s nothing going on between her and I…-I’m not crabby with you all the time..” He tries to defend, as he ushers you outside, he makes sure to place an arm around your waist, keeping you close. He could feel an uneasy disturbance through the force, someone was here, and he could feel their eyes on you both.

“ Really? Cuuzzz it kinda looks like it- Listen all I’m saying is that ever since you and your space warriors came to earth to take me away on your little spaceship. You were fine but then after that two week grace period you’ve been nothing but crabby-hey!” Anakin pulls you into an alleyway behind a bin, his large hand covers, your mouth, your back pressed tightly to his chest, his side pressed against the wall, shielding you from the creatures who stopped at the alleyway.

“ Which way did they go?” One hisses out.

“ I don’t know, I lost them in the alleyway”

“ She’s with a jedi” Another growls.

“ So, it’s just one jedi against the four of us.-” The other voice chuckled darkly. Anakin’s com link blink, a sound emitted from it. You looked up at him as he looked down at you, he let go of your mouth as the two of you rushed to turn it off. Obi Wan’s voice comes through before you both could get to the button.

“ Anakin, where are you two? I do hope that you aren’t fighting. Ahsoka has finished a portion of Y/N’s work we still need that other piece-”

“ Did you hear that? It sounds like we got company” The group inched further into the alleyway.

“ Anakin? Come in, Anakin?” Obi Wan’s voice grew more irritated by the second.

“ Awe man, does that mean we gotta fight the lizard people?” You looked towards Anakin who was shaking his head at your reluctance.

“ Yeah-” His answer was short as he moved you out of the way, he lifted his wrist to his mouth “Obi Wan I’m a little busy right now, we’ll get there as fast as we can-”. Anakin pulled out his lightsaber, igniting it as the group of four closed on you both. You moved off to the side, your eyes landing on a speeder that remained stationed on the side, the owner nowhere in sight. The group grew closer, lifting their weapons up, pointing at the two of you.

“We take them together-Y/N?!” Anakin calls out to you as you take off running. You threw whatever object you found on the ground at one of the lizard guys. Using him as leverage you knocked the weapon out of the other guy's hand, the three of you now engaged in hand to hand combat. Anakin deflects the shots taking down his enemies. He too, is engaged in hand to hand combat, as he easily takes them down. However one of the enemies pressed a button on their wrist signaling for back up, a much larger group of thugs emerged from the opposite end of the alleyway.

“ Shit there’s more?!-“ As you both fought.

“ What did you expect, for there to be less?!” Anakin yells back as he kicks his opponent back.

“ I don’t know, maybe?!-“ You socked your opponent in the face, as he ducked your eyes landed on a speeder across the way,”- Anakin the speeder!” You yelled as you flipped a guy over, rolling yourself over his body, using his weapon to shoot at the other men.

“ I know-Let’s go!” Anakin twirls his lightsaber blocking off the shots, he slices one weapon in half as he force pushes his enemy away. You took off running for the speeder, Anakin following behind you. The two of you weave through the crowd, getting on just as the owner walked out of a nearby shop. The two of you hopped in starting it right away. Anakin drove the speeder while you sat facing the back of the speeder pointing your weapon at the enemies. As they fired at you both, you fired back at them, Anakin swerved through traffic. He makes a hard turn causing you to slide over, losing your shot.

“ Damnit!-” You shouted as you realigned your targets.

Anakin too busy lost in thought he smashes his foot on the break causing you to yet again lose your shot and slam into the dashboard. “ Anakin?!” You glared at him.

“ You think I’m crabby?!” The vehicle completely stopped in the middle of traffic. Anakin turned to look at you.

“ What?!” You replied in disbelief and shock.

“ Do you?” He insisted.

“ Are you kidding me right now?! We are in the middle of a speed chase and you want to talk about being crabby?!-“ Your grabbed your weapon, fixing yourself back into your position as the other speeders got closer. “-Now’s the time to start moving!”

“ I’m finishing the conversation we had earlier! Answer the question!” Anakin was determined.

“ Are you-Fine-Yes I do! Are you happy now? Will you stop arguing with me and drive?!” You started firing, hitting one of the targets causing them to fall off their speeder and crash into a building. You switch targets aiming for another one, you follow it.

“No I’m not crabby! No, I won't drive, not until we sort this out- together!” He crosses his arms.

You looked away from your target glaring at him “So help me-if you don’t start this damn vehicle-ugh fuck it!” You pull back your weapon slamming your foot down on the gas, Anakin momentarily takes his foot off the break, the two of you once again swerving out of traffic. Half of your body rests on top of him as you move through the current of vehicles, you aim to get the hell out of dodge. Anakin switched seats with you, allowing you to take hold of the driver's seat, and him the passenger. A hand that belonged to Anakin as he gripped onto your shirt holding you in place to keep you from falling out. The two of you shifted from side to side from your aggressive turn. The two of you barely make it out of the city, leaving the thugs behind in the dust so to speak.

The heat of your skin pouring through your shirt, it warmed his hand. For a second Anakin thought of what it might feel like to touch your skin. To feel the heat of it against his. The chemistry between you too was undeniable, the level of comfortability has always been there. For Anakin you were the one person he could be himself around. He could be sad, mad, sweet, humorous, annoying, over confident, and boyish. But you, you were honest, sarcastic, you were hilarious, you were kind and charismatic. You were right though, he was being a dick to you, sort of these past few weeks. When he first met you, you were kind and you offered to help where you could and when you could. He liked that about you-there were a lot of things he liked about you-he just wasn’t ready to admit it-not with so many people around…

By the time you reached the ship, you threw your cloak off and to the side of the ship with Anakin hot on your heels. Ooo you were so mad, you could literally murder him, not really but you wanted him to trip and fall on his stupid pretty face. Ugggghhhh. You grabbed the piece that Anakin helped you buy from the shop getting ready to work on it. Ahsoka, and Rex seemed to find a way to make themselves busy. Obi Wan held an amused smile on his face. “ I take it the two of you are still working on some things”

“ Something like that” Anakin shrugs with a smirk on his face as if he had a plan set in motion. A plan that only he wanted to know, Obi wan shakes his head smiling to himself. The two head to the cockpit with Rex following behind. Ahsoka, joins you in finishing your work with the converter, the ship finally starting up allowing you all to leave the planet.

——

You were sitting at the table near the kitchen of the ship, you had a cup of water. Your hair pulled out of its tight hold, allowing it to be in its natural state. You had your hands cupped around the cup itself, you stared down into it. Your mind adrift, your thoughts chaotic, you were perplexed, confused, exhausted and attracted to someone who might be attracted to someone else. Anakin was Anakin, you knew that and you knew the type of person he was. Sure the two of you hadn’t always fought, there were times you guys actually got along but right now he was insufferable. Annoying, he got under your skin on purpose, you just know it.

You rubbed your eyes, heaving a sigh, as if on cue Anakin himself walks into space. As if he had known you’d be thinking about him. You stood up taking your cup with you, you walked to the sink pouring it out and washing before setting it back on the rack. You turned to leave the space but not before Anakin reached a hand out grabbing your arm, causing you to stop in your tracks. “ Hey, hold on” He says softly.

“ Why? So you can irritate me some more, no thanks-“You moved to pull your arm out of his grasp.

“No, but I’m tired of arguing,” He admits.

You lift an eyebrow at him “ Really?”

“ Yes..and I’m sorry.” He says, his face contorting into a softer look.

“ For?” You sighed.

“ For my crabbiness” He couldn’t help but smile.

“Anakin.” You groaned.

“ Y/N” He whispered back, the grin never leaving his face, a chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“ That’s not funny,-” You tell him, a small smile of your own fights it’s way into your face.”-But, apology accepted I guess. I’m sorry for calling you crabby.”

“No need to apologize for it, I was an asshole these past couple weeks..” He looks down at the floor before looking back up to you “-As for the senator, it’s complicated.”

“ You were a pain in my ass…But tell me about your situation maybe I can help” Your hip leaned against the counter, your arms crossed. Your heart hammers in your chest at the same time sinking.

“She’s only a few years older than I am, she’s all I’ve ever known, she’s familiar” His hip against the counter matching your body language, Anakin completely faces you, he’s standing a little closer than he was before but not enough to force you to look up at him.

“But I thought Jedi aren’t allowed to fall in love”Your head tilts slightly to the side as you pondered the thought of it, Anakin tried not to follow your head movement, it was cute, your curiosity.

“ Well attachments are forbidden, possession is forbidden, but compassion is unconditional love- also forbidden-but these things…are crucial to a Jedi’s life” He smiles softly.

You squint your eyes at him “ I don’t-are you sure? Cuz I don’t think that’s-what the Jedi meant when they said forbidden..”

“ Y/N” He huffs.

“ Okay cool we’re just gonna ignore the code got it. So I assume that your friendship between the Senator and you has blossomed into-something more?” You gestured to him with your hand.

“ No, not exactly”

“ No? Wait hold on. You just said she was familiar, I’m lost- then who are you talking about?” Your eyebrows creased together.

“ She is familiar as a friend, someone like Obi Wan or Ashoka. I thought that she would mean more to me but then there was you” He whispered gently, he moved from the counter's edge, stepping closer to you, his hands taking hold of your hips pulling you towards him. Chest to chest his head angles downwards, your head cranked up to look at him.

“ Me?” Your eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise.

“ Yes, you. I can breathe when I’m around you, I can think, I can feel the weight of the order and the galaxy lift off my shoulders. You challenge me, you intrigue me, you guide me, you show me how to be better.” he dipped his head closer to yours, nudging his nose with yours. Your body and mind give you away instantly, melting in his hold, it was something you realized you hadn’t felt in a long time. His touch was intoxicating, and to him you were breathtaking. Such a quick switch of emotions, but he was done pushing you away, and you were done with ignoring how you felt about him.

You whispered, sucking in a breath before releasing it, “ I-You-This-Please tell me this isn’t a joke, cuz that would be really mean.”

“ If I was joking I wouldn’t have confessed the way I did. ” He smiles, one hand lifting up to cup your jaw, his thumb grazing against your cheek, he rubs his nose with yours as tilting his head to the opposite side. Within a second his lips were on yours, your hands grip his clothes, the hand around your waist tucks you further into his body, the hand that held your jaw, his long fingers connecting with the back of your head and hair. The two of you twisted in opposite directions, his lips engulfing yours in such a sweet, passionate languid pace though it quickly turned into a frenzy of rushed kisses. He was practically devouring you and you were fighting to keep up with him. You had to pull back needing air, you shook your eye, you needed to calm down for a second.

Anakin smirks, your eyes searching his face, his hair falling out of place, his lips swollen-“Shiiitttt, you’re dangerous-” You admit your chest heaving up and down, causing him to laugh. His hand slips from your neck and cheek moving to join his other hand around your waist.“-No I am serious, no wonder why so many women, and men fall at your feet” You laughed with him. He buries his head in the crook of your neck. Your arms wrapping around him holding him in place.

“ Mmm I don’t know what you’re talking about-” His lips move against your hot skin as he speaks.

Ahsoka steps through the threshold with a grin of her own “ -I take it all is well?” She asks, her voice startling you both, Anakin releases you, the warmth of him slipping away along with him. You lean with your back against the counter, your hands resting on top of it.

“ What, do you want snips?” He huffs as he stood half way in front of you.

“ Oh you know, just checking up on my Master and friend-” Ahsoka smirks as she lifts an eyebrow between the two of you. “-And to tell you both that we are nearing coruscant. Obi Wan wants you both up front.”

“ Thank you!” You tilt your head to the side to look past Anakin, giving her a sweet smile. Ahsoka nods as she walks away from the door moving towards the cockpit. Anakin turned to you causing you to shrug offering him the same smile. “That’s our cue” you push off the counter heading out to the hall.

Anakin follows behind you as he leans close to your ear “This isn’t over” He whispers to you, he kisses your cheek slipping into the cockpit. You rolled your eyes at him, which only made him grin from ear to ear. The two of you take your seats, Obi Wan and Rex piloting, Ahsoka in front of you.

“ Oh good, the two of you are finally getting along.” Obi Wan states. The two of you looking anywhere but at each other, sharing what could only be described as happy and secretly enjoying the new found relationship.

#anakin fluff #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n #anakin x you #anakin x fem reader #poc reader #x poc reader #imagines #x reader #x y/n #fanfic #x you #fluff

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

WIBTA if I tried to find out different synagogues' general attitudes on Zionism before converting?

I (late 20s) was raised Christian, but moved well away from that faith after being berated by my homophobic preacher grandma for supporting gay rights (she didn't know I myself was gay at the time). Currently I'd say I'm mostly agnostic, I don't have any strong feelings towards things like whether god exists or what the afterlife is like or anything like that, mostly I am just curious.

I've been interested in Judaism for a while for a lot of reasons. Mainly because, as far as I can figure, the idea of asking questions and debating meanings and forming your own opinion on these topics is actually encouraged unlike in Christianity, where it was a lot of being told not to question god and all that. I've wanted to try converting and seeing if that all feels right to me, but haven't been able to because I don't live somewhere with much of a Jewish population or any synagogues. However, I'll soon be moving to a city that does have a few options for that.

Here's the question: I know that asking individual Jewish people their stance on Israel is inherently antisemitic. I know that just because someone is Jewish doesn't mean they're a Zionist. And I know there's been a lot of antisemitism lately among the discourse surrounding the ongoing Palestinian genocide. However, if I'm going to be joining a community of Jewish people who are gathering because of that, there could very well be some strong feelings one way or another among them. I've also seen a lot of "online conversion" sites (which I've been informed are not reliable) that focus heavily on helping converts Visit To Their New Homeland Of Israel which...again, I know these services aren't reliable, but the way it was emphasized as ~part of the process~ rubbed me the wrong way, and I have no idea how reflective these sites are of actual IRL Jewish communities in general.

Basically, I worry that in my pursuit of conversion, I'll end up within a community of mostly people who support Israel, and if that's the case I'd rather know sooner or later. I know (or, I suppose, people on jumblr have said) that it's practically impossible to get a whole group of Jewish people who agree on any one thing within their faith but I'm betting there are communities who more or less agree on certain things. So WIBTA (A for antisemite in this case ig) if, when speaking to different rabbis, I asked about the general attitude on Zionism within the congregation(? if that's the word for it??) Is there any way to go about it politely?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

The Grey Zone 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: It's a Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You’ve always been the kid at the table of adults. Even now, legally of age, you feel like the same child forgotten on the sideline. The most acknowledgement you get is from your father when you thoughtlessly lean an elbow on the table or slouch. Sometimes, you think the fact that you’re still breathing is a disappointment to him.

“Thinking of converting the garage…” your dad says, “or we’ll wait till the kid is out and do something with her room.”

You don’t react. It comes up a lot. When you show him your pay cheque, he tells you exactly what to do with your money.

How much you should save so you can get out of his house. You’re not left with much else as he takes interest for your tuition; which he’s kindly allowed you to hold off on paying back until you complete your degree. It’s better than most people deal with, better than some debt collector chipping away at your credit.

“You’re a fucking busy body,” Mr. Hansen chortles as he stirs around with his spoon. You’re not a fan of the dish either. “You ever put any of that energy into, I don’t know, fucking your wife.”

Your spoon hits off your bowl but you try not to show your shock. Your father chokes and your mother guffaws drunkenly. Mr. Hansen is crass but usually when he doesn’t know you’re listening.

“At the table?” Your father huffs.

“He has a point…” your mother mutters.

“What? We’re all adults? I’m teasin’ you, Ray,” he insists, undeterred by your dad’s hot glare, “I’m just thinking out loud and there’s a tension here. Someone’s not getting fucked.”

“Lloyd, my daughter–”

“Oh, so you do know she’s here?” Hansen scoffs, “she’s grown. She can hear the fuck word a few times.”

Your father sputters, speechless. For once, he has no reprimand at the ready. He is a man who always has his way faced with another who can steamroll any refusal.

“Whatever, I was gonna ask you something important,” Hansen diffuses the conversation with the shift in tone, “I bought a lake house up north. I’m not handy, you know that. Not in that way,” he chuckles and your mother giggles into her wine.

Your father sighs and sits back as he lifts his chin, crossing his arms as he squints at his guest. That look doesn’t work on a man like Hansen. You look between them, waiting for either to explode.

Hansen smirks and sits back, mimicking your father’s posture but keeping his arms open. He braces his thighs as he puffs out his chest. You never noticed before the way his shirt perfectly fit him, clinging to his well-toned muscles.

“I’ll pay you. Same as any contractor. And you can bring the family to enjoy the lake,” Hansen counters, “enough for you to continue tearing this place apart.”

“Hmmm,” your father rolls his tongue under his lips.

“It’s a good idea,” your mother slurs, “it’s been forever since we went on vacation.”

“You just got back from Malibu two weeks ago,” your father chides.

“I mean, as a family,” she leans heavily on the table, her finger hooked on the stem of her wine glass, “I love the lake,” she looks as Hansen, pouting flirtily, “I just bought a bunch of new swimsuits.”

“Well, it gets pretty cold up there. Even this time of year. It’s why I bought the place. I hate the heat.”

“Oh, you seem to handle it well,” your mother winks.

Your father brings his hand down on the table, causing every dish to tremble. “I’ll think about it, Hansen. But you gotta think this out, materials and all that.”

“Zoning’s taken care of. All that paperwork bullshit,” Hansen says surely, “seems like it would be a good opportunity for you to get away and let go.”

You peer around the table. Your mom leans back in her chair, chin in her hand as she watches your father. Hansen takes his spoon again and smoothly stirs the bright broth. Your father shakes his head.

“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

🖤

Despite how often you attract unwanted leers and looks, you have a knack for disappearing. As the adults leave the table, you clean up, fading into the background but not quite fitting into the pristine aesthetic of the house. Most of the bowls still hold a decent amount of the fishy bouillabaisse. It tasted fine enough but who likes that much fish.

You dump each and start washing out the dishes, putting away those pots and pans you dealt with before dinner was served. If you don’t do it, your mother won’t, and your father will chuck a fit about a single dirt dish left in the sink. So you go about the task, earbuds in, nodding your head along with the music.

Your dark nail polish flakes off in the warm water as your scrub with a sponge. It’s fine, it’s cheap. You want to try the new mystic blue you got anyway. You set a bowl in the rack and nearly scream as you feel a squeeze around your hip.

You splash water through the air as you spin to face your accoster. Mr. Hansen stands close as he holds an empty wine glass. Your mother’s lipstick stains the brim. You reach with a dripping, shaky hand to pause your music with a tap.

“I didn’t hear you,” you gasp.

“Oh? I thought you were just playing hard to get,” he twirls the glass, “your mom’s off to bed. Face down.”

“Um, okay,” you reach for the glass but he moves it out of your reach. You furrow your nose and retract your hand.

“So…” he wiggles the glass thoughtfully, his eyes clinging to you, “what do you think?”

“About?”

“The lake house.”

“Er, I don’t know. If dad wants to…”

“I don’t care what daddy wants, what do you want?” His blue eyes gleam, the dark outlines feeding the lustre of his oceanic irises, “seems like no one’s ever asked you, sweetheart.”

You shrug.

“Could be nice,” you say. You don’t get your hopes up. If your dad accepts, you think he’ll somehow manage to leave you and your mother behind.

“And… if dear old daddy did say no, and I asked you to come anyway…”

You blink, confused. Why would he do that? He laughs at you.

“Think about it,” he hands over the glass, “this place is a drag. Young girls like you need that distance. To find yourself.”

You don’t know what to say or think. You really don’t understand what he’s offering. You don’t get where his sudden interest in you came from. Mr. Hansen was only ever peripheral. He was there to give colour commentary and needle away at your father’s patience.

“I don’t know,” he backs up, “maybe they don’t make swimsuits in your style…” You hold the glass close to your chest, caught like a deer in headlights. “But it’s a private lake.” He pokes his tongue and winks before spinning on his heel. “No rules…” he calls over his shoulder as he passes through the door.

You shudder and turn back to the sink. You plunge the glass into the water and swirl it to rinse the residue of wine. Hansen is just like that. He’s always looking for a reaction. You suppose you’re old enough now that you’re a new victim for his jokes. That makes more sense. You’ve always made a good target.

You tap your earbud and drown out your racing thoughts with the music. Just finish this up and you can go hide in your room.

🖤

You shut off the kitchen light and quietly pad through the house. You climb the stairs as an eerie silence permeates the space. Mr. Hansen must be gone since your mother turned in. She often didn’t end the night without some grand finale.

As you near your bedroom door, you notice that it’s slightly ajar. That damn mechanism. Your father can fix every part of this house except for that. You sigh and push it open as you enter, stopping short as you find a shadow standing by your bookshelf. The coffin shaped furniture holds more than just books but some crow statuettes and deathly trinkets.

The glow of your lamp casts a purplish light over Mr. Hansen’s back. He hasn’t heard you. He closes the book in his hand and slides it between the others. He pauses and takes the deck of tarot before he can knock it over with his hand. He shuffles through and you flip on the overhead light.

He turns, unshaken by your entrance. He keeps the cards fanned out in his hands. He smiles at you.

“I never really looked close at these sorts of things,” he says as he runs his thumb over the emperor card, “they’re pretty.”

“What are you doing in here?” You ask.

“I got lost,” he says coolly, “can you read these?”

He smoothly pushes through your chagrin, sidestepping your question. That’s annoying but he’s older and he’s a guest. You didn’t need him ratting to your father about your attitude.

“Yeah, they’re really just for fun though,” you near him and reach for the cards. He claps them into a neat deck and keeps them away from you.

“I like fun,” he says, “can you read mine?”

“I don’t know. It’s late–”

“How much?” He asks curtly.

“What?”

“I’ve seen those ladies down at the market. What do they charge for a reading? I’ll pay you double.”

“No, it’s–”

“I’ll buy you some new boots or something,” he barters.

“Why?”

“I’m bored. This place is boring.” He says. You won’t ask why he doesn’t just leave. You inhale and clamp your lips tight. “You must hate it. So… I wanna know my future.”

“I… fine,” you shrug, “shuffle the cards.”

You look around. There’s really no good place to do the reading. He shuffles the cards and strides by you, brushing against your arm. He sits on the side of your bed. Alright, well, you guess that’s fine.

You move your laptop and books and climb up, smoothing the blanket before you. You sit on one legs and keep your fingers on the duvet.

“You need to ask a question?” You say.

“A question?”

“Yeah, like something about what you should focus on at work or in your relationships,” you explain, “something to guide the cards.”

“Hmm, oh, well, the second one.”

“Okay… any specific relationships?” You prompt, “like family–”

“With you.”

“What?”

“Me and you.”

“Uhhhh,” you drone, “that’s… alright. Focus on that then.”

You put your hand out. He hands you the cards and you fan them out. He watches, tilting his head as he brings his knee up onto the bed and faces you straight on. The strangeness of the situation does not escape you. It sears down your neck.

“Pick three cards.”

He does so easily. One, two, three. Most people would take their time but he is always straight to the point. You point to where he should place each card. The first there, the second next to it, and the third above.

“Alright, so,” you set the deck aside, “this is basic. The first card represents you, the second would be the other person.”

“You,” he smirks.

“Sure,” you say, “and the third, would be both together.”

“Hmm, interesting,” he rests his hand on his thigh, tapping his fingers.

“Alright then, flip the first one.”

He does as you say. You consider the card.

“Temperance, reversed,” you announce, “it means you like excess, you often go to extremes, so much so that your life often lacks balance and harmony.”

He nods and clucks, “I can’t disagree.”

“Second,” you direct him.

He flips it.

“Nine of swords, upright,” you utter. You let the air linger.

“Oh, what does that mean?”

“Anxiety, or sadness, dread,” you don’t look up at him, “so this other person… me, I guess, has a lot on their mind to worry about.”

“Wow, the cards really are magic.”

You wince and look at him. Is it that obvious?

“Final card.”

“Oh, I’m excited,” he turns it over, “what does fate have in store for us?”

“Page of wands, upright; represents exploration, excitement, and…” you pause as you search your mind, “freedom?”

“Sounds like a good time to me,” he snickers.

“They’re just cards,” you quickly gather up the trio. It means nothing.

“Do you read palms?” He asks as you put the cards with the rest of the deck and shimmy to the edge of the bed.

“No, I… no.” You eke out as you let yourself down to the floor, “look, thanks for humouring me but I’m tired–”

“Hard to tell with all the eyeliner,” he remarks.

You give him a sharp look. He smirks as he turns both legs over the edge of the bed and leans back on his hands. It’s almost a boyish expression.

“I’m pretty beat myself,” he says, “cozy.”

He lets himself fall onto his back. You put the deck back on the shelf and chew on the situation. What the hell is going on? He’s invading your space, mocking you, and you’re just letting him.

“Maybe you should go home–”

“Pretty big bed–”

“I kick in my sleep,” you go to the end of the bed and he turns his head towards you. You see that devilish gleam in his eyes.

“You bring a lot of boys in here?”

“What?” Your voice wilts out, barely rising.

“Easy enough to sneak em through the window. Got that tree right out there, they could just–” He motions with his hand, “zip right in.”

You let your anger burn through. You get that from your father. You fight not to let it win over but it rises so hotly that sometimes you can’t.

“I don’t appreciate this.”

“What do you mean?” He rubs his chest.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

“You are. This is my room and I…” you swallow and ball your fists, “I want you to get out.”

“Sweetheart, really, I’m not–”

“You are. You can’t say or do anything that hasn’t been said or done before. I get it, okay? So please, I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”

He blows out and turns his head straight. He deflates and reluctantly pushes himself up. He tidies his hair as he stands.

“You’ll see, baby doll,” he struts lazily to the door, “the last thing I’m doing is making fun of you.” he looks back at you, his lips slanting, “I’m out for a different sort of fun…”

You storm towards him and shoo him out the door. He cackles and you slam the door behind him. Out. Get out! You feel like you need to cleanse your room now. You hear his rocky laughter on the other side as he lingers, his hand hitting the door before dragging down it.

“Sweet dreams,” he calls through the door.

He pushes off, the door jolting in the frame, and his footsteps peter away. You huff and face the room. He never told you why he was in there. You cross to the bed and drag your laptop and books off. As you do, you smell a trace of his cologne disturbed by the movement. You turn away and stack them on your desk.

You are ready for the day to end, even if tomorrow holds little promise.

#the grey zone #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

You know how eddie mentioned he’s got Playboys? maybe bookworm!reader does for Eddie what he did for her and figures out his favorite picture and recreates it so they can role play again?

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), semi-public sex, oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up folx), use of pet names, daddy kink

WC: 2.1k

Sitting cross-legged on Eddie’s bed, you should be doing some work for your courses. The Thanksgiving break means that you don’t have classes for the week, but your professors certainly didn’t hold back on their assignments. And you’d had every intention of starting on them, but when you’d dropped your pencil and went searching for it under the bed, you found something a lot more interesting than computing z-scores and making statistical inferences.

That’s how you find yourself flipping through your boyfriend’s stack of Playboy magazines, eyes widening with each page turn. Photo after photo of women scantily clad in lingerie—and sometimes nothing at all—stare back at you.

At first, you don’t notice a pattern among the pictures that Eddie has dog-eared; blondes, brunettes, redheads, curvy, thin, tall, short—they’re all there. No, the models couldn’t be any more different, but they do have something in common. It was almost cliché: your mechanic boyfriend jerking off to women sexily posed next to a car. Of course.

You take note of one particularly well-used page, slightly warped and wavy, stuck to the page in front of it. The Playboy Bunny in the photo is wearing the tiniest denim shorts you’ve ever seen. Her bra barely contains her breasts, and she’s looking into the camera like she’s been caught doing something bad. Her cherry-red lips match the convertible she’s straddling.

So this is what Eddie’s into, you think. The two of you have been exploring different kinks ever since your library escapades, but you hadn’t thought to surprise him at work.

When he gets home an hour later, covered in motor oil with his long curly hair pulled back into a bun at the nap of his neck, you’re trying to figure out how you can pull off your plan.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs, bringing his hands to your cheeks and kissing you tenderly. “Wayne let you in?”

“Mhm,” you nod, holding up your notebook. “Figured I could get some work done before our movie night.”

Eddie grins. “My genius bookworm girlfriend,” he teases, smacking another kiss on your lips. “C’mon, you deserve a break. You can pick the movie tonight. Maybe I’ll even throw in a foot massage.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Either you want sex or you’re feeling guilty about something. Or both,” you add wryly, making him laugh.

“Y’got me,” he mumbles, taking your hands in his and lacing your fingers together. “Tim asked me to close tomorrow, somethin’ about wanting to get a headstart on the Thanksgiving traffic, and I felt weird saying no…being the new guy and all…” He looks up at you sheepishly. “Wanted to spend as much time with you as I can before you go back to school.”

Your heart melts at his admission. “Eds, don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, standing up and looping your arms around his neck. “Gotta make money so we can get our own place next year, yeah?”

That seems to relieve him of any remorse, and he peppers kisses all over your face. But you have an ulterior motive; if he’s closing by himself tomorrow, that’ll give you an opportunity to surprise him.

You spend the next afternoon combing through your closet, tossing aside the fuzzy sweaters that lay on top. Finally, you settle on a cropped white shirt that barely covers your sheer lace bra. Your thong matches your bra, one of the few matching sets you have. The pièce de résistance are your denim cutoffs, shoved to the back of your drawer during the colder months. They’re not as short as the model’s–you don’t own anything like that–but they’re close enough. You slide on your favorite black kitten heels, swipe on some red lipstick, and check yourself out in the mirror; not too bad, if you say so yourself. Hopefully Eddie feels the same way.

At 5:30, you’re throwing on your longest coat and rushing out to your car. The shop closed at five o’clock, and you’ll get there around six, just to ensure that everyone else has left. Are you actually doing this? Are you seriously walking into your boyfriend’s place of work, half-naked, with the intention of re-creating a photo from a nudie mag? What if he laughs, or thinks you look silly? Was this all a mistake?

You swallow your fears as you approach the garage, heels click-clacking along the pavement. You immediately spot Eddie; rather, you spot his legs, since the rest of him is under a black Cadillac. Shedding the coat as inconspicuous as you can, you make your way over to where he’s meticulously working.

“Hey, handsome,” you nudge his foot with your exposed toe. “Got some time for your favorite customer?”

“Baby?” Eddie’s confused voice rings out from under the car. “Did I forget my dinner at home?”

You giggle. “No, but I did bring something I know you’ll want to devour.” You press one palm against the hood of the car. “Care to take a look?”

Intrigued, Eddie slides out. The wrench in his hand drops to the ground with a clang as he takes in the sight before him. “Ho…ly…shit,” he breathes. “You look…you’re…holy shit.” His brain practically short-circuits as he drinks you in, a grin spreading across his face. “Can I touch you?”

“Please.” No sooner does the word leave your lips is he running his calloused hands along your bare torso, leaving black grease stains in his trail. You press up against him, feeling his hard length straining against his coveralls. “Already so worked up?” you lightly tease, grazing his clothed cock with your pointer finger.

He nods, tugging you closer so he can kiss your neck. “Got my hot girlfriend showing up at my job, dressed like—”

“Your favorite Playboy Bunny?” you interrupt, watching his cheeks flush pink. “Relax, Eds. You found out my kinks from Fast Ride; it’s only fair that I find out yours from your, um, reading material.” One of his curls has come loose from the hair tie, and you wrap it around your finger. “Now, what did you always dream about doing to her?”

“Not her,” he shakes his head, voice so low it’s almost a growl. “You. Always pictured you.” He looks around for a remote to close the garage door. “Get on the hood,” he murmurs, grabbing a rag and wiping the grease off of his hands. His eyes never leave you as you sit on top of the car, feet resting on the front bumper. He leans over you, resting his hands on either side of your body. He kisses you hungrily, fingers flying over you like he can’t determine where to touch first. “Fuck, I gotta taste you,” he mumbles into your lips, fumbling with the button on your shorts. “Bet you taste so damn good. My pretty girl, so sweet f’me.” He brings your legs to his shoulders, taking in the most beautiful view he’s ever seen.

Eddie crouches between your thighs, pressing kisses against your lace-covered cunt. “You’re dripping wet, baby,” he moans. “Bet you don’t even need me to touch you.”

“No, I do. I n-need you,” you whimper. You hear him groan, growing even harder as you beg for him. The cool air hits your bare sex as he tears off your panties, diving in to eat you out. You feel his tongue lick a stripe up your folds, and you squirm at the sensation.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, not moving from his position, “be a good girl an’ stay right there.”

“What if I wanna be bad?” you coo, and you hear him groan as his fingertips dig harder into the plush of your thighs. “Good girls don’t walk around wearing next to nothing at their boyfriend’s job; not when anyone could walk in and see them.”

Eddie’s only response is to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking it harshly. One thick finger makes small circles around your weeping hole before he pushes it in. He curls it slightly, grazing your sweet spot with each little thrust. A mix of his spit and your slick drips down the curve of your ass, and he laps it up like he just can’t get enough.

“Daddy, please,” you cry out, using his favorite nickname as you lace your fingers through his hair, “‘m gonna come. Don’t stop.” He hums his approval, sending that final buzzing sensation through your core and bringing you to your orgasm. “Fuck, I’m coming. Yes, yes, fuck yes!”

Eddie grins as your legs tremble around his head, and he knows he’s done something very right. He gently lowers them back down and helps you sit up, shucking off his coveralls and his boxers in one go. His cock springs to attention, and you start salivating at the way his pre-cum pearls at the tip. You guide him to the passenger side door and press him up against it, kissing down his neck and wrapping a hand around his girth. “Y’like that, Daddy?” you coo, giggling as Eddie lets out a pathetic uh-huh.

You get down on your knees, ignoring the cold asphalt underneath you. One hand cupping his balls and the other pumping the base of his shaft, you bring your lips to his tip and swirl your tongue around the circumference. You work your way down to the thatch of curls, trying to match the rhythm he’s setting as he moves his hips into it.

“Look up at me, sweetheart,” Eddie croons. “Want to see those beautiful eyes while I fuck your face, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, though your vision is hazy as his thrusts test your gag reflex. His fists clench and you feel him twitch inside your mouth, and he reluctantly pulls back. Your lips pop as the tip passes them, and you pout. “Not good enough for you, Daddy?”

Eddie shakes his head and gives a terse chuckle. “Too good, princess,” he grunts. “Need to be inside that tight little pussy before I blow my load.” He reaches down to help you up, kissing you deeply. You can taste yourselves on the other’s lips, and it takes all of your willpower to break away.

“Bend over,” Eddie orders, and you lean your elbows on the hood of the car. He positions himself behind you, smacking your ass with his hard cock before dragging it through your slick folds. “Oh, baby,” he sighs, pushing himself into you, “y’always take me so good. My sexy little vixen.”

You whine as he grabs onto your hips, starting off slow and quickly picking up his pace. He nearly pulls all the way out before slamming back in, making you scream out his name. “Thas’ right, tell everyone who’s fucking you like this.” You feel one hand leave your waist, and you know exactly what’s about to happen.

“Y’know,” Eddie begins. He brings his palm to the fat of your ass and spanks it, “when we first met, I thought you were this goody two-shoes.” Another smack to your ass as he fucks you. “And then I found that book in your locker, and we–smack–fucked in the library. Knew you were dirty then, but goddamn.” He breathes out, trying to adjust his grip. “You’re so…fucking…perfect…” He rolls his hips, eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Faster, Daddy; ‘m so close,” you mewl, and he speeds up. He’s so deep that you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His tip hits that blissful spongy part, and you unravel with crying chants of his name.

“Fuck, I can’t hold back any longer.” Eddie pulls out at the last possible moment, spilling onto your ass with a breathy groan. He brings his free hand to the hood of the car, and you look up to see him grinning widely. “That was…wow. If I didn’t already know you were my dream girl…” He keeps staring at you, as though he can’t believe you’re real.

“Um, babe?” you start, “could you clean me up?”

“Wha–oh, yeah, sorry. Just…fuck, you’re so fuckin’ hot.” He scrounges around the garage for a clean rag, snapping one up and wiping his cum off of you. “This is much better than coming on a magazine,” he teases, and you swat at him playfully before pulling on just your shorts, since your panties were destroyed by Eddie’s impatience.

You wrap your arms around his lithe waist once he’s back in his coveralls. “So, that was your favorite magazine. Am I going to find any favorite videos hiding under your bed next?” You giggle as he tickles you and kisses your neck.

“Nah,” he says, laughing. “But, y’know…we could make one.”

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